The Dog Who Fell from the Sky
(See you at 11am for Subscriber Salon! Zoom link at the bottom of this post.)
A ruckus of tearing and gravity. I turn to my left.
A dog is falling from the sky.
The mind searches for explanation. Finds none.
It lands on the pavement outside the cafe. My dinner mates and I stand to get a better look. The restaurant goers are stunned.
It’s hard to know how to feel at first because, is this a dream? Is it worth feeling at all?
But the animal behaves in a piteous way. Not the way you might expect, if you had expectations for how dogs should fall from the sky.
The dog is silent. A Labrador. A sizable dog, of the sort who should never fly, nor fall from the sky. A standing directive, observed by all veterinary advisory boards.
The dog smiles. Is the only way I can recall the terrible stillness. A jack-o’-lantern rictus takes over its small, shocked face, and it’s panting, but not yelping. It’s in shock. It looks around. Helpers descend. Two onlookers who have girded their loins faster than the rest of us. Two fleet human animals who quickly said to themselves:
A dog is falling like rain. A dog is landed like puddle. I know what to do!
My dinner mates and I begin nervously giggling. Like the dog, we can’t comprehend it and a strange kind of mirth comes from the bilious maelstrom of our stomachs. Chortling. Horror movie mirth, when something is so terrible that it can only be funny.
The dog is looking around at the helpers, glassy-eyed, almost appearing pleased by the attention: An old woman who has fallen and suddenly finds handsome men gazing into her eyes,
‘Ma’am, are you alright? Ma’am, what day is it? Who is the president?’
‘Eisenhower?’ She volleys a guess toward cooling azure eyes.
The dog’s grimace remains locked in a feigned state of grace as if to say, ‘Do you still like me, even though I fell from the sky?’
Moments pass. What’s eery is how the dog makes no sound.
“Don’t move her. Don’t move her.”
The people calm the dog, who seems now to understand that her body isn’t working right. But maintains a toxic positivity as if to say, ‘Oh, I love surprise parties. I’m so glad you’re all here. All you, my salivating enemies, this entire restaurant peering out onto the sidewalk, and I’m naked, but no matter, who doesn’t love a surprise!!!!!!!!?’
Incredibly, the dog, at first, and in the middle, and toward the end of this episode, never seemed to be in pain. Until minutes passed. Adrenaline faded, and the first shriek emerged.
‘Ah, yes, this,’ I felt relieved. ‘This is the sound a dog makes having fallen through a second story, flimsily-screened window, having bounced off an awning, and having landed on the cement.’ (A sequence of events we later confirmed.)
What’s notable about this night…
is that, prior to the dog, our waiter passed out in front of us.
He went pale and he went down.
So that, by the time the dog fell from the sky, we three dining friends were already somewhat vigilant and it seemed clear that gravity was particularly forceful this evening.
Having human brains, for better and worse, we parted ways that winter night saying, ‘Things happen in threes, so do be careful getting home.’
We all got home safely and, as fate would have it, no third happening occurred because nature doesn’t pander to our superstitions. But years later — on evenings expectant and unresolved, I’m still waiting: When will it happen? That third magical, terrible thing?
Topic: Subscriber Salon Dec 3 11am ET
Time: Dec 3, 2022 11:00 AM Eastern Time (US and Canada)
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Oh what a great little story. And, yes, I can’t believe you don’t know how the dog fared! Go, right now, and find out. Your readers demand to know.