More Good Dogs: More Stories About Good Dogs and the People Who Love Them

by Rabbit Redbone

  “George?” June said and tapped tentatively on the door. “Did you still want to take Edward out for that walk?”

  I looked up at myself in the mirror, my eyes round with shock. Toothpaste foam lined my lips, making me look…quite unstable. Was she kidding? I swallowed inadvertently and choked.

  “What was that, George?” she asked. “Did you say yes? It’s so nice out, you know…I thought the three of us might enjoy some air.”

  Her tone was light but held a note of pleading. What could I say? I leaned and spit out what hadn’t made it to my stomach and rinsed again. In the mirror, I looked back at myself, perfectly normal, if you chose to ignore the slight desperation that capered far back in my eyes.

  “Yes, of course, that sounds lovely,” I said (and my eyes said no, no, jesus, no!). “Buck UP!” I whispered to myself harshly. “It’s just a dog. Get a hold of yourself, man!”

  “George? Are you all right in there?”

  I opened the door and smiled broadly. Edward sat at June’s side, panting. A thin line of leather ran from somewhere in the vicinity of his neck to hang loosely in June’s grip. She brightened and handed me the leash.

  “Ready?” she asked, chirping like a bird. I had a brief but intense flash of hatred for her. (Back then, it scared me; how could I have known that would become a more or less normal, marital occurrence, occasionally traded from both sides?)

  “Ready as I’ll ever be,” I said. I accepted the thin, almost string of leather. “Will this hold him?” I tried to put a laugh into my question, but it came out more like a demented chortle.

  June’s smile dimmed with uncertainty, but then she straightened her shoulders. “Of course!” she said and led Edward and me back down the hall. “It’s been his leash since he was just a puppy!”

  “Really? Say, June…just how old is Edward, anyway?” At the sound of his name, he glanced at me over his shoulder. His ears, two tall furry cones, flicked to excited life. “Easy, boy,” I said. I tried to keep my tone soothing rather than terrified. I think I succeeded only moderately. I thought about patting his giant head, but cautioned myself against it. Who knew what might set him into a whirlwind of kinetic activity?

  “Oh, he’s…let’s see…” June said, pursing her lips. By now we were on the sidewalk, and she’d been right, it was a lovely night. It was warm and fragrant with the flowering trees that lined the street. Spring was in full bloom. June went on, “Gosh, I guess…he just turned three? Three years old, yes. Why, he’s practically still a pup!”

  Three?

  Three?

  Was she mistaken? Math was not her strong suit. She had to be off in her calculations. Thirteen, maybe…he just looked so…so old! Rode hard and put away wet! Ten miles of bad road! Over the hill and rolled down the other side!

  “You…but…” I shook my head and grinned. “No, that’s just not possible. You must be mistaken.”

  She shot me a long, sideways glance. Edward snurffled along in front of us. I was glad that he was being calm, at least, if not exactly quiet. The shenanigans in the hallway must have tired the old guy out!

  “Nooo,” June said. “He’s three; I’m sure of it, George.”

  Well, so, then he most certainly was not her dog, if that was the case! Relief flooded me, and I began to feel almost…jovial. Like we’d narrowly avoided a disaster. I thought I heard birds burst into song, but of course that couldn’t have really been the case–not at night.

  Then her next words struck fresh dread in my heart.

  “I found him at the beginning of my sophomore year,” she said. She tilted her head, recollecting. “He was shivering behind the Arts and Humanities building, and he was just a little thing and so fluffy! Well, except for his, you know, his body…that part of him was never fluffy.” I detected a frown pulling the edges of her mouth down as she looked at Edward. Then she turned to me and brightened. “But so, so, so cute! And sweet! I never understood why my roommates didn’t…well, but that’s not important.” She shook her head as if physically removing some undesirable notion. “Edward is the reason I moved off-campus. You can’t have a dog in a dorm!”

  Then why had her parents taken him? I wanted to ask. Why had she never mentioned him before?

  Why had she bamboozled me?

  I tried to gather my fleeing thoughts. “Only three, huh? That’s something. I’d have thought he was older.” I was only faintly aware of my own words.

  “Older?” June said. “Yes, I guess I can see what you mean. Because he’s so mature, not puppyish at all. And smart, too. He barely ever had any, you know, accidents once he’d been trained.”

  “Is that right?” I asked. Well, but her parents had him now. Surely they’d grown attached, I thought, but my eyes wandered with doubt over to Edward. He was sniffing one small area beneath a tree with intent concentration.

  He’d never be my worry…except maybe when we had children and had to visit Carol and Bob at their house. I’d have to have a serious talk with June about the hazards of having a dog as…rambunctious…as Edward around small children. He’d kill them!

  “Maybe we should head back,” June said, and the cautious edge of her tone pulled me from my reverie. I followed her gaze down the street. A woman with three very small dogs on three leashes was headed in our direction.

  Sensing a potential disaster, I turned Edward before he could get wind of those poodles. “Come on, old man,” I told him with a reluctant pat on his head. “Let’s get you home, boy; what do you say?”

  At my touch, his head shot up, and his tongue swirled hotly up my wrist. A ball of slime worked its way, sliding, down over my palm. I transferred the leash to my other hand and shook the saliva from my fingers.

  “Blech…boy, he got me good!” I said, trying to keep the joviality in my voice. “Let’s get home so I can wash up. Again.”

  June shot a glance over her shoulder and relaxed. “She turned down another street,” she said, and then, as if I’d asked, she said, “Not that I was worried. I mean, Edward is so friendly! He just loves other dogs!”

  I couldn’t imagine what he would do to them, though. One tussle with Edward–even a good-natured one; maybe especially a good-natured one!–would leave any other animal a ball of slippery ruin.

  I transferred the leash to my wet hand and picked up the pace. June had to take a few trotting steps to keep up. She laughed and grasped my free arm, and the weight of her body against mine, warm and soft, drove Edward momentarily from my mind.

  I wish it hadn’t. I wish I’d kept my wits about me. I’d have noticed that my increased pace caused a kind of electrical charge to run through Edward, exciting him into a trot. Then into a kind of restrained gallop. Before I knew it, he was pulling us along, sled-dog style.

  “Whoa, boy!” I said and forced a fake laugh, but new tension had worked its way into me–I could feel Edward’s strength in my now thrashing arm. This leash would never hold were I to plant my feet in an effort to stop him. “Whoa, big fella!”

  June had let go of my arm once she couldn’t keep up, but her feet pattered along behind us. We were almost to the house. “George!” she said, breathless. “Wait for me!”

  “June?” a male voice called through the darkness, questioning and somehow uncertain. “Is that you? Are you all right?”

  Jerry. He must be out on the porch.

  At the sound of Jerry’s dreamy, floating voice, Edward gave a huffing ‘baroo,’ jolted and broken by the now horselike drumming of his feet. ‘Baroo! Baroo!’ he cried and lunged. My foot caught a rise in the sidewalk, and I went over like a felled tree. The leash slid through my wet hand with a small ‘thwick’, and Edward was loose.

  “Jerry! Watch out!” I yelled, or thought I yelled, tried, anyway, to yell. But it was barely a whisper. I had no breath in my lungs. “Watch out, old boy!”

  “George?” Jerry said with that loud/soft ‘I’m yelling in a neighborhood at night and trying not to sound too rowdy’ modulation to his tone. “Is th
at you, George?”

  He came to the wide stairs and peered into the dark, one hand shading his eyes as though the sun were out, the other stretched behind him as he hung onto the railing.

  Dappled as he was by the shifting light of the moon, he looked to me like an intrepid sailor scanning the sea for a man overboard. He looked…majestic.

  “George?” he said again and leaned further, stretching the length of his arm, tilting out over the steps.

  That’s when Edward hit him, full steam ahead.

  The impact was tremendous. The dog and Jerry flipped end for end (I’d swear it), landing with a crash against the front door. June cried out, running past me. I was hurt, a little, that she didn’t stop. I flung my hand out, reaching fruitlessly for her flashing ankles. “June! Nooo!” I cried, trying to stop her. I didn’t know what horror awaited her once she got to that porch.

  Would Jerry be maimed? Would the porch be covered in the blood and gore that must certainly come part and parcel with the kind of pounding he’d just received?

  Would Jerry be dead? I saw it as a possibility.

  And if he wasn’t dead, if he wasn’t paralyzed or otherwise very physically incapacitated…might he try and kill June due to his rage at her dog’s behavior?

  He might! I had to get to her. I had to either stop her from seeing a scene that would haunt her for the remainder of her days, or I’d have to defuse Jerry’s fury, calming him enough for June to pack her belongings and retreat to my apartment (we’d drop Edward at a kennel on the way–her parents could collect him whenever they returned and decide if they wanted to have him put down at their veterinarian or let the county do it).

  June stood at the bottom of the steps, her hands on her hips, head tilted prettily as she laughed.

  Laughed?

  Whatever had happened must have sent her over the edge and straight into insanity. My poor girl! Would she ever recover?

  Then I heard another laugh. A male laugh. No, I must be mistaken. It simply wasn’t possible. I shoved myself up onto my knees. That wasn’t Jerry laughing; it couldn’t be…that was the final, mortal breath trickling from his beaten body.

  “June!” I said and stood. I was able, finally to get a full breath. I took a few stumbling steps toward the porch. “June! Hold on, darling! I’m coming!”

  She turned then, and her face fell. “Oh, George! Are you all right?” She trotted back to me. “You really took a spill!”

  I hobbled at her side, and she reached for my hand. She shook her head, and a rueful smile curled her lips. “Looks like I didn’t have to worry about Jerry and Edward after all!” she said.

  “Yes,” I said, still slightly dazed and feeling lost. “I was thinking that, too.”

  By then we were back to the porch. Jerry and Edward were sitting on the top step, and Jerry had his hands buried in the scruff of Edward’s neck, fingers scratching enthusiastically. Edward panted and grinned, his tongue lolling stupidly from the side of his mouth, obviously entranced. He was nearly walleyed with satisfaction.

  “Jerry, you’re so good with him,” June said, her voice filled with admiration. My stomach soured. She said, “Why, he’s just a big ol’ teddy bear in your hands.”

  It seemed like a direct comment on my lack of abilities with the dog, but she turned then and smiled at me. It was a warm and genuine smile, too, as she reached for my hand.

  “George, look at that! Edward loves Jerry almost as much as he loves you!”

  I couldn’t speak.

  Had she hit her head? Had I hit mine? Was I unable to comprehend simple human speech?

  I looked again at the grinning Edward. He caught my gaze and licked his chops, stood, and did a sort of nervous two-step. Then he thumped gracelessly down the steps to come sit before me. He went to nudge my hand with his nose, missed, and got my crotch instead, to leave a large dark stain in an area that made me appear incontinent. Then he whined, and his tongue lolled out again as he tilted his head back and laughed.

  I laughed, too, a short bark of shock. But June must not have heard it that way.

  “Oh, George,” she said, taking my arm. “I love Edward so much. He’s such a loyal dog, but most people seem to dislike him because he’s so, you know, rambunctious, and…well…it makes me sad.” She beamed up at me. “I’m so glad you like him. I don’t know what I’d have done if you and he didn’t get along. I’m so happy.”

  I tried to smile, but my eyes drifted from hers to Edward’s, and my stomach sank. How could I tell her that there was no possible way I could live with this dog?

  * * *

  That night, as I lay with June curled against me and Edward snored gustily from the floor next to the bed, I had a dream.

  June and I were in her kitchen, and her back was to me as she cooked at the stove. Edward was sitting at the table with me.

  In one of the chairs.

  He had his elbows on the table and his paws (hands?) clasped together under his meaty jowls. He gazed at me from his deeply muddy brown eyes.

  “George,” he said, and his voice was surprisingly beautiful–rich in timbre and modulated in pitch. “I think we need to come to an understanding.”

  “June?” I said. I was more amazed than frightened (in my dream). “Look at Edward!”

  She turned briefly, obviously taken up with whatever she was cooking. “Yes, George, I see him. Edward, don’t beg at the table.”

  I looked at Edward again and saw him sitting on the floor like any normal dog. He was panting. “Hey,” I said, “he was just…he was…”

  “I know, I know, it’s a bad habit,” June said, without turning around. “Maybe with your, shall we say, sterner influence…he’ll stop begging.”

  I looked at Edward again, and he was sitting at the table. Paws (hands?) clasped. He’d raised his big eyebrows. “Are you quite all right, George?” he asked me with complete and sincere concern.

  “Did you hear him?” I asked June, but this time refused to take my eyes from Edward.

  June sighed. “Edward, don’t whine at George,” she said, scolding as though Edward and I were siblings…and young ones, at that.

  “George, listen to me,” Edward said. “You and I need to come to a détente. A compromise, if we can get one figured out.” He lowered his eyes, almost as if ashamed. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop loving you. I am a dog; I am built to love man. I loved you the minute I smelled you at Bob and Carol’s table…you and the smell of juicy cooked chicken are indelibly linked in my brain. I will always love chicken, and I will always love you.”

  I sat back and rubbed my eyes. Then I leaned close to him and whispered with the hope that June wouldn’t hear. “I’ve never had a dog. When I was a child, my mother was allergic. We never had any sort of animal living in the house with us. I don’t–” I shook my head and sat back. I glanced at June to make sure she wasn’t listening. “I don’t know what to make of you. Maybe if your…love for me…was a little less physical?”

  Edward rested his jowl on one paw as if considering. “I could try, George, but I can’t promise much on that front. I just get very excited. Perhaps…perhaps if we walked together more. Or if you could find either a stick or a ball and throw it as far as you can so that I might retrieve it for you. We could, potentially, do that over and over and over. If some of my energies were spent in physical pursuits, then maybe I would not be so inclined to love you with such punishing devotion. I’m a young dog, George! I need activity!”

  “Yes, I can see that,” I said. Secretly, I told myself to agree, that it would not be an issue very often, anyway, as Carol and Bob had primary care of Edward. Surely that wouldn’t change when June and I got married. I put my hand out. “You’ve got a deal, Edward.”

  His tail burst into furious life as his jaws split in that big, doggy grin. “A deal? You mean it? You really do?”

  “Of course, old man, now put ’er there,” I said and reached out.

  “George!” June said, screamed almost, m
aking me jump. “What are you doing?”

  “I didn’t do anything!” I said, defensive and protesting…she must have thought I’d lost my mind, talking to Edward as though he were a human.

  “Modest!” she said, a wide smile blooming across her face. She stepped to me and took my head in her hands, drawing me to her aproned bosom. She kissed the top of my head. “You’re a wonder with him! How did you teach him so quickly?”

  Partially blinded by the ruffles on June’s apron, I looked down the length of my own arm. Edward sat on the floor, his great paw resting with docile ease in my hand as I shook it up and down.

  “Would you look at that,” I said, filled with dream-appropriate wonder. I took a breath to say something more and caught of whiff of June’s apron…it was fishy-smelling. And also something else, some undertone…garbage. Her apron smelled like fishy garbage. That had lain in the sun all day.

  “June,” I said and tried to disengage her arms from around my head. “June…let me go, would you, darling?”

  Her arms tightened, drawing me closer to her bosom and the foul apron. The fish-garbage stench became even stronger. Overwhelmingly so. I felt I couldn’t catch my breath.

  “June! Please!” I said and jerked back.

  I came awake in bed, my eyes opening with startled surprise. Edward’s face was three inches from mine, his mouth hanging open as he panted hot wafts of damp, fishy, garbage breath over me. His teeth were huge and white but shaded to yellow where they met his mottled pink and brown gums. The roof of his mouth even looked somewhat like a fish fillet, ridged and pale.

  “Edward, lay dooow–” I started to say and realized with instant dismay that it had been a mistake to open my mouth. His tongue, formerly lolling lazily to the side, sprang to life and insinuated itself between my lips. It dragged like spongy, sodden cardboard over my teeth and then fell back out of my mouth to leave behind not just the fish-garbage scent, but also the fish-garbage taste.

  I gagged and sat up, rubbing my hand over my lips.

  I gagged again.

  “George?” June said from the other side of the bed. “Are you all right, darling?”