scrapper2

“this is a first.”

“yeah…yeah, it is.”

neither of the walkers want to stare and yet that is what both are doing. the sight of a shirtless man pushing an empty baby stroller on the shoulder of the state highway is too odd to ignore.

“pull, goddammit, pull!”

the panting yellow puppy is, indeed, pulling the stroller as ordered, but not fast enough. the task is hindered because the dog’s legs are tangled up in the rope hanging from its neck and connected to the front of the buggy.

“pull, goddammit, pull!”

one of the walkers silently wonders whether yelling “mush!” would be a more appropriate command.

even though the pup’s tail is wagging back and forth showing an eagerness to obey, the dog’s performance is clearly lacking. the taskmaster is not happy. yet after spotting the two gawking onlookers, the stroller’s driver immediately sets his own predicament aside to greet his approaching guests.

“how are you folks doing today?”

they are still staring. despite their best intentions, the couple cannot help themselves.

after initially hesitating, one of the walkers finally musters the ability to respond. the goal is to function as if everything is normal, as if this is an everyday sight: a bare-chested musher using a recently weaned puppy as a sled dog to traverse the concrete slopes of rural missouri.

“fine…how about you, ray?”

“same old, same old. just going into town to get some scrap metal. some real good stuff. copper!”

they had already wondered why the metal scrapper was walking instead of driving but decided not to ask. after all, the man is more renown for a bad temper than odd behavior.

eager not to get on his bad side, one of the walkers continues the façade that everything is as it should be.

“that’s great, ray.”

the couple is still staring, but surely it is more palatable since he was the one to initiate contact.

the scrapper is wearing knee length camo shorts and no shoes. his legs, arms and chest are sprouting wild, untamed hair. they are also covered with the filth that comes from sifting hour after hour through endless piles of junk in the place he calls home. the goal is to find metal to sell at the local recycler.

while the sight of ray, the baby stroller and his mis-cast sled dog fills the couple with wonder, curiosity, and amazement, the situation also brings a desire to flee. because of that the couple keeps walking as they exchange pleasantries to give the appearance of being comfortable with the situation, which they are not.

“i like your dog.”

“thanks.”

mercifully, the conversation ends quickly with everyone resuming their different directions. all three humans have done the right thing by tolerating each other’s existence.

ray turns his attention back to his incompetent pet and the walkers return to their stroll.

after a few minutes of silence, the couple can still hear him barking out orders in the distance.

“pull, goddammit, pull!”

town is two and a half miles away and the sun is hot. speed is of the essence.

“can you believe that?” one of the walkers says to the other in a hushed voice.

“i know!”

the wonder, curiosity and amazement continues to fill their thoughts for several minutes, but the harsh reality of the situation eventually rises to the surface.

“by the time they get to town that poor dog will be riding instead of pulling.”

the other walker nods in agreement. the thought is an odd mixture of amusement, karma, and fate. if only they could be there to see it. if for no other reason than to see the sled dog rewarded for its slave labor and the musher punished for his sins.

but alas, ray has his agenda and they have theirs. they can no longer see or hear scrapper and the puppy. the freak show is over.

”that was a first.”

“yeah…yeah, it was.”