“Geez, Sean, what’s going to happen to me? I keep dreaming I’m going to end up in some barn dead and no one’ll know for weeks.” I was fidgeting with the sleeve of my sweater. “I can’t see a way out.”
Sean was a kind, wise old fellow. “Never feel like you’re trapped forever in a horrible situation you can’t change, Martin.” He puffed on his cigarette and lit one for me. “You’re just different from people around here. Not worse—just different. You’ll find a place somewhere in the world that understands you better. It just won’t be around here. Don’t panic,” he said. “Leave Garryowen when it feels right. Go see what else the rest of the world has to offer.”
I knew instinctively it was the right advice for me. I now had some sort of rough plan for the future. One day I’d leave and travel to another country to start a new life, but what on earth was I going to do about the dogs?
Disaster struck a month later when Fergus went missing.
The first two days he was gone, I tried to ignore that niggling voice inside my head. He was often going off by himself to hunt rats and wild rabbits. “He’ll be back again like he always is,” I said to the dogs, trying to reassure myself.
They kept restlessly staring out the door of the barn.
By the third day, I was desperately worried. “I’m going to look for him,” I said. “Can’t stand this waiting one minute more.”
Since it was pouring, the dogs refused to step outside and get wet, so I tramped along the railway line getting soaked. I checked around all the ditches, fields, and the hedges. I searched the entire district.
Finally I stumbled upon his body in a field. The rain had washed him spotlessly clean but he’d obviously been shot by a farmer’s double-barreled shotgun. His white body was spread out in the grass, peppered with black holes. His hair was clean but strangely flattened. It was an eerie sensation seeing him so lifeless. My heart started to break as it finally sank in.
He was dead.
“Oh, Jesus no, Fergus.” I fell down on my knees next to him and bit my bottom lip hard, trying my hardest not to cry. This amazing little dog gone! I ran my trembling fingers along his cheek and down his long, comical muzzle covered in white, wiry fuzz. “Need you to come back,” I said, rubbing my eyes angrily. Why did an animal as happy and cheerful as Fergus have to die?
Devastated, I buried his body along the railway line under some bushes and put a small cairn of stones over the spot. Afterwards, I stumbled back to the hay barn, unable to stop crying. The dogs gathered around me, pushing and shoving each other aside to smell the scent of death and grief.
“You made me laugh so much,” I muttered into the hay mourning the sweet dog who had been curious about everything. When I sat up, I saw that the other dogs had started playing a game of tag. They were wrestling with each other gleefully. Didn’t they care that Fergus was dead? I assumed they’d be sad, but their attitude seemed to be life goes on. “How kind of you all,” I said sarcastically. “Is this how you’d be if I died?” It was a sobering thought.
Days later, I still couldn’t throw off my sadness and shock. The dogs were acting as though nothing abnormal had happened, and I felt so utterly betrayed. One of our gang was dead! Was I the only one in the world thinking about him?
“I need to see Mammy” were the words that popped out of my mouth. I think it was the first time I’d ever said them out loud before. There was only one thing I could do. The next day I’d have to sneak home while Mammy was alone in the house. I desperately needed to see her, and feel her comfort and warmth. She’d understand how important Fergus had been to me.
It was surreal walking down the path to our house. When she opened the door, Mammy’s eyes went wide with shock. Suddenly shy, I had no idea what to say. There was a whimper and I looked down in surprise. Two young German Shepherds bumped around her legs. They were gorgeous with huge paws and oversized, floppy wolf ears.
“Oh! They’re magnificent! Who are they?” I asked, dropping to a knee, fondling them.
“Captain and Major,” she said. “Your father got them for me.”
The mention of Major brought an unwelcome surge of guilt. The memory was still too sad and raw.
I saw how nervous she was, so I awkwardly reached out to hug her. We both felt like strangers; neither of us knew how to act or what to say.
Mammy broke the silence. “Marcine, it’s so good to see you here. Thank you for coming to see me.” She leaned in again, kissed my cheek shyly and led me inside.
We sat on opposite ends of the couch and simply stared at each other.
“Are you home for good now, Marcine?” she whispered at last.
I wished I could tell her what she wanted to hear but I didn’t want to lie. There was no way I was coming home.
“One of my dogs died,” I said and took a deep breath. “His name was Fergus. He was . . . such a good dog. I miss him.” I paused to catch my breath. “You see the other dogs don’t care at all that he’s gone. I wanted to come and see you. Needed to.”
She looked at me kindly and nodded as she patted the couch next to her. “Come. Sit with me. Together we’ll watch TV while my favorite show is on. That will relax us and then we can talk.”
We sat together and I stared at the screen, but all the while I was really absorbing her presence. Her familiar smell. The French cologne I knew from sniffing the tiny bottle on her dressing table years ago. Her calm, steady energy. Her warmth. Mammy.
She was truly the bedrock of our family. The glue that kept the household functioning. The blonde, Nordic-looking princess who’d ended up living a life very different from what she’d probably dreamt for herself. She was an incredible woman, and I admired her so much.
When her TV show was over, she switched it off and happily turned to me. The show had been like a shot of adrenaline to her body, and the sparkle was back in her blue eyes. For once there weren’t any kids destroying her peace, and we had time to talk. It was another precious moment we’d grabbed together, like the evening I watched her bake the Black Forest Cake.
“Can I tell you a bit about Fergus?” I asked.
“Yes, Marcine. Tell me.”
After I finished she hugged me tight, and her hug nearly undid me. How could I stay strong and independent while she held me like that? At last I pulled away, rubbing my eyes ferociously.
She wiped away her own tears. “I’ve been talking to doctors about your hyperactivity,” she said quietly. “I understand how difficult school must have been for you,” she said. Then she told me she didn’t feel so exhausted these days because the kids were older and more independent, and that Dad was now going to AA meetings.
“He’s stopped drinking.”
So it was true. I’d heard rumors.
“He’s a good man now,” she said. “He should never drink. It’s not him when he drinks. . . . Will you come home now?”
My heart melted before her quiet, pleading eyes. “Maybe,” I said, reaching out and holding her hand. “Soon, but not yet.” I had so many questions that needed answering before I moved back home. Could I give up my freedom and independence? Could I even live under the same roof with so many humans? More importantly, what would I do with all my dogs?
“Sorry, Mammy,” I spoke into her shoulder as I hugged her goodbye. Guilt was gnawing at my guts like a rat. “I’ll think about moving back home soon. I promise. Just give me some time.”
Deep down I knew I still needed my six dogs too much, and they certainly needed me. However, the visit had been a good thing. As I walked back to my barn, my footsteps felt lighter than usual. The door at home was open if I wanted to return. The question was, could I really live with humans again?
CHAPTER 15
Getting Wilder
BACK WHEN I WAS STILL AT HOME, I KNEW THAT I WAS GETTING wilder. I couldn’t help it. After Major and Rex had been put down for protecting me from Mr. Crowe and Mr. Keeley, my life just wasn’t the same. My family was being pushed beyond endurance by my insolen
ce, but I couldn’t help myself. I was so unhappy.
One morning I was alone, slipping through the back lanes of Garryowen, when a boy stepped out in front of me.
“Hi ya, freak,” he said. My heart sank. It was Nane, one of the three bully boys who’d painted the swastika on our house. He smiled, becoming even uglier than usual. “You still look like a scrawny little loser, don’t you?” he sneered.
I looked him in the eye. There was no way I wasn’t fighting back. “Scrawny, huh? Didn’t stop me from giving you a good flogging last time I saw you,” I said calmly. I heard a noise behind me and spun around. It was his friend, Ger, looking even uglier. They laughed together, and the hairs went up on the back of my neck. Both boys were a few years older than I was and definitely bigger and stronger. I wondered where their leader Malarky was.
Then there was an explosion of pain right to my kidneys. I doubled over and felt my arms twisted behind my back so I couldn’t move. I looked straight up into the sparkling eyes of Malarky. I’d never seen him more overjoyed.
He laughed and spat in my face. “Hello, Faullie. I’ve been wantin’ a chat with you.”
Nane and Ger twisted my arms harder until I was afraid they’d snap my bones.
I was really scared now, but there was no way I was letting Malarky see that. Besides, how much worse could they beat me than my teachers and Dad already had? There wasn’t much of a beating I couldn’t take these days.
Malarky looked at Nane. “You check if he’s the right one?”
“Yeah, that’s him. He’s got that freaky white patch of hair on the back of his head. He’s the fucker that smashed you.”
Malarky smiled in a way that made my skin crawl; his eyes were scary-weird. The calmer he got, the creepier he became. He lit a cigarette and blew the smoke in my face. “Want to know a funny story, Faullie? Once upon a time there were three little freaks, and their daddy was Adolf Hitler.”
Ger and Nane laughed.
“These three skinny freaks were born in Ireland and annoyed all the other kids. One day the world decided it would be a better place if one of them kind of . . .” he paused, shrugging, “died.”
I nervously watched him walk over to the fence where some rope lay on the ground. He picked it up so I could see there was a noose knotted at one end.
“Yeah,” he continued. “It’s a story with an unhappy ending. To start with there were three little Faullies and then there were . . . two.”
I fought as hard as I could to break free, but I wasn’t strong enough. It was as simple as that.
The three boys dragged me standing through a nearby backyard gate, then as soon as I was inside, they tripped me so I was sprawled face down on the ground. Then they started dragging me again. I could feel myself starting to go numb with shock. I couldn’t possibly be about to die. I was somewhere in a backyard in Garryowen. This wasn’t real. Within seconds the shock passed. This was real alright. In my soul I made a decision. I certainly wasn’t going to make this easy for them. If I was going to die then I wasn’t going to die a coward.
The loop of rope came over my head and was yanked tighter. I was being dragged towards a tree in the middle of the backyard. No one was laughing now. All I heard were grunts as they kept hauling me. The rope around my neck was getting tighter. My lungs were gulping for air, and my eyeballs were bulging from their sockets.
Nane and Ger held me still while they waited for Malarky to throw the end of the rope over one of tree branches.
“That’s it,” he panted hoarsely. “Bring him closer underneath.” They dragged me closer and then hoisted me to my feet.
“Pull!” screamed Malarky.
The rope suddenly burned like fire around my neck. They heaved again. My feet left the ground, and I nearly fainted. My neck felt like it was about to snap.
“Let’s go!” yelled Malarky. “Leave the freak. Run!”
I swung around in a slow, suspended circle. I am hanging by my neck from a tree, I said to myself. The thought was crazy, but the pain was agonizingly real.
No one was there to save me. My fingers frantically clutched and clawed at the rope, but my body was pulling me down too much. I reached upwards and felt the underside of the branch with my fingertips. I stretched out my arm and grasped at the air. Somehow, unbelievably, my fingers found their hold and I managed to pull myself up. As soon as I had the energy, I loosened the rope from around my neck and took in breath after precious breath of air. Then I threw the rope off like it was a poisonous snake.
After a while, I staggered home. I curled up in a ball on the bed and trembled and shook for hours.
Andrew and John came home and were horrified when they saw my neck so raw and inflamed. It was obvious someone had tried to hang me. Panicking, they ran and told Mammy but even though she begged me, I refused to say who’d done it.
She called the police, but I still wouldn’t tell anyone. I knew if Andrew and John discovered their names they’d go right out to fight Malarky, Ger, and Nane. God only knew what they’d do. I cared about my brothers’ safety much more than revenge.
Things got even worse when I stole the rent money out of Mammy’s purse.
I found her at the kitchen table rocking back and forth, staring into her empty purse. “Oh my God, vat am I going to do?” I’d never seen her this upset. Her face was white with fright. I looked on as shame writhed in my gut.
“You took the money, didn’t you?” she asked, not turning her head towards me.
I shifted uneasily from foot to foot. “Hey, Dad takes money out of your purse all the time,” I said sullenly. “Then he drinks it all. You must be used to it by now. Anyway, you always find a way of paying the rent.”
I glanced at her and saw the crushing sense of helplessness enveloping her. The worst part was I couldn’t give the money back because I’d already spent it. All day I’d been feeling like a big man buying chocolate bars, packs of cigarettes, and bottles of cider for all the boys I knew around the neighborhood. I’d even given some of them cash. I was trying to buy their friendship, but it hadn’t worked. They’d taken the things from me, then laughed in my face. “Thanks, Faul, but we still don’t like you. Don’t you get it? You’re a dumb freak. Nobody’s ever going to like you.” It had been one of the most pathetic things I’d ever done. Now it was time to face the music.
Mammy kept staring into her empty purse. Her silence was much worse than her screaming. She wouldn’t even look at me. She quietly clicked her purse shut. “Go to your room. Wait there.”
Dad came home from work. I heard the two of them talk quietly in the kitchen, then heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs. For once I knew I deserved this punishment.
Afterwards, I crawled into bed, exhausted from crying. I heard muffled sounds of my family sitting down to dinner. I already knew that when Dad finished his meal, he was coming to take me to the coal shed. I hated the place even more now Major and Rex were gone.
Through my tears, I looked numbly at the bedroom wall and saw all the scuff marks left by our shoes when John, Andrew, and I wrestled together. I’d always thought the marks looked a bit like a map of the world. Over the years I’d stared at that map, dreaming of all the exotic places I could escape to.
Shit, why am I still bothering to live here? The thought slipped into my mind without warning. Straight away, it was joined by another. Why not run away? The breath caught in my throat. It wasn’t such a crazy idea, was it? Surely anywhere would be better than living here. What did I have to look forward to? More hell at school, more unhappiness at home, more nights in the coal shed, and more floggings. I couldn’t see how things could ever improve.
I knew I was driving poor Mammy crazy because I couldn’t stop acting out and doing stupid things. She’d be better off without me in her life. But could I really just run away? Yep. I can even leave right now if I want to.
I could hear my family downstairs eating, talking, and laughing. The only times they sounded that relaxed was when I wasn�
��t around. Truth was, the whole family would be better off without me.
Okay. Time to do something about it. I took a deep, shuddering breath, and, as though in a dream, I walked slowly towards the window and climbed onto the ledge. Look at me. Here I am running away from home. I shimmied down the drainpipe, walked up our front path, and out the gate.
I’m never going back again, I swore to myself. Humans can get stuffed. I’ve had enough. From now on I was going to live on my own terms, no matter what the price.
CHAPTER 16
Joining the Human World Again
EVERY TIME I VENTURED OUT INTO THE HUMAN WORLD again, like playing in hurling matches with the Saints on Sundays, was starting to feel like a holiday from the dogs. For a few precious hours I could throw off all my responsibilities of being in charge of them and just play the game I loved.
When we won what turned out to be an electrifying draw against Monaleen, I was elated.
“Brilliant! Well played! Join us for a drink, Martin?” asked my brother John.
“Of course,” I panted, jogging beside him. “We’ll have a great craic.” Yet while I listened to him talking about the game, I couldn’t stop thinking of the dogs.
I felt my stomach churn from nerves. Would the farmer come looking for them with his shot gun? We were now living in Tom Clancy’s hay barn, and since he wasn’t deaf like Padraig and Joe Duffy, I worried about the dogs barking when they were left on their own. They were fine during the day, but the later I stayed out at night, the more they worried—and barked.
My conscience poked at me hard. I should go home rather than stay for a drink with the team. Think about what happened to poor Fergus, I advised myself. You don’t want Tom shooting the dogs.
“Martin! Over here! Share this with us!” It was the captain of the team, raising a bottle of cider in the air.
Fuck it. “Coming!” I yelled and jogged over, shrugging off my guilt. I was getting so sick of worrying about the dogs all the time. They were beginning to feel like six albatrosses around my neck. Cruel, but true. Why did I feel so guilty just because I wanted to make some human friends?
The Boy Who Talked to Dogs Page 18