A Question of Manhood (28 page)

“When he's off the leash, he moves. But when I try to walk him? Forget it.”

Before you could have said, “Why should he follow you if you haven't convinced him he should,” JJ was working with the dog. He went to get a choke chain, and he stopped and talked to Dad; it seemed he wanted to make sure Dad could keep Cain busy while JJ worked with the dog. But once JJ was outside, Carol called to Dad.

“Andy? That supplier of dog packs is on the phone.”

Dad walked Cain toward the office. “Carol, can you take him while I talk to the guy?”

She looked scared. “That's a pit bull, Andy. I don't know…”

I have no idea why I did it. I said, “I'll take him.” How bad could it be? He'd been—what was the word, recovered—hadn't he? So I took the leash from Dad almost without him having to slow down in his limping walk with Cain, and Cain and I kept going. Only I didn't just walk back and forth in the front. I turned and headed toward the stockroom.

I see now that I must have been out of my mind. But at the time, all I was thinking was that it was my turn to rise to the top of the heap, to get some credit. I was sick of being ignored, dismissed, taken for granted, made to feel like I didn't matter. So I was going to introduce Cain to Dante. Alone.
Watch this, Wunderkind.

Dante was out on his run, I knew. So I went through the stockroom with Cain and then out into the back. Dante, at the far end of the run, saw Cain and bristled. He got up and growled and then started barking. I thought it would be okay to move closer, but Cain almost seemed like he wanted to stay put, not go any closer.
Afraid of the big dog, you wimp?

So I was looking at Cain, trying to get him to move forward without dragging him, when I heard the whine of Dante's run wire. It happened so fast. Cain's piggy eyes flicked toward Dante and without any other motion that I could see, he was airborne. The leash snapped out of my hand, and the two dogs collided with such force that I heard their heads crash together.

Fuck!

They were both on their hind legs, teeth flashing, forearms thrashing around. Desperately I tried to get hold of Cain's leash, but I was stark-raving terrified of getting close to those behemoths. I danced around for a few seconds, wondering how bad it could get, when I saw blood spurting from someplace.

“Help! Somebody, help!” I ran back into the stockroom and through the store, my eyes searching frantically for JJ. Was he really still out front? Hadn't he heard me? Christ! Where was he?

Carol came toward me. “Paul, what is it?”

“Where's JJ?”

She looked toward the front, but all either of us could see was the customer standing there holding her dog's leash, facing the side of the building.

“He's gone out back!” I turned and dashed back the way I'd come, wondering what on earth I could do to help. And there was JJ, aiming a hose full onto the dogs. He saw me.

“Paul! Get hold of Dante's lead, but don't pull him back until I can get Cain off of him.”

Cain had managed to sink his teeth into the flesh on the side of Dante's neck, and he was not letting go. Dante was yelping and struggling, unable to get at Cain at all.

“He'll bite me!”

“Paul! Get in there. You did this, now you fucking undo it!”

I'd never heard JJ swear before. Maybe that was why I just did what he said. I grabbed Dante's lead and held it taut without pulling. JJ pointed the hose into Cain's mouth with one hand, hauling back on his collar with the other. I thought that pit bull would drown before he'd let go, but finally he opened his jaws. I yanked on Dante's lead, and JJ threw Cain onto his side. The dog was half overcome with water, and I'm positive that was a good thing for JJ.

Dante pulled me to the opposite end of his run and cowered there, which gave me a chance to assess the damage. He had lost part of an ear, and there was a bloody gap in the skin on his neck. He was whimpering.

I looked over to where JJ still had Cain on the ground and searched for any sign of damage. Couldn't see a fucking thing. It didn't look like Dante had done anything to that holy terror. JJ's head was down, like he was trying to get himself under control at the same time he was subduing his dog.

I decided to speak first. “Dante's hurt. We have to get him to—”

JJ's head snapped up, and his voice cut through me like knives. “Of course he's hurt, you stupid fool! What the hell were you thinking? That dog,” and he jerked his chin toward Dante, “is no match for a pit bull in a fight.”

I was mad now. “You're the one who brought that monster here! You're the one who wanted to socialize Dante with him! Don't you call me a stupid fool, you faggot!”

JJ stood, his foot on Cain's leash, and his eyes shot daggers at me. “If I were as much of a Neanderthal as you, I would sic my dog on you for that. You'd be cat food by the time he was done with you. And if you
ever
call me that name again, your father will know a lot more about you than he does now. None of it good. You're no better than that poor excuse for a human being that brought Dante in here to begin with. Now you stay put, and wait here until I can find someone to take you and Dante to the vet.”

He tugged on Cain's collar, and damn if that death machine didn't get to his feet and trot after JJ. I stood there fuming, watching them go.

In the end, Dad drove Dante and me to get him patched up. Dante ended up with a big shaved area all around the gash Cain had taken out of him, several stitches holding him together. Dad didn't speak to me except when he had to. I don't know what JJ told him, but what I was wondering was what he
could
have told him.
None of it good? What the hell did that mean? What did he know? And what if I told Dad a few things, too?

I stayed with Dante awhile in the stockroom while Dad and Carol went through the closing routine that evening. He was pretty groggy with something they'd given him, and he was drooling a little, lying on his side. I stroked his back from time to time and couldn't help feeling as whipped as he must have. All I'd wanted to do was what JJ had said, to introduce the dogs. After all, they'd managed to coexist the last time Cain was here, at least once JJ had done the rollover to Dante. What had gone so wrong? And why did that make me like the tattooed guy?

JJ had said some pretty unpleasant things about that guy. Couldn't lead the way out of his own backyard. He'd said the guy wanted to seem tough when he really wasn't. And that he'd had this thing about having a tough dog, like that made
him
tough, too. Like that proved something.

So what did it prove that this tough dog, who was now mine, had been practically ripped to shreds by JJ's? Did that make JJ tougher than me? Was he the man?

I'd been in there for some time when Carol opened the door. “Paul, your father and I are leaving. I see you've got your bike, so you can leave whenever you want. Just go out the stockroom door and make sure it's locked.”

I nodded; didn't speak. Just sat there on the floor next to Dante. Maybe five minutes went by, and my ears rang in the silence. Then there was a knock at the back door. It was already locked, so who was that? God, if it was Marty, I'd—

I barely heard it. “Paul? Open the door, please. It's JJ.”

Marty would have been okay after all. What does that little…you-know-what want?
But I got up and went to the door. I opened it but stood in the way. “What?”

“How's Dante?”

“Like you give a shit.”

“Paul, knock it off. You know very well I would never willingly hurt an animal. Now, how is he doing?”

I turned and looked toward my dog.
It's a powerful feeling to call him that—my dog.
JJ took advantage of the space I'd left and brushed past me, kneeling beside Dante.

“Poor fellow. I'm so sorry that had to happen. I know it's painful and scary.” As he murmured, his fingers examined the shaved area, the stitches, the bandaged ear. Then he pressed gently all around the head.

“What are you doing?”

“The pit bull's head is denser bone than the shepherd's. Just making sure he's not bruised someplace—” And just as he said that, his fingers over Dante's left eye, the dog winced. “Thought so. I think you should avoid touching this spot. I'm sure he'll be fine, but in the meantime it's going to be very sore.”

“You're touching it.” Sulky. I sounded positively sulky.

“And he's medicated. Groggy. Once he's not, he'll react more sharply, don't you think?” He gave Dante one more gentle pat on his shoulders and stood up again. “We need to talk about what happened. You need to understand—”

“No, wonder boy, you need to understand something. You threatened to talk to my father about me. Well, listen up. All I have to do is tell him one thing about you—and you know damn well what that is—and you'll be out on your ear, dog messiah or no. He feels pretty strongly about what you are, and that feeling is not something you wanna deal with. Why d'you think my own brother swore me to secrecy, huh?” My voice had gotten loud, and Dante turned his head toward me, looking worried.

JJ seemed unfazed. “First, it might interest you to know that most men are much more sensitive about this issue when it's their own son in question. Second, this isn't about you or me. It's about Dante. Now, will you listen to what I have to say?”

I plopped myself down beside my dog and rubbed his shoulders and down his sides. “Why should I listen to you?”

“Well, gee. Maybe because you wouldn't even have this dog in your life if it weren't for me. How's that for a reason?” I didn't reply, so he went on. “What you need to understand is that Dante's a little like the lion in
The Wizard of Oz
. He makes a lot of noise so potential threats stay away. He'll even charge, and he's used to other creatures backing down when he does, so he's not good at fighting. He's had lots of practice making scary threats and not much practice living up to them.

“Now. The ideal way for them to have got close to each other would have been in a controlled way through something like a chain-link fence, like the one out past the trees on the side of the building. And one person would have been with one dog, while someone else was with the other one. What happened this afternoon was not only the wrong way to go about it, but also it may have set Dante back. He'll be even more fearful now, and fear is the place his bravado was coming from. He may resort back into aggression and be harder to control again.”

He stopped, but I didn't say anything. I just stared down at Dante's fur and kept stroking.

“Paul, I'm telling you this for Dante's sake. Are you hearing me?”

“Sure. Everything I do is wrong. D'you think you're telling me something new?”

JJ moved toward me and sat down. “Where's that coming from?”

I wasn't about to spill my guts to him, so instead I said, “So how come your dog is so good at fighting, then? He didn't look like much. How was I supposed to know he was an attack dog?”

JJ took a breath and let it out slowly. “All right, I'll tell you. But first I have to make sure you understand that it didn't matter which other dog it was. Okay, with Cain Dante got ripped up a little, but that would have been the wrong way to introduce Dante to any dog. I was using Cain because I have him under such tight control that if it had been done right, nothing like this would have happened. So I want to make sure you won't try it like this again with another dog. Okay?”

“Fine. So why is your dog so mean?”

“Cain isn't mean. Cain is a pit bull. He's warrior through and through. He's not as big as Dante, but he's much more powerful. His entire body is a dense mass of bone and muscle, and his temperament is the opposite of Dante's. He doesn't threaten. He doesn't bother. He just kills. That's the warrior in him. When he's under the influence of his alpha, his pack leader, he's much less likely to strike. And when he's really in my control, that is when I have him on a lead, there's almost no danger at all.”

“That doesn't explain why you have a dog like that in the first place. Who's trying to be the tough guy now?” I still sounded sulky, and I hated it. I wanted to sound calm, self-assured, confident. I wanted to sound like JJ.

“I didn't go looking for a dog like Cain. His story is a very sad one, and I haven't told very many people about this. I'd ask you to keep it confidential, but I know you're carrying a lot of secrets already. So just use your judgment.

“He belonged to a neighbor who just didn't get dogs. It was a mistake for them to get pit bulls, but they took two that were brothers, and they named them Plato and Aristotle. Then one of them…well, Plato killed the other one. The owners blamed the dog, but really it was their own fault. They didn't do anything to provide the dogs with exercise, or leadership, or…But I don't want to get onto my soapbox. They were going to have Plato killed, but I'd made friends with him. So they asked me to take him.”

“You have another killer dog named Plato?”

“Actually, no. My mom and I worked together to recover him, and even though we succeeded, she wanted to make sure I would never underestimate him. She renamed him. Now he's called Cain.”

“Got it. Because he killed his brother. Would he really have killed Dante?”

“Once a dog has killed another dog, he never really gets rid of that. But now Cain's allowed to be a dog in a way that keeps the warrior part of him below the surface. I don't know what would have happened if he and Dante hadn't been interrupted, but it would have been very, very ugly. And Dante would not have come out of it well. Most dogs challenge each other for dominance, and if they can get dominance without fighting, they do. They fight only when their dominance is challenged, and usually only as long as it takes for them to prove their point or lose it. But with a pit bull, the fight is for the fight, in a way. Once a pit bull gets his jaws sunk into a perceived enemy, he won't let go. It's like a steel trap has snapped shut, and there's a very powerful, determined dog attached to it that believes it has nothing to lose.”