Dad and I ate the ham supper in silence. He never asked about the chicken leftovers, so I didn’t offer any explanations.
Jack lay at my feet under the table. I cut a nice thick, juicy chunk of ham and slipped it to him. He chomped it in a couple of bites and licked his chops until every drop was cleaned off. The ham was delicious, a brown-sugar sauce coating it. Jack liked it; so would a coyote. I sawed off another piece and gave it to Jack.
Dad put his fork down. “That’s enough ham for the dog,” he said.
“Okay,” I mumbled. I didn’t meet his eyes.
“Look, I know you’re upset about Jack,” Dad said. “You probably won’t believe this, but I am, too.”
I lifted my eyes to Dad.
He leaned both elbows on the table. “This is a sacrifice we have to make so we can live in peace with our neighbors. I promise I’ll find a great home for him. I know a couple of guys who have farms—”
“No! I don’t want to hear that.” I yelled. “It’s your fault. We always have to move because of you. I’m tired of making friends and then moving away. Now you want to get rid of Jack.”
I scraped my chair back and stood. “All you care about is the stupid air force and your car. I wish you were dead and not Mom.” I slammed the chair into the table and stormed up to my room.
I thought he’d pound up the stairs and bang on my door, but he didn’t. The house was silent. I strained to hear Jack’s nails clicking on the wood. Nothing. The smell of the ham must have kept him under the table. I felt even more alone without him.
My friend Scott had written back to me yesterday. I picked up the envelope and reread the letter:
Hi, Josh,
A family with six girls moved into your house. They play jump rope in the middle of the kickball field. We’re getting transferred, but we don’t know where yet. Wouldn’t it be great if we moved by you?
You’re lucky to have a dog. At least you have someone you can count on.
Your friend,
Scott
I heard a knock at the door. “Joshua?” Dad called from the other side; then he opened the door. Jack trotted in and leaned against me.
“Hey,” Dad said in a gentle voice. “I’ve got to run to the office for a minute. Want to come?”
I shook my head.
Dad sighed and looked down. “Okay. I’ll be back in a little while.” He left without closing my door.
I stayed in my room petting Jack until I heard the car back out of the driveway. I cupped Jack’s face in my hands. He looked up at me with trusting eyes. Scott was right—I could count on Jack. Now it was time for Jack to count on me.
“I’m not going to let him take you away,” I said.
Jack nodded his head out of my hands and licked my palms. I wrapped him in a tight hug, then let him go. I had to reset the trash cans with bait now, while Dad was gone. I could not take a chance on Dad catching me out of the house later tonight.
Down in the kitchen, I started to slice up the ham. I felt mad and sad at the same time, and cutting the ham was hard. I put the knife down and tore it apart with my bare hands.
“There you go,” I said, throwing a slab to Jack as I backed out of the door with the roasting pan. Jack leaped on his treat and I stole outside.
I could still smell some of the chicken from last night, but I wanted to make sure the bait was strong enough to bring that coyote back. The smell had to be overpowering, irresistible, leaving him no choice but to follow his nose. I smeared the meat all over the cans like I did before, and I let the juice from the pan slurp down the insides of both trash cans. Then I balanced the lids on the tops. Pulling the trash cans out a little bit, I set them in the perfect position to be caught from the window and the porch.
Jack licked my fingers when I went in. My heart turned with sorrow from his easy joy, but I was glad he was happy. He deserved to be happy.
After washing my hands, I got the camera and hid it in the cupboard right by the back door. Everything was ready.