The Feet of God

76 - I WAS AMONG FRIENDS

My past stood nearer than I cared to admit, while my future was an uncertain fate.  I took some comfort in my new soft clean clothes, even as they chaffed against the itchy scabby form I barely recognized as me.  But the show must go on, as someone said.  In my case, it’d be go’n on with the Cirque De Bizarro.

“We’d better get a move on,” Jimmy-Bob said.  “They’re pullin’ up stakes after tonight.”  As we walked outside he hollered out in anger, “Pulito!”  He turned to me.  “Damnation, I ain’t never seen an old dog like that so un-weaned.”

On the far side of the shed, in a pile of gas-stained rags, laid a skinny female hound with a nestled pack of nursing puppies.  And smack in the middle of all the action was that flea-bitten Pulito.

“He’s been suckin’ at that teat longer’n any natural animal ought,” Jimmy-Bob huffed.  He walked over and landed a firm kick to Pulito’s backside to send him off yelping.  “I don’t know what’s worse,” he spat on the ground in disgust, “him or the bitch that lets him in there.”

Jimmy-Bob bent down and scooped up one of the puppies.  “Why don’t you take this little feller to remember us by, and so you won’t be so alone no more on your travels.”

I took the squirming bundle into my arms.  This man’s generosity knew no bounds.  But the puppy represented a major new responsibility in my life, and I wasn’t in a position much better than the dog’s.  The more I pondered on this, the more I suspected I should get away from this man before his cumulative acts of kindness killed me.

“Think I could get another beer?” I asked.

“Help yourself.  Beer’s in the truck.  Come on, you’ll ride up front with me.”  Jimmy-Bob opened the passenger side door of the pickup and stood by to aid me with my crusted body’s slow and painful entry.  I plopped the puppy onto the seat and gingerly pulled myself up into the cab in measured movements.  As I settled myself on the seat I pulled a can out of the paper bag sitting on the floor and popped the top, tipped it back and sucked loudly at the liquid gold.  That beer done, I tossed the empty can out the window and reached for another.  Meanwhile, the puppy dog jumped onto my sore lap and started lapping at my mouth with tongue licks and hot dog breath.  I pushed him away and began rubbing his belly to keep him occupied while I enjoyed my beverage.

Jimmy-Bob hopped into the driver’s side and gave the pup a scratch or two himself.  “He takes after his father.  Hey, you could call him Pulito II.  Ya know, like a dog sequel.”

“Sounds good,” I replied.

My ride backed out onto the dirt road and then slammed the truck in gear, pressed the pedal to the metal, and we spun a rooster tail of dirt down the road.

Pulito II was past a passive belly rub and was now all over, licking and jumping and sticking his head out my window.  Jimmy-Bob regarded me with a side glance over his shoulder, “My brother said you was pretty hard up and all, travelin’ and everything, and well, we just wanted to help you out.”  He nodded and smiled at me.

“I owe you a whole lot for all you done.”

“T’ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do for one of my own,” Jimmy-Bob nodded again like he was convicted in this opinion.

Without realizing it, I’d begun to hug Pulito II tight, his warm puppy belly close to mine, and as we bounced along in the dying light of the Tennessee countryside that son of a bitch begun to pee all over me.