I was eating grapes. I do that sometimes. Not a lot, because I live in an apartment and grapes and apartments don’t get along well. But every now and then I run out of ideas in the supermarket, or, if I go to the beach and buy grapes for everyone but no one eats them I bring them back to my apartment and eat them myself.

 

I went to the bathroom, leaving my plate unattended on the couch’s arm for about two minutes.

 

When I came back Paquito was coughing, heaving, panting, and all of those things he does when he eats as if he hadn’t eaten in days, which is always. Not the slightest sign of remorse in his White Walker eyes. If anything, the opposite. Desperate for more grapes, or more of anything. Always desperate.

​

I googled “what happens if my dog eats grapes.” Most answers said that, considering Paquito’s weight, I shouldn't worry too much about him eating one or two grapes. For some reason everyone on the internet assumed that the dog had eaten only one or two which seemed stupid to me. Of course nothing happens if you eat one or two units of anything, with very few exceptions. I wanted to know what happens if the dog eats an entire bunch.

 

After more research, I learned that considering Paquito’s weight and the amount of grapes he had eaten I was supposed to worry. For some reason everyone on the internet felt entitled to lecture me about how I should feel about my dog. Why don’t you tell me what can happen to the dog and I’ll decide if I’ll worry or not.

 

He didn’t look too bothered so I didn’t worry. Then I thought how embarrassing it would be if my dog died and when my roommate asked me about it I told him that it was because he ate grapes and I didn’t take him to the emergency vet.

 

To avoid having to potentially face that situation I decided I’d better take him to the vet, ruining my plans to watch a football game. I put the leash on because putting the harness required lots of treats and I didn’t want to mess with his stomach anymore, not that he would’ve complained. 

 

It was walking distance so we walked.

 

We stopped at the square of grass where he always conducted his business. Two blonde kids who were walking by holding the hands of a woman who didn’t look like them marveled at his cuteness. They expressed this by saying “look, look, look,” and pointing at him and jumping. The older one of them asked if she could pet him, at which point Paquito proceeded to vomit. The kids grimaced and hugged the woman. I acted surprised; it would have been embarrassing if the kids found out that he vomited because I had left the grapes unattended. I shrugged to indicate that I had no way of cleaning that and we resumed our march.

 

The vet was two heavy traffic blocks away. So many things to be careful of; unattended food, the harness, the traffic, thunderstorms. I just wanted a canine sidekick.

 

A motorcycle driven by a sociopath roared near us, causing us to startle. I startled like a human and Paquito like a dog. He escaped the leash with impeccable technique —evidently he had been practicing in my absence— and then turned into a Cheetah. In a matter of seconds he was gone.

 

With the same “son of a bitch” I covered the motorcycle driver, the dog and the situation.

 

At first I stood there chanting his name and making all the whistling sounds I know. I tried different combinations of long and short whistles —some of them pretty elaborate— but it didn’t work.

 

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and got to work. I found a cute picture of him on my phone and walked in the direction where I had lost sight of him. I walked fast but didn’t run; approaching people while running is intimidating for them and they would have tried to dismiss me, especially if sweaty.

 

“Excuse me, have you seen this dog by any chance?” was my original speech. Then, after the third time, I changed “excuse me” for “sorry” because it’s easier to pronounce and eliminated the “by any chance” part because I realized that it didn’t add anything. I like it when things evolve like that.

 

My neighborhood is very pedestrian friendly and the weather was very pedestrian pleasant that day so there were plenty of people to ask around, but it was almost impossible to get a useful answer from them. Most women replied “oh my God he’s so cute,” and most men replied “did you lose him?” In  both cases I silenced my sarcastic impulses and simply said “yes.”

​

A guy who looked like he was going for a jog told me he was a hundred percent sure he had seen him a couple of blocks away. I walked in the direction he pointed to.

 

The same thing happened a bunch of times but I still couldn’t find him and I kept getting farther from my apartment. I thought many times about going back because I know dogs tend to go back to their homes, but I figured that if he was home already he was going to stay there, so the logical thing was to keep searching.

 

This went on for hours. The sky had lost its blueness and the Sun was about to hide. It was getting near the hour in which purebred dogs are indistinguishable from stray cats. By then I was walking on the pier. I became disheartened by the possibility that I had been walking in the wrong direction all along.

 

A couple was walking near me. He had his arm hanging loosely around her shoulders and she was hugging him by the waist. They were staggering rather than walking and holding each others’ weight rather than hugging. I knew asking a couple of drunkards was pointless but I had already asked everyone else. I said to myself “last one and I’m going back.”

 

“Sorry, have you seen this dog?” I asked.

 

“Look, our dog,” he said and laughed. He reeked of booze.

 

“You’ve really seen him?” I asked. I thought he was mocking me. “Please, I've been looking for hours.”

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He sobered up for a second when he saw how serious I was and told me that Paquito had been sitting next to their table for the last two hours in a Mexican restaurant a couple of blocks away. He didn’t actually say “a Mexican restaurant,” he told me the name of the restaurant; “Mexico something.” I thanked them and ran.

​

After four blocks I arrived at “Mexico Mijo,” gasping for breath and with my heart pounding. The restaurant had about twenty tables outside, most of them empty. It was poorly lit but not in the intentional way that some restaurants do it. It just lacked light. At first, I glanced around from the sides but I couldn’t see Paquito. I squatted and again did my chanting and whistling routine to no avail. A waiter who must have thought “what is this creep doing” tapped me on the shoulder.

 

“Are you looking for something?” he asked. I showed him Paquito’s picture but he told me he hadn’t seen him. I asked him if he was sure and he said he was. I was defeated. Were I the type of person who cries, that would have been the perfect moment to start crying.

 

I started walking back home slowly, slightly hunched. I was still on the same block when something that should have been obvious occurred to me. I sprinted back to the restaurant and talked to the same waiter. “Is there another Mexican restaurant around?” I asked him.

 

“Si señor,” he replied. “Mexico Mío, that way.” Again, I ran. 

 

I saw the colorful triangle garlands hanging from afar. Bright green, bright yellow, bright everything. Piñatas, sombreros, every cliché one can think of. I got excited. I sped up.

 

This place was full. The tables were covered in serape blankets, all overflowed with food plates. Next to one of them, in the sit position, was Paquito. His stare directed at the food. Always food. I walked between the tables towards him. He took notice of me when I was almost next to him. He started jumping, spinning, and contorting his body in impossible ways as he does when he hasn’t seen me for a while. I got on my knees and let him climb onto me with his two front legs and lick my face. I turned my head and realized that the entire restaurant was looking at us. I lifted him like a baby and everyone started clapping. A lot of them were drunk from what I could tell. When the ovation was over and Paquito’s excitement wound down I hooked the leash. I waved at the tables as we left and they clapped again.

 

It was a 20 minute walk. The streets were already quiet for the most part, and I purposely avoided any street that wasn’t. We finally got home. Paquito was breathing heavily with his tongue fully out. “You’re tired? I’m the one who’s been running all day looking for you!” I said to him. I opened the door and we both walked in. “What a crazy day we had, aye?” I said. When I unhooked the leash he ran towards his food plate. Desperate. Always desperate.

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THE END​​