Tender is the Flesh(28)
Suddenly the four puppies go quiet and perk up their ears. He becomes tense. At no point has the obvious occurred to him. The puppies have a mother.
He hears a growl. On the other side of the glass, two dogs are baring their fangs. It takes him less than a second to react. In this instant, he thinks he’d like to die here, in this terrarium, with these puppies. That way at least his body could serve as food and these animals could live a little longer. But then the image of his father in the nursing home comes to him, and so quickly it’s instinctive, he drags himself to the door through which he entered. He pushes the door shut and locks it. The dogs are already on the other side, barking, scratching, trying to get in. If he leaves the door locked and escapes through the one that connects to the adjoining terrarium, the puppies will die. But if he opens this door with the puppies inside, he won’t have time to escape before the dogs attack. The door to the adjoining terrarium is closed. He tries to open it but can’t. The puppies are whimpering. They curl up to protect themselves. He decides to cover them with his shirt, though he knows it won’t keep them safe. He lies down on the floor in front of the door he intends to leave through and starts to kick it. After several kicks, the door gives. He breathes. The dogs bark and paw at the glass more forcefully. He makes sure that the door leading to the adjoining terrarium is completely open and knows he’ll be able to escape that way because the glass is broken. The growling intensifies. He thinks there are now more dogs. Either that or those already out there are getting more enraged by the second.
The puppies are curled up, confused, poking their tiny heads out from under his shirt. He picks up a medium-sized stone and props it against the locked door, the one the pack is trying to get in through. Then he unlocks it. He knows that eventually the dogs will be able to push it open, though it’ll be difficult. He finds another stone that’s a little bigger and, on all fours, drags it to the adjoining terrarium. He jams the door in place with the large stone because his kicks destroyed the latch. Then he leaves through the broken glass, carefully, without jumping or making any loud noises. When he’s on the ground floor, he starts to run.
He runs without stopping or looking back. The sky is heavy with dark clouds, but he doesn’t notice. It’s when he sees his car that he hears the barking more clearly. He turns his head slightly and sees a pack of dogs getting closer and closer. He runs as though it were the last thing he was going to do on earth. Seconds before the dogs reach him, he’s in his car. When he catches his breath, he looks at them sadly because he can’t help them, because he can’t feed them, wash them, take care of them, hug them. He counts six dogs. They’re scrawny, probably malnourished. He’s not afraid, though he knows they could tear him apart if he got out of the car. He can’t stop looking at them. It’s been a long time since he’s seen an animal. The alpha male, the leader of the pack, is a black dog. The six of them surround the car, barking, dirtying the windows with white froth from their snouts, pawing at the closed doors. He looks at the fangs, the hunger, the fury. They’re beautiful, he thinks. He doesn’t want to hurt them. They follow him until he presses the accelerator, and in his mind he says goodbye to Jagger, Watts, Richards and Wood.
23
As he pulls up to his house, he misses the way Koko and Pugliese used to bark and chase after the car along the dirt road lined with eucalyptus trees. It was Koko who had found Pugliese. He was crying under the tree where the two of them are now buried. He was a puppy only a few months old, full of fleas and ticks, and malnourished. Koko adopted him as if he were her own. And though he’d been the one who removed the fleas and ticks from the pup, and fed him so he’d regain strength, Pugliese always saw Koko as his saviour. If someone shouted at Koko or threatened her, Pugliese went crazy. He was a loyal dog who looked out for everyone, but Koko was his favourite.
The sky is loaded down with black clouds, but he doesn’t notice them. He gets out of the car and walks straight to the barn. The female is there. Curled up, asleep. He has to wash her, it can’t wait. He looks around the barn and thinks that he should clean it, create a space in which the female can be more comfortable.
When he leaves to get a bucket to clean her, it starts to rain. It’s only then that he realizes a storm is coming, one of those summer storms that’s both frightening and beautiful.
He goes into the kitchen and feels a crushing exhaustion. What he wants to do is sit down and have a beer, but he can’t put off cleaning the female any longer. He gets the bucket, a bar of white soap and a clean rag. In the bathroom, he looks around for an old comb without much luck, until eventually he finds the one Cecilia left behind, and picks it up. He thinks he’ll have to connect the hose, but when he’s back outside, it’s raining so hard he gets soaked. His shirt is with Jagger, Watts, Richards and Wood. He takes off his boots and socks. All he has on are his jeans.
Barefoot, he walks over to the barn. He feels the wet grass beneath his feet, smells the wet earth. He sees Pugliese barking at the rain. Sees the dog as though he were there, at that moment. Crazy Pugliese jumping around, trying to catch the drops, getting covered in mud, seeking the approval of Koko, who always looked out for him from the porch.
Carefully, almost tenderly, he takes the female out of the barn. The rain frightens her and she tries to cover herself. He calms her down, pets her head and, as though she could understand, says, “Don’t worry, it’s just water, it’ll clean you up.” He soaps the female’s hair and she looks at him with terror. To reassure her, he sits her down in the grass. Then he gets on his knees behind her. Her hair, which he moves around clumsily, fills with white soap suds. He goes slowly, he doesn’t want to frighten her. The female blinks and moves her head to look at him in the rain, she writhes, trembles.