Tale of a Dog: Caesar
A short story by Brian Reily
© 2008
I have met many faces in my journeys through the night. Some good, some bad, most neutral, but of all the characters I have encountered, only one truly stands out in my mind. Unlike the others, he is not of the human race, but rather a great, white beast with shining eyes. Twice now have our paths crossed and twice have we reached an unspoken truce. I could tell you of the terror that filled me the first time I saw his snarling face, but I would have to lie; for never has he bore his fangs, only stood and stared. This monster I have semi-affectionately, semi-begrudgingly, given the name “Caesar”. This creature of the streets has stared me down, and twice now have I stood my ground.
He lies in the middle of a cement pad, formerly the foundation of a now long demolished building, surrounded on all sides by his pack. Of the others I can say only a few things. First, they number about ten or twelve, dogs of all shapes and sizes. Second, the largest of the pack (aside from their leader, who is of approximately the same size) is a brindled boxer or boxer mix. Lastly, one of the others is small dark and furry.
But of their leader I have much to tell. From a mere two encounters, I can tell that he (or she, for I do not know) is their leader. It is simply they way he holds himself; I cannot describe it beyond saying that it is a dominant stance. He is large, standing about two and a quarter feet tall, and white with a few black splotches. I cannot speak much of his physical state, as both times we have met it was dark out, but he did look somewhat thinner than he should be. His breed I do not know. But what impresses me most is that his eyes shine with a wild intelligence, akin to that of his ancestor the wolf.
Our first encounter was unexpected. Riding home from work one night I approached what is, unknown at the time by me, their roost. On that particular evening the pack came charging from out of the shadows behind the cement pad barking and howling. I, being on the sidewalk between the concrete pad and the street, was faced with two choices. One: jump off my bike into oncoming traffic, placing the bike between the pack and myself, and risking being hit by a car, or two: facing the charging hoard. I chose the latter, figuring my chances of survival were better. So I took a good defensive stance and braced myself for a fight.
The pack slowed, and he emerged from their center. We stood there, man and beast, waiting for the other to move. After a few tense moments he relaxed a bit. Seeing, I suppose that I meant no harm to his followers and had no intention of imposing myself on their territory. He turned and began to walk back into the darkness, the others followed, and I continued on my way.
Our second meeting, only a few nights later, was not quite as short lived. This time the pack was not behind the pad, but rather resting on it. I spotted them as I approached, and had time to brace myself. The first one, the small furry one, arose and began to charge, the others followed suit, except for their leader who remained standing on the pad.
This time they were too close, the large brindle being only a few feet from me. I was certain that I was going to be attacked, but suddenly they stopped. I stood there waiting. I eventually chanced a glance up and caught Caesar’s eye. If dogs could smile he would have been wearing a smirk. He had me cornered and he knew it. I was at his mercy.
Our eyes met and the smug twinkle faded into a solid stare. Knowing that if I continued the eye contact I risked an attack I gave up. I conceded by lowering my glance back to the pack, then snapping a quick glance up to check his reaction. Our eyes met again. I cannot say how, but I knew that we had reached an unspoken agreement. So long as I remained off of his territory I was free to come and go as I pleased. I would not infringe upon his space, and he would not infringe upon mine. The pack backed off and resumed their posts and I headed home, feeling defeated, humbled, and yet proud. I had faced down the pack and their leader, and without words or action, had gained his trust.
