BIG GREY

It was Tony’s idea to go after Big Grey. We hanging out back at the place, me reading some old comic books I got laying around and Tony practicing his guitar. It’s an electric one, Tony’s guitar, all black and silver. He got it from a junkie in Canarsie who carved the names of all the notes into the side of the neck. Looks like a bird walked along there. Probably took the dude hours, but he sold it anyway when things got tight and he found himself staring at that wall, which will happen. Tony play it through his box. He got this cord and he just plug it right in the back of the radio. His playing ain’t much to talk about, not yet, but he be practicing and practicing, and you work at a thing that hard, something bound to come of it.

So Tony trying to play something, some tune off the radio, and I’m reading this old Spiderman I read about a million times before, and suddenly Tony puts down the guitar and stands up and says let’s head on down to the park.

I says why. It’s dark out already, and too damn cold to be drinking no beer out there. But Tony already up and moving all around the place, looking under chairs, behind the sofa, in all the closets. Finally he say “aha!” and come out with a big old softball bat, weighted aluminum. He raise it up, get the feel of it, then send an imaginary one over the center field wall.

“What you want that for?” I ask him.

“Big Grey,” he say. “We going hunting.”

It’s funny, but sometime I have trouble telling when Tony messing around or telling the truth. But he grinning and his eyes looking all fired up and so I didn’t ask no questions. I just said let’s go, and we went.

Big Grey is this old dog we see almost all the time over in the park. It’s a big old German shepherd with a hurt paw, meaner than hell. He run with a pack of strays that live over there, but most of them keeps their distance from Grey, because they scared of him. He got this old scroungy bitch that stay right by his side, a shepherd like him, and she mean, too, though I think it’s mostly just fear. She’ll growl and bark at you, then jump back a few feet where you can’t get her and bark and growl some more. I thrown a stick at her one time and she run. But Grey be another thing—that boy come at you like he mean business.

It’s cold out and the park is dead empty. The moon is shining though, and it feels good to be outside. We finds some ducks wandering around and chases them back into the water. Tony keeps the softball bat resting on his shoulder, every now and then swinging it like a cop spinning his nightstick. I picks up a part of a branch off the ground and break the twigs off it until it’s a club. Just holding it I feel like king of the world. Sticks is funny like that—it feels good to carry one.

So we head on up to the graveyard, back in the woods. It’s up on a hill and fenced off from the rest of the park, and the strays like to hang back there. That’s where you usually see them—if you cutting through the park sometimes they come running at you all barking and going crazy. I hold my stick tighter and follow Tony. He’s not talking and I’m beginning to wonder if he’s on something. But I don’t say nothing. He got his moods just like everyone else, I guess.

Up by the graveyard Tony start poking around in the dead leaves, looking for something. He muttering to himself and pushing around with the end of the softball bat, and suddenly he bend down and bring up about a half a bottle of wine.

“See, I was up here this afternoon,” he say.

“By yourself?” I say.

“And that crazy dog chase me all the way down to the baseball fields.”

It makes me laugh picturing Tony dropping his wine and shooting down the hill chased by a big hungry dog. But Tony don’t laugh.

“Got to get even,” he say.

I try to laugh like it’s a joke, but Tony got this real serious look on his face, so I stops quick. We drink some of the wine, not saying much, keeping our eyes out for Big Grey. But no sign of him, and after a while drinking Tony start to loosen up. When the wine just about gone, he start faking like he playing the guitar, doing that song I heard him practicing, throwing in a few moves. So I start to get into it, playing drums in the air and making the noises with my mouth. We got a pretty nice jam going right there underneath the trees. Then all of a sudden, Tony stop moving and point.

At first I don’t see nothing, then I do. He just standing there watching us, maybe ten yards off. It’s so dark you can’t hardly see him, just mostly his eyes, yellow and mean, almost looking like they floating by themselves in the air. I can hear him growling, soft and low.

Tony whisper to me that we going to surround him. I about to ask how we going to do that with only two of us, but he already gone, slipping from tree to tree, sneaking off to the side so he can come up behind Big Grey. Tony can be real quiet when he want to. Sometime, back at our place, he can come in so quiet you don’t even know he there, until you look up and he in a chair opening up some beer. He’s nearly given me a couple of heart attacks. Me, I can’t take a piss without the whole world hearing me flush.

Well, I’m holding my stick so tight my hands are beginning to hurt, and I see that dog start moving on me, real slow with a little limp from his busted paw, and the next thing I know, I’m running on down the hill. At the bottom I turns around and see that he stopped about halfway down, looking at me and barking, showing those yellow teeth and pacing back and forth like he marking out his turf. Then I hear a yell, and there’s Tony with the baseball bat over his head running down on the dog and shouting like a crazy man. I think the dog more surprised than me, because he spin around full circle and practically fall over, then hop on down the hill toward me.

Now we both running, me and Big Grey. They got baseball fields in the park, with big fences around them to keep foul balls in, and being a little drunk and a lot scared, I run smack into one. I bounce right off it and land in the dirt. I don’t bother to get up, just cover my head with my hands and close my eyes tight. The way I see it, I’m dog food.

But after a few seconds when I still don’t feel no teeth on my neck I get up and look. Tony and Big Grey faced off just a few feet away, and the dog got his back to me. I picks up my stick. Tony stepping toward Big Grey, and Grey growling. I don’t know why, but right then I throws my stick at the dog. I guess I just don’t want to see him get Tony. I don’t really think about it, I just throws it.

Well, I miss, but I make him jump and turn to see what it is, and Tony take two steps forward and swing. The bat make a soft noise, like a thump, and catch Big Grey right under the ear. He start walking around in circles, just going around and around in the same spot, maybe like ten or fifteen times. Finally he lie down.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Tony say.

“Done what?” I still got my eyes on Big Grey. Any second now I expect him to jump up and attack. But he lay still.

“Distract him. It wasn’t fair.”

“Don’t blame me,” I says. “You the one that hit him.”

But Tony down on one knee now, inspecting the dog. I come over to him, pick up my stick and give him little poke, but he don’t move. I tell Tony I think he dead.

“He ain’t. He’s breathing.”

Well, he breathing all right, but after the way Tony busted on him, I know it won’t be for long. But I don’t say nothing, I just nod.

I’m about ready to say let’s head down to the social center for some pinball, because this ain’t turning out to be so much fun. Then I see Tony picking up Big Grey in his arms.

“You crazy?” I says. “What you want to do with him?”

“C’mon,” Tony say. “There’s a vet up on Sixth Street.

Believe it or not, we does it between the two of us, but it’s killin’ work. Big Grey must weigh about eighty or ninety pounds, and he don’t smell none too good. But we get him up the path and out the parkside. We find the vet.

This a pretty fancy vet, and when we walks in with a big ugly dog that look like he dead, and us definitely not looking like we from the neighborhood, we turns a few heads. It’s mostly cats in the waiting room, two in carry cases and one in this dude’s lap. And then there’s this skinny, rich-looking lady with a little white dog that’s got a bright, pink bow on. She’s eyeballing us pretty good and probably dialing 911 in her head. I give her a big smile and go up to the desk.

It’s an emergency see, I tell the lady, our dog got hit by a car. I’m not about to tell them the truth because they might call the ASPCA or something. Lady give me a look like she wishing she never come in this evening, then say, OK, take him into this room that’s just off the waiting room. So I call Tony and we move old Grey into this tiny room and lay him down on the floor.

They keeps us waiting quite a while. Tony being real quiet, just sort of staring down at his sneakers. Big Grey laying on his side, but his eyes open and he watching us. The room got a strong hospital smell that make it hard to breathe. Seem like I’m the only one nervous at all, and I’m not even sure why I should be, but I keep on getting up and sticking my head out the door to see if the doctor coming or what. Finally they send some Jamaican dude in to take a look. He wearing a white coat, but I can see he ain’t no doctor. He probably just some kind of assistant. There ain’t no Jamaican doctors, not in this part of town.

Well, he get down on one knee and start poking around on Big Grey. He look in his eyes and feel for his heartbeat. When he reach for his mouth and lift up his lips, I expect to see his hand get bit right off, but that dog just laying there without no fight in him at all. Only thing moving on him is his eyes, and they following the guy, every now and then looking over at us. Finally the dude say this dog got a serious problem.

I say we know that, why do he think we here? But he just shake his head. Say the best thing for everyone involved probably just be put him to sleep. That cost thirty-five dollars, fifty if we want to leave him there.

Then Tony on his feet. “What about an operation?” he say.

Operation very expensive, the man say. He doubt we have that kind of money. Besides, the dog looking like he too far gone for an operation anyway. Best thing be give him the injection. Get a new dog. Also he say Big Grey got a mess of other problems too, like mange, fleas, probably worms, and a couple of other things I don’t quite catch. His paw busted too. Didn’t we never take him to no vet before?

So I says excuse us, but we’d like to discuss this by ourselves for a minute. Then I tell Tony now we done it. It going to cost thirty-five dollars just to kill him off. I vote for taking him back to the park. If it got to be done, there’s cheaper ways. The pond for instance.

Then the dude come back in and ask if we got any money for the injection. I tells him the truth, which is of course no. He shake his head and say I’m sorry, but we ain’t running no welfare clinic, but maybe if we want to take him into the city they got an ASPCA clinic there that’s free.

Tony say forget it, we going to take him back home and he lifting Big Grey back up in his arms again. He do it real gently, and he don’t even seem to mind the stink. Jamaican dude shaking his head at us as we go out, like he thinking we shouldn’t be allowed to own no dog anyway.

We swipes one of those shopping carts from out back of the Key Food so we won’t have to carry him all the way back to our crib. Tony drop him in like a sack of onions and push him along, me helping when we come to curbs. We stop and pick up some beer too.

Finally we gets back and carry him up the stairs. Our place on the fourth floor and it never seem like as much steps as this time. We got a small place, but nice. Actually, it’s Carla’s brother’s place, but he in jail right at this time and don’t expect to be using it too soon. Carla is Tony’s lady. She still live with her parents, but she over our place a lot too. Always some kind of party over our place, seems like.

Tony take a couple of towels and make a little bed for Grey in the middle of the floor and we arrange him on them so he looking comfortable. Dog seem just like he dead, except his eyes is wide open and he staring at us, watching what we up to.

“Try giving him some water,” I says. “Maybe he’s thirsty.”

So Tony tries to give him some, but he ain’t interested. We practically sticks his nose in it but he don’t drink. Finally we gives up and Tony picks up his guitar and gets a beer. I get one too and try to get back into my comic book. But I have a hard time concentrating because I keep looking down and seeing that dog, and every time it seem to me like he looking right back, saying, “you responsible.” Meanwhile Tony just doodling on the guitar, not playing nothing in particular, staring at the wall and just about driving me crazy with not talking.

About ten-thirty Carla come by with her friend Candy who works over at the Key Food. They bring by some more beer and smokes and a huge bag of Doritos. Both of them screams when they walks in the door. I start to laugh. Seem at least a little fun going to come out of this evening. Big Grey just blink his eyes.

It takes a couple of minutes, but we manages to calm the girls down, and I’m happy to see Tony seem to be coming out of it. He making jokes and drinking beer and nibbling around on the back of Carla’s neck, and just generally starting to act like his old self. He say we throwing a special testimonial, with Big Grey the honored guest. Let’s all drink his health.

We drink one to Big Grey. Then we drink another, and then another, and pretty soon we got us a party going. Tony unplug his guitar and put on some tunes. Couple other folks drops by around eleven, dudes from downstairs, and everyone want to dance with Candy, who looking particularly fine. All this while Big Grey just laying in the middle of the floor, but everybody just about forgets about him. Then one of the dudes from downstairs goes over and turns down the music. Without it on I can suddenly hear a noise out in the street. Some dog going crazy down there, howling like a wild animal.

The dude, whose name is Junior, says to Tony, “Man, you ought to take this thing out of here.” He nudge Grey with his foot. “This dog is dead.”

“Ain’t dead,” says Tony. “Just resting.”

Junior say he don’t know about that, the dog looking like he dead and he sure smelling like it too.

Tony say if Junior so uncomfortable with Big Grey around, maybe he ought to leave.

“Come on, Tony,” Carla say, “A joke is a joke. Take him on out to the dumpster or something.” She laugh like she made a joke. Outside, that dog still howling its head off.

Then Tony start to go crazy. Just crazy, like a wild man. He pick up his guitar and smash it against the wall, then spin around and hold it out in front of him and say everybody got to leave right now. Then he smack it down on the floor and say, go on, move.

Tony never love anything as much as that guitar, and now he busting it all to hell, which make me think no question but he serious. Everybody start to leave, but I hang around because me and Tony best friends, and besides I got no place to go anyway. Carla go up to him and try to put her arms around his waist, but he push her away and smack the guitar against the coffee table, knocking over three or four cans of beer which hit the floor gushing liquid like wounded men. Carla shaking her head and calling Tony crazy man and some other things, but finally she leave too, slamming the door behind her, and now we alone, me, Tony, and Big Grey.

Tony toss the guitar across the room and sit down. I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say nothing. We just sit there, quiet. Tony open up the last of the beers and take a swallow, then offer it to me. I drink some and put it down. Big Grey breathing a little different it seem to me, more difficult. He still laying in the same position as we put him in, on the towels on his side. Outside that dog still howling. It sound like someone beating it.

Then Tony ask me did I ever see this movie, The Good the Bad and the Ugly. I say yeah, I think so. But do I remember the part at the end where they all facing each other with guns drawn, and nobody want to shoot because no way he can win? I say I remember that part.

“It ain’t never fair,” says Tony.

“What?” I asks.

Then Tony tell me he think life a lot like that movie. Whatever you gonna do, someone else always got the drop on you. Somebody always got the advantage. It ain’t good, or bad, just ugly.

I nod like I know what he talking about, then I look over at Big Grey. He starting to shake and breathe real heavy. Both of us watch him. It takes about thirty seconds, then it’s over and he laying still. Now his eyes finally closed.

“Don’t take it too hard,” I say. “It ain’t your fault.”

But Tony not even listening to me, he just staring down at the dog, and I know he thinking it is. Seems to me now like maybe he ought to be alone, so I says I think I’ll go out. Tony don’t say nothing. Then I offer to help him take Big Grey out, maybe back to the park or something, but he still don’t seem to notice I’m talking to him at all.

So I slips out the door and down the stairs. I’m feeling bad, real low. Tony acting so strange, it seem like he maybe never going to come out of it. I can see him in some kind of institution or something, not talking, getting meals fed to him, maybe just sitting around all day staring at the TV I start to think maybe I’ll try to hunt up Carla and together we’ll go back in an hour or so and try to snap him out of it.

I open the door and steps out. It’s cold, dark, and empty in the street, and the only sound is a humming from the streetlight over my head. Then I hear this whimpering.

I jump because I’m surprised, then I back away slow. It’s Big Grey’s bitch, almost as big as him, but skinny. You can count her ribs. She must have somehow followed us all the way home. I ain’t never seen her anywhere outside of the park, and I wonder what she going to do now. Moving slow and easy, I cross the street, then when I got a safe distance between us I turn and watch her. She howling and pawing at the door. Somehow, from the smell I guess, she know Big Grey inside. She keep howling and pawing, and I figure pretty soon someone gonna call the cops and that be the end of her. Then, so quiet it might have been a ghost doing it, the door opens up. I stopped worrying so much about Tony after I seen him let that old bitch into the house.