Punkin

Zelda's dog, Punkin, is a spunky little terrier mix, sort of a Toto-like dog, but softer and curlier and blond. She found her at a flea market. Zelda hadn't been looking for a dog. She'd been looking for charm bracelets, which she collects, along with other kinds of personalized jewelry (clunky ID bracelets, monogram pins, lockets with pictures in them--that sort of thing.)

Zelda hadn't seen anything that fit her budget the whole day (she has a strict five-dollar limit) and she was just about to leave, when she saw a box by the door with a dog in it. It was a very cute dog, but Zelda could have passed it by, if it hadn't been for the sign taped to the side of the box: "Free to a Good Home. Likes Punkin Pie."

Zelda Has a Crush on Phoebe

Zelda is soft and round, with rosy, Santa-like cheeks and wild, Medusa-like hair. She used to be the head of marketing for an international pharmaceutical company, but twenty years ago she got laid off and instead of making appointments with all the headhunters, she sold her house with everything in it and went to live on a boat with a man who planned to sail around the world and promised to teach her to steer by the stars. He left her for a waitress in the Seychelles, where she stayed for a while, but when her visa ran out, she got on a plane and came back to the midwest.

Her name was Miriam then. She's Zelda now, and she's a Pet Psychic (with a crush on Phoebe) and so keeps regular hours at the Dog Park. She also does Tarot Card readings at the Nextdoor Book Store (where she has a table by the cash register and a sign that reads: Questions Answered, One Dollar Each) and she does Aura Fluffings at the Heaven's Hands Health Spa (which she thinks is bogus, but does it anyway, and charges by the color of the aura), but she works strictly on the barter system at the Dog Park. This is partly in deference to Phoebe's priest collar. But mostly because her dog, Punkin, doesn't believe in the capitalist system.

Phoebe Has a Crush on Josephine

Josephine is slender and athletic, with green eyes and freckles, big teeth and rust-colored hair. "Ginger" she would call it. Josephine grew up near London and has a pleasant British accent--not posh, but crisp and foreign enough for Phoebe to take notice. (Josephine says "boot" for "trunk" and "mo-bile" for "cell phone," and listening to her makes Phoebe think of Diana Rigg as Emma Peale.)

Phoebe has a crush on Josephine, but Josephine doesn't seem to notice. She spends most of her time at the Dog Park playing catch with Coco, her big chocolate Lab. Coco is very insistent. (She'll fling the ball, slobber and all, right into your lap if you try to ignore her.) Plus, she has a nasty habit of eating fresh poo, so Josephine has to stay on alert. (Dried piles of poop don't tempt her, but the minute one of the dogs starts to hunch over--even one at the very far end of the park--Josephine has to grab Coco's collar and hold on tight until the other dog's owner has cleaned up, or Coco will take off and wolf it right down before anyone can even get to it.) 

Josephine is mortified by Coco's poo-eating behavior, which mitigates somewhat the disgust most of the other dog owners feel. "It's a phase," some of them say. Or, "Maybe you should feed her more meat."

Phoebe tries to be firm, but reassuring. "You'll just have to teach her not to do it," she says, but she's not so sure. God, as far as she knows, has never eaten dog poop. But he does like to root through the garbage and every so often he'll find something foul on the ground and then he'll throw himself down in ecstatic delight and roll in it until he's covered with the stuff.                 

 

     

Introducing God

God is a lean, scruffy-looking Wolfhound with a crooked tale and big ears. He is missing his left back leg. Phoebe has to be careful when she calls him God. It's OK, when no one's around, to scratch him behind the ears and say, "I love you, God," or to pat her thigh and say, "Come on, God, let's go for a walk." But she can't just stand at the gate, or near the street, and yell, "Here, God!" Not even at the Dog Park. It's a public place, after all, and people can get easily offended.

At the pound, where she got him, they said his name was "Butch." Which Phoebe found amusing. But he had such a wise and long-suffering look on his face that the name that came naturally to her mind, the one that just popped out of her mouth whenever he sat on her feet, or leaned up against her leg, was "God." 

She realized, soon enough, how problematic the name was. For example, the receptionist at the vet wouldn't write it down.

"No, really, his name is God," she'd said. The woman didn't like it at all. Finally, she shook her head, muttered "Christ" under her breath, and wrote "Unknown." Which Phoebe considered as an alternative for a moment, but decided it would be wrong.

"His name is God," Phoebe told the vet, when she finally got in to see him. He was a kindly, Marcus Welby type and didn't seem to mind. 

"I've heard worse," he said.

The people at the pound said that God was at least eight years old. "You sure his name's not Methuselah," the vet laughed when he heard that. "These big dogs don't usually live more than six or seven years. His teeth are pretty much shot, but his heart's still good. How'd he lose his leg?"

Phoebe didn't know. He'd been rounded up with a pack of strays that were living near the zoo. The dogs hadn't bothered anybody, but the pack was getting bigger and the Park Police were nervous. All the smaller dogs had already been adopted by the time Phoebe got there. It wouldn't have mattered. The minute she saw him, Phoebe knew she wanted God.  

 

  

Introducing Phoebe

Phoebe is a lesbian priest with a three-legged dog name God. She's tall and bosomy (a beauty once, now somewhat matronly) with dark blue eyes and close-cropped, salt-and-pepper hair. Her pale skin and contemplative nature can make her seem cold or standoffish, but she has a big heart and generous nature. Her last girlfriend, in tender moments, called her Peachy. 

She's come late in life to the priesthood--she hasn't actually been ordained, not in any official way--but she's felt the calling and figures that's good enough. The only church that will take her, however, can't pay. So she supports herself tending bar. The church isn't actually a church. There's a congregation, but they meet in an old movie theatre, which is fine with Phoebe because she gets to preach in front of an enormous velvet curtain, and all the parishioners get to bring their dogs. 

Plus, she gets to live in the theatre for free. She sleeps in the projection room (which she calls the "wrecktory") and cooks in the concession stand. There's a working sink and a mostly-working refrigerator, to which Phoebe has added a four-slice toaster and electric kettle, converting it--as far as Phoebe is concerned--to a fully functioning kitchen.

The ladies room is adequate for freshening up, but showering was problem until Phoebe discovered that a priest's collar can get you into the university's very up-scale gym--no questions asked.

Of course, there's no yard behind the theatre for God to run around in, which is why Phoebe spends so much time at the Dog Park. (That, plus the fact that Josephine can often be found there.)