Pax voviscum

Pax vobiscum

A large black dog was roaming the neighborhood behind Casa Bonita, which in those halcyon pre-Reconquista days of 1974 was as Mexican as one could get in the US Midwest. Perhaps he was drawn by the waft of corn oil that permeated the unremarkable area surrounding this Tulsa landmark.

My first husband and I rented a clapboard little house just west of the dumpsters and the tall, lanky dog followed us without much encouragement. Because he was docile and tired, we hoped that our irrepressible Airedale would this once forego the customary aggression, but he didn’t. Offering zero resistance and his belly up, the stray dog was shaken but unharmed. He was a pacifist and Pax suited him.

Pax was, however, the only peace loving being in that corn-oil drenched hood. Apparently, it was open season on our fence-jumping Airedale, Majo, as I was loudly reminded by red necks along my walking routes. Eventually I learned to hurl back as much abuse as I received, which is a survival skill in East, West, and North Tulsa. Nonetheless, with deer rifles in every home we had our hands full protecting the two dogs we had. Worse, because Pax was following Majo on his escapades. And so Bob endeavored to find a home for him …. which leads us to the moral of this story.

An attractive young couple he knew from work came to meet Pax. Cautionary signs were there: When a dog comes “too” close, when there is no spontaneous holding his head and rubbing behind the ears, when there is no compassionate inquiry about his story, when there are more concerns than anticipation about a pet … then it is wise to suggest that both parties think it over. Chances are I would have done just that, if not for their final comment, “We’re black, our cars are black; we need a black dog. Ha, ha!” Reverse prejudice was a trap of my own doing.

And so I let Pax go despite his last forlorn look underscoring my fears. Next morning Bob called me from work to report that Pax was gone. On arrival to his new home, at night, he was locked out in the backyard. He was alone. He needed more than was offered, jumped the fence, and went on. Pax vobiscum Pax. Mea culpa.