A Gift from Prospect Park

One fall evening my wife and I were walking home along 8th Ave in Park Slope when we felt a presence behind us. We turned to discover we were being followed by an emaciated, brindle colored pit bull.

After three blocks we stopped to see if the dog would approach us. We looked around but there was no owner in sight and the dog was not wearing a collar. It was apparent the dog was very old as he sat down in front of us and waited for us to continue. We started walking again trailing our new friend who clearly intended to follow us home.

The dog was docile and not threatening at all, he was a stray looking for a little help. We lived in the basement apartment of a brownstone that had a gated entry alcove. We put a blanket in the alcove for him to sleep on, gave him a bowl of water and some leftover chicken. He wolfed down the chicken, curled up on the blanket and went to sleep.

In the morning we took the dog to a nearby vet to get checked out. The vet said the dog had most likely been abandoned in the park, which was a common occurrence in Prospect Park. The vet determined the dog had heartworm and told us he was the most flea-infested dog they had ever treated. The vet team deflead the dog and sent us home with medicine for the heartworm.

We named him Moe and set up a space for him in the apartment. Moe became my wife’s constant companion, spending the day together when I went to work in Manhattan. My wife and Moe would meet me at the subway when I got off the train home from work. People coming up the subway steps would see Moe and take a wide path around him.

But Moe was not aggressive, he was old and tired. He didn’t even bark for the first two weeks we had him until the day he let out a single WOOF that was so loud we jumped.

Over the next two months Moe gained weight and strength. We were new to New York and Moe was an eager companion on our walks around Park Slope and Brooklyn as we learned about our new city.

But his heartworm continued to get worse. The disease was making it hard for him to breathe and he was suffering. Then one day we took our last walk with Moe up 8th Avenue to the vet’s office. It was incredibly hard to let him go even if it was the right thing to do. The vet said we had given Moe a great gift of love and care during his last months.

My wife and I walked home in silence, each of us looking over our shoulder half expecting to see Moe tagging along like the fall night we met him.