Doggone

The light penetrating the room’s dusty curtains seemed too bright for the time of day. Still groggy, Archie lay blinking for a couple minutes trying to figure out what it was that felt off. It took a moment to recall exactly where he was. His head hurt a little, probably due to the five Coors he’d downed the night before, but that wasn’t it. Something else was out of kilter.

On this fourth morning alone in Lim’s cabin, Archie had already established something of a routine, especially for the early part of the day. Well, actually, Lim’s dog, Buddy, was pretty much responsible for the structure the days had been taking on. The hound started whining and scratching on his wire crate over near the back door within 5 minutes either side of 7 a.m. If his whining didn’t bring someone within a couple of minutes, the dog, a big, male Bluetick Coonhound, would start in with an earsplitting baying that was impossible to ignore.

Wait, that was it! No whining from the dog. What time was it, anyway? Archie’s hand scrambled through a mess of food wrappers and beer cans on the old desk that served as a nightstand until he found his battered phone. There was no cell service out here in the sticks, but, somehow, his phone still knew the correct time. It had even adjusted to mountain time when he’d driven down from South Dakota five days before.

Archie stared disbelieving at the phone. 9:10 a.m.! Why hadn’t he heard that ol’ dog by now? 

Alarmed, Archie swung his skinny, bare legs towards the floor and his feet immediately registered the chill permeating the poorly insulated house on this late October morning. Cramming his sockless feet into the cracked Western boots he’d kicked off the night before, Archie barely remembered to duck before exiting the bottom bunk and clomping into the kitchen. There was Buddy asleep in his crate lying on his side like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Hey, Buddy.” Archie called to the sleeping dog. 

No response. 

Slightly alarmed, Archie yelled, “Hey, Buddy! Buddy!” Dropping to his knees, Archie wrenched open the crate’s door and reached in to rouse the still-sleeping hound. As his hands touched the dog, the obvious reality hit him. The dog was cold. The dog was dead. 

“Oh God. Goddamit! What in hell?” Archie fumed. 

He knew Buddy was still a young dog. Lim had bought him from a breeder in Montana just a few years before. The AKC registered pup had set Lim back $250, but he’d been set on getting a big hunting dog that might also scare people off from bothering him at the cabin. Not that there were many (or any) intruders venturing down the long dirt road that was about ten miles from the wide place in the road that was Centennial, Wyoming. There was one other house on the road, a half-fallen down old two-story clapboard located a little further up towards the mountains. Lim said he hadn’t seen the owner, an old guy about 80, or anyone else, at the house in a couple of years and thought he might have died.

Rocking back on his heels, Archie’s mind spun. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? Lim had gone up to some remote area way out in central Alaska with a hunting buddy to try and bag a mountain goat and wouldn’t be back for, what?  Eleven more days. No way to get in touch with him. 

Geez, but Lim was going to be super pissed to find out his dog had died while he was gone. And what the fuck was Archie supposed to do in the meantime with a dead, 70-pound dog? 

What happened to the sucker, anyway?  They’d gone on a long hike yesterday and the dog had been fine. Hadn’t even seemed tired when they got back, just eager for chow. The hound had snored beside his chair all evening while Archie drank beer, ate cracklins and played Minecraft. He’d taken him out just before putting him in his crate for the night and Archie had gone outside with him. He was certain the dog hadn’t gotten into anything, just peed on the weeds over by the shed and come right back in.

Archie stared at the corpse. It didn’t seem like Buddy had suffered at all from whatever’d killed him. The dog’s black-spotted coat appeared healthy and he didn’t have any  obvious injuries. His dry-looking tongue protruded slightly from between his long teeth and he looked peaceful lying all still on his side, although, on closer inspection his partly opened eyes did seem weirdly glazed. 

“He musta died in his sleep,” mused Archie. “Maybe his food had gone bad, and he croaked because of some sort of food poisoning,” 

The dog got Purina Pro Plan dry dog food and a half can of Alpo added to his bowl at each meal. The only other food he got was a Milk Bone from the box on the counter, once a day.  Archie figured if any of the food was bad, it had to be the canned stuff. There was still a half can of the Alpo in the refrigerator. Archie grabbed it. He hadn’t bothered putting the plastic lid on the opened can when he’d put it in the fridge and he drew the container up to his nose for a big sniff. The food smelled perfectly fine. Actually, better than fine. The meaty smell made Archie realize he was hungry.

First, though, Archie needed to think what to do with Buddy’s carcass. The small freezer on top of the refrigerator sure wouldn’t hold it, probably not even if he somehow managed to cut the body up. That probably wouldn’t be a good idea anyway, he thought, envisioning Lim coming back and finding Archie had done a Jeffrey Dahmer on his hunting dog. Should he bury the dog? Possibly, but where was there even a shovel? 

Archie headed out to the dilapidated metal shed he’d noticed in back of the side yard, half covered with weeds. As he approached the deteriorating structure, he noticed with irritation that there was a padlock on the door, but, as he got closer, he saw that the rusty lock wasn’t closed all the way. Threading the lock back through the catch, Archie swung the door open. Inside, spiders had built a mat of webs across the opening, but even through the cobwebs, Archie could see that there was no shovel among the few implements leaning against the back wall. A metal rake missing some teeth, a pair of long-nosed hedge trimmers, a rust-covered saw and a quantity of termite damaged two-by-fours and wood scraps were all the shed contained. Well, it had already been obvious that landscaping was not one of Lim’s particular passions.

No shovel? Now what? The closest town with a hardware store was probably Laramie, about 45 minutes away. But there was the problem of Archie’s maxed out credit card. How would he pay for a shovel once he got there? And-- gas. It would take petrol to make the trip in his gas-guzzling 22-year-old Jeep Cherokee.

Lim had sent him a $60 debit card for fuel and food for his trip down from Rapid City and promised him $20 a day for taking care of Buddy for the 15 days he’d be gone on his hunting trip. The free trip, the food and beer Lim had left for him, plus $300, made his little vacation the perfect break from his crappy job calling deadbeats for a collection agency. It was also a good excuse to get away for a while from Krystal, his on again, off again girlfriend, and her two preteens from hell with their constant sniping at each other.

 He’d just had another huge fight with Krystal a week ago, this time about his “never” taking her out anywhere and not making enough progress to suit her on her unending “honey do” list. Hell, he paid half her rent and only used part of the bedroom and a quarter of the closet yet she seemed to feel like he should be her unpaid maintenance man any time he was home. She also regularly accused him of not finding her attractive anymore since she’d gained “a little” weight. It was actually a lot of weight she’d piled on, and Krystal wasn’t totally wrong about the attraction thing. Still, he mostly liked living at her place. It was cheap, the gal could cook and it felt good to snuggle up with her when they were getting along.

Now, what the fuck should he do? It was unlikely that Lim would want to give him $20 a day for having killed his dog, and yet without the promised $300, and having missed a week of pay at the agency, he wouldn’t be able to pony up his half of the rent. That meant Krystal would raise holy hell, maybe even kick him out for good. 

“Shit. Shit! SHIT!” Archie seethed.

“Think!” Archie commanded, grabbing his head in both hands to indicate to himself where this process should occur.

Retrieving a cold Coors from the refrigerator, Archie settled back in Lim’s lone La-z-boy and pondered his options. Two beers later, he had a plan.

Tugging the wadded fleece blanket from the bunk, Archie approached the crate, inside of which, he noted, Buddy hadn’t moved a muscle. Dropping to his knees, Archie took hold of the dog’s hips and wrenched backwards. He managed to move the corpse only a few inches. Frustrated by how unwieldy Buddy was proving to be, Archie tried another tack. Sitting back on his butt, Archie braced his skinny legs against the edges of the crate and its door, leaned frontward and gave the dog’s hindquarters a big yank. The carcass shot out and landed up against Archie’s chest. Immediately, Archie perceived that the dog already smelled off.

With a grunt of disgust, Archie shoved Buddy off him, clambered to his feet and positioned the bed covering next to the body. Using the dog’s legs like handles, he maneuvered the corpse into the center of the blanket and dragged it towards the door. Realizing that he couldn’t now get the door open, he retreated to the other side of the blanket and tugged it back a few inches. With effort, he managed to get the make-shift sledge down the two wooden steps.

As the chill air hit him, Archie remembered that he hadn’t put on his pants yet. Leaving Buddy braced against the steps and staring skyward, he went back in the cabin, found his jeans laying in a twist half under the bed, shrugged on his sweatshirt and returned to his task.

Archie again creaked open the door to the shed and began pitching its contents out into the weeds.  When the lean-to was empty, he resumed dragging the blanket and its passenger across the yard. When he reached the shed, he folded the fleece around the corpse as best he could and wedged Buddy in. Closing the door, Archie considered locking the padlock, but thought better of it worrying that Lim might not have the key anymore. 

Thinking about mountain lions, buzzards and other scavengers that would soon smell the carcass, Archie began stacking wood scraps against the door. When he was done bracing everything he could find in order to secure the shed, he figured nothing but a black bear was likely to be able to get in there. He’d just have to hope none wondered by in the next week and a half.

Back in the house, Archie started going through kitchen drawers looking for paper and something to write with. He found a stub of pencil adhered to the bottom of a drawer with something dark and sticky but he located not a scrap of paper in the entire place. Going through the garbage, he realized that all of the discarded food containers were either plastic or tin. 

“Damn it to hell,” Archie griped. Then, out of the blue, he got an inspiration. Pulling out all of the plastic grocery bags Lim had stuffed under the sink for use in picking up Buddy’s poop, he began going through them. In the third one, Archie found a nice long Safeway receipt. It would have to do.

“Sorry, Lim,” Archie scrawled. “Dog died fourth night. Don’t know why. Check shed.” Reading over his message, Archie wished he’d written, “Buddy died” instead of “dog died,” but it was done now. He secured the note on the kitchen table between two full cans of Alpo.

Next, Archie checked his wallet. $27 and some change. He figured there was about $5 left on the debit card Lim had sent him and maybe a third of a tank left in the Jeep. No way he could make it 335 miles back to Rapid City on this, but he’d thought of a tactic that might get him home.

About five hours later, 57 miles from Rapid City and back in cell coverage, the gas indicator winked on.  Archie pulled over into the parking lot of an out-of-business furniture store and punched in Krystal’s number. She’d clearly recognized his number when her grumpy voice issued a wary, “Hello, Arch.” 

He was all prepared with the lines he’d been mentally rehearsing.

“Babe,” Archie said, summoning his sweetest tones, “I just couldn’t stay gone the whole two weeks. I’ve been miserable because I missed you so much. I’m almost home now, Pretty Girl, but flat outta gas. Come get me, Babe, please. I can’t wait to hold you.”