"Edgar, he'll be here before you know it."
Sig repeated the phrase for the third time in the last thirty minutes. In regards to their father's extended fishing trips, the same phrase had been said so often by their mother over the years, it tended to roll off Sig's tongue like someone imprinted the words in his brain.
"He should have been home by now," Edgar said as he picked at his lasagna.
"If it was a normal day, yes, he would have been home by now," Sig purposefully sounded calm, throwing in a pinch of irritation over Edgar's fretting. He hoped the mixture of both would ease Edgar's nerves and get the kid to realize he was worried about nothing. At least that's what Sig kept telling himself…over and over. "To be honest, if Norman had come home on time, I'd be pretty pissed off."
Edgar balanced his fork between his fingertips, "Why?"
"Because it meant that he wasn't careful about driving home in this shi…crap," Sig said firmly, standing up and clearing his plate and utensils. He glanced at Edgar's square of meaty lasagna and noticed the young teen had barely eaten more than two bites. "Eat, will ya? Please," Sig made a sour puss on his face, trying to get Edgar to smile.
With a sigh, Edgar bowed his head and forced another bite. His stomach was a tangled mess. Every minute that went by without Norman's truck pulling into the driveway added another wrinkle to his small intestines and the last thing he could think about was being hungry.
Sig turned and dropped his plate into the sink, glancing inconspicuously at the clock over the stove. It was close to 8:15. Norman got off work at 7:00. It's a fifteen minute drive from the hardware store to here. My brother's just taking his time, driving slowly and coming straight home…just like I told him to. There's nothing to worry about and, even if there was, I can't let Edgar see I'm worried.
Hail and heavy rain were pounding off the glass windows of the house and the occasional lighting strikes followed by low rumbles of thunder shook the ground underneath of them. Although it was summer and the sun wouldn't be setting for another hour, it might as well be nighttime. The skies were dark and ominous and sunset had become a forgotten event.
Sitting back down at the kitchen table, Sig tried to sound cheery, "Dukes of Hazzard comes on tonight."
"TV's out," Edgar mumbled with a mouth full of lasagna. Swallowing, he added, "It's been out since we got home."
"You want to play cards, then?" Sig asked straight-faced, "I can show you how to play poker."
In unison, Sig and Edgar looked at each other and offered the other a weak, half-hearted smile. It would have been a funny joke if last night's recollections were not so fresh in their minds.
Their day together had been a long one and it was starting to show. The morning's discussions took a toll on both of them, despite their respective naps. Then, after the excursions to the bank, Taco Bell, the hardware and grocery stores and Nick's house, the two of them returned home to find their basement taking on water.
After an hour of mopping and drying, Edgar found a way to fix the mechanical failure in the sump-pump. With his little brother's instructions, Sig rigged the broken part and the water began receding. Regardless of the grueling process, the brothers enjoyed working with each other, although Sig did a majority of the hard labor.
Once the groceries were unpacked, Sig and Edgar took some extra things purchased at the store and went over to check on their neighbor, Mr. Steward. The elderly gentleman was grateful for the bag of food and company, considering the lack of his favorite TV programs, and the three of them ended up visiting for longer than expected.
By the time the boys returned home, there was no time for baking a cake. Sig prepped for dinner while Edgar accomplished the simple chore of dusting the house.
The little brother knew his chore list extended well beyond dusting but Sig insisted he rest his hands and avoid causing further damage by pushing himself. Then the youngest brother laid down on the sofa and tried to read. On his belly, he could look into the kitchen and watch his oldest brother making dinner. The sounds of the clattering pots and pans filled him with a sense of home and normalcy and he ended up watching more than he read.
When dinnertime rolled around, the house smelled of lasagna and fresh bread. Although they waited as long as they could, by 7:45, Norman had still not arrived home and Sig insisted they start eating without him.
As Edgar came into the kitchen, he found a soft pillow thoughtfully placed on his seat at the kitchen table. He had no idea when it got there but he knew who left it. Embarrassed to thank his oldest brother for the kind gesture, Edgar simply sat down and tried to eat.
At the present, the oldest and youngest brother were still eating and waiting, both trying not to watch the clock as each minute past without a middle brother coming through the back door.
"I think I know how to play a little poker already," Edgar quipped with a smile.
Sig lifted an eyebrow, "Oh, a shark, are ya?"
"Ummm," Edgar grinned shyly, "Maybe I could teach you a thing or two."
"I'd like to see that," Sig muttered sarcastically. "Anyway," the eldest brother grew serious, leaning his elbows on the table, "I invited Nick and Matt to come with us to the lake for 4th of July."
"That's so cool!" Edgar said excitedly, showing joy for the first time in a long while, "I never got to take a friend before."
Sig laughed at Edgar's enthusiastic reaction, "He's been a good friend to you."
Edgar raised an eyebrow, looking just like his oldest brother.
"Oh, yeah, you two have gotten into your share of troubles…but Matt's a great kid…just like you are," Sig truthfully explained.
"He's the only friend I have left," Edgar mentioned with a sad smile.
That reminds me. Sig sighed, at a loss for how to talk about this topic. He went for the traditional, summer 'adult to child' question, "Are you looking forward to going back to school?"
Edgar stared at Sig like he just lost his mind. "Hell, no!" the words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them.
"Edgar," Sig admonished him gently.
"Sorry," Edgar let his fork drop on the plate, "But I hate school. You know that."
"It can't all be bad," Sig said encouragingly, "What about middle school sports, like soccer and baseball?"
Looking off into the distance, Edgar pursed his lips together, debating on whether or not he should tell Sig he planned on quitting soccer in the fall. He's gonna find out anyway. "I'm not doing soccer in the fall."
Sig's eyes narrowed to slits, "You love soccer. Why not?"
Edgar picked up his fork and began pushing his food around, making a little mountain range of lasagna noodles, "I just don't want to play anymore. It's too much with school and the riding circuit and stuff at home. I don't have time."
"You can make time," Sig pushed.
"It's too much."
"You've always made time before."
"That was different."
"How so?"
"Just was."
"How?"
Edgar raised his voice, coming close to yelling, "Mom was around, OK!"
Sig leaned back in his chair, his shoulders slumping and bowing his head. Still, he refused to give up, "Dad will take you to your games. He'll come and watch you play."
"Yeah, and complain the whole fucking time," Edgar got up suddenly, pushing his chair back with such force, it almost tipped over. Scooping up his plate and utensils, the youngest brother came close to slamming them into the sink and breaking the glass. Edgar stood at the sink, staring out the window and into the storm. He wondered which one was worse; the one outside or the one inside his heart.
Wisely, Sig ignored the language and hostility seething out of his youngest brother. In reality, he was grateful Edgar was showing his true emotions. The kid has every right to be pissed off. God knows I am. And he's correct; Dad will be his usual grouchy self when it comes to carpooling around with the other soccer moms. But the Old Man has to face our new family arrangements just like the rest of us and that comes with all kinds of new responsibilities we never had to worry about before.
Sig stood up and walked over to his brother, coming up from behind him and putting two soft hands on either of Edgar's rigid shoulders. He pulled his brother back slightly, molding Edgar's back to his own solid chest. "Then you let him complain and ignore it," Sig spoke quietly.
Some of the rigidity left Edgar's shoulders and leaned back. "It's hard, Sig," the youngest brother softened his voice, "He seems so mad all the time. It makes me nervous."
"Then Norman can go with you." Sig frowned. That is if he ever makes it home tonight. "Norman has a way of deflecting Dad's anger and annoyance onto himself. It's one of his many hidden talents."
"Norman will be busy with work and school," Edgar said with lowly acceptance, "He has his own friends and his own life."
"Kid…"
"No," the young teenager pulled away from his brother and turned around to face him. "Things are different now. It's just the way things are." Edgar's green eyes turned hard and unwavering, like his dreams for his future had just been eradicated and he was trying to 'take it like a man', "I'm not doing soccer in the fall…and maybe not even motorbike racing anymore."
Sig's expression fell to the floor. The look on Edgar's face was so pained and broken and Sig felt it was his duty to fight off whatever was causing his little brother so much anguish. He opened his mouth to fight an argument that could not be won when two headlights turned into the driveway.
"This discussion is far from over," Sig said firmly, pointing in Edgar's direction, "I'm not letting you throw away all the things you love because Dad's miserable to be around. THAT is NOT happening." And I can add another thing to the list of things I need to talk to Dad about when he gets home.
Edgar was so relieved to see the lights of the Ford pick-up truck, he let the discussion go. I know I'm right, Sig. You're the one that can't face it. Dad's an old dog and you can't teach old dogs new tricks. "Sorry for cussing," Edgar whispered quickly before Norman came into the house.
"Should I get the soap out for your mouth," Sig cocked his head mockingly.
Edgar gasped, "Would you do that?"
"No way, kid," Sig's face broke into a wide smile, "I always considered that a barbaric practice, along with writing lines and making a tender backside sit on a hard chair." He ruffled his brother's silky hair and nodded over to the pillow that had mysteriously appeared on Edgar's chair before dinner.
"It's not so bad, Sig," Edgar dropped his guard, "I can barely feel it anymore. My hands, on the other hand…" Edgar made a funny face. "…guess that's pretty funny, my hands on the other hand."
"Hysterical," Sig said flatly, "And you will be taking something for them in a few minutes…" he opened the back storm door, pushing out the screen door with his left hand for Norman's easy entrance, "…just like I'll be taking something for my jaw right along with you."
The oldest brother was looking over at Edgar who was standing by the sink so he never watched Norman approaching the house and coming up the porch steps.
Needless to say, when Norman got to the opened screen door, soaked from head to toe and covered in mud from his shoes to his knees and all over his shirt, Sig was mildly shocked. What turned out to be more shocking was the bundle of wet, muddy-matted fur being held in the middle brother's strong arms.
As Norman stepped into the house, his mouth was already moving, "Now, Sig, I can explain…"
"A DOG!" Sig shouted when he realized there were two ears, two brown eyes and a pink nose attached to the bundle in his younger brother's arms.
"WHAT?" Edgar exclaimed, his vision hampered by the kitchen counter. He walked past the sink and hanging cabinets to come in full view of the cutest, dirtiest dog he'd ever seen in his life.
The poor creature was covered in mud so it was impossible to tell what color the fur was supposed to be but its ribs showed clearly through the matted fur and it was obvious the medium-size dog hadn't eaten in a while. Still, the dog didn't struggle in its captive's brawny arms, only rested its head against Norman's chest and shook like a leaf.
Sig took a step back and glared at Norman so hard it was a miracle the middle brother wasn't bowled over by the look alone.
Shifting the dog's weight, Norman launched into the speech he rehearsed on the drive home, "I found her on the side of the road…right before the bridge on Rt 22. She almost got hit by a car. I pulled over and it took me forever to find her hiding out in the woods. I couldn't leave her out in this storm so…I brought her home."
"You brought her home?" Sig repeated the words like they were foreign to him.
"Oh my God, she's so sweet," Edgar shimmied past his oldest brother to inspect the frightened animal. He held out his hand, palm up, and let the dog take a whiff of his scent. The dog lifted her head off of Norman's chest and smelled the offered hand. Then, she gave the lasagna-scented fingers a good lick. Turning liquid brown eyes to the young boy, she panted, almost smiling.
"You brought her home," Sig seemed stuck on those four words.
"Well…" Norman said cautiously, taking a slow, timid step into the house with the animal in his arms. He was truly afraid Sig would to tell him both he and the dog could go sleep in the truck tonight. "…I couldn't leave her out there. She could get killed in this weather. Ain't got no tags. I checked."
"She probably belongs to someone, Norman," Sig felt his world spinning, "She probably got scared off by the storm and escaped out of someone's back yard."
"Maybe," Norman took another brave step into the kitchen, easing both him and the dog into the house, "But wherever she came from, she's not getting any food. Her ribs are sticking out."
By this time, Edgar was petting the lost animal on her muddy forehead and staring lovingly into those piercing brown eyes. He leaned in and was rewarded with a doggy kiss from a warm, pink tongue, the only part of the canine not covered in filth
Sig crossed his arms, "Wherever she came from, she can go…"
"Can we keep her?" Edgar turned pleading eyes to his oldest brother. The dog followed the boy's gaze over to the oldest brother, noticing him for the first time.
From the second the animal came into the house, those were the four words Sig was dreading. Unfortunately, he had to hear them several more times that night.
"Can we? Can we keep her?" Edgar asked again, his young voice bordering on a frenzied tone, "Can we keep her, Sig? Please?"
Now Edgar seemed stuck on the same four words and it was only the beginning. Norman wisely kept his mouth shut. He wanted to join with Edgar's pleas but, reading the frustrated look on Sig's face, he sensed ganging up on his older brother wouldn't help the dog's chances. Instead, he pulled out his best 'puppy-dog' eyes and shot them back at the tall blond scowling at him.
Sig was left with three pairs of eyes burning a hole in his heart, one the same blue as his own, one the color of his mother's and a new pair of deep brown that seemed to be making a case on her own behalf. As much as he wanted to put the dog out, he simply couldn't. He was too softhearted and the damn dog was just too cute.
Oh for the love of God…. "Just until we find her owners," Sig declared, "We'll put a notice in the Lost and Found section of the paper and call the pound to see if someone reported her missing. If no one comes, we can find her another…"
Edgar started bouncing up and down like a little girl, cheering and clapping his injured hands without feeling the pain. The boy was running on pure adrenaline.
The dog barked happily in response to the excitement, wagging her tail weakly against Norman's hip.
Norman hid a pumped fist under the dog's belly, breathlessly turning to his youngest brother and purposefully ignoring Sig, "Let's go give her a bath. I need one myself." He slipped off his good cowboy boots using the alternative foot and pushed them by the door.
Edgar took off from the kitchen, running through the house and calling back, "I'll run the water."
Norman followed him before Sig had a chance to finish his lecture.
Sig threw his hands up, watching his brothers leaving the kitchen. He hollered through the house, "Did you guys even hear me?"
"Fry up some ground meat while you're heating my dinner," Norman casually called back as he took the dog upstairs.
Fry up some fucking meat?! Jesus Christ! Irritated beyond belief, Sig took Norman's cowboys boots, opened the screen door and threw them out into the rain. Then he went to the cabinet and pulled out a frying pan, slamming it down onto the stovetop.
Mindlessly, he reheated the oven and retrieved a pound of frozen ground chuck out of the freezer. For good measure, he slammed it in the frying pan and clicked on the gas range. After throwing the lasagna pan in the oven, Sig mopped the kitchen floor, a string of foul swear words repeating over and over in his mind.
Finally, his conscious getting the better of him, he went outside and collected Norman's boots from the bottom of the porch steps. Placing the drenched cowboy boots by the back door, Sig lit a cigarette and tried to collect what was left of his sanity.
The bathtub was filled with one dog, a few inches of water and about a pound of mud. Using the detachable shower nozzle, Norman cleaned the animal free of mud, grass and got only knows what else.
The middle brother had stripped off his muddy clothes, leaving a large pile of dirty laundry on the bathroom floor. He gave the dog a bath in only his silky boxers, Edgar bouncing behind him and asking a hundred and one questions.
"What kind of dog do you think she is?" the youngest brother asked.
Norman shook his head, "Don't know. She looks like a lab but she's too small, maybe some kind of lab mix."
The patient dog looked around the tub, sniffing the containers of shampoo and soap. Standing perfectly still except for the shifting of her paws, the dog obediently allowed Norman to wash her off.
Edgar tried continuously to position himself around the tub to get a better look, "How old is she?"
"Young, I think. Her skin is pretty soft."
"She's got big paws."
"Maybe she's still a puppy."
"So she might be a full lab after all."
"Don't know."
"Should you be using human shampoo?"
"Probably not.'
"What are we going to name her?"
Oh, boy. Maybe we should ask Sig what he wants to name her. That should go over like a lead balloon. "Will you sit down," Norman commanded Edgar gently, "There's not a lot of room in here, kid, and your bouncing around is making me nervous."
"Sorry," Edgar apologized, taking a seat on the toilet, "I just wish I could help you. I hate that my hands are still messed up."
Norman rinsed the dog several times over, Edgar carefully inspecting his work. When he was done, he instructed his younger brother, "You can help me by getting some towels and finding mom's old hairdryer under the sink." At that moment, the dog decided to dry herself off. With a hearty shake, she shook water all over Norman and the bathroom walls.
"Ughhhh," Norman moaned, then laughed good-naturedly, "I forgot how hard this is. Sig will have a hissy fit if he sees this mess."
"She's a good dog," Edgar announced like a proud owner, "I can tell." He got up, returning a moment later with a stack of clean towel. Rooting under the sink, he found the pink hairdryer, lying untouched for over six months. "I hope this thing still works."
"Wellll," Norman grumbled as he picked up the wet dog from the tub, "There's only one way to find out."
Laughter coming from the bathroom could be heard throughout the entire house as the hairdryer turned on and the dog tried to get away.
Sig could hear his brothers chasing the dog around the upstairs, Norman laughing his ass off when the wet dog jumped into Sig's bed. Finally, the uproar died down as the dog was captured and effectively towel-dried free of moisture.
A moment later, the shower water started running and Edgar and the dog came bounding down the steps. The dog followed Edgar into the kitchen, looking around for the next exciting thing to happen. The smell of fresh cooked meat and warming lasagna must have been enticing to the starving animal and she stopped dead in her tracks, sniffing the air and salivating.
"She's beautiful, Sig," Edgar bounced into the kitchen, "You'd would have never known it but look at her now."
Sig looked up and straight ahead at the back of the stove. He didn't want to look at her. He knew he shouldn't. Inexplicably, he had already added some leftover brown gravy to the frying chuck meat, unconsciously trying to please the four-footed intruder.
Still, Edgar was unknowingly insistent, "She's just gorgeous. Look, Sig. Look."
Finally, Sig looked over at the archway between the living room and kitchen. Sitting there on her hind quarters was a pretty, cream-colored lab with soft, floppy ears that were too big for her head. She was painfully skinny but had the coat of a healthy dog and a long tail that was currently thumping against the floor. The dog cocked her head, staring longingly at the tall guy with the spatula, covered in greasy juices, in his hand.
"Hhhm," Sig quickly looked away before he overdosed on cuteness overload, grabbing a plastic bowl from the cabinet. He poured the contents of the frying pan into the bowl and set it on the counter to cool. "Where's your brother?" he asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice.
"He's cleaning up the bathroom and getting a shower," Edgar said distractedly, his eyes locked on the dog and her every move, her ever breath. The dog started sniffing around the kitchen, inspecting her new, strange surroundings.
Sig sighed, "Go lay out some newspaper on the garage floor."
"Good idea," Edgar said, happily walking off into the garage.
Glancing at the floor as the animal sniffed the refrigerator, Sig muttered low, "And what the hell am I gonna do with YOU?"
As if the dog understood the questioning tone, she stopped sniffing and looked up.
"This is fucking great," Sig complained to the dog, "Just fucking great." He turned back to the bowl of ground beef and picked it up, setting it on the floor in front of the animal.
The dog backed up at first, as if she'd never seen food before.
"Well, I made it for YOU," Sig grumbled, "You better eat it. That should have been in our beef stew for Sunday."
Tentatively, the dog approached the bowl. With several hesitant sniffs, she looked up at Sig, almost expecting him to take the food away from her.
"It's yours now. We won't be using it," Sig softened his tone, unable to help himself under the gaze of those brown eyes.
When the bowl still remained on the floor, the dog crouched up next to it and took her first bite. After one bite, the hungry animal was hooked, gobbling up the food like she hadn't eaten in weeks.
"Easy, girl," Sig leaned down and patted the dog's head, "Nobody's gonna take it from you. Take your time." The oldest brother had to admit, she was a lovely dog and had fur as soft as velvet under his hand.
"You like her?" Edgar asked from the doorway. He had watched his eldest brother petting the dog in silence for a few seconds, his hopes going sky high at the possibility Sig might be getting attached.
"I think he does," Norman came through the living room, observing the same sweet interaction. He had a large bundle of laundry in his hands and he was wearing only a pair of sweatpants and socks. Bare-chested, he was mud-free and smelled like Dove soap.
Sig stood up like he'd been caught cheating on his math exam. "It doesn't matter what I think," he groused, "And put a freaking shirt on!"
Norman turned and disappeared into the laundry room. The sounds of the washing machine began to drown out the sounds of the storm still raging outside.
Sig pulled the lasagna pan out of the oven and placed it on the stovetop. Encouragingly, he asked the lanky boy in the garage doorway, "Edgar, did you want more supper? You didn't eat a whole lot"."
"No, thanks," Edgar walked slowly over to the dog, engrossed in watching the animal eat. "Don't you think we should give her some water, too?"
In response to the question, Norman came in the room, fresh shirt from the folded clothes in the laundry room slung around his shoulders, and walked over to the sink, "We could both use some. I'm thirsty after chasing her around in the pouring rain. I'm lucky I had my Mag-Light in the truck or I would have never found her." He filled another plastic bowl up with water and placed it on the floor next to the bowl of food, at least what was left of the dog's food. Then, he poured himself a drink of cool water in a glass and grabbed an empty plate.
"Yes, I'm ever soooo grateful that you had your Mag-Light," Sig sneered at his younger brother.
Shoving his oldest brother to the side, Norman scooped out two large squares of lasagna, ripped off a quarter of the fresh bread loaf and settled himself down at the kitchen table with a large, anticipatory sigh. Sig shot a sideways look towards Norman that read: There's a lot we need to talk about later, if I don't kill you before then.
"I told you to put a shirt on," Sig fussed.
"It's on," Norman smiled, pulling on either side of the t-shirt resting across his shoulders.
"ALL the way on."
"Fine," Norman took the shirt off his shoulders and placed it over his upper body correctly. Mom would not allow me to come to the dinner table half-dressed so I don't know why I'm pushing my luck with Sig. Maybe he's the 'new' Dad in my life; someone to annoy. Dressed, the middle brother dug into this meal.
The noise of Norman's gobbling and the dog's lapping of water were harmonious with each other. Edgar crouched on the floor, mesmerized by the canine method of getting a drink, tongue bent backwards to serve as a private ladle.
Sig stood back, staring at the scene around him. It was his kitchen, these were his brothers, but there was someone else's dog slobbering water from the plastic bowl onto the floor. Edgar was hanging close by the dog, waiting for its next move. Sig couldn't understand what Edgar's fascination was with the dog. It's not like the kid hasn't had a dog before. He should know what they do.
Still, Edgar's mind had become a one track train of thought, like planning on long walks to the park and taking the dog to the lake. Mainly, the youngest brother felt an overwhelming sense of completeness, as if the dog was heaven-sent and meant to ease his constant loneliness and calm his nerves.
"Edgar," Sig asked gently, "Can you take the dog in the garage and show her where to…to go?"
Pleased to help out, Edgar stood up and called the dog to his side with a pat of his hand to his thigh. Making kissy sounds out to the garage, the young teen coaxed the hesitant dog though the doorway and into the attached garage.
"See if you can find Jack's old collar, leash and dog bowls while you're out there," Norman called after him, moving onto his second helping of lasagna, "They should be in the storage box above the shelves on the side. Red box, blue top, left hand side, last time I saw them. Bring all the dog stuff back with you when you come in."
"OK," Edgar hollered happily from the garage.
"WHAT FOR?" Sig hissed softly through clenched teeth, low enough for only Norman to hear him. He walked around the kitchen table and over to the garage door, closing it quietly so he and Norman could have a few moments alone.
"For the dog, butt munch," Norman swallowed and flashed Sig an exasperated look, "Duh."
"I am going to strangle you," Sig yelled in a whisper, coming close to getting into Norman's face as he hovered over the table.
"Dad will just…"
"DAD is the last damn thing I'm worried about," Sig slammed his hand on the table, "She's NOT our dog, Norman. What happens when her owners coming looking for her? What then? You gonna hold that kid while he cries his eyes out because, yet again, he's lost another thing he loves. Did you think about that? Did you?"
"NO," Norman fired back, "I was too busy trying to save the dog's life and not get killed myself."
"It was a stupid, stupid thing to do, bringing that damn mutt home," Sig said as he paced around the kitchen table, glaring at Norman as he past him.
"Fuck off, Sig," Norman raised his voice, staring his brother down, "You would have done the same damn thing if you'd been there and don't for one second think of trying to tell me otherwise."
Sig opened his mouth, stopped and closed his lips. He sighed disgustedly and turned away, looking out the window and into the darkness. I absolutely HATE it when he's right.
"It was the right thing to do," Norman said, reading his brother's mind and pushing his luck.
Sig huffed, turning his head to the side and catching Norman's gaze out of the corner of his eye, "And the right thing to do is to try and find her owners. You DO know that, right?"
Norman looked down at his plate, bowing his head and studying the patterns left by the oozing spaghetti sauce. "Maybe no one will come for her," he said hopefully, staring at the back of Sig's blond head.
"We'll have to wait and see, won't we?" Sig sighed, feeling extremely frustrated by the new wrinkle in their lives, "Everyday now, that kid…" he pointed to the garage door, "…is gonna live on pins and needles, praying the phone doesn't ring or no one knocks on our door. It's like he'll be back to waiting for the other shoe to drop and I can't fucking stand that."
"He won't be the only one," Norman announced shyly, picking up his plate and depositing it in the sink. It was impossible to eat with Sig in the room, complaining and moaning about the dog. The oldest brother's negative vibes turned Norman's stomach, along with the image of Edgar's crestfallen face if the dog's owners did respond to their efforts in finding them. Seeing the rest of the dirty dinner dishes, the middle brother filled up the sink and began washing the dirty plates. Sig pulled up the bowls from the floor and added them to the pile.
Norman seemed lost in thought. Finally, he announced with his hands covered in suds, "If someone comes for her, we'll get Edgar another dog."
"Oh, Jesus, Norman, he's gonna get attached to this one," Sig grumbled as he packed up the leftover lasagna, "I don't think his affection…"
"Found it!" Edgar announced, opening the garage door and walking back into the kitchen, leash and old dog bowls in hand, "And I think she's at least paper trained cause she…."
"No need for details," Sig took the leash and hung it up on the key hooks by the back door. Inwardly, he smiled, remembering Jack and the honorary place for the dog leash. Jack loved walks, but yet again, what dog doesn't. He looked down at the shy dog hanging by Edgar's ankles, practically hiding behind his legs. God help me. "Just leave the garage door open tonight and the kitchen light on. She can find her way. We'll keep her in the kitchen tonight."
"Can we give her a name, Sig?" Edgar asked quietly, "Seems silly to call her dog or girl, doesn't it?"
Oh God, not a name…please…not a name. "Ummm, maybe just 'girl' for now, huh, kid?" the eldest brother reached over and stroked his youngest brother's hair. "We have to make a good effort to find her people. It would be a shame to give her a name that isn't hers."
"What's on TV tonight," Norman called from the sink, trying to change the topic, "Oh, it's Friday night…Dukes of Hazzard should be on."
"Naw, TV's out," Edgar explained.
"That sucks," Norman was disappointed. The General Lee was one of his favorite shows, regardless of the fact that the General was a Dodge. "You know, if the dog were a boy…" he looked over quickly at Sig, apologetically, "…and ours…we could have named him Duke. Duke's a great name for a dog…a boy dog, that is."
Edgar didn't have to think for more than a second. The name jumped out at him like it was meant to be. "Daisy," he said flatly, watching the dog's ears perk up, "We'll call her Daisy," he declared proudly, adding under Sig's stern glare, "…if she stays, that is."
"UMMM," Norman murmured appreciatively, "I always liked her short, short shorts. I wonder how she gets…"
Sig coughed inconspicuously, interrupting Norman's thoughts on Daisy Duke's attire. "Kid, IF is the big word," he crossed his arms and leaned against the counter top, "Even if we can't find her owners, Dad still has to say it's OK for us to have a dog…and that's an even bigger IF."
"God, that would suck if Dad makes us take her to the pound or give her away," Norman started regretting not taking the long way home.
You couldn't have realized that earlier…like before you brought the dog into our house and our lives? Sig no longer wished to talk about the dog and changed the topic, "What sucks is mopping up the basement because we were taking on water."
Norman was instantly concerned, "Sump pump again?"
"Yep."
"I showed him how to fix it," Edgar said proudly, "Just like you showed me that one time, Norm."
"Edgggar," Sig feigned indignation, "I thought you came up with that idea."
The youngest brother only shrugged innocently and walked away, the dog following him to the living room sofa. The two of them laid down on the couch and curled up together, watching the lightning illumining the night sky. Edgar stroked the dog's fur and whispered things into her ears that were only for her to hear.
"Jesus," Sig muttered low from the kitchen doorway to his younger brother, "The dog's on the furniture already."
Norman looked beyond Sig's gaze. Edgar and the dog looked comfortably snuggled up together like they had known each other all their lives. The middle brother whispered to Sig, "It looks like we just got replaced by a dog."
The remainder of the evening was spent with the boys discussing mundane things and making plans for the 4th of July. The three of them, plus one dog, hung out in the living room and talked for hours.
Since the weather was cool, Sig started a fire in the fireplace. The fire turned out to be an excellently timed idea since the house lost power five minutes after the fire was started. The washing machine stopped in mid-cycle, dirty laundry and towels sitting in wait to be rinsed off.
Norman expressed his sincere hope that Amanda would be allowed to come to the lake. Edgar added casually that it would be nice if Amanda brought her sister with her. Norman and Sig looked knowingly over at each other but said nothing. Sig mentioned Nick and Matt were coming. Norman kept his mouth shut.
Finally, several hours later, the power came back on and Sig extinguished the fire. The washing machine picked up where it left off.
Deciding that the day had been long enough, Sig instructed his youngest brother to get ready for bed.
Edgar gave his oldest brother one last pleading look for the night, "Can Daisy…I mean the dog…sleep in my room?"
"No," Sig said gently, looking at the sleeping dog snoring on the sofa, "She's a nice, dog, Edgar, but we don't know anything about her. She may not have had her shots and who knows what she's been through. I shouldn't have even allowed her on the sofa with you." The oldest brother sighed, feeling like an old 'softie.' "I think it's better if we leave her down here. She can stay right where she is. She seems comfortable enough."
"Yes, sir," Edgar said glumly, giving the sleeping dog one last stroke of her head. He stood up and headed up the stairs.
"Your hands still hurt?" Sig asked, looking back over the sofa.
Edgar actually had to think about it. His hands had been the last things on his mind since the dog came in the house. "No," he said quietly, "Not anymore."
"I wish I could say the same thing for my jaw," the oldest brother admitted.
"That bad?" Norman asked.
"Yeah," Sig confessed, "It's getting worse every day."
Edgar asked shyly from the steps, "You still have to go to work this weekend?"
"Yeah, buddy," Sig said, standing up and leaving for the kitchen, "Go…" he pointed up the steps, "Teeth."
"Yes, sir," Edgar climbed the stairs.
Norman got up and followed Sig into the kitchen. "You want me to go with you on Wednesday?"
"No," Sig answered, "I'm going to the oral surgeon right after work."
"Well," Norman grabbed a kitchen chair, "I'll want a full report when you get home." He shot Sig a seriously fake stern look and carried the chair into the living room.
Sig grabbed another chair and followed Norman, "I'll get the doctor to write everything down for you. How 'bout that?"
The two oldest brothers blocked the bottom of the steps with the makeshift doggy gate and climbed over, heading upstairs after their youngest brother.
In the wee hours of night, 'Daisy' woke from her slumber, feeling better than she had in a long time. Her belly was full and she was no longer wet and afraid. It took her a few minutes to remember where she was. This is a nice house, a lot better than my old one. These guys seem nice. They like each other and they smell the same. I think they are from the same litter. It feels like home here but there's sadness in this house and I don't understand why.
My first house, at least the only one I can remember, was very small and there were a lot of mean kids. At first, they seemed to like me, bringing me home from the pound when that big tree was in their living room. They called me 'Sandy' but, to be honest, I never really liked the name. I answered to it because I wanted to make them happy.
But once the tree got thrown out, I got thrown out into the yard.
I don't know what I did wrong. I went on the paper like they told me too. Of course I had a few accidents but I'm only a year old. I did chew a few things I shouldn't have but they didn't give me any toys to play with and I was bored. I know I could have been better but I tried. I really tried.
I lived out in the yard for a time, I don't know how long, cause I'm not really good with telling time. I know hot and cold & light and dark but that's about it. Then, one day, the big truck came and the family put a lot of stuff in it. Before I knew it, they left with the big truck and never came back.
I was hungry for a long, long time but I stayed in the yard, waiting and hoping they'd come back for me. They never came. So, I went off on my own. I lived in the woods for some time, eating bugs and other stuff I don't care to mention. It was OK but it was very lonely and frightening and I missed my family. They weren't very nice to me but at least I wasn't alone.
Then, this big wet came, and heavy balls of something with flashes of light, and I got real scared. I just ran and ran, trying to get away from the noise.
The big guy found me and tried to get me. I wasn't so sure about him and tried to get away again and again. But he just wouldn't give up and that truck looked real nice and comfortable so I gave up.
Now, I'm here. Jumping off the sofa, she headed to the garage to relieve herself as she had been instructed. Coming back through the kitchen and into the living room, 'Daisy' looked around, noticing the stairs and the blocked exit. Guess they don't know I'm a real good jumper. I'd like to see what the upstairs looks like. I won't let them know I was up there. I'll just look around and come back here. I can be real quiet when I want to be.
It took 'Daisy' all of five seconds to jump over the chairs and head cautiously upstairs.
The first room she stopped in was the bathroom. Smells clean. The big guy cleaned it after the mess he made trying to wash me. I smell like a human now. Still, there's a faint smell of blood on the floor. It belongs to the guy that found me.
Leaving that room, she walked down the hallway and stopped at the next open doorway. This is the room with the female smell. It's very, very faint but it's still here. It's all over the house, too. Funny, I don't think a female lives here anymore. It also smells like an old man in here. He must be the boss.
Her next stop was across the hallway. She walked in quietly and sat on the floor, staring at the long figure in the bed. This tall one pretends he doesn't like me but I know he does. Dogs know these things. He seems to be the one in charge so I wonder where the old man is at.
Wandering on, 'Daisy' visited Norman's room, sitting still in the bedroom and watching the sleeping figure. The big one saved me tonight. I'll never forget that. I got mud all over the inside of his truck and on him but he didn't seem to care. He smells really good, too, like cheese and meat.
Her last stop was the place she was looking for. Sitting on Edgar's bedroom floor, 'Daisy' stared up at the boy in the bed. I like this young one very, very much. I trust him. He wants me to stay. I heard the word 'pound' and I know what that means. I want to stay as close to this one as possible. He needs me. Something's wrong with his hands but he still pets me. He may have been hurt recently. He's scared all the time – I know that because he told me so when we were alone in the garage. He told me some other stuff, too, but it's a secret.
As Daisy watched, Edgar was having multiple nightmares in his sleep, one right after the other. The stubborn 13 year old had insisted on sleeping on his own, concerned about Norman working all day and Sig having to go to work in the morning. So he reassured his brothers he'd be fine tonight and went to his room alone.
Daisy watched the boy toss and turn, moaning softly to himself and struggling with his covers. Something's wrong with the boy. Better get the tall guy. He'll know what to do…I hope he's not mad I'm up here. I'd hate to get put out again. I guess it's a chance I'll have to take.
~tbc
