"I 'member the day my dog died." intoned the old man, wiping a tear from his eye as he rocked back and forth on the creaking porch. "I knowed in my bones so'thin' drea'ful was boun' t' happen that day the minute I woke up.
"It was the middle o' summer, July 22, but it was a cold, cloudy, dreary day; the kin' what makes a body feel sad an' lonesome fer no good reason.
"After bre'fast I decided t' take Morty -- that was my dog's name: Morty. Anyhow, like I was sayin', I decided t' take Morty t' the crick down by Ol' Merlow's place an' do a little fishin'. Morty was a-gettin' on in years but he shore loved t' romp aroun' by the crick. Warn't much else he liked t' do 'cep maybe sleepin' an' eatin'.
"Well, Ol' Morty din't seem hisself that day either. I guess the weather was a-gettin' him down too. He was slow an' dopey-like, kin'a like he was sad but din't know why. 'Stead o' rollin' in the weeds or splashin' after the ducks like he us'ally would, he jus' laid down by me, droopin' his muzzle 'tween his front legs.
"I'd been settin' there wettin' my line for an hour or two when all a sudden Morty commenced t' howlin' like a demon coyote right outta Hades. Damn near skeered me clean outta my skin."
The old man paused to take a long drink from his pocket flask. I never knew why he liked people to think he was a drinker, but I know for a fact he never filled that flask with anything stronger than iced tea.
"Ah, that shore goes down smooth." he said, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. He fished a crooked cigarette and wooden match from his shirt pocket, lit up, and continued his narrative.
"Ol' Morty was a-layin' there lookin' out acrost the fiel' t'ward what was left o' Ol' Merlow's barn after it burned in '26. His eyes was all wide an' his hair was stan'in' up on en' like so'thin' had put the fear o' God inna him.
"'What is it boy? Wha's got inna you?' I ast him, but he paid me no mine like he cou'n't hear me an' din't even know I was there no more. He jus' kep' on with that drea'ful howlin' o' his.
"'Come on, Mort! Ain't nothin' there but mice.' I said, but he kep' payin' me no mine.
"I could see he warn't gonna stop, so's I packed up my gear an' grapped him by the nape an' drug him home. B'time we'd got t' the road he'd stopped howlin', but he was wimp'rin' all the way home, where he crawled up unner the porch an' hid.
"Now 'long about supper time I went t' flush Ol' Morty out from unner the porch so's I could feed him, but he wou'n't come outta there. He warn't makin' no soun' or nothin' either, so's I wedged myse'f unner there bes' I could so's t' drag him out.
"Soon's I touched him I knowed he was dead. His leg was all stiff an' cold. I pulled him outta there an' saw he still had that wide-eyed look on his face. I cou'n't 'magine what coulda skeered him so's t' make him up an' die like that. It was makin' me feel a mite oneasy an' skeered myself t' think on it.
"I warn't feelin' p'tic'larly hungry no more, so's I skipped supper that night. 'Stead, I wrapped Morty up in a blanket an' buried him out back unner the ol' weepin' willa tree. He allays did like layin' in the shade o' that tree.
"I tried t' say some words over his grave, like I hoped he was in a better place an' such. It din't come out soundin' all that special tho, accoun' a me bein' a uneddicated man an' all, but I think Ol' Morty an' God got my meanin'. Mos'ly, I jus' cried. Y' can't have a dog for sixteen years an' not cry when he dies, don' matter how manly y' think y' are.
"Now I was gettin' almighty curious what set Morty off on his Great Reward like that, an' I got it in my head t' go back t' the crick. I grapped my shotgun -- I was feelin' a little spooked myse'f, like I said, an' din't want nothin' skeerin' me like it done Ol' Morty -- an' I drove on back out by Merlow's place.
"I walked over t' my fishin' spot an' cou'n't see nothin' outta the ord'nery, so's I set down fer a spell t' think on all the times me an' Morty had come there. I could feel another cry a-comin' on tho, so's I figgered I bes' get about my bi'ness.
"Warn't nothin' much t' see aroun' the crick like I said, so's I walked acrost the fiel' t' the barn Ol' Morty'd been aimin' his nose at. It still smelt like burnin' wood even tho the fire'd happened near ten years back.
"It was all shadowy in the barn accoun' o' it bein' ev'nin' an' the sun was a-goin' down, but I could still see good enough t' poke my way aroun' an' see if anythin' was outta sorts.
"It looked 'bout like what I 'spected it to, all dusty an' spider webby an' all. There warn't much t' see around the ol' horse stables an' feed troffs, but when I made my way t' the back of the barn my breath sorta hitched up in my ches'. Layin' there on the groun' was Jimmy, the Palmers' kid, with his head all cracked open like a Easter egg an' his arm off t' the side unnatur'l-like. He was dead as Ol' Morty. Looked t' me like he'd been a-playin' up in the hay lof' when a rotted burnt-up board give out, droppin' him t' the groun'.
"I went on back home an' called up Sheriff Braxton t' tell him what I foun', then set out here on the porch t' think on it some more.
"Now, there ain't no way Ol' Morty could-a seed thoo the wall o' that barn, but somehow he jus' knowed what happened t' the boy an' he went an' died a broken heart. Y' see, he an' Jimmy was right good fr'ens.
"Jimmy'd come over t' the house almos' ever' day after school an' play with Morty. They'd play catch, or hide an' go seek, or tug-a-rope, or some such. If it was too hot on a day, they'd jus' sprawl out unner the ol' willa tree eatin' ice cream or so'thin' t' stay cool. They was the bes' o' pals, them two.
"I dunno how he done it, but somehow Morty jus' knowed what come o' that boy an' it was more than he could take."
* * *
The old man died that night, peacefully in his sleep. The coroner told me he had never seen a happier looking body, smiling ear to ear the way he was. It has always been my belief that as he took his final breath, the old man saw Morty bounding toward him through the tunnel of light and had just enough time to smile in recognition of his old friend before his ties to this world were cut.
Merlow's barn was no longer around, having been torn down decades earlier. A mini-mall now stands where it once was, but Deerborn Creek still ripples along behind the video and 7-11 stores. I took the old man's ashes there and sprinkled them over the water where he loved to fish so many years ago. Before I left, I also dropped a dog biscuit into the water for Morty.
In loving memory of the three finest dogs I have
had the pleasure of knowing:
 Muffin (1979-1996) I miss you, buddy! |
 Phydough Alexander W Snerdmeyer (1987-1998) I'll see you in heaven, Phy! |
 Beau (1995-1998) Rest in peace, Beauzeau! |
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