31

“If you had music, that would look a lot like dancing.” Jen puts her hand out and takes the beer from her boyfriend, Derek. Jen Coulter has lived next door to the Parmalees since she was in sixth grade, and when they had Stacy, she had been their baby-sitter, practically living with them. When her parents moved to Florida, Jen, a nurse practitioner, bought their house, and she now lives there with Derek, who is beginning to look like a keeper. Stacy had outgrown needing a baby-sitter, but Jen had remained a good friend, the teenage baby-sitter growing up into a good neighbor, and she is the only friend who always remembers this difficult day. It has become a tradition, this spontaneous gathering on this particular September day. No one plans it, at least not officially. And maybe someday Jen won’t come; she may forget the significance of this date and go on with her life. But it is nice when Jen calls and says, “You up for company?” And then Ed brings home a six-pack, even before he knows they will come. And Alice just happened to thaw out the roast beef she’s had in the freezer for a few weeks. All the seemingly accidental decisions converge for a midweek dinner at which no one speaks of the real reason they are together. Alice is glad that she spent the day away, and just as glad she got home in time to throw the roast in.

“That’s not all; watch this.” Alice turns to face the dog, who is still up on his back legs. She twiddles her fingers in a rough circle and the dog spins. Then he drops to all fours, his eyes fixed on Alice, waiting for the next thing. “Now why he wouldn’t do this for that dog trainer is beyond me. He was like a kid refusing to perform in front of company.”

“Ed, do you have a CD player or a radio?” Jen hands the beer back to Derek.

Ed does, and he brings out the little player that he keeps in his workshop. He’s pulled out a few CDs from his collection, which tends toward classic rock.

Jen flips through the selection, choosing the Beatles’ “White Album.” “Pop this in and find ‘Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da.’”

Ed does, then stands back to give Alice and the dog more room on the deck. Derek holds his new iPhone in position and Ed fires up the tune.

With the catchy tune playing, the dog’s motions suddenly take on a meaning. Jen is right: This dog is dancing. Alice takes him through certain moves that she has inadvertently discovered, then tries a couple more purely invented signals to see if something else will happen. At first, nothing does; the dog stops. She tries again, and suddenly he’s backing up, then pivoting on his rear legs in a perfect circle. He stops, waits for more from Alice. She waves at him. He comes forward, but on his forearms, his rear end up in the air, his tail waving like a pennant in the breeze. When everyone applauds, the dog tucks one forepaw under his chest, dipping his head in a perfect courtly bow.

“Do it again, Alice. See if you can get it smoother. Derek, are you getting the video?” Jen starts shoving the deck furniture out of the shot. Someone flips on the floodlights against the growing dark.

Alice waits for the music to start. “Ready, Buddy?” She flips her hand over and Buddy repeats his first moves. For half a minute, they perform a dance routine, the dog contributing several movements ad lib. At the end, the people all laugh and clap and the dog barks and barks, clearly pleased with himself. Derek has caught it on his new iPhone with its multitude of apps.

Jen and Derek leave around nine, the good-bye hugs maybe just a little tighter, a little longer than a casual dinner among friends might suggest. Ed and Alice stand on the front steps, waving them off. Ed drapes an arm around Alice, squeezes her shoulder gently. She doesn’t pull away but releases a soft sigh. Buddy/Mack pushes his way between them, fitting himself against their legs. They stand that way, the three of them, long after the porch light next door shuts off.

*   *   *

The three of them sit at the kitchen table, a small cake laden with sixteen candles glowing in the dimmed dining room light. Stacy stares at those candles as if hypnotized. “Make a wish, honey.” Ed has the video camera pointed at her and they wait for the moment when Stacy will make a wish and blow out the fifteen candles, plus one for good luck.

Stacy looks up from her trance and points at Ed, who’s holding the camera. “Don’t.”

Ed reluctantly lowers the video camera.

Stacy sweeps her hair into her fist and leans toward the candles. When she is done blowing, one candle remains lighted. She reaches over and snuffs it out between pinched fingers.

*   *   *

Buddy/Mack lies on the deck, his position sphinxlike, his attention on the distant sound of a woodpecker hammering a tree. He’d like to see a squirrel to chase. He’d be off the deck in a split second, in full voice, and catch it. He always expects to catch the squirrels he chases. That’s his dream.

Alice is in the house, pushing the vacuum. Ed is in the garage, doing something with the car. Buddy/Mack is enjoying a few minutes by himself. Unlike Justine, who left Buddy/Mack alone for good chunks of time, these people seem intent on keeping him company. It’s not that companionship isn’t nice; it’s just that he can’t get a full nap in. There is always someone there to stroke him, or speak to him, or make him move over; some adventure being cooked up, like go-for-a-ride or go-for-a-walk. The day-to-day activity of these humans, who continually wander around their house, needing to have an eye kept on their movements, keeps him busy. Following them as they go from bedroom to cellar to kitchen to living room is an exhausting business. He’s glad Alice suggested that he wait on the deck while she uses that infernal machine, has let him go out on the deck to watch the wildlife, catch a few minutes of a nap, and expect that there might be a squirrel to chase.

Then, miraculously, there is a squirrel. It’s brazenly creeping across the expanse of backyard, stopping here and there to root around for whatever it is squirrels like to find. It sits up, something in its little useful hands, then drops to the ground and continues to hunt. Buddy/Mack is on his feet, the growl rumbling in his throat, the pulse of defender of the territory pounding through the length of him; he beats a quickstep before launching himself after his nemesis. His toenails scramble against the decking, unable to gain a purchase. He flings himself toward the steps and comes to a complete choking halt. He is tied.

This has never happened to him before. No one has ever tied him up. A simple “Stay” is enough to keep even Buddy/Mack from hurtling after squirrels, even though the command is frustrating. But this, this restraint, is shameful. Buddy/Mack shakes, whines a little as the squirrel continues on its unthreatened path, then resumes his sphinx pose. But the fun has gone out of it. How do these people expect him to defend their property if he’s tied, like some cur, to their deck rail? Why have they figured out the dance part of his repertory but not the simple obedience words he lives by? It’s the same as when Alice takes him on a walk. He wants to tell her that he can be trusted to return to her at a call, but she won’t ever let him off the leash. Off-leash work is puppy work. He’s been doing it for years.

Buddy/Mack remembers that he’s waiting for Justine. This is just what’s happening today, this being tied business. He is waiting for Justine, but these people don’t seem to understand that. Justine will tell them in their tongue language that he is not the kind of dog that is tied. He needs to get back to the cemetery gates, where he thinks that Justine will come to get him.

He is still nursing his frustration when Ed comes to the sliding door and offers to take him on go-for-a-ride. And, as he thinks every time Ed suggests a ride, Buddy/Mack hopes that the cemetery will be the destination and that Justine will be waiting for him.