I  have a dog; he is hidden, locked and tied-up. I feed him with resentment; the disdain I receive I keep it during the day for his supper. Even when thirsty, he stares at the sun and go round and round as if trying to catch his shadow. At night, he scratches the walls, barks to his own echo, then moans and falls asleep. He has no name; I’ve got him since I was a kid and he was a puppy.

       When I used to take my dog to elementary school, the other kids would to say he was ordinary -I didn’t care that much-. During recess we would run in the courtyard and get all dirty with soil and mud when it rained. He was white like my uniform; we used to drag so much down the streets that we would get home all filthy and my mom would nod her head while my dad mentioned how expensive soap was.

    The dog cost me ten pesos, but he was a street dog; I thought once about naming him, but I didn’t like any name. And for some reason I still do not know, girls liked me at school, but they did not like my dog and one time, Rocío let me walked her home with the condition that my dog didn’t come along, but he always walked with me, so that day I got rid of him; it was not easy, I had to kick him and threaten him throwing rocks at him; the thing was, that Rocío was a very pretty girl, but I did not walked her home again. Later her parents took her away to live to Mexicali and I never saw her again.

     I never liked school, except for my friends “los chiquillos” (the kids) who only wanted to play being in a gang. One time, a cross-eyed older boy bullied me in the classroom, and everybody shouted:

“he wants to cry and he can’t, he wants to cry and he can’t!”, and at the end of the day I cried and I regretted I had gotten rid of my dog; I looked him up and found him and I think he did not hold a grudge. Next day, I made a plan to get back at Lorenzo, the cross-eyed boy who made fun of me. I thought about putting dirt and water into his backpack; he knew it was me and at the end of the day, my dog and I made him bleed from his nose, my friend Eleazar congratulated me but the next day I was sent to the principal’s office. 

      My dad said he’d kill my dog or kick me out along with him, so I had to hide him, but every time I’d skip school with him, we’d walk down the streets and parks, run in the vacant lots and when I’d get back home, he’d spank me with his belt and my dog would bark through my eyes, as if he wanted to bite my dad and everybody. Years went by and a lot of bad things happened and I started becoming good, hiding my dog more and more every time. I went on feeding him with shadows, with frustrations and with resentment; sometimes not even that and he always felt hungry. When I was with a woman, I would deny him, try to forget about him, but there were some days when I recognized his nobleness and then I’d fed him with ego and pride which made him get fat and strong after which he’d jump off the fence and I would not see him for weeks or months and I’d feel so lonely and vulnerable without him that I’d go out and look him up and when he’d get back, I would feel the most secure and arrogant.

      But I would always keep him hidden, sometimes I’d take him out for a walk and he’d shit everywhere and bite anyone who loved me; he’d bite the prudish ladies who used to shoo us with their brooms; he’d pee at parties and fight the hosts; growl at the shoppers who always want to pay less for the paintings, to policemen and women who’d run from me because I smelled, ate, talked and fucked like a dog. But when I was alone in the city streets or in another country, his company would make me feel safe and brave, even sometimes I’d find his wild proceeding artistic, and more than once, he defended me from other dogs where we used to spend adventurous dawns at joints and bars, and when I cried alone in my room he’d always be at my side, not a woman, not a friend, just him, my loyal dog. How to get away from someone who so many times accompanied and defended me?

          One time, after so much barking and losing love, I thought I’d have to make a decision, because women would say they loved me but not my dog, and I loved a woman, and then a woman said that she’d live with me but not with my dog, and I loved her so much I tried to get rid of him, but it was harder as he had overgrown me, he was stronger and braver and I could not take him out of my house or his hiding place; in fact, he would not fit the way out. When she’d stayed at night, the only thing left for me was to lock him out and take him to the roof and wait she did not discover him. I’d lie to her saying that the dog had left, and that it was only me and her, but at midnight, he would start howling, kicking and moaning, and in the morning the woman would leave without wanting to know anything else from us. Until one night, I came home drunk of loneliness, went to his spot and started hitting him, forcing him out. At the beginning, with noble eyes, he didn’t know what was going on, but I started kicking his belly and he growled and came up at me, bit my arms, threw me to the floor and dug into my chest as he was looking for my heart to swallow it. I grabbed him by the snout as if wanting to break it in two, we made both bleed, he almost killed me and I almost killed him; we fought all around the house until we were so tired and fell exhausted. On the next day he went to his hiding spot without saying a word and I went out for a walk in silence. Until now he is still there and I’m still here… I guess we gave up and accepted to be together.