Hi, I'm Fuzzy...
Going through a trunk of memorabilia in my attic I came across a framed photo of Fuzzy with a note attached to it that said, ‘Hi, I’m Fuzzy…and I’m the matchmaker. Due to circumstances beyond my control…I could not attend this wonderful wedding..I’m sorry, but please have a good time anyway. Bye now...woof, woof”
Seeing that note made me stop and reflect on the years past with mixed feelings. The good feelings were of how Fuzzy had so much to do with everything I had. The sad part was that she wasn’t still here to continue sharing it with me. Only a few months before Sue and I had lost Fuzzy to cancer. My only consolation was that for the 10 years that we had her, Fuzzy had the good dog’s life at our home in Carmel, New York. She had a big fenced in yard to romp around in, plenty of food and lot’s of love. That was a far cry from the condition we found her in on that cool afternoon in March of 1983. It was also the day Sue and I found each other.
It’s amazing how a spur of the moment act can change your life forever. In this case for the better.
I was returning to my office with 2 friends from our luncheon stroll when one of them suggested a quick stop over at a nearby deli. “You guys go ahead”, I said, “I gotta get back.”
“Oh, come on”, one friend said, “5 minutes”. So I went along.
As we approached the deli we saw a crowd of some 20 people circled around something that had gotten their attention. As we got closer we saw a very sad scene. There in the middle of the circle was what appeared to be a homeless type person, who had a wire type leash attached to an emaciated, mangy looking puppy that was lapping water from a puddle. This scene had some of the people in tears. My two friends began to back off, one saying to me, ‘Harry, don’t get near that dog. It has mange.” Instead of backing away I called over to the bedraggled looking man holding the wire leash and who appeared not to notice a crowd standing around him, ”Sir, that dog looks like it needs some attention.” He replied, “There’s nothing wrong with this dog.” At that point an elderly lady standing by me grabbed my arm and cried, “Please take this dog away from him.”
I looked back to the man and responded, “If you think that dog’s o.k. then you’re the one with the problem.” I took a step toward him. Suddenly a ‘thirtyish ‘ small blond woman ran up to me, grabbed my arm and said, “Help me take that dog away from him.”
Maybe the fellow heard her because with leash in hand he suddenly bolted through the crowd with pup in tow and took off down Broadway toward 42nd street…with the lady and me in pursuit. Once on 42nd street he was about to drag the pup down the entrance to a subway station when I reached out and grabbed him by his arm. As I did that he released the leash which the lady in turned grabbed. I let him go and he continued down the stairs and disappeared into the station.
This left the woman and myself standing on the corner of 42nd street and Broadway with this very sad looking pooch sitting between us. The woman broke the silence by looking up at me and saying, ”My name is Susan” I shook her outstretched hand and replied, “I’m Harry.” Susan then said, “We have to get this dog to my vet.” “Where is that?” I asked. “In the Bronx….” she replied. “I have to tell my job
that I’m leaving for the day first. We’ll take the subway.” “…the subway?” I exclaimed, “how are we getting this dog on the subway?” “We’ll worry about that when we get there.” she replied.
After Sue told her boss that she had to leave for the day we headed into the subway with the pup following meekly behind. Well, I feel someone guided us in our journey to the Bronx because somehow we got the dog through the turnstiles, onto the D train and to the Bronx stop at Kingsbridge Road without any interference if you can disregard all the looks we got in our journey.
To show you my state of mind, it never occurred to me to notify my employer of my adventure.
“I can’t let this little guy on my car seat in this condition” Sue said once we were on the Bronx street, “We’ll have to get her in a box or something”. Sue raced into a nearby supermarket and moments later came out with a large carton placing it down, open end facing the pup.
“How are we getting her in the box?” I asked. Before Sue could respond the dog slowly walked into the box and lay down.
Within 15 minutes we had the pooch sitting in the box on the back seat of Sue’s car, and we were on our way to the Vet in Yonkers. When we walked the dog into the Vets reception area you would think from the look on the faces of the staff that we had walked in with the Lockness monster. Despite the looks, Sue felt she was in the right place. Dr. Klinger had been taking care of Sue’s pets for some 10 years and she felt if this pooch had any chance of recovering it would be here.
His diagnosis was that we had on our hands a 6-month-old female pup with the worst case of mange that he had ever seen. She could be helped but it would come with a $600.00 price tag. With that a lady standing nearby reached into her pocketbook and pulled out $60 and said, “Let me chip in. If we get her back to shape I’ll find a home for her.” The lady was Mimi Stone who ran the nearby Elmsford shelter. Sue looked at me as if waiting for my response. Not knowing what else to say I blurted out, “O.K. we’ll split it.” To this day I still think about how meeting her cost me $300.00 and I barely knew her name.
The process of getting that pooch back in shape took a few months and during that period Sue and I got to know each other better…time well spent. Sue kept in touch with Mrs. Stone during that time and ended up doing volunteer work at the shelter every Sunday for the next 3 years. It wasn’t very long before I too ended up at the shelter doing all sorts of odds and ends. By the time our working Sundays had come to an end after the 3 years Sue had ‘adopted’ a few of the residents and made them a part of her growing family in the Bronx. When the day came that the pup could go ‘home’, she was bouncy happy and fluffy clean, the bloody sores and cuts gone. During her stay the staff told us she had become the hospital mascot of sorts, that she had run of the entire area and that they would miss her. When the pooch came bounding out to us Sue took one look at her and came up with the name Fuzzy. I didn’t think much of the name but then I never thought she’d end up being my dog.
By the time we came to pick Fuzzy up Sue had decided to bring her to her Bronx apartment for a trial stay, even though she already had 2 other dogs…Sandy and Lulu, along with some 5 cats. Sandy didn’t take a liking to Fuzzy for a while and during that time Sue had to somehow keep them apart in her small apartment, but after a time things worked out and everyone got along.
Like me, Sue believed in reincarnation and often commented that she thought Fuzzy was her deceased mother who came along like this to watch over her. On the New Years eve 1995 that I proposed to her Sue broke out into tears wishing that her mother was still around to share her happiness. With Fuzzy, along with Sandy and Lulu looking on I reminded her that maybe she was.
At the reception on our November, 1986 wedding day, Sue put that picture of Fuzzy with the attached note at the head of the dais, to let anyone who didn’t know, what an important role that dog had in the culmination of this wonderful day.