by B. G. Thomas
Ned looked away. This was like a scene from that mermaid movie he saw as a kid. Except this time there was no little crustacean waiting to whisper his real name in Jake’s ear, was there?
“How about Bo? Or Oscar? Marlon, maybe…?”
Suddenly he felt like crying again. Wouldn’t Cliff have liked that?
“Bosco, like the chocolate syrup?”
Ned let out a tiny sigh. He didn’t know what else to do.
“Fred?”
Ned jerked. Sat up.
“Fred? Is that your name?” Jake looked excited.
Ned shook himself.
“No…. But close?”
“Yes, close!” he woofed.
“Ted?”
Ned whined.
“Ed?” Jake offered.
“No!” he barked, or tried to.
“Jed?” Jake asked, now counting on fingers and quietly saying the alphabet aloud. When Ned said nothing, Jake went on to “Ked, Led, Med, Ned….”
And Ned started barking. He jumped up, his tail lashing the air. Yes! Ned! My name is Ned. Call me Ned, for God’s sake. Please let me have that much of my life back. Please.
“Ned?” Jake asked, clearly surprised.
Ned continued to bark.
“Oh God no! I can’t call you that. That’s my boss’s name.”
So the hell what! I’m your boss!
Jake shook his head. “I just couldn’t….”
God no. Of course he couldn’t. Ned was that asshole who almost fired him. Why would he want…?
Jake stood up. “No, doggo. Not that. I can’t. My boss… he’s….” He turned and looked back down at Ned. “Well, he’s sexy as hell for one thing.”
He froze. Wha-what?
“And he doesn’t even know I exist!”
Doesn’t know… what?
“And he hates me! I don’t know why, but he does.”
Hates you? Is that what Jake thought? And then of course he had to admit it. What else would Jake think?
Jake sat down next to him. “I’m sorry. I can’t call you by his name.” He gave a half laugh. “It would be too weird. He’s the first guy I even looked at since Bruce left me—”
Looked at? You looked at me? Stunned was the only word to describe how Ned felt.
“—and I felt guilty about that. But he’s just so… I don’t know. Manly.”
Manly? Oh, isn’t that ironic! Because right now the last thing he was, was manly.
“I mean, not that I thought seriously about him, you know…?”
Why is he telling me this?
“But since dogs are the best listeners on the whole planet, forever and ever amen….”
Oh dear God….
“I mean, I thought he was hot before Bruce left me. Bruce used to tease me about him.” Jake sighed. Leaned his elbows on his knees. “He saw my boss at the annual company picnic.” Jake laughed again. Tried to. It wasn’t a good attempt. He rested his chin in his upturned palms. “‘Jesus,’ he said to me. ‘No wonder you have the hots for him. I’ve got the hots for him!’” Jake looked at Ned. “Can you believe that?”
Ned didn’t say anything. If he could, what would he say? Jake was looking at him square in the eyes and telling him that he was hot for him. Or the real him.
“And it’s not like I have the hots for him! I mean, he is a very handsome man.” Jake nodded. “He always has this sort of stubble.” Jake rubbed his own cheeks and got a faraway look. “Even if he’s shaved, by noon you can already see it, and by quitting time? Stubble. And I have to admit, I wonder what it would feel like.”
Ned could only stare. If he could blush, he would. I should go into the other room. I should bark. Something to get him to stop….
“And he has beautiful eyes.” He looked back at Ned. “They’re brown, but not like mine. More like dark honey.” He smiled.
Oh Christ on a railcar….
“You know….” Jake laughed again. It was a nice laugh. “You know, they’re almost the exact color of your eyes, boyo!”
Ned’s eyes flew wide. Yes! Just like mine. He barked. He barked again. He jumped up—That’s because they are my eyes!—and his tail began to wag furiously. It was totally automatic.
Now Jake was really laughing. “You are something else! I’ve never met a dog like you—”
That’s because there are no dogs like me!
“—and I’ve met quite a few dogs in my life. Just in the volunteer work I do for Four-Footed Friends.”
I’m one of a kind.
Jake shook his head. “You’re spoiled, you know that?”
I’m in a class by myself, that’s what I am. Look at me, Jake. Look at my eyes!
“Whoever lost you was crazy.”
Unprecedented.
“Hopefully they’ll come looking for you.”
Or am I…?
Maybe not.
Maybe those dogs he’d heard about all his life, the ones people swore could understand them…. Maybe the same thing had happened to them!
“Let’s get you something to eat,” Jake cried and jumped off the couch and headed into the kitchen. Such as it was.
Ned hopped down and followed him and watched as he got… God… a Topsy’s holiday popcorn container from under the sink. He could see what it was. He could smell what it was.
Dog food.
“Coco loved this,” Jake said. “It’s the lamb, and it was his favorite.”
He’s giving me a dead dog’s food.
“I couldn’t throw it away. Now I know why. It was meant for you.” He looked down at Ned and—he was doing it again!—his eyes took on that wet, glassy sheen. “This is special. You hear?”
Then he reached up into a cabinet and pulled down a cereal bowl. “You’re not eating out of his dish, though. I’ll get you one if H.D. doesn’t find you a place soon.” He opened the container and scooped out some of the brown chunks.
I am not eating that. Not. No way.
“You’ll need water too. I am such a dunce.” Jake rolled his eyes. Got another bowl and filled it with water from the sink.
Oh no. There was no filter on the faucet. What would it taste like? Ned shuddered to think.
Then Jake put them on the floor next to each other at the short end of the kitchen. Ned looked at them. He was thirsty. He just now realized it. But…. He couldn’t do it. It was bad enough he had no hands to bring it up to his mouth. That he was going to have to figure out how to lap it up. But the floor? A floor that might have cockroaches crawling all over it? He closed his eyes.
What did I do to deserve this?
“You were an ass. And it’s time you learn a lesson. So, start drinking. And eating!”
It was the Voice again.
Fuck you, he thought at it.
“Ah, but isn’t that part of what got you into trouble the first time?”
Ned got a chill.
This is real.
As real as sin.
Ned looked at the bowls, at Jake, at the bowls, at Jake.
“What’s wrong, boy?”
Ned turned and left Jake there, went to the small dining room table. It had two chairs. They looked sturdy. One was pushed back from the table just enough.
“What are you up to, boy?” Jake asked from kitchen doorway.
Ned hopped up onto the chair, almost went over frontward, leaned back, almost overcompensated, and then settled just right. The chair obviously wasn’t designed for a dog, but he did it. And as he sat, he saw he was at the exact right level. Sitting there like a man.
“Boy! Dogs don’t sit at the table.”
“Woof!” Ned cried in a tone he hoped said, “I do! I’m sitting here.”
Jake shook his head. “One of a kind.”
Ned barked again, hoping it sounded no-nonsense.
Jake sighed. “I don’t believe I’m doing this….” He walked out of the room.
And came back with the two bowls.
Ned stood a moment, barked, and wagged his tail. He gl
anced at it, wondering again how that worked. But he was far too excited to give it much notice. He’d finally scored a victory.
As soon as the bowls were set before him, he went for the water. He plunged his nose in too far at first and snorted and sneezed, and while Jake laughed—
(had he ever heard such a delightful laugh in his life?)
—he tried again, and some inner instinct took over and he was drinking water like a champ.
But then the matter of his victory came to a standstill.
The dog food.
Dried kibble.
God! Could he?
“Not used to kibble?” Jake asked.
Ned shook his head.
Jake shook his as well. “Jesus. It’s like you really can understand every word I say.”
“Arf!” Yes. I can.
“Well, Mr. Personality. I’m willing to do one thing. This is only once, though!” Jake went back into the kitchen, and Ned heard the refrigerator door open. He smelled the Chinese food almost instantly. Then a sound of a cabinet of some kind opening. Then closing. Beeping.
Microwave!
And then, yes, he heard it come on. There was no mistaking the sound. A few moments later the buzzer beeped to let Jake know it was done. The door opened again. It closed. Now came the sound of a drawer sliding open. Ned could almost see everything that was happening in his mind’s eye. He heard the clatter of silverware. The drawer closing again.
Ned shifted hungrily as Jake came back. Found himself drooling. Hell!
Jake sat at the other chair and pulled the dog food over to him.
Yes. Get rid of that stuff.
But then to his surprise, Jake didn’t hand over the Styrofoam container of Kung Pao chicken. Instead he dribbled some of the gravy over the kibble and then pushed it back. Ned looked at him. Really?
“Really,” Jake said.
Ned looked at the “food.” Back at Jake.
Who crossed his arms. “You eat that, and if you’re a good boy, then maybe I’ll share a little of mine.”
Ned looked back at the dog food. Sighed. If he ate the stuff, it seemed like such an acceptance of this new life.
But then hadn’t he decided that for now going for it, at least temporarily, was the thing to do?
His stomach chose that exact moment to growl.
Jake threw his head back and burst into laughter. “Seems like you can growl in more ways than one.”
Ned let out a puff of air.
Then he looked back at the food. The aroma was beginning to make his mouth water uncontrollably. He was hungry. He hadn’t eaten since the leftover pizza this morning.
His stomach growled again… a long gurgling rolling sound.
Oh, what the hell. When in Rome….
Ned took a few pieces of the Kung dog food.
Thankfully, it wasn’t too awful. Then, before he realized he’d done it, he’d scarfed down the entire bowl of dog food à la Kung Pao chicken. And was rewarded with a few bites of chicken and even a water chestnut. It was weird and somehow wonderful to carefully take it from Jake’s fingertips. He even let Ned lick his fingers.
Which in retrospect was a pretty fucking weird thing to do.
Afterward, they watched a little television. A video of the latest Marvel superhero movie. He paid it only the barest attention. It was hard. The images were flickering. Blinking. Jake didn’t seem to notice. It would have given Ned a splitting headache.
But it was calming, somehow, to sit here on the couch with this man. This nice man. This sweet man.
And I was going to fire him….
Jake began to drift toward the end, so Ned nudged him. Nudged his shoulder with his nose. Jake scratched him behind the ears, and it was good. Then Jake came more fully awake and said it was time for bed but that Ned should use the bathroom one more time.
Outside again. So humiliating.
But they went. They walked around the block. Main to 38th Street to Walnut to 39th and back to Main Street again. They passed what was at one time the Red Garter. A strip club for so-called gentlemen. It was closed now and good riddance. Ned wondered if they’d ever get rid of the other two clubs downtown. He hoped so.
Ned stopped now and again to use his nose. He couldn’t help it. The thing was truly marvelous. And when he stopped and drew in that long breath, let air escape from the slits to either side of his nose, and then drew in again, all those smell receptors did their doggie duty and Ned was amazed at what he instinctively recognized. Urine, yes. But male scents and female—one who was ready to mate. Ages. Sickness. Health.
And then, once more doing it before he knew he was going to, he was adding his message for other dogs. Who he was. He wondered if it would tell them he was a man.
Or once had been.
They went back to Jake’s apartment then, and as Jake undressed, Ned looked away. It didn’t seem right to look. Like an invasion of privacy. And something else. Now that he was a dog. Like it would be… wrong or something.
He glanced back as Jake got into bed and saw he was wearing pajama bottoms, long-legged, dark blue and black, in a plaid pattern.
“Good night,” Jake said and turned off the bedside lamp.
For a moment Ned didn’t know what to do. Sleep, he guessed. But not in that dog bed!
He went to the couch and hopped on it and tried to get comfortable. But even as he found a comfortable position now and again, nothing worked well enough to let him sleep.
In the other room, Ned could hear Jake’s gentle snores.
Finally he could stand it no more.
Ned jumped off the couch and went down the short hall to Jake’s bedroom. He walked to the foot of the bed. Smelled Jake.
It was good.
Then he jumped up onto the bed. Jake stirred. “That you, Coco?” A little gasp of sorts, then “Hey, boy.”
Jake huffed.
“Yeah. Okay. You can sleep here. Tonight! Tomorrow we start setting boundaries. Hear me?”
Ned whined. Screw boundaries!
He found himself curling up into a position that he had always wondered how dogs could stand. But as he did it—why, it was the most relaxed and comfortable he’d been in months.
Maybe a couple of years.
Before he knew it, he was asleep.
He dreamed doggie dreams of fields and rabbits and golden sun.
And Jake.
8
NED WOKE to music and the smell of… bacon!
Oh, how he loved bacon. Especially the good stuff he and Cliff bought and not the cheap crap with the smoked flavoring. That stuff he burped up for hours, and it wasn’t pleasant. But the locally farmed organic pig with no antibiotics? Oh yes!
Thank you, Cliff!
It was as he sat up that it hit him.
Cliff was not frying bacon.
Cliff was gone.
And he, Ned, was a dog.
A dog.
Not a dream.
Real.
It was Jake who was making bacon.
He got up, found himself stretching and yawning, both of which gave him shivers of delight, and then he hopped down to the floor and, clickity-clicking as he went down the hall, found Jake in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. The bacon smelled wondrous. He could almost forgive Jake for the “Good King Wenceslas looked out on the Feast of Stephen, when the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even….”
Almost.
“Well!” Jake cried, hands on hips. “Look who decided to get up! It’s about time. You want me to be late for work? I still have to walk you!”
Work? Shit. Work! Which he had missed yesterday.
“Come on,” Jake said, going for the leash.
Ned’s nose pulled him toward the kitchen. He looked at Jake.
“Who says that’s for you? Maybe that’s a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich for my lunch!”
Ned whined, “Really? I don’t get any?”
Jake laughed—and God Ned was starting to love
that laugh—and then he held out his hands before him—Stop!—and bringing them slowly downward said, “Take it easy, boy. All is well.”
Ned woofed. Take it eaaaasy. Jake’s famous words. He did a little spin, which only made Jake laugh all the more.
“Somebody was stupid losing you! Now come on. Quick! I’m already on Mr. Balding’s Bad-Boy List. I don’t need to get further on it.”
Ned’s ears dropped, and Jake attached the leash to his collar. Oh God. My Bad-Boy List.
“Now don’t give me any flack. I have to put you on the leash. But if the weather is good enough, maybe I can take you to the dog park after work.”
Jake opened the door and led him to the pee-saturated foyer. Ned couldn’t help but squint and flare his nostrils. A second later they were out the front door and in… snow. It was falling heavily.
I’ve got to do my business out here? In this?
“Yeah, I know,” Jake said. “But at least you’re not a dachshund! Already it’s deep enough one of those poor guys would be sticking their rump in the snow. Now come on, please. I can’t be late for work, and this weather is going to slow me down.”
Horrible. Just horrible. But he did have to go. Maybe he could figure out a way to use the toilet.
Jake looked at him expectantly, and Ned thought, You’re going to watch? Then he pulled Jake over to the hedges, ducked behind one—where luckily there was no snow at all—and did his duty. It was awful. But at least it was done and they could go back inside.
Back inside they were, only moments later, while Jake all but applauded him. “Coco took forever to go potty.”
Potty? Really? Potty?
Jake unleashed him and went into the kitchen, Ned following him. He looked up and saw Jake wrap something. It was indeed some kind of sandwich. He sniffed the air. Tomato… clear and sweet and acid. And lettuce, starting to go bad. Toast. And yes, bacon. A BLT. It really was for Jake.
Jake looked down at him. “If you make a deal with me, I’ll give you some of the bacon grease over your food.”
Oh Christ, yes. Tell me. “Woof! Woof! Woof!”
Jake grinned. “Okay. I will let you eat at the table when I am here. But when I’m gone, it’s the floor, like a normal canine. Okay?”
Whatever. Just give me!
So Jake did just that. Picked up the small frying pan and dribbled grease and set the bowl down on the floor. Ned raced to it, tail going a mile a minute. He couldn’t help it. Oh! And look—there was a little bacon in it as well. He turned his head and barked out a “Thanks!”