“There! That might keep you going ’til tea time,” she said happily.
What else could I say? “Thank you, Mrs. Mack. It all looks lovely.” It was impossible not to like her. She treated everyone with respect, no matter who they were. Look at me, for instance. A feral looking street kid dropping bits of hay and dirt all over her best armchair, and she was treating me like the most important guest she’d had all year.
Bobby sipped some tea. “Listen to your conscience, Martin,” he said. “How could any pack of dogs possibly be worth more than your mother? Think about it. I mean really think about it. They’re tough street strays so they’ll survive. You can keep walking over to the railway line and feed them while you live at home.”
“But . . .”
He held up a finger. “No, Martin. It’s time you stopped talking about honor and started acting honorably instead. At the moment you’re just lying to yourself.”
I drank my tea sullenly not looking at him. My stomach was in knots. It always was whenever I felt guilty. I knew he was right. For the past three years, if any thought of Mammy slipped into my mind, I simply shoved it straight out again and ignored it. I certainly wasn’t proud of how I’d treated her.
Bobby went quiet, allowing me time and space to think. A clock chimed gently on the mantelpiece.
It was time that I thought about Mammy. She was a woman in a foreign country with no relatives nearby to help, trying her hardest to bring up eight children and make her marriage work. Seven of her children were completely happy at home. I’d been the only one not to fit in. It was probably because of my ADHD, but that was hardly her fault. As for my father, she’d managed to do something about his legendary drinking too.
When Bobby decided I’d thought about Mammy enough, he poured me more tea. “Martin, you certainly talk about it a lot, but do you really want to grow up to be an honorable man?”
I looked at him, hurt. “You know I do.”
“Then I think this is one of those moments in your life when you must decide what the truly honorable thing to do is. It’s time you grew up. You have to get rid of all those bad habits that risk your honor. Like lying and thieving and breaking your promises. You know what I’m talking about. Does any of that make you feel proud of yourself?”
I tried shutting him out, but Bobby Mack had a way of effortlessly slicing through all my old excuses. “There’s another reason I don’t want to go home,” I reluctantly admitted. “If I go back I’ll get bullied. Believe me, Bobby, it was really fucking horrible.” It was the first time I’d admitted to anyone other than a dog how hard all that relentless bullying had been to endure. Everyone—even Andrew and John—had always believed my tough attitude made me invincible. I realized there were stupid tears gathering in the corners of my eyes and rubbed at them furiously.
Bobby looked kindly at me. “Ah, bullies. Yes, they’ll always be around, no matter where you go.” He probably had seen his share in prison. “Do you want to know how you can make bullies completely irrelevant?” he asked.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Decide what you’ll stand up for and defend to the death. That’s the secret. Once you work that out, no one on this planet can bully you, no matter how hard they try. Do you know why?”
“No.”
“Because bullies can’t stand people who believe so strongly in something they’re prepared to die for it. Scares them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Believe me, Martin, bullies are always drawn to weakness. As soon as they spot things like confusion, shyness, and uncertainty in people, they close in like vultures to feed.” He nodded and then continued. “Deep down bullies are the most frightened people in the world. The more of a bully they are, the more terrified they are of people finding out how scared they are inside. Each time they peck at someone and see they’ve scored a hit, they don’t feel so powerless. It’s almost like an addiction for them. The more they feed, the more they need.”
I thought of all the bullies I’d known and knew he was right.
Bobby looked straight into my eyes. “So start working out what you feel very strongly about, and start standing up for your beliefs.” He held up his finger again. “Because that’s the exciting moment when you stop being a victim and start radiating strength. Don’t worry, as soon as they sense your confidence, the bullies will melt away. It’s like invisible armor, and it’ll only get stronger the older you get.”
I believed him. Bobby Mack had experienced far more than I had and from far more brutal people. It was time I did the truly honorable thing and stopped hurting Mammy. I’d find a way of handling the bullies by following Bobby’s advice.
I met his gaze and breathed out hard. “Okay,” I said quietly. “You’ve persuaded me. I’ll move back home and see how it goes. But will you do me a favor? Let me decide when.”
That evening I sat up in Tom Clancy’s hay loft, looking out the open barn doors and over his fields. Around me, the evening was beautiful and still. A full moon was turning everything silver.
Bobby’s words had profoundly moved me. His natural sense of honor was so strong, it was infectious. After speaking with him, I couldn’t help wanting to be the best person I could possibly be. “Bobby, you make the word ‘honor’ actually mean something,” I said aloud into the silence. The dogs were lazing in the hay, scratching at an occasional flea.
Dogs are naturally honorable too, I thought. I remembered all the times these dogs had been honorable to me. They were patient when I didn’t understand their language, customs, and rules. Yet they’d still cared about me and always tried to make me feel like one of the gang no matter what I did.
I remembered all the times we’d been hungry, cold, and miserable together, and they hadn’t complained. Instead, they’d been optimistic and happy to see me every single time I returned, even when I came back empty-handed. “I’ve been lucky meeting you, haven’t I?”
They wagged their tails noisily in the hay. That’s all they ever really wanted—for me to be happy. It was humbling.
I thought of poor Major and Rex who’d protected me with their lives, and had been lethally punished for it. I thought of sweet little Fergus who’d always cheered me up when I was sad. Of all the other dogs who’d been so friendly and welcoming to me over the years. Why are dogs so honorable?
“You’re all so ready to be happy over the smallest things in life, aren’t you? A raw bone. A friendly word. A bit of a rub behind the ears. You want so little from me, don’t you?”
Something Tige Kelly had said to me once about a man flashed through my mind. “He has a true generosity of spirit,” he’d said. Now I understood what he meant. Dogs have such a natural generosity of spirit. They’d given so much of themselves—all day, every day—ever since I’d known them. When I was around dogs I could truly be myself, and they generously gave me whatever they could—affection, attention, protection, and a sense of belonging. All for so little in return.
There was no way I’d be the same person if I’d been living in these hay barns with six boys, instead of six dogs. That realization said it all really.
Dogs had taught me to be honorable around them. I didn’t steal from them. Or trick them. Or tease them. Or bully them. Or lie to them. I was proud of who I was when I was around them. I admired myself for the many sacrifices I’d made for them.
Now Bobby Mack was saying it was time I showed the same honor to the people who mattered in my life. I knew I had no choice, not if I wanted to like myself.
“Okay, Martin. You heard Bobby. You know what you’ve got to do: Move home for Mammy’s sake.” My heart started beating faster. Shit, I don’t believe it. I’m actually going home.
The dogs were oblivious to how I was feeling. I’d never seen them so relaxed and content. “But God knows how I’m going to walk away and leave you all behind,” I murmured under my breath.
Brandon came the next day. He sat next to me in the hay and rubbed the dogs’ ears as th
ey wandered over to greet him. “Come on, Martin. No point putting it off any longer. Bobby told me he talked to you yesterday. I’ve come to bring you home.”
I nodded. “I need to take the dogs for one last walk,” I managed to say. There were tears at the back of my eyes. I was so sad, like a big hole was growing inside me, opening wider with every breath. I stumbled to my feet.
“You okay?” asked Brandon.
I nodded numbly. Sensing something unusual was up, the dogs ran over to me. They sniffed the air around me delicately, trying to make out what was happening. Their ears, chins, and tails sank lower as their eyes searched my face anxiously. I turned to Brandon. “Meet you at the scout hall in a few hours. I want some time to say goodbye to them.”
“Sure,” he said quietly. He understood how much these dogs meant to me.
Feeling like a traitor, I rubbed them reassuringly behind the ears. “Come on, dogs. Let’s go for a walk.” How many times had I said that? Now I felt like a lying Judas.
Should we take one last slide down the haystack together? Why not? I pushed off and slid down fast then turned to see the dogs sliding after me, comical as ever. As my feet hit the ground, I felt more tears gathering but I didn’t want to cry. I wasn’t a baby anymore.
I already knew where I wanted us to go: along the railway line as far away from Garryowen as we could.
“Come on!” I said, half laughing, rubbing fiercely at my eyes. “I want to make this walk really fun.” The dogs fanned out either side of me, happy I wasn’t acting so strange any more. We walked for at least two hours and I made it the best sort of walk, throwing them sticks, encouraging them to chase rabbits and show off to their heart’s content.
They were the most magnificent friends any boy could hope to have.
Pa.
Red.
Blackie.
Missy.
Skitty.
The space that would have been filled by Fergus, were he still with us.
And of course, the first dog to adopt me—funny, bossy Mossy.
I realized how much they’d changed me. When I first met them I was as jumpy as a rabbit. A scowling, angry, defensive kid who thought he was a freak. Worse, a kid who felt like the most stupid boy in the world.
Yet this special gang of dogs had saved me. They’d taught me how to communicate better. Be calmer. More responsible. Had helped me discover peace, honesty, confidence, and trust.
I took a deep breath. “Come on. Time to head back now.” Reluctantly, I started walking back towards Garryowen. The dogs wheeled around, racing to catch up with me. Suddenly I knew how to show my thanks in a way they could understand—by making this last lap of the walk especially fun.
“Let’s run!” I yelled. They barked in excitement as they galloped after me. Gratitude surged through me. Because of these dogs my life would never be the same again. I was now Martin, the boy who talked to dogs.
We ran until I could see the railway bridge up ahead, which was their territory boundary and the point beyond which they couldn’t go. I swallowed hard as my feet slowed to a stop. “Dogs, over here,” I called to them. They skidded to a halt and looked back at me, with their tongues lolling out.
I crouched down and patted the ground. I felt the tears coming and bit my bottom lip hard. This was it. Time to say goodbye. “Hi ya, Mossy. Good boy. Hello, Missy, Pa, Red, Skitty. Yeah, you too, Blackie. Come here. There’s something I want to tell you all.” I sat down on the metal track and let them lick my eyes and cheeks as I cried.
I was leaving the Dirty Dog Gang behind. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I did my best to explain but it was impossible. Their language simply didn’t have the words for how I felt.
Brandon was waiting patiently in the shed behind the scout hall. He patted me on the shoulder when I finally appeared.
I couldn’t stop the tears that kept coming. Of course, I’d be back along the railway every day to feed the dogs and make sure they were okay, but it wouldn’t be the same as living with them.
“Come over here,” said Brandon kindly. “You’ll have to wash before you go home, Martin.” He turned on a tap at the sink. “Better clean yourself up a bit for your Mam. Look. I’ve brought you soap and a towel.” He grinned, trying to cheer me up. “You smell a bit like a wild animal. When was the last time you looked in a mirror?”
I couldn’t remember. Nor did I care. I was too busy being numb with misery thinking about the dogs.
Brandon pulled out some scissors. “At least let me cut your hair.”
It was past my shoulders and badly matted. Bits of twigs, hay, mud, and tiny pieces of torn blanket were scattered through it. I looked worse than a mongrel dog. But I shook my head no. Keeping my hair was going to be my last precious finger-hold on feeling independent and a reminder of how I’d changed and taken charge of my own destiny. “The hair stays,” I said.
Brandon shrugged. “Fine. Look like a feral hick. What do I care?” He helped me wash up a bit then clapped me on the shoulder. “Right, that’s the best I can do. At least your mam might recognize you now.” He gave me a hug. “Off you go and don’t let me down by ducking back to the dogs.”
I took a deep breath and started walking home. I should have been nervous but I wasn’t. This time everything felt different. I was now ready to face anything the world wanted to throw at me. Bullying, aggression, cruelty, abuse—none of these things scared me anymore. As long as I kept my honor and integrity, I knew my spirit would remain indestructible.
The dogs of Garryowen had taught me well.
I ambled in through the gate and down our concrete path. Gazing around, I realized nothing had changed. It was like walking through an old dream. I looked up at my bedroom above the front door. That’s where I’ll be sleeping tonight. Suddenly, I almost tripped over Mammy. I hadn’t seen her crouched down weeding the small flower bed bordering the pathway. Her blue eyes widened in shock.
“Marcine?” she said a bit flustered.
My mouth wouldn’t work.
She looked more anxious than I was. “Are you back now? For good?” In her voice were so many emotions—apprehension, hope, despair, happiness.
My breath caught as I suddenly realized how very much she’d missed me, had always loved me. That she’d never stopped worrying about me while I’d been gone. “Yes, I’m back.” These three small words held so much meaning for both of us.
Walking towards her, I knew I was choosing to join the human world again, only this time I was ready for whatever challenge it might throw at me. My stray dogs had prepared me for any possible obstacle and the future no longer seemed frightening at all.
Mammy’s big smile was a beautiful gift. I smiled back.
“Then it’s vonderful to see you, Marcine. Come inside.”
The Boy Who Talked to Dogs Page 20