Need

Man, there is nothing I hate worse than little dogs. Mongrel or otherwise, they're all the same. Little drop-kicks. So I was kind of surprised when I saw her, (yes, I can tell the difference, thank you) and didn't immediately sneer. Maybe it was because she was sitting quietly on the corner. She shouldn't have been. Sitting quietly, I mean. It was freezing outside, an agonizing kind of cold that made every bone in my body ache. It was the kind of night only gangs and dire prostitutes would dare to venture out in. And, oh yeah. . . me.

I stared hard at the tiny mutt. She was butt-ugly. In fact, she was the ugliest thing I had ever seen, and that's saying something, cause I've seen Brian's dog. Uh, note to self, don't tell Brian that.

She was kind of a brownish, yellowish color, the type of color you see on a carpet and say, whoa, I'm not cleaning that up, no way! She looked like she had won a few fights in her day, and by the size of her, I'm shocked she managed to survive even one. Yeah, she was definitely nothing to look at, yet I couldn't stop staring at her. She stared back, not moving. If it weren't for her eyes, I'd swear she was frozen solid from the cold. But her eyes were alive, so alive, that I knew she must be too.

Why she was just sitting there? Well, who the hell knows. Dogs are dumb. So I walked past her, wrapping my coat tighter around my throat, not giving her a second glance. Why should I? She was just another lonely, lost soul amidst millions of others.

Sort of like you?

I shook that thought off quickly. I hate when I do that. Think, I mean. About me. What was there to think about, anyway? I had it all. Money, fame, the idolization of women everywhere.

You have nothing.

I sighed. Great. Just one more fun-filled night, talking to myself, walking around another nameless city with a pissed-off bodyguard in tow. Well, fuck him. I pay him plenty. He can just damn well keep on walking.

I turn back to see how far my bodyguard is trailing behind me. Not too far. But in between us is the dog. She's trotting, her little legs doing double time to keep up. And she's slipping, 'cause the cement sidewalk is pretty slick. But she's trying and I guess that's what counts.

Unlike you.

Why am I out here? Good question. I could be inside, where it's nice and warm, not freezing my butt off. I've got a nice hotel room, in fact, an incredible room, one of the nicest money can buy. So, tell me again, why am I out here?

Because you're lonely.

I'm lonely?   A Backstreet Boy lonely? Yeah right. Get real.

I hear the tiniest of clicks as her nails hit the hard surface and it tells me she's right behind. I want to turn around, to see how's she doing, but she's just a dog and I think hey, maybe I should turn around and scare her off cause she's disturbing my peace.

You have no peace.

Goddamn. I do turn around and she nearly bumps into me. I yell at her. Really yell at her. I can tell my bodyguard is flirting between wanting to help and wanting to laugh. Screw him. This is between me and that mangy mutt.

She looks up at me calmly. And she still isn't shaking from the cold. How can that be? My teeth are chattering. I'm freezing. Why isn't she? I try to shoo her away. She doesn't move an inch. Stupid dog! I give up and turn around, trying to hurry my steps. If I can't scare her away, then I'll just outdistance her. She doesn't have the strength. I bet she hasn't had a decent meal in weeks.

You have.

Shut up, shut up, shut up! All I want to do is go for a little walk, is that so much to ask?

I heard a small yelp and once again I look back, only this time I see her limping. Fuck. Damn dog. Why is she still following me? Why won't she just go?

Because she has no place to go, just like you.

Hey, I've got plenty of places to go! You should see my itinerary for the next few months!

You're not listening.

That's cause I don't want to. I don't go for walks in the freezing cold just to hear me analyze my life!

Really.

Really. I like to walk. I do. Helps me clear my head.

Of what?

Of a lot of things. Stress. Anger. Loneliness.

Loneliness?

I didn't say that.

Yes, you did. You said loneliness. Are you lonely?

No.

Liar. Do you think that dog is lonely?

Of course.

I craned my neck around. The limp was still there, the head, now drooping as she tried valiantly to keep up with me.

Who would want her?

Who would want you?

This was getting annoying. Everyone! Everyone wants me! I'm a Backstreet Boy, remember? I'm sure I've told you that before.

They don't want you. They want a Backstreet Boy, a vision, a dream-fantasy of their own making.

They don't want me?

No.

I thought about that for a while. Who wants me for me? Who wants me for me? That thought keeps churning around in my mind as I continued walking, my hands shoved deep into my pockets, my head bowed to keep the swirl of snowflakes from touching my cheeks. After a few blocks I finally came to terms with it. I always knew. . . I just didn't want to admit it. That no one wanted me. For being me. That hit me hard. The life of a Backstreet Boy has brought a lot of things into my life. It has taken away a lot of things, too. I stopped suddenly. I didn't feel like walking anymore.

I felt a small bump on the back of my legs. Head bent low, the dog had accidentally run into me. She took a few steps back and sat. Staring up at me, with the biggest, softest eyes ever. Waiting patiently. Patiently.

I caught my breath. I looked at her. Really, really looked at her. I crouched down. She didn't move an inch, not an inch, but gazed back, her brown eyes staring straight into my brown ones.

And you know what I saw? Affection. For me. Me. Not a Backstreet Boy.

And you know what I felt?   The same.

I held out a hand. I hoped she would come to me. I saw a small step, a limp, and I tried not to wince. I kept my hand out, holding my breath. She took another step. Then another. I carefully, oh so carefully reached out to touch her. I was scared she would run. She had every right to. Why should she trust me?   One more step and we were so close I could feel the small pant of her breath. I gently patted her on the head. She froze, as if the feeling was foreign to her. It probably was. I reluctantly withdrew my hand. Slowly, hesitantly she took one more step

And then I received the warmest, wettest lick on my chin.

With trembling hands I picked her up, holding her gently to face me.

"Mr. Dorough, you want me to get rid of that mutt for you?"

"What?" I stared at him. "No. No!"

I watched as my bodyguard shrugged. "Okay, no problem, I just thought . . . nevermind."

I finished my glare and motioned for him to lead the way back to the hotel. We began to walk again and it was kind of funny. Not funny ha, ha, but funny, strange. Because I wasn't cold anymore. Not at all. I felt all warm inside. And happy.

But she was shaking. Really trembling. She was cold. Of course she was, you idiot! It's like the North Pole out here! She needs warmth. Maybe a bath. Food for sure. I wondered if Brian had an extra dog collar. Just to borrow, of course. Until we can find her a new one.

I can feel her relax as I try to protect her from the bitter weather. We're close to the hotel. Good. She looks up at me with perfect trust. I smile. I'm glad I found her.

You jerk, you didn't find her, she found you!

No. We found each other.

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