Mad Dog (4 page)

Seven

“Wes, come take a look at this,” Hank calls. He scoots over, making room for me between him and Annie.

This is where Kat usually sits, and I don’t like taking her spot. I want to know what’s wrong with her this time, why she’s sleeping so much. But I don’t ask. Maybe I don’t really want to know.

Finally, I plop onto her spot because it’s better than where I usually sit, on the end next to Dakota. The air is still sticky hot, but it’s the coolest it’s been all week. I hope it cools down before my mom gets out of rehab. She hates the heat.

Dakota is talking to Popeye. “Winnie e-mailed me some tips on how to pull off soaking Blackfire’s hoof. I plan to use that old feed bucket from the tack room. Winnie says music should help keep Blackfire calm, so I’m borrowing Kat’s iPod docking station to play music out in the barn.”

She keeps babbling, and I recognize other tips that were on that list in her room. I should have known she got them from Winnie the Horse Gentler. All except the last item on her list, the one about me. Thinking about it makes my stomach ball up into a fist.

Rex trots up and sits next to me. His ears are back. I don’t want him to bark and give away how angry I am at Dakota. I lean back and stare through tree branches at a sky full of stars. Rex lies down too. It’s an average sky night. The moon is three-quarters, so its light wipes out the Milky Way. On some winter nights, the sky looks like a black sheet full of pinpricks, with light leaking through from the other side.

“Are you looking?” Hank asks me.

“I’m looking,” I tell him.

“Sirius,” Hank says.

“I’m serious,” I promise.

Dakota laughs.

Annie speaks up. “The name of that bright star is Sirius. S-i-r-i-u-s.”

Dakota snorts out another dry laugh.

“Sirius is the brightest star in the northern hemisphere tonight. We’ll be able to see it better in January though,” Hank explains.

Right. Like I’ll still be here in January. “And I care about this star because . . . ?”

Rex’s tail slams the grass, back and forth. He barks twice. I stroke him, and he stops.

Hank sits up and frowns at me. “Because another name for Sirius is ‘the Dog Star.’ It’s part of Canis Major. The Big Dog. Dad can make out the whole constellation, but I can just figure out pieces of it. Until December or January anyway.”

I kinda like that there’s a dog star. I squint up at the sky, but I can’t see anything that looks like a dog.

Popeye moves over by me and puts his head next to mine so we’re looking at the same thing. “There.” He points at the brightest star in the sky. “That’s the Dog Star. Now, those two stars above it are the shoulder and the eye of the Big Dog constellation.” His chubby finger traces the air, like he’s drawing on the sky. “Over there’s the nose. Below, you can make out two front paws. Then go back there, and that’s a hind leg, and two stars for the tail. Pretty soon we’ll get the Little Dog, too.”

I really do try to see what Popeye sees. I make out some of the stars he’s pointing to, but that’s it. “Popeye, you know I can’t fill in the blanks on this sky stuff.”

“Use your imagination!” Annie cries. Her voice makes the command sound like song lyrics. “I think the Big Dog resembles that skinny beagle you brought home from the shelter.”

I gaze at the stars and try again, but it’s a no go. No beagles in my sky. I shake my head. “Nothing.”

“Try again, Wes,” Hank urges, getting a little too big brotherly. “You know how people talk about the dog days of summer? The Egyptians used to blame the Dog Star for the extra heat in summer. They figured it had to come from the brightest star in the sky, the Dog Star.”

“Give it up,” Dakota advises. “Wes doesn’t care about any of that. He just cares about his own little world.”

I’ve about had it with her. “Like you don’t?”

“I’m thinking about my horse. Not myself,” she says.

“Right. The big soaking plan. If you ask me, it’s all one big excuse to hang out in the barn all day. Or e-mail Winnie the Great Horse Gentler.”

“Winnie’s helping me take care of Blackfire!” Dakota shouts.

“That’s right.” My sarcasm is picking up steam now. “I’ll bet Winnie helped with your mighty list. Was it her idea to keep Wes as far away as possible?”

Dakota springs to her feet. “You read my journal!”

“Did not!” I get to my feet too. I didn’t touch her stupid journal.

“You did so!” she screams. “You were in my room!”

“You left the light on, like always!” I shout back.

“So I left the light on. So what? You’re not my mother.”

“Who’d want
that
job?”

We charge at each other until we’re nose to nose.

“Get out of my face, Dakota!” I warn.

“Make me!” she shouts back.

“That’ll be enough.” Popeye wedges his round body between us. “No more. You two have been at each other all day. This ends here.”

“But he—”

“She’s been—”

“No more.” Popeye says it quietly. Calmly. But his words have force. “I’ve come up with a punishment and a solution.” He grins at Annie, who smiles back.

This can’t be good.

Popeye turns to Dakota. “Dakota, Wes needs your help with these dogs. You’re going to help him.”

Dakota explodes. “That’s not fair! I have Blackfire to take care of.”

“Very true,” Popeye answers softly. He turns to me. “Which is why Wes here will be happy to help you with your horse.”

Eight

Friday morning I wake up before the sun, thanks to the Pom licking my face.

“Take it easy, man,” I say, lifting him off my chest. “Leave some skin, will you?” Then it hits me. “Hey, how did you get up here?”

The Pom strains to get at my face again with his long tongue. I can’t figure how he did it, but he must have jumped up on my bed during the night.

Rex is lying beside my bed, like he has every night since I found him. I reach down and stroke his head. His tail goes
thwack
,
thwack
against the floor.

I drag myself out of bed and set the Pom next to Rex. “Where’s your buddy?”

It takes some searching, but I find the terrier cowering under my bed. “Come on out, girl,” I beg. “Aren’t you hungry? Want to go for a walk?”

That gets through to her. She crawls out and huddles beside the Pomeranian. I tuck one dog under each arm like footballs and head out with Rex tagging behind.

As soon as I open my bedroom door, I hear the two kenneled dogs barking on the front porch. They’re ready too. No way I can take all five dogs at the same time.

Kat, still in her nightgown, sticks her head out of her bedroom. She hasn’t put on a wig, so the tiny, white fuzz on her bald head catches the light from the hall. “Wes?” She rubs her eyes and yawns. “Everything okay?”

“It’s cool, Kat,” I tell her. “Under control. Just walking the dogs.”

She looks like she should still be in bed. Sometimes I get scared that she’ll fall down and break into pieces. But that’s just the outside. Inside, that kid is 10 times stronger than any of us. When the social worker first dropped me off at Starlight, I was fighting mad at the whole world. I wouldn’t talk to anybody—not Ms. Bean (the social worker), not any of the Coolidges, and not the little white girl who trailed me everywhere I went. But Kat kept following me anyway, telling me about all the kittens she was taking care of, filling me in on Hank and Annie and Popeye. She talked about God, too, although I don’t remember what she said. Just that she talked about God different than most other people do. Like He’s not as far away as you think. I lived on the farm two whole weeks before I knew Kat was sick.

“Need any help?” she asks, yawning again.

“Nah. I got it.” I set the terrier down and snap on her leash. “You go back to bed.”

Kat grins and slips into her room. I’d probably never say it out loud, but I’m going to miss that kid when I move back in with my mom.

The terrier won’t go down the stairs on her leash, and I don’t think the three-legged Pomeranian can handle the steep steps. So I end up carrying both dogs downstairs.

Dr. Annie is sipping a cup of tea at the table. Next to her, Popeye, chin in hands, stares at his wife like he’s memorizing her face.

“Morning, Wes. Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” Annie says.

“You think?” I return.

Popeye grins at me, and I know what’s coming. A joke. Bad, as only he can tell it. “Say, Wes, what happened to the dog that ate too much garlic?”

I learned a long time ago that the best way to get through Popeye’s jokes is fast. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. “Don’t know,” I say, like I
need
to know this answer.

“What happened to the dog that ate too much garlic?” Popeye always repeats his joke before answering it himself. “His bark really was worse than his . . . bite!” He breaks out laughing before he gets the last word out.

“Good one,” I say, without enthusiasm.

Annie elbows him. “One more, sweetheart. Please?”

I give her the evil eye, but she’s not looking at me. Her gaze is on Popeye.

“Well,” he says, “if you insist. What do you get when you cross a dog and a lion?”

He raises his bushy eyebrows at me, so I have to play along. It’s the only way to get him to quit. “I don’t know.”

“What do you get when you cross a dog and a lion? A terrified postman.” Popeye and Annie laugh so hard they fall into each other’s arms.

The two dogs on the porch start barking like crazy again. Rex trots to the door and presses his nose to the screen.

I stand in the middle of the kitchen, not sure which dog or dogs to walk first.

“Where’s Dakota?” Annie asks.

“How should I know?” I answer. “Probably sleeping.”

“She better get up,” Popeye says, clearing their dishes.

Annie walks her cup to the sink. She’s wearing khaki pants with an elastic waist. Her pink shirt is stuffed into the waistband. “Want me to wake Dakota for you, Wes?”

“For
me
?” I don’t get it. Then I remember. Dakota has to help me with the dogs. “Cool! Do it, Annie.”

I stay downstairs with the dogs and Popeye, although I’d love to see the scene in Dakota’s room. Turns out I hear parts of it, especially the end.

“Fine!” Dakota shouts.

“I thought you’d feel that way,” Annie says sweetly. I hear footsteps on the stairs. Then Annie appears. “Dakota will be right down. As for me, I’ve got to get to the hospital.”

“Must you?” Popeye sounds desperate.

“’Fraid so, my love,” Annie says.

We go through this every morning. I think they’ve been married 20 years.

Annie pats her pockets. Then she dashes to the table, then over to the sink and back to the computer. Finally, she reaches into her pocket and comes out with her car keys. “There they are.” She whizzes past me, with Popeye on her heels. “Bye-bye.”

“Bye,” I call after her.

She gets as far as the screen door, then turns and races back to the kitchen. “Has anybody seen my purse?”

Popeye retrieves the giant black bag. “Here you are, my Annie.” He kisses her hand and walks her out to the minivan.

Through the screen I watch as Popeye opens the car door for Annie. When she drives off, he waves and keeps waving, even after the van’s out of view and the dust has settled.

It’s pretty wack. But I admit I wouldn’t mind someone caring about my mom like that.

The Pom squirms to get down and out of my arms. Rex nudges the screen, wanting out. The kenneled dogs are barking, demanding their freedom.

I holler toward the stairs, “Dakota, hurry up!”

These dogs aren’t going to wait much longer. I find the leashes and head for the porch. The sun is rising. If I wasn’t so sleepy, it would be pretty cool out here. A red streak swirls below a bank of clouds. In Chicago, it was hard to see over the projects to the sky. Or maybe I wasn’t looking.

Finally, Dakota stumbles out to the porch. I’m guessing she slept in the shorts and T-shirt she’s wearing. Her hair is smushed on one side and frizzy on the other.

“Nice outfit,” I say. “Great hair.”

“Shut up and give me a dog,” Dakota replies.

I take Rex and the Pom for the first round of walks. The two dogs hit it off. Rex lags back for the Pom, and the three-legged guy shows a lot of spunk trying to keep up. I let them both off the leash on the way back to the house.

Dakota starts out with the Blab. He’s a handful. All he wants to do is play. Play with his leash, play with Dakota’s untied shoelaces, play with leaves on the ground. But Dakota sticks with it. We don’t say a word to each other. But together we get all five dogs walked and fed before Hank’s finished working his first horse.

“You didn’t do so bad,” I tell her when we finally go back in.

“I like dogs,” she admits. “Not as much as horses, but dogs aren’t bad.”

I hang up the leashes in the porch, where I’ve screwed in hooks.

Dakota walks to the kitchen. When I get there, she’s pulling a note off the fridge. “Popeye says he’s driving Kat to town and won’t be back until suppertime.”

She sets the note on the counter, and I read it for myself. “You think he took her to the hospital?”

“No. He would have said. She’s not due for more chemo for a while either.” Dakota gets out the oatmeal.

I pop two pieces of bread into the toaster and get out the peanut butter.

We’re quiet while each of us fixes our own breakfast.

“Do you think Kat’s getting any better?” Dakota asks. She pulls a stool up to the counter, where I’m already eating my toast.

I shrug. “I don’t know. She’s been sleeping a lot lately.”

“I’ve been praying for her,” she says. “It helps
me
. I just hope it’s helping Kat.”

I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything.

“Do you pray, Wes?”

I get up and pour myself a glass of milk. “Sometimes. Kind of.” I down the whole glass standing up, then set the cup in the sink. I don’t want to talk about praying or Kat. I’m too tired to even think about how sick Kat is.

A yawn comes from way inside of me, and I let it out. I didn’t get much sleep last night with three dogs in my room. “Dakota, I’m beat. Thanks for the help. I’m going back to bed. If Hank comes in, tell him to keep it down, okay?”

“No.
Not
okay.” Dakota walks over to me and gets in my face. “You’re not going anywhere, Wes.”

“Excuse me? Who died and made you boss? I’m going back to bed. Deal with it, Dakota.” I like the sound of that. I picture a bumper sticker with the slogan:
Deal with it, Dakota
. Man, I really
am
tired.

I make a move to go around her, but she blocks me.

“Wesley Williams, the only place you’re going is to the barn. You and I have a date with Blackfire.”