Say No More

by Sasson, Gemini

  After Lise left, she mopped the kitchen floor, which meant I had to move to the living room. Then she took a nap, ate lunch, washed dishes, took a second nap, talked on the phone to Merle, packed a few more things in boxes, took another nap ...

  I was only vaguely aware of her activities after that. I felt like sleeping all day myself. Mostly that’s what I did — until the pain woke me up. Twice she opened the back door to let me out, but I was too tired to bother. The third time I didn’t get up, she came to me and pressed two fingers to the leather of my nose.

  “My, you’re hot! I’m going to call Dr. Chapman, see what she says. Or better yet, maybe Doc Samuels. He’s more of a large animal vet, but I think he’s the one Cecil used to use for the sheep. Dogs can’t be much different. I’d take your temperature, but I don’t know whether to stick the thermometer under your tongue or in your ear.”

  Neither, I wanted to tell her, but of course ... well, you know how it goes.

  —o00o—

  Cold metal pressed against my chest. Fingers probed me everywhere. My eyes flew open when something poked in my anus. I stiffened.

  “There now,” Bernadette said, one hand firmly pressing down on my shoulder, the other snugly around my muzzle. “Doc’s almost done.”

  I was lying on the cool linoleum floor, Bernadette squatting before me and old Doc Samuels kneeling toward my flank. Cecil had been old, but he was probably just entering grade school when Doc Samuels graduated college. The man had more wrinkles than a box of raisins.

  “Running a fever, all right,” Samuels said. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He used to help Cecil medicate the sheep whenever one was sick, although sometimes the purpose of his visits was not always so hopeful.

  Lambs, it’s said, are born with one foot in the grave. Peaceable creatures, driven primarily by fear of their predators, they are of an unusually delicate constitution. One day they’re bucking and leaping through the clover and the next a damp wind sends a sickness into their lungs that can’t be dislodged with any dosage of shots or pills. By the third day they are on their sides, wheezing, feverish and listless. Before that day’s done, they’re dead.

  So you see, I was even less thrilled to see the vet making a house call than I would have been to see him at his office. The home visits were the serious ones. The prognosis was often grim. I’d stood beside Cecil as we buried more than one limp, tiny lamb or aged ewe.

  Doc Samuels flicked his finger against a syringe three times, then depressed his thumb. Milky liquid squirted out the end of the needle.

  “Hold her now,” he said. Memories of Tucker injecting me with the sleeping potion rushed back.

  No!

  I thrashed against Bernadette’s hold. She pitched her weight into me. I struggled to breathe. I tried to open my mouth to bite, but her hold on my muzzle was so firm I couldn’t even turn my head, much less sink my teeth into her hand. She was surprisingly strong. Or maybe I was surprisingly weak?

  The needle pricked my flesh. I flinched. Liquid burned as it seeped into the muscles of my flank.

  “Will that help with the pain?” Bernadette asked.

  “That? No. That was just the antibiotic.” He rummaged through his bag of evil instruments, pulled out another vial, and drew its clear contents into a new syringe. “This one should help her sleep through the night. She’s developed a little post-surgery infection somewhere in her system. It happens. It’s a good thing you called when you did, though. The earlier we catch these things, the better. If she’s not looking more spry by morning, bring her to my office.”

  Not the vet’s office, no. I strained to lift my head to see what Doc Samuels was doing back there, but Bernadette still had a death grip on me.

  Lise and the kids are coming tonight, I want to be —

  Another needle jabbed me behind my shoulder blades.

  “That should do the trick. Remember, call me if you need anything. I’ll leave the pills on the counter. Start them in the morning, but like I said, if she doesn’t look right, bring her in.”

  “Thank you, Doc. I appreciate you coming out so late.”

  I pried an eye open. The two of them stood by the back door. When had Bernadette let go of me? I hadn’t even heard them walk away. Through the curtains, I could see it was dark outside already. Where was Lise?

  “No worries. Just part of the job. Keep her quiet for a couple of days. Oh, give her one pill four times a day.”

  “Will do. Bye now.”

  The back door opened and shut. Cool air wafted in.

  Why couldn’t I get up? Why was I so tired? When were Lise and the kids coming?

  I fought to keep my eyes open. I had to watch the door, so when they got here I could be on my feet to greet them.

  My eyelids drifted shut. Sleep called. Just a short nap, maybe. Only a few minutes ...

  —o00o—

  Mroaaarrr, mroarrr, mroarrr.

  I woke up to blinding daylight, the hum of the vacuum cleaner, and the overpowering smell of Pine-Sol. Bernadette was cleaning. Again.

  “You’re awake!” She clopped across the tile floor to me. Her sensible Dr. Scholl’s clogs had been replaced today by a pair of black leather boots with a low heel. Her gray slacks, an unusually subdued hue for her, even had the smell of ‘new’. I recognized the canary yellow blouse with the frilly collar, though. She brushed two fingers over my nose and cheerily declared, “Fever’s down. Let me get you something.”

  A few moments later, the delectable aroma of bacon tickled my olfactory senses. I lifted my head. A bit stiff, but I didn’t feel like I was wading through a mud pit anymore.

  “Glad you’re feeling more like yourself, today. Lise was so concerned when I called her yesterday. She even came by late last night to see you.”

  When was this? You mean I had slept through the whole thing? Had the kids been with her?

  “She wanted to wait until you were up on your feet. We’ll see how the day goes. I was hoping to be back at my own house by tomorrow, but moving you right now doesn’t seem practical.”

  She helped me to my feet and we took the slow walk to outside. My left rear leg was getting stronger, but I was woozy and still very groggy. It was hard to walk straight. More than once on the way back to the house, I veered to my right and bumped into Bernadette’s leg. Inside, she showed me to a dog bed.

  “Lise brought it by last night. Memory foam, so you’re more comfortable. Evidently, when she talked to the kids about getting a dog it was pretty unanimous. Well, I think the little one took some convincing, but it looks like you’re finally going home, Halo. You have your own family. They just need to find themselves a place to live.”

  Did she say what I think she said?

  Home. Family. I rolled the words around in my mind. They had such a beautiful ring to them. A hummy, soothing sound that conjured visions of lazy mornings with children in fuzzy slippers, spoons pinging as they dunked for cereal and slurped the last of the sugary milk from their bowls; the tromp of feet as they grabbed their backpacks and ran to catch the bus; long naps on the rug warmed by the sun’s rays; a full basket of toys behind the recliner, the cottony guts removed from each overstuffed squirrel or obnoxiously squeaky duck; brisk walks with Lise on fall days, leaves whisking across the road; afternoons watching out the window, waiting for the bus to bring the children home so I could greet them each time as if they’d been gone for months; long games of ball; winter days romping through snowdrifts; evenings spent by the TV, while buttery hands lobbed kernels of popcorn at me; nights stretched out beside the bed of my boy, vigilant to every sound.

  My heart swelled with joy. I could fill that role. The family dog. No longer the working dog. I could get used to the idleness, the simplicity, the outpouring of love.

  That was when I noticed Bernadette, pressing my pills into tight rolls of bacon as she sniffed back tears. I went to her, leaned my still bruised shoulder against her leg, and gazed up at her. For a minute, she went on preparing
my pill sandwiches, her plump fingers tucking the bitter pink and white capsules into the fatty strips, then turning them end over end, one after another. She dashed the back of her wrist under her nose with one hand, while the other drifted down to her side. I licked it clean, which brought a smile to her face.

  I didn’t like the thought of leaving her, even if she did already have her children and grandchildren. We could have been a family, the two of us.

  She fed me the pills — four of them, had the vet told her that many? — and then washed and dried her hands. I emptied the kibble bowl she set before me and drank my fill of water. Bernadette said nothing, just went about wiping down counters and scrubbing the sink, like she was trying to fill up the time.

  My belly full, nature called, so I went to the back door and stared at it. Bernadette hobbled into the living room to fold up her blanket and rearrange the pillows. She flicked on the TV and punched at the remote control until a show came on with people seated on a stage, wailing and yelling with pointed fingers at one another while a man with silver hair pulled a paper from an envelope and pronounced, “Our results show ... Billy John, you are not the father.”

  Bernadette stood transfixed in the doorway. “Well, I could’ve told you that. That baby doesn’t have his chin or its mother’s.”

  If she didn’t open the door soon I was going to empty a river of urine right there. I whined once. Then more loudly. One hand on her bad hip, Bernadette shuffled back into the kitchen and pushed the door open.

  “Hurry up, then. They could be here any minute.” She glanced at her watch. “Did she say 9:00 or 9:30? I can’t remember now.” She brushed her hand at me. “Well, go on. I’ve got some tidying up to do.”

  My gait a little looser now, I trotted across the yard to the area where I usually did my business. Even though the leaves had begun to fall from the trees, it was warmer than it had been in many days. The ground was damp from a late night rain and the smells of the farm were particularly strong. I put my nose to the air, inhaling the memory of hay bales and baby lambs.

  Soon I found myself standing in the opening of the barn. As I stood there, letting my eyes adjust to the shadows, a tiny mew emanated from somewhere within. I wandered between the empty pens, looking everywhere until I heard the sound again. It came from up high, where a small black and white kitten sat atop one of the cross rafters, its eyes wide with fright.

  We locked eyes, taking each other in. As I watched it hunker down, I folded to the ground. A yawn gripped me. My eyelids drifted shut. I shook myself awake, feeling the pull of sleep. It was the pills, I knew. Not only did they dull my pain, but they made me tired. This was as good a place for a nap as any. As soon as I heard Lise’s van, I promised myself, I’d go back to the house.

  I glanced up at the rafters. A skinny black tail flicked above me. Golden-green eyes glared distrustfully down. If that kitten was going to go anywhere, it would have to get past me first. Closing my eyes, I kept my ears open, listening, as I dreamed of the life that lay ahead with Lise and Hunter and the little girl I hadn’t yet met and wondered how Bernadette would manage without a dog.

  —o00o—

  The slam of a car door registered vaguely in the recesses of my awareness. It wasn’t until I heard greetings exchanged and the bang of the front door that I realized Lise and the children had arrived. Bernadette had forgotten me once again.

  After a good shake, I scanned the rafters. I was still very sleepy, but I didn’t want to miss Lise again. The kitten was nowhere in sight. I left the barn and made my way toward the house. Before circling around back, where I expected Bernadette to let me in, I paused to look through the front window. A tall young boy, just entering the awkwardness of adolescence, stood at Lise’s side, his bangs hanging down over his eyes, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. In Lise’s arms was a little girl with a flowing crown of long blonde hair. She clung to her mother, head tucked against Lise’s shoulder. As I stepped closer to the porch to get a better look, the little girl turned her head in my direction. Her eyes widened, not unlike the kitten’s. She dug her fingers into her mother’s back and whimpered.

  So that was Cammie — the daughter Cam had never known? I scurried to hide behind the scraggly yew bush between the edge of the front porch and the corner of the house.

  “It seems someone is having second thoughts today,” Lise said to Bernadette as she stroked her daughter’s head. “I’m sorry. I thought this was going to go more smoothly.”

  “Oh ...” Bernadette’s voice sank with disappointment. “Maybe she just needs time to get to know Halo? Tell you what, why don’t I check in the kitchen? I just might have a fudge pop or two stashed in the back of the freezer.”

  Cammie tugged at her lip, her head twisting around to watch Bernadette disappear into the kitchen. I darted around to the back to wait at the door there, the pins in my leg sending little bolts of pain into my hip with each halting stride. I was slow. Couldn’t make myself move any faster.

  Bernadette’s voice carried through the closed doors and windows as she rattled on about houses in the area, neighborhoods, and schools. Lise answered politely, but the children remained silent.

  I scratched at the door to let Bernadette know I was there. She cracked it open.

  “Stay there a few minutes,” she said in a hushed voice. “We don’t want to overwhelm Cammie. I’m going to tell her how good you were at the library.”

  I woofed impatiently. Let me show her, I meant to say, but all I could do was give that huff, indecipherable to human ears. She wagged a finger at me and clicked the door shut.

  The minutes stretched out. It was hard to stay awake. I contemplated swinging around to the front door and barking until she let me in, but thought better of it. I didn’t want to scare Cammie again.

  I stared at the door knob for a long while. Nothing happened. Clouds scuttled across the sun, driven by a sharp wind. Bare branches clacked. From somewhere, the kitten mewed softly, persistently. I swiveled my head around, scanning among the trees. For a while I saw nothing, but the sound plagued me, scratched at my nerves. Curiosity seized me. I searched some more, until I saw a little blob of fur, high up in the catalpa tree on the far side of the lawn. Scrawny back legs swung from a horizontal branch, as the kitten gripped a lean bough with its front claws.

  I took off across the yard, my speed hindered as I dragged my bad leg along. The wind gained force, until it was a gentle roar in my ears and I could no longer hear the sounds from the house. I limped to a halt at the base of the tree and barked several times, hoping to convince the kitten to do anything but let go. Cats could fall long distances and land safely, but this one was small and fragile.

  It took a few minutes, but somehow the kitten scrabbled around the side of the bough until it was straddling it. I wasn’t sure whether I should wait where I was until Lise or Bernadette came out to discover the problem, or go back to the house and alert them. Cold pellets of sleet stabbed at my face. Blinking as miniature balls of ice bounced off me, I glanced at the back door, a good distance away from where I was.

  That was when I saw the lanky, scruff-faced man skulking along the side of the house with a long tubular object clutched to his chest and a bottle swinging from his other hand.

  Alarms clanged inside my head. I knew the loping stride, the bony shoulders, the sharp nose and jutting chin.

  My hackles bristled.

  chapter 29

  Tucker Kratz yanked the back door open and barged in, slamming it firmly behind him. The glass in the window rattled in its pane.

  A growl rumbled low in my throat. I ran straight for the back door, evening out my stride for speed despite the knife of pain that threatened to flay me open from spine to hock. I flew over the patio ledge and skidded to a halt at the door on the slick surface. Something told me not to bark. If Tucker knew I was there, if he had found the shotgun from the barn, then all he had to do was point it at me and pull the trigger.

  No, I had to stay quiet, ge
t inside. But how?

  Bernadette shrieked.

  “God damn you, Aunt Bernie!” Tucker hollered. “You’s the one what told ‘em where I was, wasn’t you?” His words were slurred. There was a poutiness to his tone, like that of a little boy who hadn’t gotten his way and was about to burst into tears. “Why’d you do that?”

  “Tucker, now, put that thing down,” she urged. Although she kept her voice low and even, there was a tremor to it. “Don’t make matters any worse than they already are.”

  “Worse? Tell me how they can get worse. God Aw-mighty, woman! If’n they catch up with me, I’m already goin’ to the big house. Does it matter if I get fifteen years or thirty? Naw, I’m gonna settle some scores before that comes around — and you’re the first.”

  Carefully, I raised myself up on my hind legs to peek through the window of the back door. Tucker cocked the shotgun and lurched toward Bernadette. She stumbled backward into the hallway. Her back hit the wall with a thud. She slid down, her legs splaying wide. Tucker guffawed at her, then grabbed his whiskey bottle off the counter with his free hand and chugged.

  I could see Lise and Hunter standing at the threshold between the living room and hallway. Cammie was out of view, but I knew she was in there somewhere, too.

  Gathering her legs beneath her, Bernadette tried to stand, but Tucker slammed the butt of the shotgun down on the table. Bernadette flinched.

  “Don’t move!” Tucker sat, leaning back on two legs of the chair, his index finger stroking the trigger.

  As he stared Bernadette down, Lise drew Hunter slowly to her and cast the slightest glance over her shoulder, toward the front door. I couldn’t see it from where I was, but I knew that’s where Cammie had to be.

  “Now Tucker,” — Bernadette tilted her head as she tried to plead with him — “if —”

  “Shuuuut! Up!” Tucker flung the bottle across the kitchen. It crashed against the cupboard next to the sink, close to the back door. I ducked. Slivers of glass exploded everywhere, a few of them clinking against the window pane I had just been watching through.