Bacon Dog

Sal doesn’t have much time left. He isn’t a good dog by any stretch, barking like hell when there ain’t nothin’ but a fart in the wind and running circles like a spaz when it’s crickets. There was one time I took him fishing and he turned the damn canoe trying to chase a stupid bird. Idiot dog thought he could run across the water like he wouldn’t sink. But we had a good laugh about it.

Truth is, as much as Sal ain’t a good dog, he’s the best dog. You can’t love someone til you hate ‘em first, and I did my share of hating the dumb pooch, wishing I drowned him in the Pine River instead of pulling him out in December of ’07. If I did, it would have saved me today. Gotta say my goodbye now and it ain’t that fuckin' easy.

He’s curled up by the vent in the kitchen, fur flapping in the cool stream while his eyes drift shut, and I figure it’s maybe an hour left. Two hours if I’m strong. It’s funny how he shuts his eyes like that knowing what’s coming, knowing something’s wrong, but I guess he’s pretending like he don’t know, but it’s obvious that he does or else he wouldn’t lay there so helpless and sad.

The gun’s loaded on the counter, though I won’t touch it til last second. Holding something like that makes it real, and once it’s real, you start thinking about it. And thinking is the last thing you want to be doing when you’re killing. It gets real heavy in your hands because it becomes what you’re thinking to do with it, and death weighs a lot. It might not make sense at first, but it’s the truth once you realize it. Everyone likes to talk about objects like they’re concrete, real things, and then say ideas are abstract and imaginary. But the thought comes first every time, and the object doesn’t become anything until you decide to do something with it, so really the ideas are concrete, and the things in front of us are abstract, shape shifting sorts of things. Besides them ancient Greeks, people aren’t fond of thinking like that, which is why they don’t stick around me for too long. Except for Sal – he’s an intellectual like me.

He's also got an appetite like a ravenous wolf; it’s in his genes I s’pose. Reminds me that he needs his last meal. I got a couple hot dogs in the fridge, but that’s only special because it’s human food, and he needs something gourmet.

Bacon. If there’s gourmet for dog, it’s gotta be bacon. By some miracle, there’s a couple slices in the drawer in the fridge that usually never has anything ‘cept maybe an onion or a celery stick. A couple strips of bacon ain’t enough for a dog’s last meal, so I wrap the bacon around the hot dog like a little kid creating a food concoction. Good thing is, I’m pretty sure dogs like that kind of thing.

I turn on the stove and drop the bacon dogs on the pan with a sizzle. Sal stirs and starts sniffing the air. Once the scent hits, his tail starts wagging and he sits, looking up with happy, gleaming eyes. Doesn’t take much to make him happy. Wish everyone was that easy to please, especially my ex-wife. Unlike dogs, women are difficult to please because they don’t usually like being happy for too long at a time. Not sure what it is, but they can only be happy for so long before they start feeling guilty about it, like they need to earn it. I guess women might say that men are too easily pleased, and that they need to get up of their rears and start making something happen. At least that’s what Sherri said.

While the bacon dogs are finishing up, I plant candles in the birthday cake. Today is my son’s birthday – the big 18^th for Charlie. He was starting quarterback on the football team this year and honor roll every semester. That’s what the school website says. I ain’t allowed contact since Sherri accused me of sexual abuse. I was hoping to make it out by his high school, and I did, but I guess there’s still limitations on what you can do even when you do make it out.

You know how I said you can’t love someone til you hate ‘em first? Well, you can’t quite hate someone unless you love ‘em first either. I wasn’t the best dad or husband, I’ll admit I’d be the first to cuss in a fight. Wasn’t always on top of my responsibilities. But I figured the least I could do was teach him a few things, show him that I love him, tell him that bein’ a man is hard work but he don’t have to change who he is one bit, that sorta thing.

I light the candles and sing happy birthday.

“Sal, eat up.”

The goof gulped down the first bacon dog, but he won’t touch the second.

“You idiot dog, eat the damn dog!”

Sal picks up the bacon dog and sets it in front of me on the table next to Charlie’s letter.

“Fine, Sal, I guess I’ll read it before I put an end to it. That’s what you want, right?”

Charlie’s letter’s been on the table since last week. They told me three things when they gave me the letter. First was that no one else read the letter, only reason they brought it to me was because he wrote “For Sex Offenders Only” on the front of it. Second was that he’s strong as an ox to be in a coma and not dead. Third was that he wrote the letter last thing before he swallowed the pills. I can’t imagine there’s anything good in there, just how he wishes I was a real father and not a criminal.

For Sal’s sake, I tear open the letter.

Dad,

I’m going to be okay I think. Mom’s been absolutely crazy lately – you know how that goes. I’ve been trying to reach you, but she watches everything, and I’d be scared to see what happens if she ever caught me trying to reach out. I know you’re innocent. It’s been obvious ever since I was old enough to understand how people work. It probably doesn’t mean much, but I wanted to say it so you could hear it from someone else. I’ll be turning 18 soon, and I’m hoping to get off on my own. I’ve been working extra hours and I’ve saved every cent of birthday money, so I can afford rent for long enough to get to my feet.

I think that’s why Mom’s been acting so psycho. She knows something’s up. I probably shouldn’t be writing this letter right now, but I feel like I have to. To be honest, I’ve always hated you a little. Never understood why you didn’t fight harder, but I guess there’s only so much you can do. So maybe my hating is just me wishing you were here.

I’m gonna try to see you, if you’re okay with it. I don’t know what kind of life you got going on, but I need you. I always have. And I hope you’re not too mad at the world after everything that’s happened.

Love,

Charlie

Everything is set up right, I got my note on the table next to Charlie’s letter and the birthday candles all lit, but I can feel myself starting to think. I grab the gun and it weighs a million tons. The dog won’t eat. He whines and climbs in my lap, but he won’t eat without me. It’s time for him to say goodbye, and then he’ll disappear. I wonder if he’ll eat after he disappears. Then again, he doesn’t have to disappear.

I put the gun back on the table, pick up the bacon dog, and shove it down my gullet. In my lap, Sal is sprawled across, light as a feather.