BY JUSTIN JUUL

I was reading a newspaper in the doorway of Mama’s Market the other day when an old golden retriever suddenly appeared out of nowhere and started sniffing at my feet. I’m a normal dude so I did the natural thing and bent down to give the little guy a pat, but stopped short and recoiled in horror just as my hand was closing in. The poor dog’s feet were mangled and bent and his back was spotted and hairless with weird-looking bumps sticking out all over. I knew the right thing to do was to pet him anyway, but I just couldn’t do it. Whatever. He was stinky and old and gross and I wanted beer not a new friend. I walked in the store thinking I’d never see him again, but five minutes later, he was back. And this time he had a friend.

“There’s nothing wrong with him, you know?” said the lady in the floppy hat –obviously the dog’s owner– when she noticed me standing behind her in the checkout line (damn it!). Then she snapped her fingers and the dog limped in and starting sniffing at me again. “Are you sure?” I said, as I stepped back to avoid his scabby nose. “Of course I’m sure,” she said. “Sam may be ugly and old, but he’s just as good as any dog out there. Better even. He knows the difference between love and obligation.” She went on to tell me that she had adopted Sam from a canine rescue organization. Sam had been tortured for years, but was now living the high-life with this woman, Mary E. Fahey, the owner of a dog-walking service called Chattanooga Pooches and Kitty Cats 2.

I didn’t pet Sam that day, but when I ran into the couple the following week I asked Mary to sit down with me for this interview so I could try.

MEET: So, Mary. Where are you from and why did you choose to settle in SF?

Mary Fahey: I came here in the ‘80s. I was in a high tech graphics company, installing computers and stuff. They transferred me from NYC to Nor Cal and then I lost my job right afterwards. This was in the dark ages, right before the personal computer came out. The whole game changed as soon as I got out here and everything I had learned was quickly becoming obsolete. Things were becoming kind of cut-throat around here.

MEET: How’d you get into dog-walking?

Fahey: Well I got back into the computer industry for a while and suddenly I was just too old. Well, I didn’t think I was too old, but everyone else obviously did and they made no effort to hide it. I had a dog walker at this point, but I had to let her go soon after I was fored. I sat around the house for a while after that, just gaining ten pounds a day, feeling sorry for myself. And then my old dog walker asked me for some help and I said okay. I’ve been doing it ever since…almost 15 years now.

MEET: So what’s the story with Sam here?

Fahey: He was rescued over a year ago by an organization that specializes in rescuing golden retrievers. He was found on the street, having escaped from a terrible life. The people who owned him were really really rich. They basically threw him in the back yard and forgot about him for ten years. When the rescuers found him he was covered in bruises and disease-ridden from one end to the other. He had no hair. If you think Sam’s scary now, you should have seen him then.

MEET: Does that happen a lot with dogs?

Fahey: Yes… well whenever a movie like 101 Dalmatians comes out, you get all these kids who want a Dalmatian and then they forget about him when he’s not a puppy anymore. They just throw him in the back yard and that’s the end. That’s why we have all these specialized dog rescue services like the Nor Cal Golden Retriever Rescue Association and, I don’t know, the Pug Police, or whatever. It helps narrow down the search when you concentrate on one breed, I guess.

MEET: Well they certainly did right giving you Sam, here. He’s really nice.

Fahey: Oooooooh, you should have seen him when I first got him. He was so scared of human beings, you couldn’t make a move without him getting scared and hiding.

MEET: Sorry I freaked out in the store. Can I pet Sam now?

Fahey: Sure go ahead.

At this point I stopped interviewing Mary and focused on the dog. I looked deep into Sam’s eyes as I gave him a good petting and then walked away, having redeemed myself to the fullest. I can now sleep soundly with the knowledge that I am an indiscriminate dog lover.

This interview originally appeared in The San Francisco Bay Guardian