Now I’ve seen everything.
It’s not unusual nowadays to see those asking for money with pets at their side. Dogs, cats…and they get me every time. I see those big eyes of a Pitt or a kitten curled up, and just empty out my pockets since I think, as low as they’ve sunk they haven’t abandoned their animals who always look cared for and happy. They don’t know they’re on the street and things could be better. They’re fed and loved, all that matters to them. It moves me more than I can say.
As I’m tooling down 86th Street with its stream of…can you help mes...I see what looks like a ravishing redhead sitting cross-legged in front of Barnes & Noble. As I get closer, she is a he with hair like Little Richard, high and glossed combed just so. But what truly stops me in my tracks is his companion perched beside him. A turtle the size of a frisbee, in a sweater no less, with a capital P on the back. I stop. “So, what’s the P for?” I ask, fascinated.
“Pal,” he said, “and I knitted it myself.”
“Wow, it’s pretty nifty,” I say. And it was, had a college football game look to it, like he went to Syracuse University. All he needed were pompoms.
Having no cash to give them, I did offer the bagel fermenting in my purse.
“No, no more bagels,” he said. “I won’t be able to get in my pants, and Pal, who likes the butter, won’t either.”
Pal has pants? I didn’t ask. People do like to give food rather than money figuring they’ll just drink or drug it away. As for me, I can only give what I have at the moment so he did accept my half tube of L’Occintane Shea Butter.
As I was leaving, a woman who also slowed up to get a look said, “I just hope he don’t trade him in for turtle soup.”
“Did you have to say that?” She shrugged.
Some things are just better left unsaid.