“Is that it? It’s huge. You said it was a puppy.”
“Well, I named him Bear; what did you think?”
“This isn’t going to work.”
“Mom! I have no choice! I got an eviction notice!” Wendi yelled angrily.
“Well, what in the world were you thinking, anyway?”
“He was a gift from Derek! What was I supposed to do, take him back?”
“Why would he get you a dog when you can’t have dogs in the apartment?”
“Because I said I wanted him, too, okay, Mom? Are you happy? I said I wanted a dog. God.”
The feelings the two women had toward each other were so complex, there was no way I could sort them out. Wendi and I spent the night in the tiny home, both of us a little afraid: there was a man named Victor who came home when it was dark, and he was so full of rage it made everything feel dangerous and crazy. While Wendi and I slept in a narrow bed in a cramped back room, Victor yelled in another part of the house.
“I don’t want a dog here!”
“Well, it’s my place and I’ll do what I want!”
“What are we supposed to do with a dog?”
“That’s a stupid question; what does anyone do with a dog?”
“Shut up, Lisa; just shut up.”
“It will be okay, Barry-Boo. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” Wendi whispered to me. She was so sad I licked her hand in reassurance, but that just made her cry.
The next morning, the two women stood outside and talked next to the car. I sniffed along the door’s edge, waiting to be let inside. The sooner Wendi and I left this place, the better.
“God, Mom, how can you put up with him?” Wendi said.
“He’s not so bad. He’s better than your father.”
“Oh, don’t start.”
They stood silently for a minute. I gave the air a sniff—it carried with it the sour fragrance of the garbage stacked up next to the house, which, frankly, smelled delightful. I wouldn’t mind digging around in there, someday.
“Well, call me when you get home,” the older woman finally said.
“I will, Mom. Take good care of Bear.”
“Yeah.” The woman put a cigarette in her mouth and lit it, blowing smoke out sharply.
Wendi knelt beside me, and her sadness was so strong and familiar I knew what was coming. She stroked my face and told me I was a good dog, and then opened the door and slid inside without letting me in. I watched the car drive away without surprise, though I wasn’t at all sure what I had done. If I was such a good dog, why was I being abandoned by my owner?
“Now what?” the woman standing next to me muttered, puffing her cigarette.
{ TWENTY-SEVEN }
Over the next several weeks, I learned to stay away from Victor. Most of the time this was easy, as I was chained to a post in the backyard and Victor never approached me. Often I could see him, though, sitting by a window in the kitchen, smoking and drinking. Sometimes at night he would come out into the backyard to urinate, and that was about the only time he talked to me. “Whatcha looking at, dog?” he’d shout at me. There was never any happiness in his laughter.
The days grew warmer, so for shade I dug out a scoop of earth between the sagging back fence and a machine that sat in the sun.
“Dog got dirt all over my snowmobile!” Victor yelled when he saw what I had done.
“Thing hasn’t run in two years!” the woman, Lisa, screamed back. They yelled at each other a lot. It reminded me a little of when Mom and Dad would get angry and shout, except that at this house I’d sometimes hear a thud and a cry of pain, usually accompanied by the sound of bottles knocking together and falling to the floor.
A nice old lady lived in a place behind the rotten wooden fence, and she started coming over to talk to me through the gaps and holes in the boards. “Such a nice doggy, do you have water today?” she whispered the first really hot morning. She left and soon reappeared with a pitcher, from which she poured a cool stream of water into my dirty bowl. I lapped it up gratefully and licked the thin, shaking hand she extended through the fence hole.
The flies buzzing around my stools landed on my lips and eyes, driving me a little crazy, but mostly I didn’t mind lying in the backyard as long as I could be away from Victor. He scared me; the malevolence flowing from him communicated a real sense of danger. I was reminded of Todd, and the man with the gun who hurt Jakob. I’d bitten both men; did that mean I would someday be biting Victor?
I simply could not believe that my purpose in this life was to attack humans. It was beyond unacceptable. The mere thought made me sick.
When Victor was not home I would bark and Lisa would come out and feed me and let me off the chain a little bit, but I never once barked when he was in the house.
The lady on the other side of the fence brought me little pieces of meat, which she poked through the hole. When I caught the meat as it fell through the air, she laughed with real delight, as if I had performed an amazing trick. It seemed the only purpose I really had, bringing a little bit of joy to a mysterious woman whose face I couldn’t quite see.
