each who talked to me I got the same answer: “Sorry. We don’t have your dog.”
I called Drew and asked him to go again to the grocery stores to check the bulletin boards. He said he’d already done that, said he’d also been to the convenience stores where Diana and the boys had taken the missing dog flyers. No luck. I kept driving. I wondered if Cormac was still on the move, too. I did four more bookstores. In New Orleans I told the crowd about Cormac. They had more questions and comments about my dog than about my novel. One lady offered to give me a new dog.
I rolled into my driveway on Good Friday. I spent Easter weekend losing confidence I’d ever get him back. Emily was home from college, staying at her mother’s for the weekend. She dropped by on Sunday. “I’m just hoping now,” I told her, “that Cormac hasn’t been struck by a car and killed.”
“Maybe,” Emily said, “someone has a new pal for themselves. That’s better than what you’re thinking.”
“Yeah, a handsome reddish-brown doggins of noble lineage and gentle heart,” I said. “A good dog.”
When the gaggle of kids had had their egg hunt, and Easter Sunday’s feast had been eaten and the dishes washed and the tables cleaned, and when all the kinfolk had gone home, John Luke and Dylan came and sat with me on the sofa. I think Diana sent them. One boy on either side of me, a tiny hand on each of my knees, two faces searching mine. I don’t remember a time when so much was said without a word being spoken.
“Let’s shoot some hoops, guys,” I said and stood up. They dashed for the door. When I suggested we play a game of horse, Dylan said, “What about a game of D-O-G? Maybe that will bring Cormac home.”
“Sure,” I said. “It’s worth a try.”
“I’ll shoot first,” John Luke said, dribbling under the goal for an easy layup.
“Daddy,” Dylan said, “I’m sorry Cormac is lost.”
“Me too,” I said.
“Maybe you’ll find him before you have to leave again,” John Luke said. I had to go back on the road Wednesday.
“He’s probably looking for you, too,” Dylan said. “And he can find things with his nose.”
“He sure can,” I said. “We’ll just meet in the middle somewhere.” Both boys seemed satisfied that would happen. When we went inside I told Diana the boys believed I’d find Cormac.
“Of course they do,” she said. “So do I.”
After sunset, Diana and I walked out on the back porch. We stood there looking across the yard, listening into the dark. Diana said she’d get the boys ready for bed. I told her I’d be inside soon to tuck them in. When I was alone, way off I heard a dog barking. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to think that it was Cormac, fenced-in in someone’s backyard, desperate to get home. But soon enough the night was quiet. Tomorrow, I’d go knock on some doors.
SIXTEEN
I DROPPED THE BOYS at school and went to the bookstore. I’d check in there first, then get down to the business of asking the people down my street for information about Cormac. Pierre and Drew were at the store. Drew shook his head as soon as he saw me.
“Man, I am sorry about Cormac,” he said.
“I know,” I said. “But don’t think for a minute—”
“I don’t,” Drew said, anticipating that I was about to absolve him. “But I still feel bad it happened on my watch.”
“It really didn’t, though,” I said. “It happened in the months leading up to your watch. I should’ve stayed on point with the fence people. Maybe I should have got Cormac the doggy downers from Belle.”
“Maybe, shmaybe,” Pierre said. “Cormac’s a dog, fellas.”
“More than that to me,” I said.
“You know what I mean,” Pierre said. “A woman came in here yesterday asking to put up a flyer about her missing cat.” He pointed toward the window beside the front door. “Cat. Dog. Whatever. They have minds of their own,” he said. Pierre told me every day someone came in to
I called Drew and asked him to go again to the grocery stores to check the bulletin boards. He said he’d already done that, said he’d also been to the convenience stores where Diana and the boys had taken the missing dog flyers. No luck. I kept driving. I wondered if Cormac was still on the move, too. I did four more bookstores. In New Orleans I told the crowd about Cormac. They had more questions and comments about my dog than about my novel. One lady offered to give me a new dog.
I rolled into my driveway on Good Friday. I spent Easter weekend losing confidence I’d ever get him back. Emily was home from college, staying at her mother’s for the weekend. She dropped by on Sunday. “I’m just hoping now,” I told her, “that Cormac hasn’t been struck by a car and killed.”
“Maybe,” Emily said, “someone has a new pal for themselves. That’s better than what you’re thinking.”
“Yeah, a handsome reddish-brown doggins of noble lineage and gentle heart,” I said. “A good dog.”
When the gaggle of kids had had their egg hunt, and Easter Sunday’s feast had been eaten and the dishes washed and the tables cleaned, and when all the kinfolk had gone home, John Luke and Dylan came and sat with me on the sofa. I think Diana sent them. One boy on either side of me, a tiny hand on each of my knees, two faces searching mine. I don’t remember a time when so much was said without a word being spoken.
“Let’s shoot some hoops, guys,” I said and stood up. They dashed for the door. When I suggested we play a game of horse, Dylan said, “What about a game of D-O-G? Maybe that will bring Cormac home.”
“Sure,” I said. “It’s worth a try.”
“I’ll shoot first,” John Luke said, dribbling under the goal for an easy layup.
“Daddy,” Dylan said, “I’m sorry Cormac is lost.”
“Me too,” I said.
“Maybe you’ll find him before you have to leave again,” John Luke said. I had to go back on the road Wednesday.
“He’s probably looking for you, too,” Dylan said. “And he can find things with his nose.”
“He sure can,” I said. “We’ll just meet in the middle somewhere.” Both boys seemed satisfied that would happen. When we went inside I told Diana the boys believed I’d find Cormac.
“Of course they do,” she said. “So do I.”
After sunset, Diana and I walked out on the back porch. We stood there looking across the yard, listening into the dark. Diana said she’d get the boys ready for bed. I told her I’d be inside soon to tuck them in. When I was alone, way off I heard a dog barking. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to think that it was Cormac, fenced-in in someone’s backyard, desperate to get home. But soon enough the night was quiet. Tomorrow, I’d go knock on some doors.
SIXTEEN
I DROPPED THE BOYS at school and went to the bookstore. I’d check in there first, then get down to the business of asking the people down my street for information about Cormac. Pierre and Drew were at the store. Drew shook his head as soon as he saw me.
“Man, I am sorry about Cormac,” he said.
“I know,” I said. “But don’t think for a minute—”
“I don’t,” Drew said, anticipating that I was about to absolve him. “But I still feel bad it happened on my watch.”
“It really didn’t, though,” I said. “It happened in the months leading up to your watch. I should’ve stayed on point with the fence people. Maybe I should have got Cormac the doggy downers from Belle.”
“Maybe, shmaybe,” Pierre said. “Cormac’s a dog, fellas.”
“More than that to me,” I said.
“You know what I mean,” Pierre said. “A woman came in here yesterday asking to put up a flyer about her missing cat.” He pointed toward the window beside the front door. “Cat. Dog. Whatever. They have minds of their own,” he said. Pierre told me every day someone came in to
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