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We met at the corner of Euclid and 18th Street and started walking toward a food truck in the theater district.
“So what’s new?” I asked Doug.
He told me about his nursing job at the Cleveland Clinic, then pivoted to his new girlfriend, who happened to work there too. “How about you?”
“Eh, same old, same old,” I replied as we got in line for tacos. I couldn’t help looking around the street for Lachlan, but I didn’t see him or his yellow tent. “Students are gearing up for finals and summer break.”
A man standing against a nearby building was holding a sign that read Need Food to Feed my Family. There was a hat at his feet for change, and passersby threw in what looked like quarters and dollar bills. He thanked them profusely as they did.
“Think that dude’s for real?” Doug asked, following my line of sight. “We could always test it out by bringing him a taco.”
“It’s better to give them money so they can make their own choices. People can be cruel and tamper with their food.”
His eyebrows bunched together. “How the hell do you know that?”
“On my morning walks, Oscar has sort of…befriended a guy who lives on the street.”
“What do you mean?” he asked as the line inched forward and we placed our orders.
Once we moved toward the pickup window to wait for our food, I said, “Oscar immediately connected with this guy who’s around our age, and constantly seeks him out on our walks, loves visiting with him, so we talked a bit. I still don’t know his exact circumstances, but he’s friendly and loves Oscar.”
“You need to be careful,” Doug said in a scolding tone as we got our food.
“Why?” Though I probably knew his reasons. All the usual stereotypes of the unhoused population being on drugs or mentally ill. That last one especially stung since I happened to have a mental-health issue myself.
Doug hitched a shoulder. “You just never know.”
“There’s nothing wrong with showing compassion for someone who needs it.”
“True,” Doug replied, then walked over to the guy holding the sign to throw spare change in his hat, as if feeling guilty after our exchange.
We devoured our tacos while we walked back to the university, and then said our goodbyes, agreeing to meet for dinner soon.
On my walk the following morning, my stomach flooded with relief upon seeing the yellow tent. The flap was open, Lachlan’s feet sticking out. Of course Oscar noticed instantly and began tugging hard on the leash. I let it go, knowing he’d head straight for him.
“Heads up,” I called, and Lachlan’s excited grin made my chest balloon.
Oscar was so enthusiastic with his kisses, he practically knocked Lachlan backward.
He laughed as he kissed his snout. “I missed you too.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, approaching them. “I haven’t seen you around.”
His eyes widened as if he was surprised I’d even notice. “There was an incident the other night, so I moved locations for a few days.”
“What sort of incident?” I asked as Oscar lay down by his feet.
“On weekend nights the restaurants and bars are hopping,” he said, and I nodded, knowing full well. “Sometimes when those establishments close for the night, there can be groups of drunk people who harass the houseless population.”
“Damn, I had no idea.” I felt sick to my stomach.
“In this case, someone decided to spray one of us in the face with an aerosol. Not sure what it was.”
My hand automatically went to my mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
“He ran off before any of us could ID him. Not that it would do any good,” he muttered, brushing his hand over Oscar’s coat.
“Wouldn’t the police investigate?”
“Maybe, but…we’ve learned it’s better not to draw too much attention to ourselves. As long as I clean up my tent by the morning, they don’t bother us.”
Given his response, it was likely the police were never contacted.
“Is your friend okay?”
“Yeah, I had some water, and we flushed out his eyes. But he was pretty shaken up, so I stood watch for him the last couple of nights in another location so he could get some sleep.”
“That’s really kind of you.”
He shrugged. “Not sure what else I could’ve done.”
“Is there a shelter that might’ve taken him?” When his expression remained neutral, I gathered he must’ve heard the question before. “Or is that pretty ignorant of me to ask?”
“Nah, it’s okay. I had all the same assumptions before this became my reality.”
When I crouched down to pet my dog, I got a close-up of the shadows under his eyes. It must’ve been a couple of harrowing nights.
“Mind sharing those assumptions with me? I’m open to learning.”
He held my gaze for a long moment, those eyes burrowing deep as if looking for any underpinning of phoniness. Seemingly satisfied, he nodded. “I would pass houseless people on the street and wonder—are they on drugs? Mentally ill? Why don’t they just go to a shelter?”
