A Question of Manhood

by Robin Reardon

  “Paul?” JJ said without looking at me. I didn’t even think he knew I was there. “Would you hold the harness leash as backup?” He held it in my direction.

  ME? I just looked at him.

  The guy couldn’t take it. “Look, I’ll do it. I know how to handle him.”

  JJ’s arm retracted so the guy couldn’t take the lead. He said, “Please don’t be offended. It’s just that you and the dog have a dynamic setup that’s based on force and competition, and I’d like to avoid those factors if I can. Paul?”

  Dad was looking at me hard. I couldn’t tell what he wanted me to do. I mean, here was this customer who didn’t really want—or, certainly, hadn’t asked for—JJ’s demonstration of what a good dog this could be. But Dad didn’t say anything to JJ, or even look at him. In the end I decided to do the thing that made me look like I wasn’t a coward. I swallowed and stepped forward, taking the leash like it was a snake.

  “You’re just backup, Paul. You stay on that side of him, and I’ll stay on this one. Don’t pull on the leash or hold it tight unless he attacks. It would be best if the dog isn’t even aware of it. Now, I’m going to walk him to the side of the store where I don’t see anyone at the moment, and then we’re going out the front door and around the lot outside. Ready?”

  If I hadn’t been so scared, I’d love to have seen the look on the owner’s face. Maybe even Dad’s face would have a little less worship and a little more anxiety than it usually did around JJ.

  JJ positioned himself beside the dog, looked forward, took one step, and tugged gently on the leash attached to the prong collar. The dog got up and followed him. What I was thinking was that I’d turned my back on the church just a few months too soon. At that moment, I wanted to pray and believe someone would help me. And as if I really had asked for help, as soon as we were far enough away from the owner, JJ started to talk.

  “I’m not going to tell you that this dog isn’t dangerous, Paul.” No shit. “But he’ll be far less dangerous away from his owner, and even less if both of us are calm. It could help if you think of yourself as another member of the pack, and pretend you’ve accepted me as the leader. That will make it easier for the dog to do that. We’ll all be better off in that case. So just be calm and stay beside the dog. I’m going to move a little ahead of him so he’s actually following me.”

  He didn’t look at me or even seem to wonder if I was listening, or if I would obey. The dog turned his head and tried to stall a few times, and JJ had to keep yanking sharply on the leash and doing that quick “Hey” of his. But he also kept talking to me.

  “Ordinarily I would encourage you to take a position equivalent with mine, because the dog needs to see humans as leaders, but this dog is pretty far gone. And right now I just want to see how bad he is.”

  Finally I felt calm enough to speak. “Why? D’you think that guy in there is open to learning anything new about how to treat his dog?”

  “Can I trust you to keep a confidence?”

  So many things ran through my mind at this point. Mentally I tallied up all the secrets I was already keeping, including one or two for JJ. Finally, “Yes.” What’s one more?

  He didn’t say anything right away. We headed toward the door that opened into the parking lot, and when we got to it JJ stopped. There was no one outside.

  I asked, “D’you want me to open the door?”

  “No. Just be still and act like one of the pack. I’m going to lead.”

  I would have shrugged, but my arms were too tense from nervousness. The dog had stopped when JJ did, and JJ pressed his rump to get him to sit. Then JJ pushed the door open and the dog stood.

  “Hey.” JJ let the door shut and pressed the dog’s rump again. We did this two or three times until the dog didn’t respond to the open door. JJ let a little slack into the leash, stepped outside holding the door with one hand, and then he tugged gently on the leash. The dog and I followed him outside.

  JJ said, “I’m considering reporting the owner. If I do that, I want to be able to provide some information about the dog.”

  “Reporting him?”

  “He’s abusing the dog. I want to know if the shepherd can be recovered or if he’s beyond reach.”

  So we walked around the perimeter of the lot two, three times? The dog was tense for the first circuit, and when someone drove in and got out of their car with a dog JJ had to yank the leash hard to get the shepherd to look the other way, but the dog did it. JJ sat him down again and we waited until the other dog was inside before we went on with our walk. As we started moving again, I had to pry my fingers open, I’d held on to the leash so hard. Muzzle or no muzzle, this dog was Trouble.

  Trouble might be his name. I said, “You didn’t ask the guy what the dog’s name was.”

  “I don’t really care. And neither does the dog.”

  “That makes no sense. You can’t tell me dogs don’t know their names.”

  “They don’t know that they are names. To the dog, his name is just a noise that always sounds the same, and the dog knows it’s associated with him, but that’s it.”

  “Wouldn’t it help you control him, though?”

  “No. Control comes through leadership.”

  “And that guy in there with the tattoos? He doesn’t supply it?”

  “That guy in there is most likely seen by the dog as competition at best, and possibly a tormentor. He couldn’t lead the way out of his own backyard, and he’s given the dog no reason to follow him.”

  No reason to follow him. So why is the dog following JJ? “What are you giving him?”

  “Well, for one thing I’ve given him a natural walking pattern, treating him like a dog rather than a robot or a block of concrete. But first I let him know who was boss. I ignored his threats without growling back, like that guy does. I mean, he growls back. In a funny way, the dog and the owner are a lot alike. They both put on this tough-guy posture, they talk rough, they act mean. I can only guess what the guy needs, but this fellow here just wanted someone to take control in a way that lets him be a dog. That’s what I gave him.”

  “Can you give the guy anything?”

  JJ chuckled. “I gave him a shock. I’ll bet he didn’t expect a puny little kid like me to stand up to his killer shepherd. I gave him an example of how the dog should be treated, of how to get the dog to take me seriously. More seriously than he takes the guy. Men like him usually think the tougher their dog is, the tougher the man is. I’ve shown him his dog can be just a dog, which that guy might see as making him seem less tough as a result. And so I’ve probably also given the man a reason to hate me.”

  “As if he needed another one.”

  “What?”

  Shit. Did I say that out loud? And can I recover from this? What I’d been thinking was that the last thing a guy like that would tolerate would be to get shown up by a gay kid. A gay man. A gay anybody. “Nothing.”

  Maybe fifteen steps later JJ said, “Is there something you want to say to me?”

  I cleared my throat. “Well…I mean, you know. What you said. You’re not that big.”

  “You said ‘another reason.’ I’d already pointed that one out.”

  He had me. He knew, I was sure, exactly what I’d been thinking. I took a deep breath. “Well, okay, if you insist. He probably thinks you’re gay or something.”

  JJ’s steps didn’t waver, his hand didn’t jerk or shake, his shoulders didn’t hunch. He didn’t miss a beat. “I am.”

  Okay. There it is. I took a deep breath. “So do you really want to report that guy?”

  Calmly, JJ came to a stop, and the dog sat. JJ smiled down at him and stroked the top of his head, scratched his ears. Then he turned toward me. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s illegal.”

  “What is?”

  “Being gay.”

  I almost didn’t hear it. He said, “You idiot.” He bent over again and rubbed the dog’s shoulders between the harness straps. “
I’ll tell you what, Paul. If you catch me in the act, then you can call the cops. And yeah, I suppose if I’m still in that position when they get there, I’ll be arrested. You think that’s going to happen?” He straightened up and looked right into my eyes.

  Well that’s an image I don’t need in my head, thank you very much. My face twitched into a few different shapes and I dropped my eyes. “Probably not.”

  “Probably not. You bet your ass, probably not.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not trying to start a fight, here.”

  He laughed. “I think if you did, this dog would take your arm off, muzzle notwithstanding.” Another pat to the dog’s head and he turned and took a step, the dog right with him.

  Neither of us spoke until we got to the door. JJ unhooked my leash from the harness and handed it to me. “I’m going around once more with him. You take that back inside and tell them I’ll be in shortly.” He didn’t even look at me. Just like he treated the dogs.

  The guy and Dad were watching from inside the door. I tried to pass them without speaking, thinking I’d just put away the leash, but no.

  “What’s that kid doing to my dog?”

  My jaw clenched. “You can see what he’s doing. He’s treating him like a dog instead of like somebody’s bad temper.” Stupid. That was stupid. And why am I standing up for JJ, anyway?

  Dad tried placating the guy. “The dog seems to be enjoying the walk.”

  The guy’s head snapped toward Dad. “He’s had enough enjoyment. You don’t have what I need, so we’re outta here.” He practically flung the door open and strode toward JJ, fists clenched. Dad followed, but I stayed where I was.

  Dave, with no customers at the moment, stood next to me. He said, “You did say this might get ugly.”

  It was almost funny. There was JJ in the distance, his back to the store in ignorance that this tough, tattooed guy was striding angrily his way, Dad limping along behind and struggling to hurry. Just before the guy caught up to them, JJ and the dog turned a corner. JJ looked toward the guy, and even from this distance I could see the dog’s hackles rise. His head went down, and when the guy reached for the leash the dog lunged. I dropped the leash and ran out the door and across the lot, watching as JJ tried to turn the dog away, but it was doing its damnedest to get at the guy’s arm, despite the muzzle. The guy kicked the dog’s belly and the dog backed off; probably it couldn’t get ahold, anyway. JJ grabbed the back of the harness and struggled with the dog, trying to get it down on its side probably, but it was too powerful and too focused on the guy. All JJ could really do was get in between the dog and the man.

  “Bastard!” I heard the guy shout. “You shithead!” He was flailing his arms around, and he nearly hit Dad as Dad got to him, just ahead of me. I don’t think anyone knew what to say, but it didn’t stop the guy yelling. He pointed an arm toward JJ, finger extended and stabbing with the words. “You asshole! You turned my dog against me!”

  Suddenly I had something to say, between pants, anyway. “You’re the asshole! You turned him against you all by yourself.”

  Dad tried to calm things down. “Are you hurt? Do you need to see a doctor?”

  The guy glared at me but spoke to Dad. “You’ve just bought yourself a dog, mister. I paid two hundred dollars for him, and that’s what you owe me.”

  “Look, I’m sure the dog—”

  JJ, gripping the harness, had to shout to be heard over the noises the dog was making. “You’ll leave here right now, without the dog, and without any money, or I will report you for animal abuse. You’ll be fined and you’ll lose the dog.”

  The guy wheeled toward JJ, but the dog was going ballistic again so he backed off. With one more “Fucker!” he lurched in the direction of his truck. The dog grew calmer right away, and we all stood there and watched as the truck tires left black marks on the pavement. And we kept standing there, looking into the distance that the truck disappeared into, until JJ said, “I’ve got to walk him some more.”

  “And then what?” Dad said, obviously pissed off. “What do you plan to do with him?”

  “I don’t know yet.” JJ turned his back on us and led the dog away.

  This would be the time to tell Dad the truth about JJ. To tell Dad that he’s gay. Maybe I can’t tell him about Chris, but I can tell him about JJ if I do it now. I may never get a better chance, and Dad’s already pissed at him.

  But I didn’t. Dad and I just looked at each other, then at the dog again. Finally I said, “Maybe he can be our mascot.”

  “He’s a ferocious animal!”

  “He’s not, really. He was protecting JJ. And you know he had to have a grudge against that guy in particular. He didn’t threaten you or me.”

  “We didn’t get close enough! Paul, are you out of your mind?”

  I shrugged. “It was just an idea. JJ will know better whether he can be recovered or not. Otherwise I guess he’ll have to go to the pound, and they’ll probably put him down.”

  Dad ran a hand through his hair. I could tell that was not an idea he liked. “All right, you and JJ talk it over and tell me what you think. Then we’ll decide.” He turned and limped back into the store, and I could tell his hip was hurting, probably from trying to get out here so fast. I almost felt sorry for him.

  Great. Now I had to talk to JJ about this, and I didn’t really know if he was mad at me. Why did I open my big mouth?

  I decided to wait at least until boy and dog had had a few minutes alone to re-establish their relationship; JJ was the only hope of people not being devoured by the nameless terror. When they’d come full circle again, I fell into step with them.

  JJ was not in his usual chipper mood. “What do you want?”

  “As a matter of fact, I’m trying to help you. And the dog.”

  “Convince me.”

  I guess I deserve that. “Well, first of all, I think we need to give him a name. We can’t just go on referring to him as the dog.”

  “If we give him a name it will be harder to let him go.”

  “Go where?”

  JJ practically snorted. “Are you planning to take him home?”

  “No, but—”

  “Do you think I am?”

  “I thought he could live here.”

  JJ stopped short this time, not so calm, but the dog sat anyway. “Here?”

  “I’m not suggesting we tie him up the way that guy did, but if you worked with him couldn’t you recover him enough for other people to walk him? There’s somebody here every day. We could give him a doghouse out back and a spot someplace in the stockroom for when it was too cold or whatever.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “Dad will take some convincing, but I mentioned it to him, and he knows we’re talking about it. We’d just need to be really clear how it would work.” JJ just blinked at me a couple of times. I said, “I was thinking Trouble.”

  “What?”

  “For a name. Trouble.”

  JJ looked at the dog. “He’s had enough of it, that’s for sure.” I’d been thinking it’s what he was rather than what he’d had, but JJ wasn’t wrong. “But it would be too bad if that stayed with him. I’m thinking Dante. He’s been through hell, after all.”

  “Dante?”

  “You know. Dante’s Inferno.”

  I nodded. “That’s not too bad. So what would we need to do?”

  “Well, first I’m walking him into the trees to see if he’ll lift his leg.” All three of us headed that way. “Then maybe we could take him into the stockroom and see if there’s a good place to lay out a bed for him. Do you know of anyplace out back where he could be tied? We should probably set up a run for him when we can. It would be familiar to him, and he could still move around outside if he wanted to.”

  We stood there watching the dog relieve himself, chatting like the best of friends working out the details of some project we were actually excited about. The dog did a little of everything, then scraped up some dirt, and we walked
around back and in through the stockroom door. The last thing he said to me before I followed the dog inside was, “You’re going to have to learn to walk him, you know.”

  “Me? Why me?”

  “Today, in fact. You need to be able to walk him tomorrow on my day off.” He turned to look at me, a smile twisting up one side of his face. I just stared at him, mouth hanging open, and then he started to laugh. “Paul, I’m teasing you. I’ll come over in the morning and walk him tomorrow. We’ll do it together, and take turns. I think he’ll tolerate it. You will need to be able to do it, though, maybe even tomorrow afternoon. With any luck, he’ll be around here a lot longer than I will.” So I’d sold JJ on the idea, at least.

  In the stockroom, we tied Dante’s leash to a set of metal shelves that were bolted into the concrete side of the building and sat him down. Then Dante lay down fully, and JJ stood for a few seconds looking at him, smiling, his eyes misting like they had for the bulldog.

  He bent over the dog, stroking his head. “Good boy, Dante. Good dog.” He stood up, wiped his eyes, and said, “Paul, it would be great if you got him some water. If you start giving him nourishment, he’ll remember that.”

  By the time I got back with a new water bowl filled from the faucet in the corner of the stockroom, JJ had begun clearing a small area. “We’ll need a bed for him in here. Is your dad ready to let us start using things from the store, do you think?”

  Maybe it was just because I’d suggested this arrangement, but I was kind of getting into it. “If not, I’ll pay for them. I’ll talk to him.” I had Marty’s money if I needed it, and no sign of a date with Laura in my immediate future. So I just fetched whatever JJ and I decided Dante would need.

  We worked together on Dante’s spot while he watched. He’d drunk a little water and had lain back down, and there he was, paws crossed casually in front of him.

  I said, “What if that guy comes back here to get him?”

  “I suppose it’s a possibility, but my guess is that if he came back, it would be to shoot him. Dante turned on him, don’t forget.”

  “Shoot him?” I was about to ask why JJ thought the guy might even have a gun, but then I remembered Marty’s.