The Heart that Gives

I was making coffee at dawn, and through the kitchen window I saw three black buzzards sitting on the roof of the barn. I thought about Charlie, then put on my boots and walked out to the edge of the pasture. The mound that had covered him was scattered earth. I saw a few pieces of spine and there was one of his leg bones with a little bit of red muscle still stuck to it. That was about it. Those bastard-ass coyotes had dug him up. After I buried him, I had thought about going into town to buy repellent at the farm store, but never did. They must have dug him up in the night while I was sleeping. I got pretty drunk last night. After burying Charlie, I went to the house and drank beer until I woke up at three in the morning on the kitchen floor. I usually don’t drink that much, but Charlie was a damn good dog.

Since Karen passed, Charlie was about the only company I really wanted around here at the house. Both my kids are living up in Owensboro. They don’t call very often. Hell, they got lives of their own and I just want them to be happy.

There’s a little diner out on route 15 where Cheryl works. I only know her first name, but I’ve talked to her more than anyone since Karen’s funeral. She doesn’t wear a wedding ring. Sometimes I sit at the counter and order some coffee, sometimes a piece of pie or something, and we get to talking every time. She smiles when I come in, and I watch her—she doesn’t smile that way at everyone like some of those other girls do with their plastic waitress faces.

Cheryl's got beautiful brown hair and dark eyes. She works the day shift Monday through Thursday. I like to go in around two, cause that’s when the lunch crowd clears out. She and I will talk until she gets busy again. She’s the only one I’ve talked to about Karen. I don’t even talk to my brother about that.

He calls me once in a while in the evening to check on me. I tell him I’m fine and he’ll go on about some new girl he’s ballin. He’s fifty-eight and swings his dick around Louisville like he was young bull in a pasture full of cows standing to be mounted. Did you know a cow in heat can be mounted upwards of forty times for three to seven seconds at a time? Farmer over the hill told me that.

My brother meets most of these old gals in bars. I can’t imagine the type of women he gets now. Never stays with any one too long. I think they catch on real quick to what he’s all about. He’s always liked to party but lately, he seems to be getting unhinged. He’s been married three times to three of the craziest women I’ve ever met. One of them broke his hand with hammer. Did it on purpose. He doesn’t have a penny to his name because when his check comes in the mail, he plays the horses. He wins sometimes, but then blows it all on boozing and cruising. I guess you could say he’s a dreamer of sorts. But he calls me.

Charlie was a 12-year old, pure bred Walker Coonhound. He was about the best dog I ever had when it came to hunting coons. I watched him fight this 30- pound coon one night while we were out in Owen county. That coon tore three bloody snags into Charlie’s side before he ended grabbing it by the neck and shaking it like a ball of hogshit and wire. He pinned that coon to the ground, and I finished it off.

I got a recipe for coon with a maple glaze on it. I gave Charlie a big plate of that: he had to eat it while wearing one of those medical collars that look like a lamp shade upside down. He wouldn’t stop licking those cuts and the vet said they wasn't gonna heal right if he kept licking them. He was friggin miserable wearing that thing, but he ate every last bit of that bbq.

I’m still not sure what he got into the other night, but he didn’t wake me up like he usually does. I came down, found him on the rug and his breathing was real shallow. He was just lying there with his head on his paws. I went to get my phone, but before I could even call the vet, Charlie stopped breathing and was still. His eyes were still open but he wasn’t in there anymore. I felt a cold sweat run through me. He was warm, and I sat beside him for a while. I hadn’t felt too much since Karen died, but right then my whole insides felt like cinder block. I just sat there with Charlie and watched the light came in through the window until it drifted across the rug clear to the other side of room. Clock ticking was the only noise in the house.

You might think I’ ve been telling you all this cause I’m trying to make you feel sorry for me. I ain’t. People all around here got it tough. Hell, there’s this one guy over in Bracken county they found half-starved in a closet. He got kidnapped by this meth head couple who made him do all kinds of weird shit. Sexual stuff. I heard from a guy at the feed mill that they had him chained up like an animal. They found him because the neighbors finally got tired of the yelling and called the cops. You live around here long enough, and you’re bound to hear something like that. I saw the couple’s picture on the news, both their faces had those meth marks all over them. Both of them had real hollow eyes. How in the hell do you even get started down a road like that?

I try to be grateful every day. I had a good marriage and retired before my knees were blown out. I was reading in the paper about that girl over in Illinois who was found innocent of killing her baby. He drowned in the bathtub while she was passed out drunk. I can’t imagine what she went through. Her husband, too. I saw a picture of her in the paper, and she looked like a shell. I never seen anybody look so sad. So, I know I don’t have much to complain about. I got this little piece of land, my kids are doin alright, I still can still piss straight, and I got a beating heart. Hell, dogs die every day. Charlie was a good one though. I was thinking if I come across those coyotes out here again, I might just go after them with my bare hands. What kind of chance do you think a man might have fighting wild dogs? I find myself daydreaming about it. I know it ain’t right. Sometimes I picture that when I’m done, I’d have to wear one of those lamp shade things, too.

I went down to the diner this afternoon. Two o’clock, like always. Rain clouds chased my truck the whole way there. Cheryl looked up and smiled when I walked in and before I even sat down there was coffee steaming in a cup in front of me. I ordered a piece of chocolate cake. I was the only customer in there when rain started to tap against the windows and roof. It was a nice sound. Cheryl was leaning at the counter in front me. The slightest scent of flowers seemed to float around her. I didn’t feel like talking about Charlie, because she seemed like she was in a good mood and it even felt like something inside me was starting to feel good, too. She was standing quiet for a minute, and I looked up into her eyes. They were so pretty. Cheryl smiled, reached out and wiped a bit chocolate from the corner of my mouth.