you.”
That was as far as we had gotten, as much information as had been disclosed. We were three women sitting on the floor crying, with a suitcase the size of a Buick lodged halfway in and halfway out of the open front door. We were contemplating the institution of marriage, how it might fail or succeed, when Tom walked in and found us there. Stamp, startled from his sound sleep, woke up and bit him.
chapter five
T OM SHOOK HIS LEG . H E GAVE THREE GOOD KICKS before the dog disengaged. As soon as Stamp no longer had his mouth full of my husband’s calf, he started barking and growling as if he was thinking about going in for more. Who’s to say he wouldn’t have except for Kay getting her hand under the collar and holding him back.
“Look at that,” Taffy said. “You’re the first person that dog’s ever bitten.”
I scrambled up from the floor. “Are you okay?”
“Dad, are you all right?”
“Except for Neddy. He did bite Neddy.”
“Jesus!” Tom leaned against the suitcase, holding one foot off the floor.
“Did he break the skin?” Kay said.
“I think he might have broken the bone.” Tom winced and cupped one hand under his knee. “Did you train the dog to do that?”
“He never does that,” Taffy said, clinging to the last thin strands of denial. Stamp was still racing toward Tom while Kay held him in place by his collar, his nails clacking ceaselessly to nowhere on the wood floor.
“You just said he bites Uncle Neddy,” Kay said.
“That’s entirely different.”
“Has he had all of his shots?” I asked. I didn’t want to think of Tom with rabies.
Taffy took the question as a complete affront to her competence as a pet owner. “What a thing to ask. Of course he’s had his shots.”
Stamp was barking like a maniac again. Kay tried holding his snout closed, but it wasn’t possible.
“Kay, get your hand away from its mouth,” Tom said.
“He’s not going to bite Kay,” Taffy said. “Stamp, stop it now.”
Stamp ignored her. He kept on barking, scrambling forward to nowhere.
I knew it was up to me to look at Tom’s leg. I was the wife. Somewhere in the marriage vows was an unspoken clause that you’re the one who has to assess all bloody wounds. I wished that I could say that Tom was one to exaggerate injury, but he was a stoic. I’d seen him go to trial with a fever of a hundred and three and never issue a complaint.
I knelt back down. I held his shoe in my hand. There was a long, jagged tear in his suit pants (how he loved that suit, and it should have gone to Goodwill two years ago), and the edges were dark and wet. This wasn’t going to be good. I found the indefatigable barking more wearing than the vacuum cleaner.
“How does it look?” Tom said.
“I’m not there yet.”
“Taffy, if it isn’t asking too much, maybe you could put Cujo here in the back? I don’t want him getting excited by the sight of blood.” Tom kept his eyes closed. He didn’t raise his voice.
Taffy got off of the floor and picked Stamp up. Kay kept a hand on his collar until the last possible second. As soon as Taffyhad him in her arms, he went limp, relaxed by his enormous output of energy. “You’ve got to remember he’s a dog,” Taffy said.
“I remember he’s a dog,” Tom said.
I was still holding his foot. I pulled back one edge of the torn pants like a curtain. There were two deep punctures, each jagged at the bottom where the dog had tried to hang on while Tom shook him off, each pumping a steady supply of blood into my husband’s sock.
“This has been a traumatic time for him. Dogs have an excellent sense of what’s going on around them. When you came in and startled him—”
“Taffy,” Tom whispered.
“What?”
“Go put the dog in the back.”
She sighed. Even if she had wanted to defend Stamp, she never would have won. Tom was a professional, after all.
“So, is this a trip to the hospital?” Tom asked.
“Oh, I’d think so. You haven’t
That was as far as we had gotten, as much information as had been disclosed. We were three women sitting on the floor crying, with a suitcase the size of a Buick lodged halfway in and halfway out of the open front door. We were contemplating the institution of marriage, how it might fail or succeed, when Tom walked in and found us there. Stamp, startled from his sound sleep, woke up and bit him.
chapter five
T OM SHOOK HIS LEG . H E GAVE THREE GOOD KICKS before the dog disengaged. As soon as Stamp no longer had his mouth full of my husband’s calf, he started barking and growling as if he was thinking about going in for more. Who’s to say he wouldn’t have except for Kay getting her hand under the collar and holding him back.
“Look at that,” Taffy said. “You’re the first person that dog’s ever bitten.”
I scrambled up from the floor. “Are you okay?”
“Dad, are you all right?”
“Except for Neddy. He did bite Neddy.”
“Jesus!” Tom leaned against the suitcase, holding one foot off the floor.
“Did he break the skin?” Kay said.
“I think he might have broken the bone.” Tom winced and cupped one hand under his knee. “Did you train the dog to do that?”
“He never does that,” Taffy said, clinging to the last thin strands of denial. Stamp was still racing toward Tom while Kay held him in place by his collar, his nails clacking ceaselessly to nowhere on the wood floor.
“You just said he bites Uncle Neddy,” Kay said.
“That’s entirely different.”
“Has he had all of his shots?” I asked. I didn’t want to think of Tom with rabies.
Taffy took the question as a complete affront to her competence as a pet owner. “What a thing to ask. Of course he’s had his shots.”
Stamp was barking like a maniac again. Kay tried holding his snout closed, but it wasn’t possible.
“Kay, get your hand away from its mouth,” Tom said.
“He’s not going to bite Kay,” Taffy said. “Stamp, stop it now.”
Stamp ignored her. He kept on barking, scrambling forward to nowhere.
I knew it was up to me to look at Tom’s leg. I was the wife. Somewhere in the marriage vows was an unspoken clause that you’re the one who has to assess all bloody wounds. I wished that I could say that Tom was one to exaggerate injury, but he was a stoic. I’d seen him go to trial with a fever of a hundred and three and never issue a complaint.
I knelt back down. I held his shoe in my hand. There was a long, jagged tear in his suit pants (how he loved that suit, and it should have gone to Goodwill two years ago), and the edges were dark and wet. This wasn’t going to be good. I found the indefatigable barking more wearing than the vacuum cleaner.
“How does it look?” Tom said.
“I’m not there yet.”
“Taffy, if it isn’t asking too much, maybe you could put Cujo here in the back? I don’t want him getting excited by the sight of blood.” Tom kept his eyes closed. He didn’t raise his voice.
Taffy got off of the floor and picked Stamp up. Kay kept a hand on his collar until the last possible second. As soon as Taffyhad him in her arms, he went limp, relaxed by his enormous output of energy. “You’ve got to remember he’s a dog,” Taffy said.
“I remember he’s a dog,” Tom said.
I was still holding his foot. I pulled back one edge of the torn pants like a curtain. There were two deep punctures, each jagged at the bottom where the dog had tried to hang on while Tom shook him off, each pumping a steady supply of blood into my husband’s sock.
“This has been a traumatic time for him. Dogs have an excellent sense of what’s going on around them. When you came in and startled him—”
“Taffy,” Tom whispered.
“What?”
“Go put the dog in the back.”
She sighed. Even if she had wanted to defend Stamp, she never would have won. Tom was a professional, after all.
“So, is this a trip to the hospital?” Tom asked.
“Oh, I’d think so. You haven’t
Similar Books
