A Question of Manhood (22 page)

“On my bike?”

Mom said, “Take my car, dear. I have enough materials to keep me sewing all day.”

Dad chimed in. “You can drive your mother's car home at lunch and bike back to work. Irene, what do you think your production speed will be, now that you've done a few?”

“Oh, goodness. Maybe five a week? How many do you think you'll sell?”

They talked supply and demand for a while, and I contemplated how I was turning into JJ's helper again. But there was a bonus. My mom looked happier than I'd seen her since Chris was home.

 

Saturday was overcast, threatening rain, but Dad decided to do the workshop, anyway. JJ had the parking lot all partitioned off before I got there with the water bottles.

“Your father said for you to go inside when you got here. I think he wants to be out here again, to make sure things go all right.”

“Shit.” It was out before I knew I'd said it.

“What? Is there a problem?”

Not one I really wanted to admit to JJ. “No. Everything's peachy.” I went to find Dad, who was doing a last-minute examination of dog supplies. I spoke before he could. “Dad, I was hoping to watch from outside this time.”

“I need you in here, Paul. And I need to be out there in case anything happens. Liability. I'm sorry, but that's the way it has to be.”

All I could do was grit my teeth and walk away. But I spent as much time as I could at the front of the store, watching JJ. So I saw what happened when Mrs. Denneghy's Dalmatian and some other customer's English bulldog got into it. JJ had been walking the Dalmatian around the inner square, and several people were watching—most of them having left their dogs in their cars—from outside the outer perimeter, and it was going pretty well. Maybe JJ had wanted to challenge the Dalmatian or something, because it didn't look like he'd asked the bulldog owner to take her dog to her car or into the store. Dad was standing next to her, and he looked nervous.

“That bulldog is trouble.” The voice startled me, and I turned to see Dave, the war vet, standing next to me, watching.

I was tempted to tell him to get back to his register. But for now, I just replied, “So is the Dalmatian.”

“This should be interesting.”

As he said that, the Dalmatian was coming closer to the bulldog, and damn if that little tank on paws didn't lunge. Bulldogs are really strong, and this one pulled the lady holding his leash, which was attached to a regular buckled collar, right along with him. So there they were, the bulldog's underbite firmly attached to the Dalmatian's hind leg, the Dalmatian wheeling around, not sure whether it should put more energy into biting or trying to escape, and Mrs. Denneghy screaming, not knowing what to do.

I didn't really think; I just ran outside. By the time I got to the dogs, Dad had grabbed the bulldog's leash and was trying to pull him away, but it wasn't having much effect, and JJ was trying to get the Dalmatian to hold still. He saw me approach.

“Paul! Quick, get me a rawhide chew and then take this leash and hold it.”

No time to be scared or irritated. I did what he said. JJ bent over the bulldog, jabbed the chew into the side of its mouth until the jaws separated, grabbed the back of its neck, and yanked it down to the ground on its side. The Dalmatian yelped and pulled away, and I was stuck trying to keep it from running anyplace. I grabbed the collar and held on, letting the dog pull me away from that bulldog and not wanting to tug too hard on the choke chain.

You know how they say when you think you're about to die your life flashes before your eyes in a split second? Well, I was scared, but even though I didn't expect to die that day my mind flashed a scene in that same microsecond. When Chris had told us the story about being driven along this dirt road and seeing farmers' tools but no farmers and they knew something was really wrong, he'd said the spookiest part of being in a situation like that was that no one really knew what to do. You had no guidance, so all anyone could do was look to the ranking officer and pray like hell that he had a good head on his shoulders. I realized with a bit of a shock that I didn't feel quite like that. Maybe I didn't know what to do, but JJ did. I wanted him to do more of it soon, though; the Dalmatian was lunging and jumping around, trying to get away.

Mrs. Denneghy came running over to me and was about to wrap her arms around her dog.

“No!” JJ nearly shouted from where he was straining to hold the canine tank down. “Let him calm down. He might bite even you right now.” She froze, this frantic look on her face.

What, it's okay if he bites
me? I looked toward JJ, and he was showing Dad how to keep the bulldog on the ground. Then he came over to me and did the same thing with the Dalmatian—down on its side, just holding it there while it panted and heaved.

JJ's voice was quieter now. “Paul, go and hold the bulldog's leash so it can't get over here if it manages to get up.”

So I stood there hanging on, watching Dad put all his weight into fighting that bulldog's determination to get up and charge again, wondering if it could pull me as easily as it had its owner. The bulldog was still struggling when JJ let the Dalmatian up. He handed the leash to Mrs. Denneghy while he examined the leg.

“It doesn't look too bad. I don't think the bone is broken, but you should get to the vet right away.” He turned to the bulldog owner. “You'll need to provide proof of rabies vaccination, or they'll have to quarantine the dog.”

Mrs. Denneghy kept her limping dog far from the bulldog. She had a few words for the bulldog's owner, however. “He told you to take that dog away! And look what it's done!” She was near tears, and I didn't blame her.

So I guess JJ had said the bulldog shouldn't be there after all; maybe that's why Dad was so close to it, and looking anxious, when the fight started.

JJ joined Dad at the bulldog with a leash and choke chain in his hand. The dog was much calmer now, really just panting. JJ got the choke collar on him and said, “Mr. Landon, you can let go now.”

Dad stood and backed away, and JJ stood there alone over the dog, leash relaxed and partly on the ground. The bulldog just lay there, almost like it was relieved it didn't have to do anything more. Dad decided to talk dog business with the owner. “About the rabies. Is the dog vaccinated?”

The owner seemed ashamed. “Yes. A few months ago. It's stamped on the tag there on his collar.”

We all stood there, watching the dog's breathing slow for a minute or so, and then JJ yanked up on the leash and the dog stood. He said, “I'm going to walk him around the parking lot to make sure he understands his position and calm him down a little more. Paul, could you come with me and make sure no one approaches with another dog?”

I walked with JJ between me and the canine attack vehicle. It looked calm enough at the moment, and it followed JJ like it had been born to do that. “So the owner ignored your warning?” I asked him.

He kind of gritted his teeth. “Yes.”

“Who'll be in the most trouble, d'you think?”

“I'm afraid it'll be your father, for having the clinic in the first place. It's not fair, and I warned him this might happen. I blame myself, though. I thought I could keep things under control. I should have insisted.”

“But Mrs. Denneghy won't press charges or anything, will she?”

JJ took a deep breath. “I hope not. She understands what happened. But who knows what her friends, her husband, anyone might encourage her to do? At least the bulldog's had shots, though I'm going to verify that once I've walked him around a bit.”

“Why does that help? Walking?”

JJ relaxed a little, talking about dogs in general as opposed to problem dogs in particular. “For one thing, it tires them at least a little. But more important, if you can get the dog to follow you, to believe that it
should
follow you, then it will accept you as the alpha. The leader. From that point on, though, it's like—well, if you'll pardon the inappropriate analogy, it's like riding the tiger. Once you get on you can't get off. If I do something that makes this bulldog think it sees a chink in my leadership, it will challenge me openly. Putting it onto its side, into a submissive position, was the start. Walking it now, making it follow me, is cementing the deal.”

“For now.”

“Yeah.” He laughed, but it sounded unhappy. “For now.”

We'd made an entire circumference of the lot, and the bulldog's owner was looking toward us, no doubt expecting JJ to return her dog. But he kept going.

“When will you give it back?” I asked.

Silence for about ten human steps, several more of the dog's waddles. “If I had my way? I wouldn't. That woman's personality makes this a dangerous dog, and he'll probably be the one that suffers. She isn't prepared to manage a powerful dog with a huge sense of self-importance. A warrior. She doesn't know how to be the alpha with a dog like this. Maybe not with any dog, but it would be less dangerous with a Chihuahua or a Pekinese.”

“So…what are you gonna do?”

He sighed. “I'll have to give him back to her. I just wish I didn't. But I want to tire him out a little first. Though tiring this dog would take more than a couple of spins around the parking lot.”

People were starting to leave the roped-off area, most heading for their cars. Only a few went into the store.

“Looks like your father has decided to call it quits. I expect he won't host another of these sessions.”

“Will you still take dogs outside if customers bring them in?”

“I'll have to ask your father what he wants to do.”

The lady who'd brought the bulldog was alone now, except for Dad, who was starting to roll up the ropes. JJ stopped some distance away. The dog stopped immediately and sat down.

“That's good,” JJ said. “I want to check the tag here, away from his owner. Once he's near her again, things could fall apart. Will you hold the leash?” He didn't wait for an answer but just bent over the dog and twisted the collar to bring the tag onto its back. “At least she was right about this. He was vaccinated this year.”

He stood up and took a step back where he could look at the dog. It looked up at him, tongue out, eyes soulful. JJ's voice made me look at him. “Poor fellow.” His eyes were filling up with tears. He bent over the dog and stroked his head, then massaged his ears and jowls. The dog seemed like all its worries were gone. He'd turned them all over to JJ. JJ reached for the leash. “Paul, would you ask the owner to go to her car? I'll walk the dog to it once she has the door open.”

As soon as I got close, the lady said, “Is he all right? He isn't hurt, is he?”

“The dog?” I blinked. “No, he's fine. He's very happy at the moment. Um, JJ asked if you would meet him at your car. He'll bring the dog when you have the door open.”

“Oh. I guess that's all right.” She left, and I turned to look at JJ again. He was still showering affection on that now submissive, sweet-faced demon.

Beside me, Dad said, “Well, I'll be damned.”

We both watched JJ and the dog. I said, “Will you stop the sessions?”

Dad took a few seconds. “I hate to. These people need so much help, and their dogs need them to get it. But I don't see that I have a choice. Can't afford a lawsuit, and what if this had been worse? Was the dog vaccinated?”

“Yeah. JJ checked the tag.”

JJ stood up and hitched the leash tight enough to signal the dog to move. They walked together toward the lady's car, and from JJ's face I could tell every step hurt him. It seemed like it took a huge effort not to start jogging in the other direction, tank in tow.

I said, “What if you set up specific times for each dog? You know, ‘By Appointment Only,' that kind of thing. Could you do it then?”

Dad turned to me. “Paul, that's genius. It might just work. I think I'll give it a rest next week, and I'll talk to JJ about that idea.”

Ridiculously, I felt as happy as the bulldog. If only I could be as dangerous as he was when I was out of sorts, maybe I could get someone to take my worries away, too.

The rest of that day I spent trying to catalog my worries. What were they, exactly? They hadn't changed much, I decided. My mom was still mourning Chris and seemed to have forgotten he wasn't her only son. My dad wouldn't let me have even pocket money. Marty and Kevin were sure to get me into deep shit at some point. I hated the idea that I had to go back to school in the fall and toe somebody's idea of where the line should be. I hadn't had a date since my evening with the prostitute, if that even counted as a date.

Oh, and I was supposed to be a man. Was that all?

Just before five, I was headed to the stockroom for something. Once inside I stood there, scratching my head like some old geezer, unable to remember what I was supposed to be doing. And I heard a voice. Quiet, unhappy, upset.

“I wanted so much to take him with me! It was awful. I just know something's going to happen, and he'll have to be killed. Why don't they make people prove they know what a dog needs before they're allowed to own them?”

It was JJ's voice, but I couldn't make out who he was talking to. I moved quietly to where I could see the back door, which stood open. I could see part of JJ from the side, his shoulder and his back. And then I heard another voice. Another male voice.

“I know, love. I know. But you can't take the whole world on yourself. You did a lot for that dog today. And maybe the owner will get the message and change her ways, or give the dog to someone who can handle it. You do so much. But, sweetie, you can't do it all.”

Love? Sweetie?

An arm wound its way around JJ's neck, and then he and the invisible man were hugging. The other guy leaned in, and then I could see the side of his face. I didn't know the guy, but he looked a little older than JJ. Taller, so he kind of bent over and wrapped JJ's body with his.