Desperate Times Call for...Poor Decisions?

So, I just did something that may or may not have been a wonderful idea. I entrusted my sweet dog into the care of none other than Rashee Malley for the next four days.

Apparently, in order to board a dog for the week of Thanksgiving, you have to reserve a spot, oh, TWO MONTHS before you leave. Considering I'm still not sure exactly when my flight leaves out tomorrow morning, it's very unlikely that I will ever, EVER think to book a spot for Buckley weeks before I leave town. Which brings me to my current dilemma. After I called about 293476 kennels across town only to be rejected (leaving me feeling much like Dennis the Menace's mom in that scene where she's trying to find him a babysitter), I found myself 20 hours before my flight with no clue what I was going to do with my dog.

At lunch, I half-jokingly asked which one of my students I could pay to watch my dog for me. I saw several eyes light up at the word pay, but no one really seemed ready to commit. Except Rashee. "I keep him, Ms. M! I keep him for you! Lemme call my mama right now on yo' phone and see!" I hesitantly pulled my phone out of my pocket.

"I'm not sure about this, Rashee," I said slowly. Rashee jerked the phone out of my hand and dialed.

"Mama, my teacher want me to ask you can we k--" I shot him a look. "OK," he started over. "Can I keep my teacher's dog for her 'til Sunday for $100? She said it has to be OK with you first....you wan' talk to her?" Rashee thrust the phone in my face, and his mom assured me that it would be fine if they kept Buckley for a few days.

I was still hesitant. Rashee is a nut. He can't sit still for five minutes. Does he have the responsibility to take care of the only man in my life? I made it clear that I had my doubts, and Rashee continued to persist. Ms. D passed us in the hall and heard our conversation.

"You're going to trust a student with your dog?? You MUST be crazy! Ask Mr. L if he can keep it; I think he's staying here!"

Rashee tossed his head back. "Why you gonna DO me like that, Ms. D!? That's sheisty! Mr. L don't need that money!"

During fifth block, Rashee came and found me. "Ok, we talkin' business for real. Let me keep your dog, M. I promise I take good care of it."

I kept walking down the hall. "You know this is my baby. This is like my CHILD. I don't know if--"

Rashee stopped and grabbed my arm. "Forreal, Ms. M," he said solemnly. "I promise I treat him better than how I act at school." I cut my eyes, expecting sarcasm but instead saw an earnest smile.

"Oh...All right," I said. "But I don't want a HAIR missing from his head when I get back or that's one hair I'm plucking from yours!"

"I know, Ms. M! You can trust me."

That night, I followed google maps to the north side of town and pulled up to a small house with an empty driveway. Most of the lights were off, but I could see the bluish glow of the TV flickering through the front windows. Before I could make it up the steps, the front door swung open and Rashee stepped outside, smirking. It was funny to see him outside of school; just as my students think I exist only in a world of dry erase markers and power-point presentations, I seldom stop to picture my students beyond the classroom. He looked different without his school uniform of khaki pants, blue polo, and super-hero backpack with the bright-yellow trimmed straps. Standing in the door frame with his silhouette black against the soft light behind him, he looked...small. For a second, he was to me what he should be anyways but never really is: a kid. A thirteen-year-old boy.

You see, my kids live in a culture where they are forced to grow up way too fast. Most of my boys are the men of their households, so they develop this tough exterior and a sort of "couldn't care less" attitude. It's for survival and protection. If they hide their fears and their hurt, it's almost as if they don't exist. That's why when I catch them talking about SpongeBob Squarepants or Tom and Jerry I am a little caught off guard; they almost have me convinced that they're little men too.

Where was I?

Buckley jerked me across the lawn, straining against his leash.

"Daang, Ms. M! You ALREADY havin' problems with him!" Without his band of rowdy followers, Rashee almost seemed a little shy.

"He's your problem now!" I retorted. Buckley trotted right up the front steps and into the living room. "You see? Already making himself at home!"

Rashee studied Buckley. "Oh, he like a Air Bud dog!" Buckley excitedly explored his new territory, pausing to sniff a basketball in the corner. "Straight for the basketball. See? Just like Air Bud." The wooden floor was slick and shiny, and Buckley onboxiously slid from room to room.

"You SURE you can handle him, Rashee? I'm going to get him back in one piece?"

Rashee smiled at me. "I ain't gonna do nothin' to your dog, Ms. M!"

"I know you aren't going to DO anything to him, I'm just worried you're going to...lose him or something."

Rashee glanced at Buckley's 65 lb. frame. "I don't think I'm gon' lose him nowhere, either." He picked up all of Buckley's things and took them to his room at the end of the hall. Through the door, I could see him carefully laying out the dog bed right at the foot of his own. "Where his brush at?" he called over his shoulder.

For some reason, the though of Rashee dutifully giving my dog's coat one hundred strokes before bedtime made me laugh out loud. "I didn't bring one. He should be fine without!"

I took a look around. The house was sparsely decorated and very tidy. Some chili sat cold on the stove. Did Rashee make it for himself and his sister? Or did his mom fix it before she left for the late shift? I thought about how different their after school lives looked from mine. I came home and did my homework while my parents cooked together and debriefed each other on their days. I ate piles of home-cooked food around a table with the rest of my family, then watched the news sleepily cuddled up on the couch with everyone. Rashee and his sisters got home to an empty house and went to sleep many nights without even getting to see their mom. But they were pretty fortunate compared to some of their classmates. They had a permanent home and a parent who could support them.

Buckley and Rashee returned, interrupting my thoughts. I showed his sister and him how to make Buckley sit, stay, give high fives at the command "ROLL TIDE!" (which Rashee found hilarious), and balance a Cheez-It on his nose and catch it in his mouth. "He know how to fetch?" they asked. I threw the ball and let them watch Buckley retrieve it. "Oh we gon' have FUN! How you know when he through dookie-ing? He gon' get in my trash?" I went over the details quickly and handed Rashee a note with instructions and my contact information on it. His eyes scanned it quickly, then rested at the bottom.

"Aww, Ms. M, I TOLD you I'd get that number fo' the year was over! I told you I would! Mann, it ain't even DECEMBER yet and I already got it! I thought you was gon' drag this out at LEAST 'til April and make me work for it! That was TOO EASY!" I rolled my eyes. His sister giggled.

"Somehow I knew that was coming."

I kissed Buckley's head and stepped out the door. "Thanks, Rashee. Take good care of my boy."

"Oh I will. I promise. Or I get a F!"

I'm sure some interesting stories are going to come from this. Until then, say a little prayer for my dog. And Rashee's family for that matter.