by Bill Boggs
Hour Two: Memories
Oh Christ, I’m awake, shaking, shiverin’ out of control…shit! So cold, horrible cold, nose is stone cold from breathin’ freezing, horrible icy air.
I vomited in my sleep. It didn’t kill me, like throwin’ up and suffocating on it while sleepin’ killed Hendrix, Joplin, and Mama Cass and somebody else; I can’t remember. Who cares? Didn’t kill me ’cause it was projectile vomiting, and now barf’s all over that picture of Cary Grant in the nice gray suit. Judy’s OK; she’s just got a little polar ice cap of it on one knee.
The vodka-as-antifreeze theory’s not gonna work. Gonna fight the cold mentally. I gotta control my mind, gotta transport myself to somehow have an out-of-frozen-body experience. Or try, anyway.
I’m rememberin’ Bud quoting Carson the butler on Downton Abbey, who said, “The business of life is the acquisition of memories. In the end that’s all we’ll have.” I’m goin’ back in time, way, way back as far as I can remember; gotta transport me away from this cold that’s making my whole body shake, and then maybe I’ll die with a happy memory playin’ in my head…. I’d like that…so I’m thinking back, way back…
There’s my dad standin’ over me, and now he’s pickin’ me up by the back of my neck. He’s got a more gentle carrying style than Mom, ’cause he’s not used to doin’ it, so maybe he thinks he’s gotta be more careful. He’s lifting me up and outside the pen.
“What’s Rocky doing with Elmer?” Mrs. Erdrick, the breeder, is askin’ her husband.
Yeah, my original name was Elmer. All of my litter got named after cartoon characters; we had Lulu, Minnie, Oswald, and Billy. I heard I was the only one who got a new name, ’cause Bud called me Spike.
My dad’s carrying me around the living room like he’s showing me off. He’s so big and so strong, with rippling muscles piled on top of more muscles.
“Be careful with him, Rocky,” she says.
My dad never knows when someone’s gonna come and buy us and take us away from him forever. Dad works every day with Mr. Erdrick as a guard at the factory, so he’s not always around to tend us, so time with Dad is precious.
He sets me down in the corner of the living room and puts his head next to me. His head’s about as big as my whole body.
Dad’s lookin’ me straight in the eye. He’s got a fierce energy about him. Could be scared of him, but I’m not, ’cause he’s my dad and I know he loves me.
“You got something special, Elmer…a special property,” he’s telling me. “Your mother and me had three litters, fourteen pups so far, and we both see something extra in you…a force in your eyes…. You’re gonna do a big thing for our breed in your life. Billy’s real smart and extra handsome. He’s got those brains from your mom’s side of the family, and we’re proud of him. But I know there’s something of my great-great-grandfather Brick in you.”
I’m feelin’ mighty good and real surprised that Dad and Mom are thinkin’ this way about me.
“Just carry this with you forever, Elmer; remember me, remember Mom, remember your brothers and sisters, and never, ever doubt yourself.”
I get put back in the pen. I remember fallin’ asleep bein’ happy and proud of Dad and tryin’ to absorb his words to me. Askin’ myself if I was worthy of those words.
Later that day, Mrs. Erdrick wakes us up and we know a buyer’s coming. “Time for you all to be a basket of adorables,” she says.
It’s Bud. He’s a handsome young guy with broad shoulders and a big smile. We all like him. He looks like a guy who should own an English Bull Terrier, and not some wimp who’s gonna buy one of us to make himself look more macho.
“Not sure, but I think I want a male,” he says, as he looks down at us smiling at him.
Oswald, Billy, and me all want this guy to take us. Billy’s practically doing a dog show routine. Oswald, who’s a little on the crazy side—Mom says he’s “demented but affectionate”—is leapin’ around and wildly shaking a toy in his mouth. I’m just standing still. I’m looking up at Bud. I feel special ’cause of what Dad just said to me. Bud looks at me. I look him right in the eye the way Dad just did to me. Next to me though, just inches away, Billy is giving off a lot of energy.
“This one’s a beauty,” Bud says to Mrs. Erdrick, as he leans way down looking at Billy.
“He’s a brainy little fellow, too,” she tells him.
Bud stands up. He looks at Billy. He looks at me. I’m gazing at him with all my might. I feel him inside me in some strange way, and I think he’s somehow feeling me back—like we’re absorbing each other’s energy. He’s linked with me, and we got that thing flowin’ between us for the first time—our connection, the one we’d go on to have a million times.
“This one’s got something special,” Bud says, and I think, “Yes! That’s it, he’s gonna pick me!”
But smart little Billy gets Bud’s attention by putting his paws on the pen wall, stretching up with his tongue out, tryin’ to lick Bud’s hand.
Bud looks at me again. I can’t help it, ’cause I just woke up; I let out a big yawn.
“Oh my God, he’s so cute. Can I pick him up?” Bud asks.
Now Bud’s holding me in his arms, and I got an owner who I like. I’m having the greatest day of my life.
“Will he be big?” Bud asks.
“He’ll be the biggest of the lot,” Mrs. Erdrick says. “Take a look at his dad; he’ll be even bigger.”
And there’s Dad off in the corner giving me a proud nod of his huge head.
I’m comin’ out of the memory, and my cold body’s shakin’ more than that vibrator thing I had in my mouth when I ran around the block. Mr. and Mrs. Erdrick and Mom and Dad know all about the adventures of Spike The Wonder Dog. Dad was somehow right that day, and he and Mom gotta be happy with what I did, bein’ on TV and all. I have a kind of peace from that memory. Thanks, Carson the butler, wherever you are. And thanks, Dad. I’m not doubting myself; I’m gonna die happy. But now, ’cause I can’t take this cold anymore, I’m just closing my eyes.
Hour Three: Going to Sleep
Just woke up realizing something’s different—I’m not shaking. Maybe that means “and now the end is near.” I sense my heart workin’ slower but harder and harder. Most of my body’s numb. Can’t feel my paws or ears. Tail won’t move, maybe frozen solid. Does the tail get hypothermia first on dogs? I don’t know much about freezing to death…. I know how to make frozen drinks from watchin’ Bud. I’m makin’ no sense…
…Throw a blanket on me, Mrs. Erdrick…. Now, please. Oswald’s cold, too…. Mom! Mom!
I’m mixed up…like it’s…like it’s…it’s now…what’s the word? The word for…when…you’re confused?…. There was a beer…Bud liked it…had that word in it? Can’t think straight…oh…Delirium Tremens beer…that’s what I am now, delirious.
I got songs swirling around in my head. The one about bein’ a puppet or a pauper or a pirate that Lombardo played for Bud…. “Puppet, pauper, pirate” keeps singing itself to me…“pawn”…“king”…and over and over….
Now…I’m seein’ Bud at that church beltin’ out a baseball song about how your luck could be battin’ zero…. People were cheerin’ like it was…I don’t know…. Whatever it was…they were goin’ wild…. They were yelling and stompin’ like that old song was teachin’ them that they had to get their chins off the floor. Man next to me was whistling with two fingers in his mouth…. First time I ever saw that…. Now I hear the whistle…loud…loud whistle.
Bud had heart…. I love Bud…. He shoulda’ stayed in High Point and been a minister at some church. I could collect offerings with the silver plate in my mouth. What am I thinkin’? I’m confused. Sorry. Confused, and…real, real tired and heavy. Everything on me is heavy and tired, and slow and numb.
…This might be it…. Is this it? What’s the song?…. Final curtain song?…. Falling asleep…irregular heartbeats…goin’ to sleep…now…might be…
The Interview w
ith Lester Holt
Boggs: (Note to reader) Spike told me that Lester Holt interviewed Bud about what he did when he learned Spike was abducted. The following is a transcript of that conversation.
Holt: The day you left for the cruise was the day Spike was stolen. When did you find out about Spike?
Bud: Thanks for this chance to talk about this, Lester.
Holt: You’re welcome. It’s quite a story for any pet owner.
Bud: Well, you have to go back to the morning of the first day for me to really explain this…the awful morning.
Holt: Go ahead, take your time.
Bud: I just had this horrible feeling of not wanting to leave. My friend Buffy, her dog Daisy and my old boss Lombardo were in town, and I’m going off on a cruise feeling like I shouldn’t be leaving, and I had a bad feeling saying goodbye to Spike…something I never had to do before.
Holt: Of course.
Bud: So I get on the ship, and I have this lurking, empty sense of dread.
Holt: We figure Spike was taken when you were just a couple of hours at sea. When did you find out?
Bud: The ship was brand new and had no internet, no Wi-Fi, nothing working the first twenty-four hours.
Holt: So you didn’t know until…?
Bud: Around three o’clock or so the next day, a text comes through from Buffy about the abduction. Larry David Seinfeld Garcia, the dog walker kid, was hurt pretty badly, but he saw enough to know that Spike was dragged into a car by someone who he thought had been stalking them. The kid just had a hunch it was a dogfight operation that nabbed Spike.
Holt: Your first reaction?
Bud: One thing, I gotta get back and find Spike. That’s it. One reaction.
Holt: You didn’t know about the red collar then, right?
Bud: Correct.
Holt: Why did you jump off the ship?
Bud: The captain laughed at me when I told him he had to change course to go to a port to let me off so I could find my dog. The son of a bitch laughed right in my face.
Holt: Not pleasant.
Bud: Hardly, but one way or the other, I was getting off that ship, and it was Buffy who worked it out because Buffy’s brother, Quinn McQueen, was a rescue swimmer on the U.S.S. Enterprise. He’s now part of a private evacuation-at-sea business.
Holt: What happened?
Bud: Wasn’t complicated. I get a wet suit from shore excursions. We coordinate the time. I see their helicopter, they see me, and I jumped off the side of the ship around thirty miles from Bermuda.
Holt: Scared?
Bud: Not really. Spike would have done it for me, but he wouldn’t have liked the wet suit, anyway…
Holt: Funny, go on.
Bud: So I’m back in New York and Lombardo’s stayed in town to help, and he’s leaning on his friend Police Commissioner O’Neill, who says that they heard of a sophisticated dogfighting operation in Brooklyn maybe financed out of Connecticut, but the place is well hidden.
Holt: No other leads, clues?
Bud: Nothing. I was going nuts, and then the phone rings and Igor’s father, Jack, is calling from Orlando.
Holt: The collar.
Bud: Right. He tells me he saw the whole story on TV about Spike The Wonder Dog being stolen.
Holt: The NBC News story…
Bud: Bless her, our friend Donna Hanover set it up, and Chuck Scarborough did the report for WNBC and you picked it up for the Nightly News ’cause of the suspected national dogfighting angle to the story.
Holt: And the small news-worthy fact that you jumped into the Atlantic Ocean in December from the railing of a cruise liner going twelve knots.
Bud: Yeah, well, you know, Lester, when you buy a puppy, you got a responsibility.
Holt: Ha! So, the collar?
Bud: Yes, the Igor fund thing. Well, that day of the telethon, they gave us Pledge’s red collar, but nobody mentioned the collar had a chip in it.
Holt: Isn’t the chip usually in the dog?
Bud: Yes, but Pledge was so afraid of going to the vet that they put the chip in her collar. We got the code to activate it and…
Holt: Yes, you made some big news there. So tell us…
Bud: No, that’s enough from me…. It’s Spike’s story from here on in.
21
Dyin’ with Your Boots On
I wake up more clear-headed than before. I was dreamin’ of having a conversation about plus-size dog models with my roommate, the frozen Scottie. We were outside lyin’ on our backs risking major skin damage under the hot sun in my backyard in Thomasville. Dream warmed me up a little.
Weird to be happily baskin’ in the heat with the Scottie one moment and wake up and see her frozen eyes the next. The more I look at her, the more panic-stricken she seems—like Rick Perry tryin’ to remember the third part of a three-part question on Meet the Press.
But the Scottie’s standing erect; she’s bold and solid as a statue. She died lookin’ brave, like the tough old breed she is. She didn’t wanta end it like I am now—scared and curled up in a ball tryin’ to stay warm. In death she’s settin’ an example for me.
When it’s over, and they come in and get me, they’re gonna ship me outta here in whatever position I froze into. I don’t want to get unpacked in Thailand and have ’em say, “Hey look, here’s that Spike The Wonder Dog all coiled up with his paws coverin’ his eyes like he’s a frightened little puppy.”
I gotta somehow pick my chin up off the floor and stand up. I want to face the end like I’m in the show ring at the Garden. But my legs and tail and body and neck are so stiff—rigid. Never been this stiff. Real stiff—like a twenty-year-old on a Viagra drip. Not good. Can’t move much of me. It’s practically takin’ a minute just to straighten a leg.
I just gotta stand and do my breed proud, like Dad would want.
Movin’ now. Slowly movin’ over to the door to look out that peephole.
Shame how most times ya never really know that when you’re doin’ something, it might be the last time you ever do it.
I’m groggy. Half awake, half dead. But I’m movin’ my beady little eye up to see life for the last time now. Whatever those creeps might be doing—whatever dogs they got on the treadmills, whoever’s walkin’ around with the pail of meat for feedin’, I’ll be seein’ the movement of life, and I’ll know it’s the last time I’ll be seeing life.
Then I’m planning to freeze myself into the stance of a champion.
Bud’s got this theory that people with those near-death experiences are just using their imaginations to give them comfort. He thinks they only imagine a long tunnel with their mother at the end of it saying, “No, don’t die yet; make a U-turn; go back now.” He had a big argument on the show one day where he said there’s no long tunnel, no spirit’s talking to you. He said it happens “because humans are employing magic brain power so when they think they’re dying, they make themselves believe they’re setting off to the great beyond.”
I musbe using that magic brain power now. I’m lookin’ through that little peephole, and what am I seein’? ’Cause of the hole, it looks like a tunnel, and at the end there’s Bud and Lombardo and Buffy and police, and they’re arresting everybody. Bud’s over at my cage, and he’s got James Plus in a hammerlock, askin’ him where I am. I’m closing my eyes and dyin’ with that comforting scene in my imagination.
I’m fading to black but never thought that dying would have great sound effects. I hear sirens. Like police cars are pulling up outside. Makes sense though. The biggest emergency of your life and you got police aiding you in your imaginary transition.
Now it’s quiet again. Dark inside my head but eyes frozen open, like the Scottie’s. Hope I got a brave look in those eyes. Numb all over. Can’t feel a heart beating. Must be dead. Yep. But it’s all so peaceful because I got an imaginary comfort out that hole, in that long white tunnel.
I’m seein’ Bud lookin’ around, like he’s trying to find me and save me. He can’t see the hidden fr
eezer. He’s real upset, ’cause they musta lied that I’m not here, but he’s acting like he knows I am. He’s got both arms up and his palms out, trying to sense where I might be. He looks like he did when we’d play mentalist together in the woods in Thomasville.
Talk about dying happy. I got great comfort now, ’cause of how good it feels imagining that I could use the dog powers to link up with him…. He’s there at the end of the tunnel. Can I tune in with him? Tryin’. Sending forth the brainwaves from my frost-covered old skull. Tryin’ to connect with my master…
I did it! Oh, yeah, this is a quality death for me.
I made the old Spike-and-Bud connection. We had it at the house in Thomasville. We had it first time we met. When it’s working right, it’s like we’re so twined up together that he’s looking through my eyes and I’m looking through his.
Oh boy, what a way to go! I’m pretending to think that I see him staring over here at this unlit corner, like he’s able to sense me through the dark and through the wall and…wow! Now he’s walkin’ toward the freezer. Walkin’ straight toward me. It’s wonderful…. What a calming final thought…your master coming over to give you one goodbye pat on the head, or one long tummy rub, and then send you on your way to nowhere…or maybe somewhere…’cause even though I’m dead, I’m enjoying myself.
Death is good, ’cause it’s not feeling much different than life. Wanting this reassuring comfort is why people pile money into the church collection plates every Sunday.
But now I’m thinking I might be experiencing a new-wave type of dying, ’cause I hear the door click open. Warm air’s pouring in. Bud’s pulling me out of the freezer. Wow! I’m having a Jesus style of death—they’ll be coming to my frozen tomb, and my body won’t be in it. Feed me an Easter egg.
Bud’s actually lifted me off the ground and is hugging me. I feel his warm hands on my ears. This is my first clue that all my senses will be working here in the afterlife.
Bud’s tellin’ me, “Oh my God, Spike, you’re cold, you’re almost frozen…but you’re OK now; we got you.”