He knew he was lucky that Dad had decided not to kill him, but his prayer still hadn't been answered. He prayed it again. He wanted Mom to come home. He even missed Jasmine. Things were too weird without them. Things weren't all that great with them around, but at least he knew what to expect.
He had no doubt that the little brown dog had saved his life. He was grateful.
The next day was Wednesday. Mom and Jasmine had been gone for a week. When Jimmy awoke he thought about calling Grandma to see if they really were there. But he couldn't do that unless Dad left. He could hear Dad snoring.
He dressed and went outside to feed the chickens and gather the eggs. He found three more dead rats near the coop. Two of them were half eaten. As Jimmy carried the eggs to the house, the dog trotted around the garage with yet another rat in its mouth. It dropped the rat and came to Jimmy to be petted. Jimmy obliged and then took the eggs inside.
Dad was in the kitchen. He wasn't wearing a shirt. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face was slack. His sparse hair stuck up at odd angles.
Jimmy put the eggs into the refrigerator. 'That dog killed four more rats,' he said. 'He eats them. I saw him eat a rabbit too.'
Dad lit the burner under the skillet that had held cold eggs the night before. 'Scramble some eggs,' he told Jimmy.
Jimmy did as he was told, and they ate the eggs without talking. Then Dad left the kitchen and went into his and Mom's room. He closed the door. Jimmy waited for him to put on a shirt and come out again, but an hour passed, and he didn't. Jimmy took some comic books to the porch and sat down to read. The dog appeared and hopped onto the porch to lie beside him. Jimmy scratched the dog behind the ears and noticed that it smelled like the pond, with a sharper smell mixed in. It wasn't a good smell, but Jimmy didn't mind.
He had read all of the comic books before, so he went into the front yard and threw sticks for the dog to chase. The dog had no idea what he was doing and just watched him from the porch. The lawnmower was still sitting where he had left it the day before, so he pushed it into the garage. The dog came with him.
Jimmy took some shop rags from the barrel and piled them on the dirt floor between the barrel and the wall. 'You can sleep here at night,' he told the dog. 'This is your own personal bed.' The dog sniffed at the barrel, lifted a hind leg, and pissed on it. Then it sniffed at the rags and tromped on them, turning around and around. It flopped down and grinned up at Jimmy.
Jimmy went into the house to call Ernie. The dog tried to follow him inside, but he kept it out. Dad would never allow a dog in the house. Jimmy was sure of it.
He called Ernie. 'You know that dog at the pond?' he said. 'It came home with me.'
'No lie?' Ernie sounded hoarse again. His breath whistled in the receiver. 'What did your dad say?'
'Nothing. I don't think he cares, because it kills rats.' Jimmy hesitated. He was still embarrassed about the day before. 'You want to come out this afternoon?'
Ernie's breath whistled a few times before he answered. 'I can't. I got a doctor's appointment. I told my mom it's just hay fever, but she made the appointment anyway.'
'Maybe he'll give you something for it.'
'Yeah. Your mom back yet?'
Jimmy twisted the phone cord around his finger. 'No.'
'Well, my mom called that prayer tower for you,' Ernie said. 'I guess it can't hurt.'
They talked a little more. New comic books were due at Nimper's IGA on Friday. They agreed to meet at Ernie's house and go down to Nimper's to make their purchases together. Then they would read the comics in Ernie's room or on the water tower catwalk.
After hanging up, Jimmy sat looking at the dusty black phone for a while. He could hear Dad snoring. Maybe it would be all right if he was quiet. He got Grandma's number from the inside cover of the phone book, where Mom had written it in ink. Tulsa's area code reminded him that this would show up as a long-distance call on the bill. But if Mom came back soon, that would be okay. She did the bills.
He dialed the number and waited. The line clicked and popped. Then there was a hiss, followed by a loud busy signal. He replaced the receiver in its cradle. He was breathing hard. He felt guilty.
He went to his room and shut the door. He didn't turn on the light. He lay down on the bed with his face in the pillow. He was a liar and a sneak. No wonder Dad was always mad at him. No wonder Mom had taken his sister and run off. No wonder God didn't answer his prayers. No wonder his best friend was a sissy like Ernie.
Far away, the chickens squawked. Jimmy put his head under the pillow. The last thing he wanted to be reminded of was the filthy fucking chickens.
He could still hear them. They wouldn't shut up. He started humming, then singing. It was a song he had heard at Ernie's house. It was about an astronaut named Major Tom. Ground control was having trouble with him.
Something exploded.
Jimmy threw off the pillow. He held his breath and listened. There was another explosion. It came from outside. It was Dad's shotgun.
Jimmy ran from his room, through the kitchen, and out the back door. A chicken rushed past, flapping madly. Dad was standing beside the chicken coop. He still wasn't wearing a shirt. He was holding his Remington twelve-gauge. He pumped it, and a spent shell went flying. It tumbled in a red arc. Dad lowered the gun. His shoulder was pink where the stock had rubbed it.
Dad's eyes and mouth were narrow. Jimmy stopped several feet away. He couldn't stand to look at Dad's face. He looked down and saw the rooster dead on the ground. Its head was gone. A hen lay a few yards away. Its head was gone too.
'Did you shoot them?' Jimmy asked. His eyes throbbed.
'Hell, no,' Dad said. 'I shot that goddamn dog. Son of a bitch ran off before I could finish it.'
The throbbing spread into Jimmy's skull and became a roar. He couldn't feel his body. He heard a voice screaming no and no and no.
The ground was spinning. Dad grabbed him. They were in the driveway now. The shotgun lay back on the grass. Dad squeezed his left arm hard. Jimmy could feel it now.
'It was killing chickens,' Dad said. 'The goddamn dog was killing my chickens.'
Jimmy heard the voice scream again.
'You didn't have to shoot him, you bastard!'
Dad's hand went up and came down. Jimmy fell. Dad's hand clamped onto his neck and pressed his face into the gravel.
Jimmy closed his eyes. After a while he realized that Dad's hand was gone. He got up to his knees. He was alone.
Jimmy brushed gravel from his face and stood. Gravel was embedded in his knees, and he brushed that away too. He was crying again, the same way he had cried at the pond. He hated it. He wanted to stop and couldn't. All he could do was hide. He went into the garage. He held on to the rim of the shop-rag barrel and hunched over. Something cold touched his leg.
It was the dog. It seemed to be okay. It was looking up at him the same way as before. Then it turned. The fur and skin on its left side were gone. The flesh was raw and red and open. A rib showed.
