Dog Eat Dog by Chris Lynch

Author:Chris Lynch [Lynch, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4804-0453-3
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2013-01-16T21:08:00+00:00

A Little Bit Free

AS I HEADED OUT to work in the morning I passed the doghouse Sully’s father had built for Bugs. I’d walked right by it the night before, but in the light it was amazing. Real asphalt shingles for the roof, three colors of paint, a swinging door to keep out the cold, and shuttered windows. I walked across the lawn to it, crouched, and opened the shutters.

“Bar-ar-ar-ar-ar!” Bugs shocked me with his annoying angry yap. I heard his teeth clack together like silverware as he tried repeatedly to bite me, and I fell back on the grass.

“Should have brought you,” I said as I brushed myself off and left him still barking.

For the last time I went out back of the O’Asis and cleaned up after my big brute of a dog. I could still hear them laughing in my ears. Then I trudged through my usual chores, and when I was done, absentmindedly went to the refrigerator for food.

“Duh,” I said to myself, and put the plastic bag full of stew beef back. Then I thought about it and took it out again.

I rode the bus back toward the house, but continued on one extra stop. There I got off, walked a little way, and stood for a bit in front of Evelyn’s house. After giving myself a few minutes to think it over one more time, I crept around the side.

The great creature didn’t get up when he saw me. Initially he didn’t even raise his head. I took a few tentative steps into the yard, reached into the bag, and pulled out some chunks of meat. I tossed them toward where the dog lay half in, half out of his house. He licked them up off the ground, chewed once, swallowed, then looked at me again. I threw a few more. With each toss, I took a couple steps further into the yard until the bag was empty and I was almost within reach of his chain.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I said, and slipped out before he finished the last of it.

I did come back tomorrow. And the next day. The beef was his favorite, but he was also happy to have the turkey, sausages, ham, and even the bogus cod croquettes I was almost afraid to give him. I began to look forward to feeding him, and he seemed to be glad to see me. I hurried through my work every day so I could get there.

He was the one. I knew all along he was the one. I would take it slowly, bring him along. There was no rush anyway; I felt no urgency, no panic, because it was so obvious that this was the one and that it was all going to come to an end soon enough.

My days then, sweaty, long, and secretive still, took on an odd, unexpected calmness. I had some kind of rhythm for the first time since school, Toy, and all that ended. I did my work, I visited the dog, and then I did other stuff.

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