Drowning in Gruel

by George Singleton

  Watt crouched down and stuck the ear syringe in the milk saucer. He picked up two black pups and said, "Y'all want to travel the country?" To Mattie he said, "What the hell's PETA?"

  She said, "It's fancy bread."

  Sister and her pups traveled in what Watt considered the largest rubber container ever invented—six feet long, by four feet wide, by three feet deep. The patented burp top had holes in it the size of fifty-cent pieces, and was donated by Tupperware. Bunky Tucker had arranged it all, thinking that Sister might distract the driver if she took to sniffing the accelerator, or got carsick, or smudged windows with her wet nose.

  Mattie had agreed to run the carpet cleaning business while Watt traveled around, promised to videotape any segments that aired nationwide, and bought him a cell phone so he wouldn't have to use hotel phones or pay phones. When the Winnebago appeared in their driveway, the Pinsons were surprised to find it driven by a woman named LaDonna, a woman who worked in Bunky Tucker's agency and handled clients on the road more often than not.

  "I don't like this," Mattie said. "You failed to mention how you'd be out on the road for however many months with a woman."

  Watt said nothing. He stared up at the large windshield, at the beautiful woman behind the steering wheel who unwrapped her shoulder harness with one hand and waved with the other. "How're my puppies doing?" LaDonna said, jumping down. She stuck her hand out to Mattie first and introduced herself.

  Mattie said, "I was thinking about meeting up with y'all at some points. You know, if the carpet cleaning business slows down. Do you think that would be okay?"

  LaDonna stood straighter than anyone Watt had ever seen. She wore what Watt considered a regular one-piece bathing suit, low-slung blue jeans covering the bottom part. For Watt, she seemed the epitome of a fireball—maybe five-three, her shape like that of an S and its reflection. LaDonna said, "The more the merrier. I'm sure that Sister would like to see her own mother some weekends." She used a similar high-pitched voice as Mattie's.

  Mattie didn't nod or blink. She didn't say how she wasn't the dog's mother. She wasn't pleased with LaDonna's response, though in later years she admitted that nothing this woman could've said might have eased Mattie's sudden jealousy. Sometimes when she was a bank teller running the drive-through window, Mattie would send a dog biscuit through the pneumatic tube to women who she knew hired her husband out. Although no Girl Scout troop ever existed in this area of South Carolina, every woman could boast a thousand badges for marking territory and catfighting.

  Watt piled Sister and her pups in the comforter-lined Tupperware bin. He took his three hard, gray Samsonite suitcases and set them on a couch inside the RV, then came back for an ice chest Mattie had filled with luncheon meats, loaf bread, a jar of sliced dill pickles, and a jar of mayonnaise. LaDonna pet Sister in the back of the RV after checking the oil, radiator, and tire pressure.

  Mattie pretended to check the leaves on a Japanese plum for beetle damage. She thought of every movie she'd ever seen. Should she make a big kissing spectacle with her husband before he embarked? Should she act nonchalant, maybe wave him off with the back of her hand?

  When Watt came up behind her and placed his hands around her waist, she didn't move visibly. Watt said, "You have to trust me, Mattie. That's all I can say. And think about how our life together will be so much better. Two or three months apart isn't much when it comes to what will pretty much be a free lake house or mountain cabin. Or even beach house. We ain't even middle-aged yet. Think about the times ahead."

  Mattie turned around. Peripherally she saw LaDonna strapping herself in the driver's seat. The RV started with a rumble not unlike Watt's steam cleaner. "If you don't call me every morning and every night I'll know why."

  Watt Pinson thought about thanking his wife again for taking care of the business, but figured that she knew.

  The itinerary included stops in Asheville, Knoxville, Nashville, Memphis, New Orleans, Jackson, and Oxford during the first week. Bunky Tucker arranged for a veterinarian to check out Sister there in Oxford, to make sure she withstood the pressure fine. Then they were off to Birmingham, Atlanta, north to Nashville again, Lexington, Louisville, Cincinnati, Cleveland, and Akron. There would be a two-day layover, unless Bunky could talk some Shriners in Detroit to find a way to shove Sister into their schedule.

  Watt looked over the schedule from a captain's chair behind and to the right of LaDonna. There were stops in Iowa City, Madison, Milwaukee, and Minneapolis. Boston and New York City came later, toward the end, before traveling south to D.C., Charlottesville, Richmond, Raleigh, Chapel Hill, and Columbia, South Carolina.

  Sister slept the hundred miles to Asheville, where they'd be shown off to a lesbian action group called Sisters in Heat, and for an extra two dollars any of the participants could leave the ChiliFest and view Sister and the runts in a back room of the Unitarian church. LaDonna said, "A lot of our male clients don't trust my driving the RV I appreciate your not saying anything yet. I've had to drive everyone from writers to ex-politicians on the lecture tour."

  Watt said, "How old are you, LaDonna?"

  She looked to be about twelve to him. "I'm thirty-two. See, I studied American literature with a minor in public relations. And then for some reason I decided to get a chauffeur's license, back about my junior year in college. I made some money, let me tell you. And it's come in handy since."

  Watt thought, I'm thirty-five. Mattie's thirty-four. There must be some difference in our lives and that of a woman who got brought up outside of South Carolina and garnered work in California.

  He got up and walked back to his dog. "I went to college for a couple years down in Georgia and about took everything there was at least once. I never cottoned to any of it." He held Sister's muzzle.

  LaDonna's voice came over an intercom. "I didn't like any of it, either. To be honest—not that I'm not looking forward to spending the next few months with you, Watt—I wish I'd've either studied archaeology to discover what ancient people made, or woodworking so I could make something that future people will discover. Does that make any sense?"

  Watt leaned down and kissed Sister's snout. He said to the dog, "We'll stop off up here soon and feed your boys and girls, whether you like it or not. You have to eat, Sister. You have to eat."

  Later, when he picked up one of the white male dogs, she turned and nipped his wrist, which made a mark but didn't bring blood to the surface.

  All went well for the first six appearances. LaDonna stopped at nice hotels and got two rooms. Every hotel employee cooed over Sister and her pups, and Watt always had two queen-sized beds in his room in case Sister wanted to pile out of the Tupperware and take a snooze for herself. Watt would find a chocolate mint on his pillow and a rawhide chew on Sister's.

  It was in a hotel stuck next to the Superdome in New Orleans that both Sister and Watt realized that they couldn't take it, though. Humane Society groupies waited for them, held signs that read WE LOVE YOU SISTER, and WE LOVE ANY MAN WHO LOVES DOGS.

  Watt said to LaDonna, "What's this all about?" when they pulled the RV into the parking garage.

  "You're a celebrity, Watt. Live it up. Glory in it all, as you people say down here."

  "My dog underwent a strange and unusual litter. I don't see why they would love me. Hell, it ain't even my dog, officially."

  LaDonna hit the brakes halfway between the second and third floor. She said, "Sister is your dog, and those puppies are your puppies." She set the brake right there on the ramp and came back to where Watt sat cross-legged beside the dog. She bent down and grabbed his neck, nestled her bosom straight into the back of it, and said, "I know how much pressure you're under. But you have to keep it up. We have a long way to go. If Sister ever has a bigger litter, I promise we won't undergo such a big tour. We'll cut it down to ten cities." She kissed Watt on the mouth, stood up, and pulled at her brassiere in the front. LaDonna walked back up to the driver's seat, released the brake, and continued driving to a spot
on the roof.

  Down in the hotel's Magnolia Room where the Louisiana chapter of PETA met—and normally they talked about alligators, snapping turtles, and nutria—five hundred men and women waited for the appearance of Sister and her puppies. Watt pushed the full Tupperware bin in via a dolly supplied by the hotel. When the crowd broke out in applause Sister tried to jump straight through the perforated top. No one seemed to see how she shook, how the puppies trembled between her limbs, around her muzzle, near her sagging belly.

  They lined up for photographs—something Bunky Tucker thought up himself—that would cost them five dollars each, unless they chose to hold one of the puppies. Then it cost ten dollars. If Watt stood there with a big fake smile on his face it cost twenty.

  I need to call Mattie, Watt thought. He thought, There's an hour time change. It's almost eleven o'clock home. "Hey, can I take a cigarette break?" he said to LaDonna, who wore a purple sequined miniskirt. SISTER spangled out across her T-shirt.

  She nodded. "Go on. Of course you can." She shook her breasts unintentionally. "I'll tell anyone that you had to go out and get some vitamin tabs for Sister. They'll see you as a great, great father."

  In the hotel room Watt pulled out his cell phone and called home. The answering machine picked up. He heard his wife say, "There's no one here right now, so leave a message." When he left home with Sister and LaDonna, his own voice told incoming calls to leave a message. Mattie's voice then said, "I'm off doing my husband's work right now because he's not man enough to do it himself, evidently If I'm not doing that, I'm outside with our other ten dogs, taking care of them."

  Watt tried to think of what restaurant he and Mattie normally cleaned on ... he didn't know if it was a Monday or Tuesday. Was it the Pizza Hut? Was it the Denny's, or Shoney's, or Capri's Italian? He couldn't even remember what the number was for information.

  "Honey, I'm in New Orleans with the dog. You wouldn't believe how many people are here wanting pictures of us. And they're doing this new thing where they stick Sister's paw on an ink pad so they can get her print on an eight-by-ten. It's weird. Hey, I'm sorry it's so late. I forgot about the time change. I love you, and I promise to call in the morning."

  Watt hung up. He tried not to think about how, the entire time he spoke into his own answering machine to his wife, he only thought about how LaDonna could shake her breasts left and right.

  Back downstairs, more women lined up. They clamored. They held photographs, and newspaper and magazine articles about Sister the Wonder Dog and Her Amazing Runts. Watt walked in to find LaDonna leaned over kissing his dog right on the nose, stroking her head, cooing into her ear.

  The veterinarian in Oxford, Mississippi, said that Sister and her puppies withstood the pressure better than Faulkner on a book tour back in the old days. He said that there didn't seem to be any side effects, that Sister didn't seem to be the kind of mixed breed who needed to drown herself in bourbon and/or dog treats. Watt said to the vet, "Hey, you wouldn't have any kind of sedatives for me, by any chance, would you?"

  The vet's name was Dr. Furr, of all things. Watt Pinson trusted him only because of that—like he was born to be either a veterinarian or mink coat dealer. The vet said, "Let me call up Bunky. I can probably get you a little something if he tells me you're on the up-and-up."

  LaDonna had gone up to a bar called City Grocery to talk to a bartender named Whitey who—every time she handled Bunky Tucker's other clients—poured heavy on the bourbon. "People in the South love dogs," LaDonna said after Watt got Sister and the puppies settled down at the University Inn. "This is a town where all dogs are revered. Any new dog can walk around the square and get pet on its head nonstop by complete strangers."

  Watt sat up at the bar and looked at Whitey. He said, "I better just have a beer. I just took a painkiller."

  Whitey nodded. "I'm giving you a light beer, then. I don't want to be known as the man who killed a celebrity." He pushed a ten-ounce glass Watt's way.

  Watt held it up to LaDonna and said, "To the best and brightest and most beautiful driver in the world."

  LaDonna said, "Shucks, Watt. I'm just doing my job," but giggled, and grabbed his right arm above the elbow. "Hey, I don't want to tell you how to run your homelife, but you might want to call your wife and let her know you're doing all right."

  Watt looked past LaDonna. In the corner, two women stared at him, all smiles. "She doesn't like to talk to me when I'm fucked-up. It makes her worry too much."

  LaDonna slugged back her bourbon and pointed for another. "You're a good man, Watt Pinson. Not too many men would consider a wife's feelings, you know."

  He felt his head begin to numb. "Tell me again when I'm going to get all of this money that Bunky told me about?"

  LaDonna went into great detail about how checks were sent to the office first, and then Bucky took anywhere from 90 to 180 days before subtracting his cut, and then the money showed up. She said, "Don't think about the money. Is there anything I could do to make you not think about the money? I should tell you that I'm a licensed massage therapist, too. I took a course my senior year in college."

  Whitey said, "How'd you handle that light beer?"

  Watt tried to make his speech not slur. He said, "I'll take a Southern Comfort and Coke. I promise it'll be okay." To LaDonna he said, "'Licensed," huh?"

  The noonday anchorpeople didn't do much homework. They brought Sister in, accompanied by Watt, and asked, "So! Where'd you come up with the name Sister?!" and such.

  Watt Pinson didn't say anything about Catholicism. He always answered, "We call a bunch of people 'Sister' in the South, whether they're related to us or not."

  "Can you name all of the puppies' names off in order?" they always asked. Either the man or woman anchorperson always held up one of the white dogs, and shoved it toward the camera.

  A couple times Watt actually had to wear makeup. He hoped that no one back in South Carolina had a satellite dish. The makeup woman always said, "We don't want your face shining so much that people notice you more than they notice what they're supposed to be looking at."

  "Say, what does a man do with twenty-four dogs and a mother?" the anchorperson would eventually say. "You have enough dogs to play a game of football, both sides. And some left over."

  It wasn't until Memphis, on Alive at Nine!, when Watt thought to say, "I have enough to buy a case of beer and each have one."

  The man, Alex, laughed. The woman, named Marybeth, said, "I'm an animal lover, and let me tell you that it's detrimental to give a dog beer. It should be against the law."

  Behind the running cameras LaDonna bobbed her head up and down. Watt said, "Yes. Yes it is. I know that. It was a joke, Marybeth. I was only kidding."

  Marybeth looked at the camera and said, "Okay. Well. Twenty-four puppies! Coming up next, we're going to show y'all how to bake the perfect peach cobbler:"

  Watt Pinson would remember this segment as being the most effortless, the easiest, the most almost lifelike.

  In the Midwest—in Iowa City, Milwaukee, Madison, and Akron—Watt Pinson encountered card-carrying PETA women who either wanted to laud his efforts or steal Sister away. There were women who thought that he only exploited the stray and her puppies, and that he had pushed pet ownership back a hundred years. And then there were women who believed that, if it weren't for Watt, Sister would've birthed her brood out in the wild, and that these dogs, more than likely, would either terrorize small children or be hit by cars on country roads.

  In Madison, Wisconsin, both factions showed up in full force, and it was there at a local fair that a woman from the you're-exploiting-Sister group tried to steal the puppies. When both Watt and LaDonna grabbed the woman, one of the white puppies dropped, fell on its head, and died on impact.

  Later on during the local news, another woman from that faction said, "Well, that puppy was better off dead than being paraded around the country. What kind of life is it being paraded around the country?"

  "Twenty-t
hree runts is still an American record," Bunky Tucker called to say that night. "I'm sorry for your loss, Watt, but it's still a record. And you won't believe the press you're getting. Entertainment Weekly's running an article on 'Fun Things to See This Season,' and you're going to get a B plus. How about that? Hey, it's not half bad. The baby pandas down at the Atlanta zoo only got a B minus. Some kind of laser show in Michigan's Upper Peninsula got a C."

  Inside the Canterbury Inn bed-and-breakfast—where they got the Miller's Room—LaDonna said, "This kind of publicity will only bring in more money, Watt. Believe me. One time I was handling a novelist who got arrested for indecent exposure. He pulled out his thing and waggled it in front of a woman who wanted him to travel for free six hundred miles to talk to her book club. Well, he got arrested. But when it made the papers and national news, his book went to something like number eight on Amazon.com."

  Watt held his dead puppy in a paper bag that he got from a guy who sold vegetarian hot dogs. Sister didn't take her eyes off of the sack, as if she knew. Watt couldn't look at his own dog, for he knew that her eyes watered, that she mourned. He wanted to call Mattie, but didn't know how to tell her what occurred earlier in the day. He said, "I guess we need to drive out in the country somewhere and bury this little boy. I keep thinking it'll kick back to life. Kind of like when my carpet cleaner takes a mind of its own."

  LaDonna moved from a wingback chair and rubbed Watt's shoulders. Sister sat in her Tupperware bin next to the window, which overlooked a bookstore downstairs. "We're going to tell the press that that's what we did," she said, "but right now we have to go take Sister and the other puppies down to a local TV station for the eleven o'clock news. We don't have time to drive around looking for plots, Watt."