THE NINETIETH DAY . . .
 
(Wednesday, September 9, after dinner shift)
 
CÉCE:
 
“Howya doin’?” Vic says.
“School started this week,” I say. In addition to weekends, I’m working Wednesday nights during the school year to save money for the college I won’t get into.
“I know. So howya doin’?”
“I just said, school started. Must I translate?”
“Good news is, I’ve been looking into the dog thing,” Vic says.
“Oh god.”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“I hit the salad bar with a few of my buddies from the VFW a couple of nights back. They’re co-sponsoring an application for a dog for Anthony.”
“VFW,” I say. “Foreign wars. Anthony never made it overseas.”
“Kid, they all know your brother. They know what he gave up for that old man in the truck. They love him. Everybody does. We’ll probably have a dog within the month.”
“Vic—”
Hey. Stop. I’m sorry you had a bit of a rough summer. I am. And it’s okay to be in a bad mood. But it’s not okay to be in a bad mood around other people.”
“What are you talking about? A bit of a rough summer? You have no idea what I’ve endured these past weeks.”
“Céce, look, I’m sixty-eight years old. I know what you’ve endured. The time for enduring is over. Now it’s time to be happy. This dog thing: You need to do it. For your mother, kid. For your brother. And you have nothing to worry about here. They come one hundred percent trained, the dogs.”
“You’re sure?”
“Specifically for injured soldiers too,” Vic says. “They train them in the jails.”
“The jails.”
“The prisoners are the trainers.”
“Prisoners.”
“Good for the prisoner, the dog, the vet. Everybody wins.”
“Backtrack. Prisoners like Mack?”
“They want the older guys doing it. Here.” He taps the website onto his iPad.
Old Dogs, New Tricks: We look to rehabilitate dogs while giving veterans companionship and prisoners hope. Trainers generally are at least thirty years of age with significant offenses on their records, with the average age being fifty-one. By taking part in the program, older participants often are able to reduce their sentences, achieve early parole, and, upon release, segue to community-service-oriented positions that will sustain them both financially and spiritually in their senior years. Many trainers find post-prison employment at Old Dogs, New Tricks. Dogs are trained individually and to accommodate each veteran’s needs. Trainers visit the prospective adopters’ homes with the dogs to incorporate special needs into training.
“So the prisoner is coming to my house?”
“Absolutely,” Vic says. “Probably sometime in the next few days, the vet who filed the application tells me.”
“Okay wait. Again, I know it’s a ridiculous long shot, but Mack is ridiculously gifted—”
“Check the list of training sites there,” Vic says, shaking his head no. “You’ll see that, unfortunately, the island hasn’t been approved as an official site yet.”
“It says ‘application pending.’ ”
“Exactly,” Vic says, “which is why I’m having all my buddies from the VFW write letters of support to get it there. A few years from now, Mack comes of age, they’ll hire him. Won’t be long after that when he’ll be running the show, just you watch.”
“Why do you keep investing in him?”
“Investing?”
“Your hope. You taught him to cook. You were willing to send him to school. You trusted him, and then he goes and—”
“Nah, now look, none of that. Horrible things happen. They do. But you move on stronger. This Old Dogs thing is a great program. In the future, Mack can be a big part of it. He needs to be a part of it. Look at the testimonials link there.”
I’m studying the site. All these older inmates say Old Dogs, New Tricks saved their lives. I’m starting to soften. And I’m too drained to fight Vic anymore. “You’re unrelenting.”
“Indefatigable even,” he says.
“How’d you find out about this thing anyway?”
“Remember that kid Cameron who used to work over at the original Vic’s a few years back, used to do delivery at the Too once in a while? Maybe you were too young, but your mother will remember him. Good kid. Anyway, he’s in this alternative to prison program, and for his parole, he asked me to be one of his sponsors. He’s trying to be a journalist. I turned him onto this site looking for animal rescue stories. He tapped a few of his contacts from the old days, went out and dug up the Old Dogs story, and they published it. Here, click that link, the one that says A Spin With Cosmos. It’s a potent little piece.” He heads off with his crossword.
The link redirects me to this animal rescue website that Vic was pushing on Ma a few weeks back. A side banner asks readers to send in interesting animal rescue stories. A Spin With Cosmos is featured on the front page of the group’s newsletter:
Zeke made a mistake. Cosmos was a throwaway. They live in a small but clean room, and they are each other’s everything. Bars and razor wire surround them, but when they are together, they are free. “This dog has taken me places I didn’t dare dream,” Zeke says, throwing a knotted stick into a mound of chopped branches. We are in the prison’s grounds maintenance yard. Recent storms felled many trees. We watch as Cosmos digs through the branches for the one his trainer threw. “I used to lock into the past,” Zeke says. “I used to fear the future. But Cosmos has taken me into living in this minute. I never thought I’d get here. He just wants to be happy, and you can’t stop him from doing that. That’s his job, having a gas with himself. He doesn’t care where he is or who he’s with—he even loves the guards. You can’t be sad around him. He won’t let you. I know what peace looks like now.”
Cosmos retrieves the very stick Zeke threw and sits on his trainer’s feet. “Pit bulls like to do that,” Zeke says. I wonder if the dog is guarding Zeke. “No,” Zeke says. “He just has to be touching something alive all the time. I’ve trained him not to jump up, so anything above the knees is off limits, unless I squat and call him to me. Then he’s allowed to curl into me. It can be a hundred degrees out, and he will still try to climb inside my shirt.” Zeke and Cosmos demonstrate. “If you take the time to train a dog, he’ll teach you what you are and where you can go. How you can be calm and strong at the same time. This Cosmos is special, though. He catches houseflies with his mouth and brings them outside and spits them to set them free.” Zeke buries his head in the dog’s neck. He turns away and runs with the dog.
 
Then there’s this bit about Cosmos being in love with a mouse, and my ESP is making a comeback. It’s tickling hard: I think we’re going to get a really good dog. Yeah, I feel it.