I know dogs, and I should have seen it coming
I shouldn’t have let it happen
Blue’s panting like he’s run miles
Staring straight into me
Dr. Katy pushes the needle into his hip
Blue whimpers
I wish it would work now
Now
The drugs can’t relax his pain fast enough in this minute that seems like forever
Blue’s eyes droop shut
Slowly
Slowly
“He’ll be okay.”
Dad says it first
A statement
Not a question
“He will.” Dr. Katy’s eyes only see Blue as she cleans his wound
Wipes the blood
Gauze after gauze turns white to brown
Then stitches
Followed by staples
“Blue’s a tough dog,” Dad says.
“Yeah, he is,” Cody seconds.
The weight of Cody’s hand on my shoulder
His voice
Reminds me he’s here
My throat is the desert
Dried into cracks that make it impossible to speak
So I answer with my eyes
Yes, he is, he is one tough…
Because he is
One tough dog
Who’ll be
All right
After the Fact
“I bet he won’t even have a scar,” Dr. Katy says.
I take the amber-colored bottles
That rattle with pills
From her hands
The same kind of bottles
That stood along the windowsill
in my parents’ bathroom
In a line that grew longer and longer
As Mom got sicker and sicker
I haven’t thought about that in forever
The way the sun made the plastic glow
When it hit the bottles just right
Arranged from tallest to shortest
Label side out
That was then
This is now
I know that
But I want to throw the bottles against the wall
I tuck them into the pocket of my coat instead
Cody catches the door
Dad lifts Blue off the table
I’m at his elbow
Keeping my hand on Blue’s hip
Dr. Katy walks us out to the truck, where I climb in first
Cody right behind
Dad lays Blue across my lap
Quiet now
His weight, his warmth, feels good against my legs
I press my hand against his ribs just behind his front leg
His heart against my palm
Dad climbs in
Starts the truck
Tosses a wave through the rear window at Dr. Katy
Standing in the drive watching us pull away
“She’s an awful sweet lady, isn’t she? One hell of a vet.”
She is.
My fingers find the bottles in my pocket
Does Dad remember?
That row of amber plastic?
Was he the one who threw them away after she was gone?
The question
Doesn’t clear my mind
Just settles my thoughts
Enough for her to slip in
The fields running past
My dog in my lap
I didn’t think about how
She slid off her buckskin horse
Hands over her mouth
Tear-clotted words slipping between her fingers
“I’m sorry—
I’m so sorry—”
That’s all she kept saying
Whoever she was
Tradition
“Get out of here,” Dad says
Following my eyes to the couch
Where Blue snores
“I’ve got this. He’ll be fine.”
So Cody and I tack up our horses and ride
This Sunday
Like every Sunday
Since seventh grade
Hooves clip-clopping
Up Main Street
What else would the only street with a stoplight be called but Main
Destination—
Tracy’s Diner
Where the only seating available is either
in your rig
on your saddle
or at one of the picnic tables
Slouched in the grassy patch off to the side of the restaurant
Where me, Cody, and everyone else in this alfalfa-sweet town
Has carved their brand into the benches worn slick
The drive-in, ride-through diner
Tracy sold off
To Dale and his wife Tawny
They even changed the name on the sign from
Tracy’s
To Tawny and Dale’s
But Tracy owned it first, so her name’s still stuck to it
Tight as tradition
We climb off our horses
Pull off their bridles
Hang them from the hitching post
Leaving the horses free to wander
To get down to the business of grazing
Hay burners that they are
Tawny, with her hair teased up stiff as porcupine quills,
Greets us at the window
Asks, “How you two been?”
Handing curly fries
Seasoned of course
Cokes and ice cream cones
Through the window without us even ordering
Pausing as she reaches under the counter
Where the dog biscuits are stored
“Where’s Blue?” she asks.
And I explain
About the stitches and him resting now
He’ll be okay
She nods
Give me the dog biscuits to go
We set the fries and Cokes on the picnic table
And call our horses to us
Fancy trots over
Her nostrils flaring
Lips quivering
Already tasting the vanilla soft-serve sliding down her throat
She licks her cone
Sending rivulets of melted ice cream streaming down my hand
Cody’s gelding chomps into his
Ice cream in one bite
Cone in the second
Quick as that and back to grazing
Cody knows without asking
We’ll be heading back earlier than we usually do
But we enjoy it just the same
Chipping away with our straws at the ice in our Cokes
Cody swirling fry after fry across the sauce
Mayonnaise and ketchup stirred pink
Nodding in agreement at all the right times
As we
Mostly I
Talk about everything
Laughing at nothing
Because that’s how we do it
Boyfriend and girlfriend
But most of all
Friends
Fugue
Blue and I are shadows
Curled together on the living room floor
Just the two of us
Now that Dad has gone to bed
Blue kicks
A snuffle snore wrinkles his nose
He’s dreaming
Something that I wish I could do
On nights like this when I know
Sleep
; Won’t come
I slide out from under the weight
Of the night
Running my index finger gently
Over the staples and stitches
Criss-crossing Blue’s head
Before I slip
Into the kitchen
I turn on the light
Above the stove
To find the clear custard bowl
In the cupboard
Between the stacks of plates and mugs
To fish out the silver teaspoon
Etched with roses
That lives in the back of the silverware drawer
Too small for me to use
During the day
The only spoon I’ll use for this
Nighttime ritual
Certain to soothe
When my mind won’t stop
run
run
running
Over what
could have
should have
would have
If only I had, hadn’t, would have, could have done
What?
I open the cupboard
Above the stove
And reach behind the canister of flour
For the yellow bag
That crinkles beneath my fingertips
Splenda
The zero-calorie sweetener
We keep on hand
For guests
At least that’s what Dad thinks
Not knowing that I empty
And replace
The bag myself
Because I go through a lot
On nights like this
When I fill the custard bowl
Nearly to the top
Silver spoon in my right hand
Salt shaker in my left
Dip and pour
A spoonful of Splenda
Covered in salt
Laid on my tongue
Where it burns
Spoon after spoon
It calms my mind
Until the Splenda
Is gone
Perfect Remedy
I’d been shameless this morning
Stretched out on the couch
With Blue draped across my lap
Come on, Dad. Let us come! I can’t leave Blue.
Standing there in the kitchen with his boots in his hand
Dad had tried to look stern
“Just this once,” he’d said.
But he’d put me to work
Would need help loading cattle
High-headed, wild things from a ranch northwest of here
Couldn’t do it alone
I used to beg to go with him
When I was little
Rode shotgun in the cab
Through states the colors of sunflowers and clay to load them
Bulls, calves, cows pressed together tight
Bawling and swaying with the rhythm of the road
We’re off the couch and out the front door
Before he can change his mind
The truck is unlocked
Diesel engine rumbling
Warming up
For the trek
I heft Blue in
Crawl into the back
Settle him on the bed behind the seats
Cozy on the horse print blanket
Worn fuzzy by my childhood hands
When the headlights came on
Hugged into sleep by Dad’s voice
Humming quiet behind the radio
It’s been a long time
Since I’ve ridden like this
With Dad
But his truck is the same
Only with more wallet-sized mes
One for each year
Taped in rows across Dad’s sun visor
Always down
Blue wags his stumpy tail as Dad climbs in
“Ready, hookies?” he asks.
The truck groans forward
Dad leans down
Eyes on the road
Grabs a box of Captain Crunch mashed half-flat
From under his seat
Gives it to me and puts out his hand
Some for him
Some for Blue
Poured on the blanket in front of his nose
The smell of peanut butter
Fills the cab
I tuck the lid closed
Slide the box under my seat
Not hungry at all
Because all I need is this
My dad beside me
My dog behind me
We’re a team
Of three
Unexpected Visitor
Twenty-four hours later
Blue’s up
I’m down
Until he starts barking
Waking me from my nap on the couch
The doorbell rings
Which is redundant
Since Blue’s dancing around the living room
Blue, settle.
It feels so good to say that
He drops to a sit
Stares at the door
Wills me to open it
Cody or Asia
Would have come in without ringing
I wasn’t expecting her
That girl with the gold hair chasing down her back
Standing on our front porch
An African violet in one hand
A shrink-wrapped knucklebone in the other
The marinated kind they sell at the feed store
Which makes me think of Cody
How that’s what he gave me
The first time we went out
Flowers for me
A bone for Blue
Because he knew me that well
Even then
“Hi. I’m Kierra. I hope it’s okay I came by, but I had to tell you in person how sorry I am.”
Pressure cooker sentences
Come out so fast they color her cheeks pink
She looks past me
Into the living room
Where Blue is still sitting
Front paws anchored
Hind end wiggling as fast as his tail would be waving
If it wasn’t docked
“How is he?”
Better.
I fold my arms across my chest
Remembering the way the pain
Shivered
Up Blue’s sides
As he lay across my lap
In the truck
“I brought this for him. For you. A get-well-soon gift.”
She holds out the plant and bone
I hate myself
For letting the chasm appear between us
When her words stop
But I can’t forgive and forget
Not with the echo
Of my dog, my dog, my dog crying
Still in my ears
Behind me Blue breaks
Explodes out of his sit
The bone
He can see it
Knows it’s for him
The metal screen door is cool
Against my palm
As I push it open
Step back
Welcome her in
She’s thin
Thinner than me
Maybe
Maybe not
Not that it matters
When you’re the kind of pretty she is
That Asia is
That I’m not
She hands me the plant and th
e bone
I give her back Blue’s part of the gift
Thank you.
I say for Blue
Already slack jaw slobbering
You can give it to him if you want.
She unwraps the bone and offers it to Blue
He gently takes it
Knowing better
Than to grab
The smell of meat grease fills the air
As Blue lies down at my feet and starts to gnaw
Kierra rolls the plastic wrap into a ball between her fingers
I should offer to take it
Throw it away
But I don’t
It’s oily
Too greasy
I set the violet on the coffee table
Wondering how long
I’ll be able to keep
Such a delicate plant alive
Mine
Blue freezes midchew
Cocks his head
An orange pickup
Pulls up the drive
It’s Cody.
I say
To her
To Blue
To no one in particular
My boyfriend.
I add
Without knowing
Why
Some girls do that
Make sure everyone knows
Who their boyfriend is
But I don’t
At least I didn’t
Until now
Cody steps out of the cab
I wave at him
And feel kind of stupid
Because it’s one of those fingertip waves
That I never do
His smile pushes that dimple into his left cheek
As he waves back
I’m glad he’s here
Almost wish he wasn’t
Not yet, anyway
It would just be easier
If she were
Gone
Cody takes the porch steps two at a time
Pushes open the door
Blue pops to his feet
Dashes over to show off his bone
“How’re you, Scarface?”
Cody runs his hands up and down Blue’s back
“He looks like he’s feeling good.”
He is, I say tilting my face to catch the kiss he lays on my cheek.
Kierra, Cody, Cody, Kierra.
Cody pulls off his ball cap
Tucks it under his arm
a habit of his I loved
until now
“Nice to meet you. Did you just move here?”
Kierra tucks a strand of hair behind her ear
Looks at the couch
I’m still standing
So she does too
She looks out the front window
Hard
Like she’s forgotten something
Lost it somewhere past the glass
“Me and my sister are staying with my grandma Jean until my dad gets here.”