Theodore

College freshmen will do some crazy things, but my friends and I, we housed a puppy in our dorm without getting caught. For $100 Teddy could have been your secret too. Now of course after buying a bed, toys, food, and the vet bills he’d be more expensive. How much all that truly cost I can’t remember now. What I do remember are the close calls of hiding Teddy under a coat, or in a backpack to avoid the RAs. I remember us handing him between third floor windows as the RA knocked at the door. I doubt they ever believed me about my TV’s volume being the culprit, but they never stopped us from building a family around our new fuzzy friend.

See five overgrown children, who drink cheap beer, do not keep secrets as well as they think they do. We thought because we threw our beer cans out the window directly into the dumpster we were sneaky geniuses. We thought if we could get a storm pipe up three flights of stairs to use as our new smoking device then hiding a puppy would be no problem.

What we never thought of was the smell of urine that then permeated from our end of the hallway.

Teddy became the ultimate wingman around town. You could take him for a walk to the college green and lay down in the grass, and he would curl up right in the middle of your chest. Only a month or two old, he would yawn his little tongue, close his eyes and sleep in the sunlight as woman after woman would approach asking about our newest roommate.

He was so small at this time he could sleep nestled into just one hand as we carried him up the steep campus hills. Now we shared the care taking responsibilities for Teddy, but he really belonged to Justin.

Justin lived across the hall from me, and we lived a few doors down from Brett, Bryan, and Aaron. Together we did our best to raise Teddy, and keep Justin from being kicked out of the dorms. How our furry friend found his way to us is actually a rather cute story. See, Justin answered a request for help with farm work one day online. When he returned that evening he had a sleeping tan puppy, and an empty wallet.

It just so happened that the morning before Justin went to the farm to help out a litter of puppies had been born. He had asked about prices, and ultimately worked it out that the $100 he would have received for his labor would be swapped out for Teddy. When he pulled in holding his newest find we were sure that within a week Teddy would be returned to the farm. Then the week after we were sure the drive back to the farm was coming. In the third week, when Teddy, who now had his own blue and gold bowtie, went number one right on Justin’s face as he slept made us absolutely sure that his return was imminent.

Yet, each day they got closer, and we got better at hiding our bow-tied son. A lucky consequence of the chaotic circumstance was how well Teddy behaved off leash, and before he had been with us for six months we allowed him to chase after us to class off leash. The first time Teddy popped out of a backpack to stroll around Justin’s economic class, the two of them quickly became the center of attention.

Justin always found a way to draw eyes to him. He played his music the loudest, had the best snacks, and knew where every party was each week. The kid never met a stranger, and Teddy was the same way. Quiet as a mouse most of the time, young master Theodore would wander around the business school, up and down lecture hall rows, and one day a professor spent the length of his monologue petting Teddy in his lap. Despite the positive attention, Justin never got any extra credit for his offering of show and tell.

Now sane people do not buy a dog, and raise it out of a musical chairs of dorm rooms. Then again, sane people take nights off from drinking, unlike us. We were children with too much freedom. Justin didn’t need friends though, he needed a family. He needed something to be responsible for. It was only after the worst day of his life did he come home with Teddy. If he hadn’t found Teddy on that farm, he would’ve found a dog somewhere else to adopt.

The worst day of Justin’s life was the scariest of my own. Justin’s parents had done a grade check on him to see how his semester had been going. In five classes his highest grade was a C-, you do the math on how that conversation went. I’ll tell you, Justin couldn’t have done that math without a calculator. I don’t know how that conversation with mom and dad actually went, but I do know his father.

You see, his old man was a rather efficient guy. After a few too many tall boys you could find Justin soapboxing above a study table, in the thickest Vietnamese accent he could muster, explaining how one good beating always taught the lesson the best. Justin never received cigarette burns for Christmas, smoking would have made his old man a less efficient runner. No, Justin got the belt. The belt that came equipped with extra holes punctured into the leather to add efficiency to the beatings.

I will say this about Justin, he was always prepared, even if he messed up sometimes. He always had the best snacks in his room. Off brand ramen, that somehow was even better when you mixed it with beer. Marshmallow treats with the little extra candies on top. Fresh baked apple-pear cookies that made me mad at my grandmother for not being Asian. I guess you could say it was because I was cheap, and hated spending money on sweets, and that Justin was always prepared that I saved him.

You see I went into his room to borrow one of those soft, fruit packed cookies. What I found was a tear filled Justin fighting to remove the screen from his back window. He was supposed to be in class at mid day on Tuesdays, so I felt safe borrowing a cookie that day.

I didn’t know yet that Justin had been missing that Tuesday econ class for about half the semester now. I didn’t know that he was afraid his parents would beat his sister for his poor grades. I didn’t know the weight he felt from just existing.

The screen popped loose, and clattered to the ground.

I grabbed Justin in a headlock, tears running down both of our faces. My feet squared on each side of the window, my entire body parallel above the floor. Justin squirmed with each ounce of fiber in his small body attempting to dive out the third floor dorm room window. He begged to die, I pleaded for anyone to come help.

Our screams fell deaf on that old brick building. It’s a strange feeling stopping a suicide attempt for the first time. I was rather hungry. We fought for so long each of our bodies shaked as I tried everything I could to stop him from leaping out his window. I must have been twice as big, but Justin was determined.

Determined to not have to tell his parents he was on academic probation.

Determined not to tell them about his underage drinking ticket that landed him in jail.

Determined he would rather die than face his old man.

I couldn’t tell you how long we fought. I can still show you the bite mark scar from Justin trying to break free though. I can’t tell you now why we didn’t tell the RA, but I can tell you we didn’t let Justin sleep in that room alone again. I can’t tell you what classes he took that semester, but I can tell you that we walked him to class each day. I can’t tell you we did the right thing, but I can tell you Teddy saved Justin.

Unlike his dad, Justin trained Teddy with love, not the belt. Patience and treats were the tools of choice. Sit, lay down, roll over, each mastered within a few weeks. The potty-training took a while longer, but we were lucky Teddy never mistook a classroom carpet for a tree.

Justin’s parents had cut him off after seeing his grades, that’s what drove Justin to answer that help wanted ad. He went back each weekend and did chores on that farm where he rescued Teddy from. He passed each of his classes, but it was close. We even took Teddy to see Santa that year. All Teddy did in the end was give Justin a purpose, and Justin gave the rest of us a purpose too. We were children role playing as parents.