by Jim Kraus
“I have.”
“And all of you are set on this course of action?”
“We are. So when can Alex get started?”
“Well, this week, I suppose. You’ll be at the Gloucester office, correct?”
“We will,” Trudy said firmly.
The doctor stood up to leave.
“You know getting rid of the dog would be easier and would solve a lot of his problems.”
“We do. The dog will be gone for a while. Maybe a year. But he’ll be coming back. So we want the shots to start as soon as possible.”
The doctor shrugged, as if he had been used to hearing the same sort of determination from other pet owners over the years.
“If the dog was gone forever, we could employ other treatments. No weekly injections.”
“No.”
The doctor looked over to Alex.
“You don’t mind getting shots, young man?”
Alex almost grinned.
“No. I mean, I’m okay with them. I’ve had shots before.”
“I know. I could tell it from your medical history. I just want to make sure you don’t mind going through the treatments.”
Alex remained resolute.
“No. I’m okay with it, Dr. Casario. I am.”
Before he left the room, the doctor turned back.
“I had a dog when I was your age. I understand. He must be a special dog, right?”
“He is, doctor. He is.”
* * *
George and his daughter stood by the Burdens’ front door.
“I’m still not sure about this,” George said, a new glumness added to his normally placid tone.
“Please, Dad. We’ve been over this. Today is only a meeting. No one has promised to do anything.”
The door swung open to expose the smiling face of Lewis, with Trudy’s hand on the doorknob.
“Come in, come in,” she said, happier than she had been in weeks.
Lewis and George did not move right away. Instead they stared at each other, like they both knew what was going on, even though George was pretty sure he was the one who did and the dog simply looked inquisitive—and maybe a bit guarded.
“Hey. Lewis,” George said.
Lewis turned his head to the side. He waited another long moment, then took the two steps to him and sniffed loudly.
“He’s never this cautious,” Trudy said, as she stepped backward into the foyer. “Looks like he’s buying a car or something.”
“Hi, Lewis,” Tess said brightly, and Lewis wuffed in reply and went to her, pushing his snout into her thigh, all the while, never taking his eyes off of George.
“He doesn’t like me?” George asked.
“No, it’s not the reason,” Trudy said. “Come on in for coffee. Alex will be home in a few minutes. I think Lewis has an idea something is brewing—other than coffee. And he’s been sort of cautious these last few days. Dog intuition, maybe.”
They sat around the kitchen table. Trudy had a carafe of coffee—the “good stuff” according to Tess—and a plate of thick shortbread cookies.
“Lewis loves shortbread cookies,” Trudy said.
“So do you, don’t you, Dad? See—you already have something in common.”
The two of them—George and Lewis—kept their staring game up. Lewis finally broke and offered his lopsided St. Bernard grin and stepped to George and allowed him to pet his large head.
“Look, he’s come around,” Trudy said, relieved.
Tess watched and then spoke up.
“How is Alex with all this? He does know Lewis would be gone for a while, doesn’t he?”
“He does,” Trudy replied. “And he seems more than fine with it. Like he almost expected something like this to happen. He said as long as Lewis is happy, he would be okay with him taking this trip.”
George cleared his throat.
“I haven’t decided if this is all going to work out, you know.”
Both women quickly agreed with him.
“Only a meeting.”
“We’ll play it by ear.”
“No promises.”
“If it works—fine. If not—it’s okay, too.”
But George had been married for a long time and had raised one daughter. He knew when matters had already been decided and when they hadn’t. This matter felt decided.
George figured when Lewis lumbered his front paws up on George’s thighs and went in for a delicate slurp on the face, the matter was truly and totally settled.
* * *
“Will I get to see your camper?” Alex asked as he sat at the table munching on a cookie, after sharing a large corner of it with Lewis.
“Sure. I was planning a short trip next weekend. Up to the L.L. Bean outlet store in Freeport. I figured I would spend the night there and then come back. Maybe I could take Lewis with me to see if he likes the RV.”
“He would love it,” Alex confirmed. “He loves going for rides.”
“Good. He doesn’t get carsick, does he?”
Mitzi used to get carsick. It was awful.
“No,” Alex said firmly, almost offended. “Do you drive funny?”
“Funny?”
“Starts and stops and jerky stuff. It could make him carsick.”
George shook his head.
“No. I think I am a pretty smooth driver. Just right.”
“Good. And you’ll bring the RV here so I can see it?”
“Sure.”
“And it has a bed over the front seat?”
“And a kitchen and a bathroom, too.”
“Cool. I wish we could get an RV, Mom.”
Trudy rolled her eyes.
“Maybe someday, Alex. Maybe.”
20
As George stood in the parking lot of his apartment complex waving good-bye to Tess and Gary, he was making a mental checklist of everything he needed to accomplish before taking his second RV trip—to Maine.
With a dog.
He took in a deep breath.
A St. Bernard.
He turned back to the building.
What have I gotten myself into?
On the kitchen table, lay a parting gift from Tess and Gary—a new, state-of-the-art tablet, complete with all the features George might need: a reader for books and magazines and newspapers, an e-mail service feature, an Internet browser, and even a way to watch movies.
“I don’t watch movies now. Why would I want to watch a movie on this tiny screen?”
“This way we can stay in touch while you’re traveling. You could even Skype us,” Tess said, bubbling with possibilities.
“Skype?”
Gary shook his head. “If you need it, stop in at the computer store to ask how it’s done. Or ask Alex when you get back from your weekend.”
“Skype? Do I need to know how?”
As he climbed the steps back to his small apartment, his now nearly empty apartment, his list of to-do’s now stood at seventeen—without yet adding groceries to his list.
And this is only for a two-night stay.
* * *
George drove up to the Burdens’ on a Thursday morning.
“Alex will be in school,” Trudy explained. “But since Lewis is only leaving for a couple of nights, I think it will be fine.”
George carefully navigated the RV into the driveway. He could see Lewis’s head in the dining room window. Once he stopped, Lewis started jumping, or almost jumping, in excitement. His head bobbed up and down like he was in a boat in choppy water.
He recognized me.
Lewis greeted George with the full Lewis fanfare: a series of pleasant wuffs, including circling George several times, pushing his head against his thigh, bouncing as only a St. Bernard can bounce—with gravity and dignity. Finally, Lewis sat, front paws wide, grinning, tongue lolling, smiling up at George—with the certain expectation George would have brought with him some sort of delicious St. Bernard treat.
George did. He had one large-size Mi
lk Bone in his pocket, which Lewis received with canine gusto, running around the kitchen island with it, tossing it up in the air and catching it again, before he stopped near the refrigerator and chewed it noisily.
“You now have a friend for life, Mr. Gibson.”
“George. Just George. Please.”
“George.”
“I think I have everything I need. Except for Lewis’s food and bowls.”
“I have them in a shopping bag. Two cups of the food every day. He may not eat it all at once. Just leave it out.”
“Will do.”
“And he does . . . you know . . . have to go out every few hours during the day.”
“So do I,” George said. “We’ll do fine.”
Trudy nodded and handed him a heavy shopping bag with Lewis essentials packed inside.
“Well . . . we will see you on Saturday, right?”
“Right.”
Lewis came over to Trudy and nudged against her. She bent down and hugged him. “You be good, Lewis. You be good. Be on your best behavior.”
Wuff. Wuff.
“Come on, Lewis.”
Lewis looked carefully at Trudy and seemed to nod in agreement with her, as if telling her he would be well-behaved and this was just a short trip and he would be back soon.
And after their silent good-bye, Lewis climbed into the RV, slowly and somewhat tentatively. But once he reached the passenger seat—which looked much like the passenger seat in the family’s SUV, he sighed deeply and settled down, smiling, with his head tilting out the window.
“We’ll be back Saturday. I’ll call you tonight to let you know how things are going.”
George did not let the good-bye take any longer. To George, even after all his years of marriage and fatherhood to a daughter, he would admit, readily, women could still be a great mystery. He knew long, weepy good-byes served no one well, and since he saw tears forming in Trudy’s eyes, he felt it most expedient to leave before the scene turned more dramatic.
Lewis wuffed twice more as George backed down the drive and pulled away, heading north.
* * *
“He’s going to Maine? Forever?”
“No,” Alex replied. “Just until Saturday. This time.”
“Not forever?”
Alex shook his head. He and Stacey Williamson and Herbert W. Trimble and Clint Bowers sat at their favorite lunch table, sandwiches and cookies and bananas and grapes and carrot sticks and Rice Krispies treats spread out before them like an adolescent buffet.
“No. Mr. Gibson won’t leave for the big trip for a week or two. I think. Then Lewis will be gone.”
Stacey nibbled at her carrot sticks like a small, red-haired bunny.
“Will you be sad when he goes? I would be sad.”
Alex shrugged. It was obvious he would not admit to any great weakness, not in front of his friends.
“Maybe a little. But he’ll be back. After I get all my shots.”
“Do the shots hurt?” Clint asked. He seemed most interested in the painful parts of any medical treatment. “Do you bleed?”
Alex shook his head. “No. It’s just a regular shot. It doesn’t hurt much. A little. Not much.”
Herbert managed to stuff an entire Rice Krispie square into his mouth at one time, chewing noisily, but still managing to talk.
“Do you think Lewis knows he’ll be gone?”
“Maybe. But I think Mr. Gibson needs a friend. Especially on a long trip. Otherwise, he would be by himself. And you know how Lewis is. He gets you to tell the truth.”
The three lunch friends considered the statement, then all nodded, as sagely as they could, the noise of the cafeteria rising as lunch was coming to end, and recess just about to begin.
“He does, doesn’t he?” Stacey added. “I’ll miss Lewis a lot. Can I write him letters?”
“E-mails,” Alex said. “Mr. Gibson got a new tablet and he’ll be able to get e-mails. You can write him e-mails.”
“Then I’ll do it. To tell Lewis we won’t forget about him.”
* * *
The plane rumbled down the runway, building up speed, then lifted off the ground in a noisy rush. Tess never liked takeoffs . . . or landings. She held onto Gary’s hand as the plane banked sharply to the right and set a course for Chicago, their stopover location.
As the plane leveled off and the noise decreased, Tess relaxed.
“Do you think Dad will be okay? You were alone with him a lot this week. How did he seem to you?”
Gary appeared startled by the question.
“What do you mean? He looked like he’s always looked. Like he doesn’t like me.”
Tess scowled.
“It’s not you. It’s just he doesn’t like anyone. After Mom died, he’s gotten more cantankerous. More of a curmudgeon.”
Gary shrugged.
“I didn’t notice any difference. He did seem a little more involved when he was showing us the RV. It seemed to perk him up.”
“It did. Do you think he’ll be able to pull off a year’s drive across America?”
“I don’t know,” Gary replied. “He seems to like routine. Stopping in a different place every few days . . . I don’t know.”
“I know. I worry about it, too,” Tess admitted.
“And now . . . you’ve wrangled him in to taking a dog with him. It seems so out of character.”
Tess wanted to tell her husband about the gun shop flyer she saw, wanted to tell him she was worried about her father, wanted to tell him she had a bad feeling about what he planned on doing . . . but she had no proof. Other than the flyer, and a sense of . . . something wrong, Tess had no way of being more specific.
“But maybe the dog will cheer him up,” Gary said. “Maybe it’s just what he needs.”
Maybe. At least it’s what I’m praying for, Tess thought.
* * *
Lewis began to wuff and dance in his seat as George turned the RV into the Burdens’ driveway. The dog looked over to George, a smile on his big face, as if to say, “See, I told you we would come home . . . eventually.”
The dog bounded out of the RV, wuffing louder, dancing, and bouncing.
Alex met him in the driveway, both of them immediately lost in a tackle of young boy and St. Bernard, happy hellos and wuffs abounding.
Trudy came out, drying her hands on a dishtowel.
“Hello, George. Everything go well?”
“It did,” he said, almost as if he were surprised.
“I am just about to serve dinner. It’s only meatloaf. Please, you have to stay and eat. And tell us all about how Lewis handled the trip.”
“Yeah, stay, stay,” Alex called out from under Lewis.
“If it’s not too much trouble . . .”
* * *
On the way back from the Burdens’, George replayed some of the last few days.
Lewis proved to be an exceptionally easy passenger. He rode in the passenger seat most of the way. For a portion, he simply laid down on the carpeted floor of the kitchen/dining room, snoring audibly as George cruised north.
The first night, at the Freeport campgrounds, Lewis finished his dinner, then sat patiently while George ate a dinner of canned stew.
“It didn’t look like he wanted any,” George said. “He just sat and watched.”
“He doesn’t like stew,” Alex confirmed. “Even if Mom makes it. He doesn’t like it.”
Afterward, after dinner, the two of them walked around the campground. Lewis was on his leash, of course, but George imagined that he would not even need a leash. The only time Lewis left his side was to answer the call of nature.
“He saw other dogs and squirrels and a lot of people, but he stayed by my side. Unless I told him it was okay to meet somebody. You trained him well, Alex.”
The part of the journey George did not mention was the effect Lewis seemed to have on people. Or at least on one person. Maybe it was a fluke. That’s why George thought it best to keep this one to himsel
f.
After George shopped at the outlet store—he was after a few specific items—and only spent twelve minutes in the store, he came out and took Lewis for a walk.
People seemed to gravitate to Lewis, perhaps due to his size or his dignity or his deliberateness. He did not appear to be your standard sniff and bark sort of dog.
No, this one is different.
A woman came up to Lewis and George and bent down to talk to Lewis and, after only a moment or two, began to tell George of her family life and her troubles and the pain she was having with her young-est son.
I’m not the one you should be talking to, George thought as she kept on. You should talk to a friend or a counselor . . . or a priest or something.
It was what she said as she stood to leave.
“This dog . . . Lewis, you said? He’s a special one, all right. Like he’s listening to you. I think Lewis would want me to go home and tell my son how I feel. I think it’s what Lewis wants me to do.”
My wife could have handled this. I’m not sure I’m good at this. Telling the truth.
“Maybe you should do it,” George offered, unsure.
Lewis just wuffed.
Twice.
George pulled into the parking lot of his apartment and turned off the engine.
He sat for a while, thinking.
I said I was going to do this, and I am.
21
George had not made more of his date of departure—his departure to see America—than he had about any other date. His birthday would have slipped past, unobserved and mostly unnoticed, save for the birthday card and telephone call from his daughter.
There were no family members left in George’s immediate family to wish him birthday greetings. He was an only child of only children.
And to the few friends he maintained in Gloucester, he had made it abundantly clear he disliked any manner of birthday fuss.
The two weeks before his leaving, he had emptied his apartment of all perishables. He cleaned the refrigerator thoroughly and left it unplugged. The few canned and unopened boxed foods remaining that he did not want to take with him, he delivered to the local food pantry.
Well before his departure, he had decided to keep the apartment—and had just signed the lease for next year and paid the rent in full.
“It’s not expensive—and who knows?—maybe I’ll want to come back early. I would need a place to stay.”
