The Water Keeper(32)

The flag of the firehouse flapped behind the bleachers. I told Tabby to stay, which he planned on doing anyway, and ran back the way I’d come. Crossing the street, I passed Summer and asked her to sit with Tabby. I found a fireman waxing No. 29 out next to the street. After a quick explanation, he and two other men followed me carrying large bags over their shoulders and talking on their shoulder-mounted radios.

We found the old man as I’d left him. By now, Tabby was lying with his head on the man’s chest. The firemen immediately ran an IV of fluids while one of them went back to the firehouse and returned with a gurney. We lifted the large man onto the wheeled stretcher, and they began rolling him toward the firehouse with Tabby jogging alongside.

Once there, the firemen were making plans to move him via ambulance to Halifax Medical when Tabby jumped up on his bed, straddled him once again, and continued licking his face. Within a few seconds, the old man came to, which I think had more to do with Tabby than the IV, but both helped. Surprisingly, the old man began rubbing Tabby’s ears and talking to him. Tabby rolled onto his side, exposing his underbelly, and the old man rubbed his tummy until Tabby’s rear left leg started jerking in a spastic movement.

“Sir, are you in pain?” The firemen had a lot of questions. “Do you know your name?” “Tell me what’s going on.”

The old man sat up. Slowly. I noticed he wore a hospital ID bracelet on his left wrist and a bandage on his left elbow—the kind you wear after you’ve given blood or been given an IV.

The old man answered their questions and sat patting Tabby.

The firemen scratched their heads for a few moments, then one returned to me. “Pal, he’s not in any pain. According to him, we interrupted his nap. So we’re going to let these fluids finish dripping into him with his permission, because he is a bit dehydrated, and then we’re going to release him into your custody.”

“My custody?”

“Yeah, he’s your friend.”

“I don’t know him. I just found him.”

“You don’t know him?”

“My experience with this man is only about fifteen seconds longer than yours.”

“Oh. Well, okay then.”

As the fireman moved away, the old man nodded at me and spoke. “Afternoon, sir.”

I extended my hand, which he shook. His hands were bear paws. Huge. The feel of them told me they were once muscled and calloused. While still muscular, they were more tender, sinewy, and the skin was thin. Tabby sat with his hindquarters perched on the old man’s legs. He was almost sitting in his lap.

“Sir, this may sound like a dumb question, but do you know this dog?”

The old man looked at Tabby, who began licking his face. “I do.” He laughed.

The impossibility of this struck me. “Really?”

“Raised him from a pup.”

I scratched my head. “Did you lose him somewhere north of here?”

The old man nodded. “I was working on a boat, serving drinks, up Jacksonville way. I started to feel sick and checked myself into the hospital there. By the time I got out a week later, the boat had left me, but Gunner here was still waiting on me. I knew he didn’t need to be tied down to a dying old man, so I left a note on his bowl to whoever found him, snuck out the other end, and thumbed a ride on a tugboat.”

“Did you say his name was Gunner?”

Tabby looked directly at me.

“Well, that’s what I’ve always called him.”

“Gunner?”

Tabby stood, walked to me, and rested his muzzle on my leg. I looked at him while the letters settled. “Gunner.” Tabby wagged his tail.

I held his face in my hands. “So, your name is Gunner.” Gunner wagged his tail and licked my face.

The old man pulled himself into a sitting position, evidently strengthened by the fluids, and crossed his legs. “How’d you two meet?”

“He was swimming down the middle of the St. Johns River. Chasing somebody. You, I guess.”

He shook his head. “There were some good people at that hospital. I thought for sure somebody would take him home. I wrote it all in the note.”

“I don’t think Gunner liked your note.”

“Evidently.” The old man coughed, exposing lungs full of fluid and the reason for the ID bracelet. He hacked a minute, caught his breath, and sat quietly. Either feeling no need to talk or not wanting to expend the energy to do so.

I wasn’t quite sure what to do, so I said, “Well . . . you’ve left him once and he’s just navigated about ninety miles of water to find you. You want him back?”

“Never really wanted to be rid of him. Smartest animal I’ve ever known, but—” He shook his head once. “Not fair to him.” The old man looked up at me. “You need a dog?”

I shook my head. “No, but I’m not leaving him here.”

Summer stood off to my side, her shoulder touching mine. The old man returned his attention to me. “Say—” He coughed again, bringing another spasm. This time he took longer to catch his breath. “You say you got here in a boat?”

I nodded.

“Where you headed?”

I pointed south. “Couple hundred miles that way.”

The old man stood. “Any chance you got room for one more?”