I got to school, puffin’ and pantin’ because I had run so hard; before the bell rang I was only able to blurt out that I had a new dog. The boys were full of questions and I answered as many as I could while we hurried to line up for salutin’ the flag and prayin’ the Lord’s Prayer. Avery and Willie promised to come over to see Patches the first chance that they got.
At recess and noon break we talked about my dog. I described him over and over, and some of the boys got almost as excited as I was. The news even got to the girls, and Sarah Smith and Mary Turley worked up enough nerve to come over to the boys’ side to question me about him. I really felt important.
Miss Peterson had scarcely said “Class dismissed” when I was gone. I had so much to do. I didn’t know whether to start on the collar and lead rope first, or work on the doghouse. Patches needed both.
I was callin’ him as I ran down the lane, but I didn’t notice him around anywhere.
Auntie Lou came out.
“Josh, come in the house a minute—will you?”
“Sure,” I called back. “Soon’s I find Patches.”
“Right
now,
Josh.”
I went. Maybe they had Patches with them.
A glass of milk and a piece of cake sat at my place at the table. Gramps sat there, too, but he wasn’t havin’ anything.
Auntie Lou looked rather pale and her eyes looked suspiciously like she’d been cryin’. My mind jumped to Grandpa and Uncle Charlie, and I felt a scare hit me smack in my stomach.
“Sit down, Josh.”
I sat. I jest sat like a lump and stared first at Auntie Lou and then at Gramps.
Auntie Lou swallowed hard and she bit her lip to fight back tears. Finally she was able to talk, in a soft quivery voice.
“A bad thing happened today, Josh.”
I knew that much. I could tell by jest lookin’.
“Your puppy was killed.”
I fought it. I fought it with all my strength. It couldn’t be true, it jest couldn’t. But a look at Gramps’ white face and a quick glance at Auntie Lou, who was liftin’ a damp handkerchief to her eyes, told me that I had to believe it.
I didn’t wait to even say anything. I jest jumped up from the table, spillin’ my milk, and ran for the door.
“Josh!” I heard Auntie Lou’s voice.
“Let him go,” said Gramps softly. His voice sounded old and tired.
I ran all the way to the crik. I wished that I could jest throw myself right into the cold water and let it wash all the feelin’ from me. I threw myself on the grassy bank instead. Boys weren’t supposed to cry—but I cried. I cried until my eyes ran dry, and then I jest laid and groaned.
It was gettin’ dark when I finally lifted myself from the bank. It was gettin’ cold, too. I hadn’t noticed before, but now I realized that I was shiverin’. I knelt down by the stream and sloshed cold water over my face again and again. It nearly froze me but it sharpened things back into focus, too. Here it was dark and I hadn’t done one bit of my chores. Grandpa and Uncle Charlie would be in from stackin’ the greenfeed and I wouldn’t have my work done. I started home at a trot.
As my mind began to clear, I found myself wonderin’ how it had happened. What had gone wrong? The pup I had wanted for so long had been mine for such a short time—hardly long enough to even get the feel that he
was
mine.
When I got to the house, I found that Gramps had done all of my chores. It had taken him longer than it took me. It was a big and difficult job for an old man like Gramps. Auntie Lou had milked Bossie and helped to split the wood. It made me feel shame—but a great deal of love and gratitude, too. I wanted to start cryin’ all over again, but I held myself in check.
Uncle Charlie and Grandpa had returned and supper had been served. Auntie Lou had a plateful of food saved for me in the warmin’ oven. I tried to eat it but it was tough to get it past the lump in my throat.
For the first time in my life I didn’t wait for Grandpa to say, “Bedtime, Boy”; I went up on my own, glad to get to my room and shut the door.
I wouldn’t cry anymore. I was through with that now. I laid there quietly and let anger and disappointment seep from every pore. Why? Why? Why?
Gramps came up. He opened my door softly and hesitated at my door.
“Joshua?”
I couldn’t say “go away”—not to Gramps.
“Yeah.”
“Do you mind?”
“It’s okay.”
He came forward and sat on my bed. He sat there quietly for a while and then reached out an old hand that was soft, not calloused and rough from work like Grandpa’s or Uncle Charlie’s, though I knew that for most of his life it had been. He touched my arm.
“I know how you hurt, Joshua.”
I didn’t even think, “No you don’t, no you don’t.” Somehow I knew that he did.
“It’s not easy to lose someone you love.”
I gulped. If he wasn’t careful I’d be cryin’ again.
“I thought that you might like to know what happened.”
I waited. I did want to know and I didn’t.
“Patches was a busy little dog—and a smart one. But I guess he just figured that he knew a little more than he really did.”
I waited.
“The range cattle were pasturing just across the fence from the garden, and I guess Patches decided that he’d be a cattle dog. Anyway, Lou and I heard the ruckus, but by the time that we got there he’d been kicked. We tried to save him but—”
He stopped there. In my mind I could see Auntie Lou with tears runnin’ down her face, and my grey-haired Gramps wor-kin’ over the broken body of my little dog. Tears came again and I swallowed them away.
Gramps patted me gently, got up and moved toward the door. I was glad that he hadn’t expected me to talk. I couldn’t talk now.
I laid there thinkin’ about my little dog, and then a lot of other bitter thoughts started comin’ to me, too. I used them like a blanket, wrappin’ myself up in them and findin’ a queer kind of satisfaction in the thought that I had suffered more than anyone else in the world. Bitterness filled me until I could hold no more. I sniffed.
My door opened again. Auntie Lou slipped in.
“Don’t cry, Josh,” she pleaded, soundin’ like she needed the admonition more than I did.
“I ain’t cryin’.”
Now Auntie Lou could hear a sniff behind a three-foot solid rock wall, but she didn’t argue with me; she jest sat beside me much as Gramps had done.
“I’m sorry, Josh—so sorry.”
I knew that she was.
“There was jest no way that we could have stopped it.”
“God could’ve.”
There, it was out now—in two angry, accusin’ words.
Auntie Lou sorta caught her breath, but I didn’t wait for her to say anything.
“I even prayed last night, and I thanked Him for Gramps and I thanked Him for Patches, and then without even waitin’ He lets my dog die. He could have stopped it! He could have! He doesn’t care, that’s what. He jest hurts and hurts, and iffen He thinks that I’m gonna love Him—I’m not—I won’t.”
I was sobbin’ now and Auntie Lou sat quietly as though my words had completely stunned her.
I flipped over on my stomach.
“He doesn’t even leave me memories,” I almost shouted.
“He takes everything.”
Auntie Lou let me cry until I had completely drained myself of tears. When I finally lay quietly she took my hand and stroked it gently, feelin’ each of my fingers separately.
“Josh?”
I managed to say, “Yeah.”
“What did you mean about memories—about not havin’ any?”
I swallowed once or twice.
“It was the same with my ma and pa,” I muttered. “God took ’em, too, before I could have any memories. Grandpa has memories. Lots of them. He told me all about Grandma and Great-grandma, too. And Gramps told me all about the good years when Great-grandma was still with him. Uncle Charlie remembers, too, but
I
don’t remember
nothin’—not one thing
.”
I started to whimper again.
“Josh.”
“What?”
“Josh, I don’t remember
my
ma either, but I have
lots
of memories.”
I looked at her in the pale light, wonderin’ if she’d lost her senses.
“My mama died before I was old enough to remember her. I know that she loved me—I jest feel it; but I don’t remember one thing about her, not one.”
“Then how—”
“My memories are different, but they’re jest as real and jest as filled with love.
“I remember Pa’s face above my crib, his eyes laughin’ as he played with me. I remember Uncle Charlie givin’ me a ride on his foot and sayin’, ‘This is the way the lady rides.’ I remember Pa rockin’ me and holdin’ me before he tucked me into bed at night. I remember him leanin’ over me, his hand on my cheek, a worried look in his eyes when I had the measles, and I remember them both stayin’ beside my bed all night long one winter when I had the croup. They took turns for four days—day and night.
“Josh, I remember a tiny baby that was brought home wrapped in blankets, and when I asked Pa why, he swallowed away tears and said that the baby was mine to care for now. He needed me. I remember dressin’ him and feedin’ him and playin’ with him—and lovin’ him.”
There was a pause while Auntie Lou struggled for control.
“I have lots of memories, Josh—lots of
good
memories.”
It was little more than a whisper.
As I listened to Auntie Lou talk, I realized that I had some memories, too. I’d jest been lookin’ in the wrong place for them. Like families, memories didn’t come in only one kind of package.
I was fightin’ an inward battle now. I was still angry and wantin’ to strike back.
“He still didn’t need to take my dog.”
“Josh, God
didn’t
take your dog. It was jest—jest one of those things that happens, that’s all.”
“But He coulda
stopped
it.”
Auntie Lou hesitated a moment as she carefully thought through her next words.
“Yes, He could have. He could let us go through all of our life, bundlin’ us and shelterin’ us from anything and everything that would hurt us. I could do that with my petunias, Josh. I could build a box around them and keep them from the wind and the rain, the crawlers and the bees. What would happen iffen I did that, Josh?”
I jest shrugged. The answer was too obvious.
“They’d never bear flowers,” said Auntie Lou.
“Josh, I don’t understand all about God, but there’s one thing that I’m as sure of as the fact that I live and breathe. He loves us. He loves us completely, and always keeps our good in mind.
“I don’t know how losin’ your pup is for your good, Josh, but I
am
sure that it can be or God wouldn’t have let it happen.
It’s all up to you, Josh. Whenever something comes into our life that hurts us, we do the decidin’—do I let this work for my good, as God intended, or do I let bitterness grow like a bothersome canker sore in my soul?
“We love you, Josh—every one of us. We don’t want to see you hurt. It’s happened now. We can’t change it, but don’t give the hurt a chance to grow even bigger and destroy you. God
loves
you. He can help you with the hurt if you ask Him to; accept that even
this
can be for your good. Try, Josh. Please try.”
Auntie Lou bent down and kissed me. Her cheeks were wet as they touched mine. She left the room. I laid there thinkin’ of all that she’d said. I decided that one day soon, maybe down by the crik, I’d work on some memories and see jest what I could come up with. Even as I laid there I saw a blue-eyed, laughin’ pixie face bendin’ over me, cooin’ love words—my Auntie Lou. I pushed it aside. I didn’t want to get love feelin’s all mixed in with my bitter ones. The one might somehow destroy the other.
Auntie Lou loved me, of that I had no question. So did Gramps, and even, I was willin’ to admit, Grandpa and Uncle Charlie. But God? Somehow that jest didn’t add up.
If He did love me He sure chose some strange ways of showin’ it. I knew that Auntie Lou wouldn’t want me to hate God. I was even a little afraid of the consequences myself. No, I decided, I wouldn’t hate Him—but I couldn’t love Him either. I’d jest feel nothin’—nothin’ at all. I wouldn’t even think about Him. I’d jest ignore Him completely. That would give Him something to think about. Maybe He’d even feel sorry.
I
DREADED HAVING TO
go back to school. I’d have to tell all the kids about my pup. I hated it. If ever I’d been tempted to play hooky, that was the day. I considered takin’ my lunch pail and jest headin’ for the crik, but I realized that I would then be cornered into tellin’ lies to Auntie Lou; I jest couldn’t stand the thought of that. I dragged to school, faced my friends with the facts, and dragged home again.
When I entered the kitchen, Auntie Lou was fussin’ over Gramps.
“Please,” she was saying, “drink up your tea. You look all done in.”
My eyes turned to Gramps. He did look awfully tired. I hoped that he wasn’t gettin’ sick or something.
I said between clenched teeth, “If
you
take him, too . . .” My hands were at my sides tightenin’ into fists.
Gramps smiled at me, rather weakly, but he showed spunk.
“Howdy, Joshua.”
“Howdy.”
I slipped into my chair jest as Auntie Lou set my juice down.
“Hurry with your juice, Josh. Gramps has something to show you.”
After my juice was gulped down, Gramps led me to the shed again. Inside was a carefully made little box. The lid was already down. I guessed that Gramps thought it best that I not see Patches’ trampled body. There was a marker there, too. It was a long sharp-pointed stick with another stick across the top of it on which were painted the words, “Patches—Joshua’s first dog.”
“I thought that maybe
you’d
like to—”
“Where?” I asked as I swallowed hard and nodded.
I led the way, carryin’ the box. Gramps followed with a shovel. There was a bit of soft soil under the big maple tree at the end of Auntie Lou’s garden. When I reached the tree I put the box down and took the shovel from Gramps.
We said nothin’ until the box was lowered and covered and the marker pounded in the ground. “Patches—Joshua’s first dog.” I wondered at Gramps’ choice of words. Auntie Lou came and put a little bouquet of late fall flowers on the tiny grave.