Buddy

by M. H. Herlong

J-Boy don’t move. He’s just looking at Buddy with his eyes squinched up.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “He don’t bite.”

  “Did he get in a fight?” J-Boy says.

  I rub my finger across Buddy’s scar. “I guess,” I say. “That was there when we found him.”

  Buddy takes one limping step toward J-Boy and J-Boy steps back.

  “What happened to his leg?”

  “When we hit him with the car, it broke so bad, they had to cut it off.”

  Buddy’s tail is whacking against the door frame so I move over a little bit. Buddy limps along with me and now his tail’s free to swing wide.

  “He can’t hardly walk,” J-Boy says.

  “He’s walking fine,” I say. “He just don’t go far.”

  “You sold your Game Boy so you could get that piece of a dog?”

  I turn around and there’s J-Boy with his lip all curled up.

  “If I get me a dog,” he says, “I’ll get me a whole dog.”

  I’m just staring at J-Boy.

  “I always knew you were a fool,” he says. “Now everybody else knows it, too.” He turns around and walks back around the house to the front yard.

  I hear the gate squeal and bang when he slams it open. I sit down. I’m smelling the cut-up grass stuck on the lawn mower and the gas fumes leaking out. I’m feeling the little rocks under my butt and the wood behind my back where I’m leaning against the shed.

  Then Buddy sticks his cold nose in my ear. He licks my face. He’s whining just a little bit. He limps one step closer and lays down with his head in my lap.

  My hand goes to his head. I smooth back his fur and he looks up at me with his caterpillar eyebrow cocked to one side. He’s waiting for me to talk but I can’t think of nothing to say.

  12

  J-Boy’s the fool, of course. Mama and Daddy have been saying it all along and it’s for true. As it turns out, I’ve got one call waiting when I get inside and the very next day when I roll out the lawn mower, Buddy comes limping along with me. He’s doing his three-legged walk down the sidewalk and some little kid snickers and I say, “You laugh at my dog and I’ll bust your head.” That little kid’s eyes get all big and he runs inside. Buddy lifts up his tail and watches him run, and I think, There goes that mowing job.

  While I mow the lawn, Buddy lays down on the sidewalk. He puts his nose on his front feet and he watches me going back and forth, back and forth. When people walk down the street they’re cussing at him for laying in the sidewalk. I say, “What do you expect? He’s only got three legs.” Buddy lifts up his head and watches them walk on and I tell him, “Just you lay back down, Buddy. It’s okay to stay right where you are.”

  When we get home I fill up his water bowl and I rub his ears and we sit in the shed by the lawn mower and we talk.

  “If you had four legs,” I say to Buddy, “we might walk down to the river. Mama says I can’t go that far but if you went with me, she’d have to let me go.”

  Buddy’s tail goes thump, thump like he’s saying he wishes he could help me.

  “We could really throw the ball there. And we’d watch those barges make the turn. Jamilla and me saw that once when we were at the aquarium. Those barges coming down the river go under the bridge so fast you think they’re going to whack right into it but they don’t. After they pass under the bridge, they’ve got to swing way wide to one side to get around the bend in the river, and you’re just hoping they don’t smash into the bank, and they don’t. And then you look and you see the other barges coming up the river, and you think now, for sure, they’re going crash into each other. And you cross your fingers and close your eyes, and when you open them up again, there go the barges, sailing past each other like nothing ever happened. And after that, you look up and down the river, and you can’t hardly believe it because here comes a whole bunch more barges, doing it over and over again.”

  When I stop talking, Buddy thumps his tail like he wants me to go on.

  “Where do you think those barges are coming from, Buddy? What do you think they’ve got in them? What do you think it would be like to ride on one of them? Jamilla said she’s going to do that one day. Start maybe all the way at the top of the river and ride all the way down. All the way out to the ocean.

  “Where do you think that river starts, Buddy? I know it ain’t Chicago. But it can’t be too far from there.

  “And what do you think the ocean looks like, Buddy? I’ve seen pictures and I’ve seen movies, but I ain’t never seen the real thing. Do you think it’s scary, Buddy? All that water moving all the time? And what about mountains? What about hills? We ain’t even got hills in New Orleans. We’ve got swamps and we’ve got alligators and we’ve got roaches, but we ain’t got hills.”

  Buddy ain’t moving. He’s asleep.

  “Do you think I ought to stay in New Orleans when I get grown? Do you think Mama would let me go off? What if I go where it gets cold sometimes and—”

  Buddy jumps and wakes himself up.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “You’re coming with me.”

  He settles his head back on my lap.

  “But we can’t go now, Buddy. I’ve got all those lawns to mow and at the end of the summer, there’s school all over again.”

  I heave a sigh and Buddy does, too.

  “But guess what Daddy says,” I go on. “He says, if I’ve got enough money come August, he’ll take me to the store and we’ll get a bicycle.”

  Buddy looks up at me, and I say, “You think I ought to get a red one?”

  His tail goes thump, thump, and I say, “Okay. Red it is.”

  One day Mama sends me down the street for a gallon of milk. She gives me a five-dollar bill and says hurry, so I don’t take Buddy. I hear Baby Terrell squalling in the kitchen and I figure Mama’s about to lose her mind, so I run all the way to the store. I grab the milk out of the cooler and slap that five-dollar bill on the counter and then I hear Brother James’s voice behind me.

  “Is that Li’l T?” he says.

  I turn around real polite. “Yes, sir.”

  “You still got that three-legged dog?”

  “He’s named Buddy.”

  Brother James nods and smiles. “That’s a good name for a dog.”

  “You want this money or not?” says the lady behind the counter.

  “Better take that change,” Brother James says. “Can’t go wasting money.”

  I stuff the change in my pocket and Brother James says, “Is it true what I hear about you mowing lawns?”

  I nod.

  “You think you can mow the church lawn? We got some high grass right about now.”

  I’m thinking fast. “The church is a long way to push my lawn mower,” I say.

  Brother James falls out laughing. “We got a lawn mower,” he says. “We just don’t have anybody to push it. Come over Saturday evening. That way it’ll look nice for Sunday.”

  I pick up the milk but I don’t go. “How much I get paid?” I ask.

  “Paid!” Brother James says.

  I nod.

  “This is the church, boy.”

  “I’m feeding Buddy now,” I say, “and I’m saving for a bicycle.”

  “Five dollars,” Brother James says. “And that better be one fine bicycle.”

  13

  Mama and Daddy have a fight about it but Granpa T finally speaks up and says I’m old enough to walk all the way to church by myself. Mama’s muttering about maybe Buddy can walk with me, and I say no it’s too far for him, and she wraps her hands up in her apron and hollers at Granpa T to turn down the TV before he wakes up the baby, and then she says somebody’s got to cook some supper and stomps off to the kitchen, and Daddy and Granpa T look at me and say, “What are you waiting for?” and out the
door I go.

  I’m halfway out the gate before I realize I ain’t explained to Buddy. I find him laying in the shade of the pecan tree.

  I start rubbing his head. “I can’t take you with me to the church, Buddy,” I say to him. “You’d be worn out if you walked that far. I’d be carrying you home and I ain’t strong enough to do that.”

  He looks up at me and I’m thinking maybe I can make him a leg. Like those pirates on TV. Maybe I can fix up a stick or something and hook it on the piece of leg still hanging in the back.

  But now I got to go mow. Buddy’s laying there thumping his tail at me and Tanya walks out the back door.

  She comes creeping over and squats down by Buddy. “I’ll look after him while you’re gone,” she says.

  “He’ll be fine,” I say. “He don’t need you.”

  She twists up her mouth and cocks her head to one side. “Meanie,” she says.

  I ball up my fist and shake it at her. “Meanie yourself,” I say. “You leave my dog alone.”

  She stands up and goes prancing back to the house.

  “You watch out for her,” I say to Buddy. “She’s a girl.”

  Brother James is waiting at the church when I get there. He gives me the key to the shed in back and sure enough there’s a lawn mower in there. I get it going and I start mowing. That grass is as high as my knees in places. It chokes up the mower over and over. I’m thanking the Lord it’s a tiny little lawn when Brother James comes out and says next I’ve got to rake up all the grass and stick it in trash bags and then pile them behind the church.

  I’m thinking this is a twenty-dollar job, not no five-dollar mow-and-go.

  When I’m done, Brother James comes out and looks it over. He says I did a good job. He says I can come back next Saturday—like that’s something I might want to do! Then he hands me a five-dollar bill and says, “See you in the morning, son.”

  I stuff that five-dollar bill in my pocket and I walk home thinking the last thing I’m going to do next Saturday evening is mow that church lawn. I’m thinking about how hot I am and how thirsty I am and how I wish I had a cold drink. I’m thinking about when I grow up I’m going to live where there’s snow in the wintertime and frozen-up lakes where you go skating. I’m going to live where the leaves get red and orange in the fall and they got apples on the trees.

  I’m thinking I’ll be taking Buddy with me on that trip. I’m thinking with all that hot fur he’ll be glad to go where it’s cold.

  I head straight for the back to ask Buddy what he thinks and when I round the corner of the house, I stop in my tracks. I can’t believe my eyes.

  Tanya’s sitting there with Buddy. She’s got a great big ribbon tied around his neck in a big old bow. She’s got one of those ballerina skirts going around his stomach. She’s holding onto one of his front feet and singing how they going to dance the night away.

  I start yelling.

  Tanya jumps up and starts screaming.

  Buddy stands up on his three legs and starts barking.

  Mama comes running out the back door and starts hollering.

  Granpa T comes right behind her saying, “What the blue blazes—”

  “Get away!” I’m yelling. “He’s my dog! Get away!”

  I’m pulling at Tanya and she’s beating on my hands to make me turn her loose. I’m dragging her away and Mama comes running up and she says, “Have you lost your mind?”

  And I yell, “Look what she’s done!”

  “Turn her loose!” Mama hollers.

  I drop Tanya’s arm and she goes running into the house. I hear her crying inside like somebody’s hurt her or something.

  Then Daddy comes busting out of the house carrying the baby. He don’t say nothing. He hands the baby to Mama. “Go on back to the house,” he says to her. “See about Tanya.”

  Mama’s talking to herself all the way back to the door. She lets it bang shut behind her.

  Granpa T’s standing there looking at Buddy. Buddy’s mouth is hanging open and his tongue is hanging out and he’s panting in the heat and his caterpillar eyebrow is all cocked up to one side and some people might say he’s laughing but I know it ain’t so.

  “That dog’s got the patience of Job,” Granpa T says.

  “Tanya did it,” I say. “She made him look like a fool. Did you hear him barking like that? He can’t stand it.”

  Granpa T squats down and unties the bow. He rubs Buddy around the ears. “You’re the ugliest, stupidest- looking dog I’ve ever seen,” he says, and Buddy’s tail goes thump, thump.

  “If J-Boy had seen that,” I say, “he’d fall out laughing. He’d say—”

  Then I realize Daddy’s holding me by the arm. He ain’t talking. I look up at him. His face is hard.

  Granpa T slides that skirt off Buddy and laughs. “That’s a good costume for Mardi Gras, Buddy,” he says. “We’ve got to remember it. Li’l T, did I ever tell you the story about—” Then he looks at Daddy standing there holding me by the arm. “I’ll go on back inside now,” Granpa T says, and leaves out carrying the clothes.

  Then it’s just me and Buddy and Daddy standing by the shed. Buddy lays down and it gets awful quiet.

  “Did you see your sister’s arm?” Daddy says. “She’s going to get a bruise.”

  I don’t say anything.

  “What do you think I ought to do, son?”

  I shrug.

  He shakes my arm. “You ain’t listening.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “You hurt your sister. What do you think I ought to do?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Daddy’s real quiet for a minute.

  “You want to keep that dog, son?” Daddy says, and all a sudden, I feel something cold running in my stomach.

  “Yes, sir,” I say real quiet.

  “In this family,” he says, “we share.”

  I nod.

  “We ain’t got much,” he says, “but what we got, we share.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you going to share from now on?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Go get the stick.”

  I know where the stick is. It’s leaning up behind the shed. I go and get it.

  Daddy holds it a minute. “You about to be too big for this,” he says. “But I expect I won’t be needing it much longer.”

  “No, sir,” I say.

  He walks in the shed and I follow him. I lean over. He whaps me. Three times. Then he leaves out.

  Buddy comes nosing in. While I’m rubbing my behind, he’s whining and poking at my hand. Finally, he lays down on his blanket and I lay down beside him.

  “You’re my dog,” I say.

  He lifts up his head and licks my face clean.

  14

  I mow the church lawn again the next Saturday evening. Daddy says I have to, so I do. Brother James gives me another five dollars even though it don’t take even half as long. I stop by the store on my way back. When I get home, Tanya’s sitting there singing to Buddy. She’s promised she won’t dress him up anymore and I’ve said she can sit and sing to him when I leave out.

  “I’m back now,” I say.

  “I ain’t finished my song.”

  I sit down to wait.

  Tanya’s got a pretty voice. I ain’t going to say it out loud, but it’s for true. Except she don’t know any songs. She just makes it up as she goes along.

  “You’re a beautiful dog,” she’s singing to Buddy.

  “You’ve got great big eyes.

  You’ve got pretty, black fur.

  Your tongue hangs out between your teeth when you’re hot.

  You go ‘Ruff, ruff!’ when Li’l T comes back.

  You look at me when I sing.<
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  You put your head down on your feet.

  Your ears go—”

  She stops.

  She tilts her head to one side and looks at Buddy. Then she starts up again.

  “I don’t know any words for what your ears do.

  They can stand up on their own.

  They’re pink inside.”

  “That’s enough,” I say. “This song ain’t never going to end.”

  She hunches up like she’s afraid I’m going to hit her.

  “Can’t you sing something else? Something that’s got an end?”

  “‘The Eensy, Weensy Spider’?” she says.

  “Okay. That’s short.” I wait all the way through. I see her drawing a breath to start over. “You’re finished. Now go.”

  She hops up and runs inside, and Buddy turns his eyes to me.

  I reach in the bag I brought from the store.

  “It’s a present,” I say to Buddy.

  He lifts up his head and looks.

  “Dog biscuits,” I say. I open the box and take one out. I hand it to him. He crunches it between his teeth. He drops it. He picks it up. He’s slobbering all over that biscuit until it’s completely gone.

  I laugh. “Was that good?”

  He looks up at me. He’s staring at me and panting. I know he wants another one so I throw him another one. He loves those biscuits.

  I’m thinking, What do I want with a bicycle? I’m getting more biscuits next week. And I throw him another one.

  I start getting biscuits for Buddy every week on my way home from mowing the churchyard. I go with Mama when she’s making groceries and I get him his regular food plus a rubber bone that squeaks when he bites it. First time he bites it, he jumps. Then he bites it again and shakes it. Me and Tanya are laughing at him. He thinks he’s putting on a show.

  One day I walk all the way to the pet store on St. Claude and Frenchmen Street. They’ve got birds in cages and rats and kittens and mice and everything. They’ve got a whole wall of fish swimming around plastic plants. They’ve got shelves stacked all the way to the ceiling with toys and food.