THE TAGGER AND THE DOG

THE TAGGER AND THE DOG

1,

Just after midnight, when Harry was in the back yard, he noticed the back gate was unlocked again. He suspected Greg, the man he shares the house with, did this so Harry could get his nightly exercise. And this was fine with him, so he left the back yard and strolled down the alley, hoping he would meet an old friend or meet someone he didn’t know.

Two streets over from the alley was a small business section. Though there were street lights on both corners of the block, the center of the block was not well illuminated. In front of a local grocery store Harry noticed a Tagger spray paining his graffiti logo, or whatever a Tagger called it, on the wall near the glass door. When he was standing close enough to the Tagger to see him better, Harry figured he was in his late teens or early twenties.

“That’s a unique looking signature,” Harry told the Tagger.

Puzzled, the Tagger stared at him a moment, then quickly looked around to see where the human voice was coming from.

“There’s no one on this street but you and me,” Harry assured him.

“There’s got to be someone somewhere, because dogs can’t talk!”

“I can because you’re hearing me.”

“No. It’s some kind of trick,” the Tagger insisted.

“Let’s just say I’m your guardian conscience for tonight.”

“How about I pull out my switchblade knife and cut you all over?” 

“You’re welcome to try.”

When the Tagger pulled his switchblade out of his real pocket and opened it, it suddenly turned bright red hot, slightly scorching his hand.

“How? ... Who ... why?”

“I just want to discuss the meaning of real art with you for a few minutes,” Harry explained.

“That’s all you want? The Tagger asked as he stared at the switchblade laying on the sidewalk.

“I wouldn’t even think about picking up that switchblade now, unless you want to end up at the local ER with third degree burns.”

“I don’t believe any of this BS, But what have I got to lose?” the Tagger told Harry.

“First, there many fine artists, some doing incredible art, as street artists. I’ve actually seen some of it when wandering around my neighborhood. Then there is the Tagger who defaces public and private property with graffiti.”

:But I’m not a Tagger. I’m a street artist,” the Tagger protested.

“And what makes you think that?” Harry asked the Tagger.

“Because you said I have a unique signature.”

“Unique as far as it being from a Tagger. And you’re right that it’s unique. It’s a little more original than that of most Tagger signatures.”

“I don’t believe you, so what do you want from me? The Tagger asked.

“The same thing to told you before. A short discussion about the true meaning of real art.”

“Okay, we’ll talk about than.”

“Maybe not you, but many Taggers do it because they want attention, and some think the only way they’ll get public attention is by defacing public or private property. And another Tagger will see the graffiti and leave their own tag. Is this true?” Harry asked him.

“Maybe. I don’t know. But maybe it’s true.”

“What’s funny to me is that a Tagger and a dog both leave messages for other taggers and dogs to see. A dog will pee on a wall, a lamp post, a fence or sidewalk to leave a message that another dog can notice by sniffing. With us it’s natural way to get attention and pass on messages. But for a human Tagger who can read, write, use a cell phone or the internet to get attention and pass along messages why do they chose to mimic a dog?” 

“I haven’t looked at it that way before.”

“There are many ways to get attention.”

“Such as?” the Tagger asked Harry.

“If you really think you’re got real talent as an artist you can take classes.”

“Classes cost money.”

                                                                                                                                

“Some do, but some are free.”

“But what about artist paint, brushes and canvases?” the Tagger asked.

“One way is to get hired at an art supply store. Employees usually get an employee discount.”

“And if none are hiring?”

“You could go to a trade school and they’ll cover the cost. A trade school like learning to become a master mechanic. Once you’ve learned the craft you could easily earn from forty to fifty dollars an hour.”

“Yeah, I guess so. My cousin makes forty an hour and wants to open his own garage when he’s

enough money.”

“So?” Harry asked him.

“I’ll still need money to get by on.”

“You could live with your cousin, couldn’t you?”

“Yeah. He’s single and he’s already buying a house.”

“So, no more tagging to get attention?” Harry asked him.

“Never. But I might us some spray paint in my art work. So I thank you, Mister guardian conscience. 

2.

When Harry returned home Greg seemed to be waiting up for him.

“Did you enjoy your night out?” Greg asked him.

“It was certainly interesting.”

“And you set that Tagger on the right path?”

“Yes, but how did you know?” Harry asked Greg.

“Because we’re both guardian angels in our own way.”

                                                                                                                      

“And you’ve never worried about leaving the back gate unlocked?”

“Not with the security cameras that also cover the back yard and our alarm system. So, are you hungry?” Greg asked Harry.                                                                                                                                                                                                  

“No, but I really need to go back out to pee.”

“Just use the same spot you always use. The spot in the far corner of the yard that’s gravel,”

Greg suggested, followed by him laughing.