Sometimes the Best Presents Can’t Be Wrapped

by B. G. Thomas

  Jake nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  Ned dove into the food. The grease helped. And really the kibble wasn’t that bad. He didn’t think he’d ever be excited about the stuff. But he could tell there was real meat. And a little of something else. Rice, he guessed. And oils. Fish for sure. He thought maybe sunflower as well. Oatmeal and… flaxseed!

  He devoured it in dog time, which was fast, and it seemed to be one more dogness thing he was not able to help.

  Am I really becoming a dog?

  It made him all the more determined to do human things whenever he could. He licked his… well, lips… if that was what they were, and turned to tell Jake his decision. And realized that Jake wasn’t there.

  He’d gone.

  (“Quick! I’m already on Mr. Balding’s Bad-Boy List. I don’t need to get further on it.”)

  Jake had left him here. Alone.

  Of course he did.

  I’m a dog.

  And oh, what joy! He’d left the music on.

  Hark! The herald angels sing, “Glory to the newborn King!”

  Probably to leave him with some kind of company?

  Peace on earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled.

  It was going to be a very long day.

  9

  IT WAS a long day. There was nothing to do. Nothing to occupy him. In fact it was all Ned could do not to chew something up.

  The radio didn’t help. It was pretty much one holiday song after another, broken only by radio chat and a few top forty songs—which were a relief. Why oh why had Jake inflicted him with this?

  “He was doing it to keep you company.” It was the Voice again. “New dog in a new place, left alone. They can get lonely and nervous and anxious. How was he to know you aren’t really a dog? Maybe you should just be grateful he was being kind.”

  The words made him feel guilty. He still wasn’t crazy about the carols, one after another, though.

  O little town of Bethlehem, How still we see thee lie. Above thy deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by….

  He thought of trying to figure out a way to stop that frigging radio. He even went to the bedroom and jumped on the bed to try to semi get away. Except that after a while… especially when he dozed—

  (and he was doing a lot of that)

  —certain memories would come back. Most of them quite good ones.

  “Up on the Housetop” reminded him of a Christmas play when he and his siblings were in elementary school—Perry in second grade, him in fifth, and Patricia in sixth. He’d worn a cobbler’s leather apron, an authentic one that went back several generations, loaned to him by another student’s father. He broke one of the leather shoulder straps. He thought he’d die. But Patricia saved the day and, with a little help from Mother, fixed it good as new. He had looked up to his sister as a hero after that.

  The second time “Deck the Halls” came on with its boughs of holly, / Fa la la la la la la la la, he thought he would jump on the counter somehow and destroy that radio. But then he remembered one of his first dates with a boy and how much he had loved the Don we now our gay apparel, and it made him happy. Davie had made him so happy. The joys they had in discovering each other, their first kiss, their first sex in the back of Davie’s father’s Nissan Pathfinder, the first time they joined their bodies—in a bed, thankfully—and how utterly amazing it had been. Thank God for the internet that had given them all the details they needed to make that night a success and not the horrid or painful disaster that it had been for other gay men Ned knew.

  Follow me in merry measure, / Fa la la la la la la la la! / While I tell of Yuletide treasure, / Fa la la la la la la la la…!

  See, Cliff! I did like Christmas songs once upon a time!

  Of course, Davie broke his heart. They went to two different colleges, Davie’s far across the country, and he found a new love there. For a year Ned had done everything but wear sackcloth and ashes until Perry told him to get the fuck over Davie and move on. There were thousands of guys out there. “Go get a new one, dumbass!”

  One of the few pieces of good advice Perry had ever given him. He found a new boyfriend soon after that, if not a true love, but that one had introduced him to Cliff at a party, and they’d been together ever since. Well… at least until recently.

  Luckily, a classic carol brought back an especially funny memory!

  He and Perry had wanted to hear a song. Their mother, who loved music, was always happy to play records, CDs, anything they asked to hear. From the Beatles to Queen to the Electric Light Orchestra, Classical to Country-and-Western (she had a deep love of Charlie Pride, Johnny Cash, and Dolly Parton), and from movie soundtracks to fusion jazz, she loved it all.

  But one day she couldn’t find, or even figure out, the one song he and his brother particularly wanted to hear.

  “‘Dusty Shoelaces,’” Perry requested.

  “‘Dusty Shoelaces’?” their mother said. “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Yes, Mom,” Ned had agreed. “That’s it for sure. ‘Dusty Shoelaces.’”

  She shook her head, clearly mystified. “Is it a kid’s song? Like something from Sesame Street?” She got out one of the albums and put it on, skipping through the songs and getting a negative on each one.

  “This one?”

  “No!” insisted Perry.

  “This one?”

  “No,” cried Ned.

  “How about this one?”

  “No,” they chorused.

  It was only when she asked them to sing it that her eyes rolled and she burst into laughter and put on ‘“Adeste Fideles.”

  Adeste fideles, laeti triumphantes….

  “Yes!” they shouted.

  Venite, venite in Bethlehem.

  “That’s it!” and they jumped up and danced a circle around her.

  Natum videte, Regem angelorum;

  Patricia came in the room right then and joined in with her glorious voice.

  Venite adoremus, venite adoremus, Venite adoremus, Dominum!

  They all laughed when she was done, although their mirth had seemed to confuse her. She hadn’t sung much after that.

  Ned, the dog, found himself howling to the music, trying to sing along, tail lashing the air like a metronome. And oh, how the lyrics came back to him! Even the Latin. How wonderful it would be to hear his sister sing again.

  It was while Ned was trying to use the restroom that Jake came home. He could hear him singing along to “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” in the next room, but he was kind of stuck. He’d decided not to try peeing standing up again since at home he’d soaked the back of the seat. So he’d squeezed into the small area where the toilet was wedged between the sink vanity on one side and the wall on the other. He was bent in a sort of C position over the bowl, curled tight, and it had been easier to get in there than back out.

  Jake found him, his dark (beautiful) eyes went wide, and he all but peed himself he laughed so hard. He clutched at his chest, leaned against the tile wall, and slid to the floor, tears in his eyes.

  Ned started barking in the end. Come on! Laughing? Really? You’re laughing? Would Jake have liked it better if he’d peed on the floor like Cliff’s mother’s dog did?

  Finally Jake said, “So do you still gotta go?”

  Well, there was one thing he had to do.

  Damn, this dog stuff was humiliating!

  10

  THAT EVENING, they went to Wilma’s for dinner. She lived in the apartment next door. Wilma turned out to be a drag queen, which made sense because Ned had smelled only men on the first floor. At least fresh scents.

  He still marveled at what he could detect with his canine nose. A faint lingering of lavender from who knew how long ago. Clove cigarettes, which he came to discover no one in the building smoked. Polo cologne, again, which no one wore. Babies, their skin, their diaper powder, their diaper… spoor. Feathers. How did he know it was feathers? He’d never known as a man that feathers even had
a smell.

  Wilma was an… interesting drag queen.

  Tonight she wore makeup, but not to the extreme of most queens he’d seen perform at The Male Box. Also a yellow wig with blue streaks (at least those were the colors he thought it was) of gargantuan proportions, sparkling with glitter and rhinestones. But her blouse—it looked like it could have come from India—looked more gender-neutral, along with the jeans she wore. Very understated. Her fingernails too were as plain as any businessman’s, but her toenails—she was barefoot—were painted yellow and brownish-black. Horrible. Somehow Ned doubted this drag queen would wear such ugly colors. He considered her toes. And realized they must be red and green. Because…Christmas colors! What else?

  And her apartment! Ned was stunned. It was as if hell were continuing for him. Had he really been so evil as to deserve all of this?

  It looked as if Father Christmas had thrown up and then perhaps exploded there. It was Christmas themed with lettering the size of the Hollywood sign. There was not one inch of the place not Christmased within an inch of its life. Not only was there an enormous live tree filling a good portion of the living room, but it was covered in dozens of Hallmark Barbie doll ornaments.

  “I have all thirty-six of them, including the two made by Carlton Heirlooms. Hallmark somehow didn’t hold the licensing rights to Barbie in 2013 and 2014. Can you believe it? I have some doubles, and I used them to fill in spaces toward the back. People get them for me, you know….”

  A full-size Barbie, dressed in what had to be a deep red and green gown, was the tree topper, perched as if she had been impaled on it by Vlad Tepes himself, and an entire town of miniature ceramic houses and a train set encircled the snowy tree skirt. There were holiday pillows, tablecloths for the dining room and coffee table, curtains, area rugs, oven mitts, a spoon rest, place mats, dishes, dish towels, three crèches, bedclothes for the bedroom—sheets, blanket, quilt, and a half-dozen pillows—complete bathroom accessories, including contour toilet run, bath mat, toothbrushes, cups, and toilet paper.

  It was enough to make the Scrooge in Ned want to shoot himself. The problem? He couldn’t. No opposable thumbs.

  Jake loved it, though. His only problem was the extension cords.

  “With all these lights, you need a sturdier cord. I’d even get a power strip.”

  Wilma waved him off. “This building burning down would be a blessing!”

  Amen, thought Ned.

  Dinner was not holiday-themed or homemade, and in another note of divine irony, was a pizza from Papa Daddy’s. Ned’s mouth watered despite any baggage that went with it, and he immediately hopped up on one of the cushioned dining room chairs.

  “Oh, Lawd no!” cried Wilma. “Ain’t no dog sitting at my table, especially on one of my personally hand-sewn cushions. Do you know how hawd it was to get those green and red stripes perfectly aligned?”

  She thrust her hand in Ned’s face, and he bared his teeth.

  “Gurl!” Wilma clutched her pearls (which Ned could smell weren’t real). “That dawgie tried to bite Miss Wilma!”

  Jake leapt between them. “Boyo doesn’t bite.” He shot Ned a look. “Does he?” The message was clear. Jake knew why he’d almost been put down, and Ned ducked his head in remorse.

  “Now get down, okay?”

  Ned whined.

  Jake leaned in close. “Now what’s our deal?” Then dropping his voice even more. “Evening meals at home are at the table. Other people don’t want dogs eating at their dining room table.”

  “Certainly not,” Wilma said, still fiddling with her pearls. She stuck out her tongue in the universal “yuck!” symbol.

  Ned stuck his neck and tongue out as far as he could as if to lick the drag queen, who cried out, “Oh no!” while Jake covered his grin. Ned had seen it.

  But he got down.

  “You really call him Boy?” Wilma asked. “I mean, that’s his name?”

  “We just haven’t come up with the right one yet,” Jake replied, and Ned woofed out an agreement.

  I want you to call me Ned!

  Jake slipped him pieces of meat from his pizza. It was good but frustrating. Didn’t Jake know he wanted at least one piece to himself, even though he’d had a bowl of kibble with some broth poured over it?

  It didn’t take long for Wilma to ask a question that caused Jake to stiffen.

  “Have you heard from Bruce?”

  Ned stiffened as well, then found himself trembling. There was a scent of rotting grapes and wine turned to vinegar.

  “No,” Jake said. “Not in weeks.”

  “I guess that’s better than the ugliness he was spreading.”

  “Yes,” Jake said very quietly, and if not for his dog’s ear, Ned thought he might have missed it.

  “The things that boy said about you!” Wilma declared. “And after all them years you two was together….”

  More rotting grapes. It was sickening. Ned pushed his head under Jake’s hand and whined. And then… well, he licked Jake’s fingers.

  A dog thing.

  A chill ran through him.

  I am becoming more and more a dog. That’s why I do some of these things….

  But when Jake started scratching him behind the ears and looked down at him and smiled, Ned stopped worrying about it. Nothing seemed to matter after that.

  “I’m just glad you didn’t join in on it. I would have! Mother Mary, I would have. I would have read his beads and made it ugly.”

  Tell me about it, Ned thought. Except he hadn’t had a chance to run Cliff through the shit yet. If only he weren’t a dog! Cliff would have to move to Siberia.

  “I just couldn’t,” Jake said. “I loved him. At least I did once upon a time.”

  So? Ned thought. Give it to him anyway!

  “I know! You didn’t say one word. I thought, Don’t that man have no sense of pride?”

  Ned leaned against Jake. Wished he could say, Shh…. He laid his head on Jake’s thigh. Don’t listen to him, Jake….

  “Then what happens?” Wilma said, with much drag drama. “Why suddenly people are taking your side. Left and right, they do! They all start saying how classy it is that you’re keeping your mouth shut while Bruce is being so nasty! And how your mama must have taught you manners.”

  Ned sat up straight. Tilted his head. All but ignored the wonderful scratching. Wait. What was Wilma saying?

  “And then all these stories start coming out about what a cheating piece of shit Bruce is! How you was innocent and didn’t know a thing. Is that true, Jake?”

  “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Honey! You can tell Miss Wilma! Surely you want to unburden yourself. Come on….”

  Leave him alone, for God’s sake! Ned thought, feeling an unfamiliar sense of protectiveness coming over him for his human.

  Your human? Really, Ned?

  “Please, Wilma….”

  The rotting grapes smell was getting horrible. Almost gagging.

  “Oh, come on, girl! Everybody needs to relieve themselves of—”

  “I just don’t….”

  Ned found himself growling.

  “—the burden of a heavy heart.”

  And Ned came out from under the table barking. Loud, loud barking.

  Wilma’s eyes went wide and she threw herself back and put a hand up as if to steady her wig. “Holy shit, girlfriend. What has come over that beast of yours?”

  “I think,” Jake said, “that he wants you to drop it.”

  Wilma swallowed hard. “O-okay, doggie! Okay. I’ll change the subject.”

  But it was hard to stop once he’d started. Wilma had made Jake feel bad. And Jake had done nothing but be nice and—

  “Boy!”

  Ned jerked and then looked over at Jake.

  Who had his hands out before him. Stop. He lowered them slowly. “Take it eaaaasy.”

  The comment startled Ned. And then, by God, made him want to laugh.

  He trotted back over
to Jake and laid his head against him once again.

  “Warn me next time of what I can and cannot talk about, okay, Jake?” Wilma asked.

  “Okay,” Jake said and laughed.

  But the next thing Wilma said startled Ned even more.

  “All right, then! What about Mr. Man? Anything happening there?”

  “Oh, Wilma! He hasn’t been at work in two days!”

  Now there were new smells. Vinegar and something even more acid. It stung Ned’s nose.

  “Well, he is the boss, honey. Bosses do that.”

  “No! You don’t get it. No one knows where he is. Lillian says he’s disappeared. She has the cops looking for him.”

  “Don’t they have to wait forty-eight hours before they can even say he’s missing?” Wilma asked.

  “No. Lillian said that’s just something you hear on TV. Especially if there is a reason they might be at risk. They can start searching for them right away.”

  Ned stiffened. Oh Jesus! They could start looking for him right away? But how would they find him? They would never think to look for him where he was. As what he was!

  “And it turns out his husband is divorcing him. Lil is a mess. She started crying, and I took her to her office and closed the door. No need letting everybody know that part!”

  “Divorced?” Wilma exclaimed. “Well that means he’ll be single and available, girl!”

  “Wilma. Did you hear what I said? No one knows where he is. He’s not at his house. Lil called him and called him, and he wouldn’t answer his phone. Then they found his cell at his place! Lil is afraid he might have hurt himself.”

  No! God no! I’m alive and well. All right, maybe not well. But I haven’t hurt myself….

  Then he slumped.

  But I did. I hurt myself big-frigging-time, didn’t I? Got myself turned into a frigging dog!

  “And to tell you the truth… I’m pretty worried too. You know he gets to work at six every morning, and he’s always the last to leave. What if something happened to him?”

  Now there was the scent of ozone. Ned was up on his feet again. This was crazy. He barked again.