Housebroken Page 2

  Now the car door opened and a woman emerged. She leaned through the open window, and the man inside kissed her. Then she turned around, stood with her back to the car, and took her keys out of her handbag. The dog heard sounds of laughter and whispering, and opened one eye. The woman was leaning into the car again, her one leg resting against the door and the other raised in the air, and the man was kissing her and trying to pull her back in. Then she straightened up, the driver’s door opened, and the man got out, slammed the door, and came around to the sidewalk.

  He slouched against the passenger door. The woman stood facing him, playing with the bunch of keys, which clattered every time she threw it into the air and caught it in the palm of her hand. The man leaned toward her and whispered something in her ear. The woman took a step backward, shook her head, and went on bouncing the keys in her hand. The puppy opened his other eye and pricked up one of his ears.

  The man said: “But why not?” And the woman kept quiet and smiled and went on rattling her keys. The puppy crawled out from under the bush and wagged his tail.

  At first they didn’t notice him. They embraced and kissed, and the bunch of keys was caught between them and the puppy heard only sucking noises and whispers and again: “Why not? Just for coffee.” And again the keys rattled, and the puppy ran up to the man and woman, his tail between his legs, his head bowed and tilted to one side.

  The woman saw him, bent down, and put the bunch of keys on the sidewalk. The man said: “Look, what a poor little puppy.”

  “He’s so thin,” said the woman and scratched the back of his neck with her fingers.

  “He’s friendly,” said the man.

  “Poor little thing,” said the woman.

  “Look how happy he is,” said the man, and sat down on his heels. With one hand he stroked the puppy’s belly and with the other he stroked the nape of the woman’s neck. Then they kissed again, but they went on scratching and tickling the belly of the puppy, who immediately succumbed to their fondlings.

  “What are we going to do with him?” said the woman and put her hand on the man’s shoulder.

  “Let’s go up to your place,” said the man.

  “But what about him?” she said, and looked at the puppy now lying on his belly, his head resting on his paws and his tail thumping the sidewalk.

  “It doesn’t look as if he belongs to anyone. You want a dog?”

  “I don’t know. Do you?”

  “I can’t,” he said. “I’m hardly ever home.”

  “Actually I’d like to have a dog, but I don’t know if I need that kind of commitment right now,” said the woman.

  “I certainly don’t,” said the man and put his hand on the woman’s thigh. She sat back on the sidewalk and said: “That’s enough.”

  “So are we going up to your place?” asked the man.

  “Yes,” said the woman and stood up. “But just for coffee.”

  “And what about him?” the man said and looked at the dog.

  “We’ll give him something to eat, and when you leave you can take him out again,” said the woman.

  “Okay,” he said, and kissed her again, this time gently, on her cheek. “After coffee I’ll take him out.”

  But the man and the dog stayed over.

  5

  Each of them slept in his own place—the dog on a little rug at the foot of the bed, and the man in the bed next to the woman. The man and the woman didn’t go to sleep right away. First of all they took care of the dog. They took out almost the entire contents of the fridge and put them on a plastic plate which the woman removed from beneath one of the potted plants on the balcony. The dog’s meal included a full container of cottage cheese, a few slices of hard cheese, some smoked turkey, and mocha-flavored yogurt. The man and the woman were in a generous mood. The woman put the plate down on the marble counter and asked the man if he thought it was enough. The man hugged her from behind and pressed his lips to her neck.

  The dog sat on the floor next to the fridge. He understood instinctively that this would be the source of his happiness tonight, and maybe not only tonight but forever, and the man pushed him aside with his foot, opened the door, peeped inside, and took out three eggs. He broke them onto the plate with one hand and threw the shells into the garbage can. The woman picked up the plate, turned toward the man, and they kissed again. The dog jumped into the air.

  Finally, the woman remembered him and she laughed and said: “Poor little thing, I’m starving you.” She freed herself from the embrace, bent down, and put the plate on the floor. The dog devoured the food. The man leaned the woman against the fridge and lifted the hem of her dress. The dog ate, whimpering as he did. His whole body trembled with excitement. He ate quickly without tasting, but when he progressed from the rim of the plate to the middle and discovered that there still was more food he slowed down and closed his eyes, abandoning himself to the mixed tastes of the eggs and cheese and turkey and mocha. He polished the meal off and then licked the plate clean. Then he turned it over, pushed it along the floor with his paw, stuck his nose under the edge, and then turned it over to lick the bottom again. When he discovered that the plate had nothing more to offer, he suddenly felt both satisfied and anxious and ran into the bedroom.

  The man and the woman were rolling around on the bed naked. The dog found their clothes strewn like signposts from the kitchen to the hallway to the bedroom, which was dark and sounded of grunts. Now that the dog was full he wanted to play and began to run around the bed. He heard the man and the woman laughing and whispering, and when he saw the man’s naked foot poking out of the sheet he stood on his hind legs and sniffed the warm, rough heel. The man kicked him. The dog fell on his back and rolled on the floor. He stood up and wagged his tail. He knew that this time it was a good kick.

  With his stomach full, he was subject to a strange mixture of happiness and restlessness. The happiness he remembered dimly, distinct from all other memories, as a square of cardboard; the restlessness was still fresh and painful and detailed: leaves, scorching asphalt, thirst, thousands of kicking feet, and one chicken leg which was either part of the happiness or the restlessness, the dog didn’t know which. He circled the bed, again stood up on his hind legs, and laid his head on the mattress. He tested the man’s side and then went around to the woman’s side, but neither wanted to play.

  He ran to the kitchen, sniffed his plate, and licked it again; then he flipped it and kicked it and dragged it over the floor until he grew bored and returned to the bedroom. On the way he collected a sock which smelled like the rough, warm heel. He shook it between his teeth and growled, but the sock, the man, and the woman didn’t cooperate. He sat next to the door and looked at the bed rocking in the dark. He missed the man and the woman.

  He barked one of his experimental barks—he wasn’t quite accustomed to the sound and he wasn’t yet sure of its meaning—and when there was no response he ran to the living room, the sock dangling from his mouth, and crawled under the sofa. He was almost asleep when he heard water running in the bathroom. He hurried there, full of hope, and saw the woman stooped over in the bath, her back to him. She turned and smiled, aimed the shower head, and sprayed him with water. He sneezed and drew back, and when the woman came out of the bathroom he ran to the living room, beckoning her with his head to follow him. He crawled under the sofa and waited, but the woman didn’t come.

  The house was quiet now. The dog went into the kitchen, where the fluorescent light was on, and looked from a distance at his plate, which was lying upside down next to the balcony door. He couldn’t remember what had been in it that had driven him so frantic with joy. He sniffed at it again, and went back to the bedroom. The man was lying on his stomach and the woman was lying on her side. The man’s arm was wrapped around the woman’s waist, and the woman’s leg was lying at an angle across the man’s legs. The puppy curled up on the little rug at the foot of the bed, closed his eyes, and let out a long breath that contained both bitterness an
d resignation. He pricked up one ear to remain on guard, to defend the man and the woman against all possible enemies, and then sank into a long, sound sleep.

  6

  In the morning the man woke up and went to the bathroom. He peed and yawned and for a moment was alarmed to feel a wet tongue and sharp teeth rubbing against his ankle. Then he remembered the puppy and the events of the night before and smiled, flushed the toilet, and bent down to stroke the dog’s head. He went into the kitchen, picked his shirt up from the floor, collected his belt and shoes from the hallway, and returned to the bedroom, where he found his jeans waiting for him on the floor in a kneeling position with his underpants inside them. He gathered his clothes together and put them down on the bed, on his side, and began to get dressed quietly, trying not to wake the woman. But the dog barked—this time it sounded almost like a real bark—and the woman woke up.

  The man apologized, but the dog was beside himself with joy. Now they were both awake, which doubled his chances of getting love. He dashed around the bed barking, and then he ran into the bathroom and peed on the floor. He went back to the bedroom, feeling a little guilty without knowing why. The man was sitting on the edge of the bed and looking around the room for his sock. The woman crawled over the bed on her elbows and knees, put her arms around his neck, and said: “Are you leaving already?”

  “I’m late for work,” said the man, “and I can’t find my sock.”

  “Should I help you look?” asked the woman and rubbed the tip of her nose on his ear.

  “No,” said the man. He looked at the dog and asked: “Well? Should I take him with me and let him go somewhere?”

  The woman nodded.

  “Will you come over this evening?” she asked.

  The man picked the puppy up in one hand and waved him in front of her and asked her if she wanted to say good-bye to him.

  “No,” said the woman.

  “Not even a kiss?” asked the man.

  “No. I don’t want to get attached. So are you coming over this evening?”

  The man sat back down on the edge of the bed, clasped the puppy to his chest, and said: “Actually he’s rather cute, don’t you think?”

  The woman didn’t answer. She saw the man murmuring sweet talk to the dog and the dog wriggling in his arms, and suddenly she felt demeaned, because this was exactly the way he had talked to her in the night, and exactly the way she had wriggled in his arms. She hoped the man would fight for the dog, take pity on him, find a corner for him in his life, but she knew he was going to get rid of him without thinking twice.

  She said: “So will you come over tonight?” and put her hand on his thigh. The man threw the puppy into the air, caught him, threw him up and caught him again.

  “Be careful!” she said. “Did you hear me?”

  The man sat the dog in his lap, felt one of his paws with his fingers, and said: “Do you think he’ll be big?”

  She lay down on her stomach next to the man, stretched out her hand, and touched the dog’s wet nose with her fingertips.

  “I can’t find my sock,” said the man.

  “I’ll give you a pair,” said the woman and she wanted to get up and go to the closet, but the man put his hand on her shoulder to stop her.

  “Are you sure?” asked the woman.

  “Sure,” said the man.

  “So will we keep in touch?” asked the woman.

  The man stood up and said: “We’ll see. I don’t know.”

  He pushed his bare foot into the shoe and tied the laces. “Should I let myself out?” he asked, but the woman pulled the sheet over her head and didn’t answer. “I’ll let myself out,” said the man, and he left the room, carrying the delighted puppy under his arm. From the door he called: “Good-bye!” The woman jumped out of bed and ran after him, clutching the sheet, her hair wild, her face swollen, and her eyes glittering with tears.

  “Leave him here!” she said.

  “What?”

  “Leave him here,” she said.

  “Are you sure?” asked the man.

  “Yes,” said the woman, “I’m sure. I want him.”

  The man shrugged his shoulders, handed the dog over, and kissed the woman on her cheek. He gave the dog a little pat too and went away.

  7

  The dog knew that yesterday he had been a stray and today he was a pet. There was a price to pay, though, and he was happy to pay it. All day long the woman chased after him and swept him up in her arms and pressed him to her breast and buried her face in his neck and wet his coat with her tears. When he whimpered in protest she would put him down on the floor, mutter something, throwing herself onto the living-room sofa to leaf through the newspaper, stare at the TV, or dial phone numbers, and the dog would gain a few precious minutes of freedom, which he used to explore.

  Once, when the woman was talking on the phone, he managed to climb onto the bed. He stepped carefully, treading on the sheets and pillows, which with every step let loose a cloud of familiar smells: the smell of the woman and the smell of the man, and when he poked his nose into the gap between the two pillows and made a thorough study of the scent line down the length of the bed, he caught a sharp and unfamiliar odor—the smell of them both. He returned to the living room feeling excited, and again the woman swept him up in her arms and hugged him and smothered him. He squirmed and whined, so she put him down on the floor and dropped back onto the sofa. He sat on the carpet and looked up. He liked the woman, but he was afraid of her.

  Toward evening, she calmed down. She spoke on the phone some more while the dog lay at her feet with his eyes closed, nibbling the tip of one of her rubber flip-flops.

  “The bastard!” the woman shouted into the phone and resumed her crying, and the dog was afraid that it was going to start all over again, the hugging and the kissing and the sobbing and the choking. He raised his head to look at her but all he saw was agitated knees and fingers holding a burning cigarette.

  “Are you listening?” said the woman. “I acted like a total idiot! An idiot! I don’t know what came over me. We kissed a little and he came upstairs and that’s it. It happened. It just happened.

  “Yes, it was nice. It was more than nice. It was wonderful.

  “In the morning.

  “I tried! I’ve been trying for hours, but you weren’t home. Where were you?

  “I don’t know. About ten o’clock, right after he left. He was going to leave without even saying good-bye. You get it? You see what kind of a person he is?

  “Because I heard him getting dressed. He thought I wouldn’t wake up.

  “Maybe. But even if he’d left a note, that wouldn’t make it okay.

  “I woke up.

  “Nothing. We didn’t even have coffee. He said he had to go to work.

  “I don’t remember. He told me yesterday. Something to do with film production.

  “I don’t know. He told me, but I don’t remember.

  “That’s it. And I asked if he wanted to keep in touch.

  “Yes, I did.

  “I know.

  “You’re right. It was a mistake. And just to prove it he said he didn’t know.

  “But I haven’t got the strength for these games anymore. I haven’t got the strength.

  “Yes. He said: ‘We’ll see. I don’t know.’

  “That’s what he said: ‘We’ll see.’

  “Yes. I’m sure.

  “I don’t know what it means. Probably no.”

  The woman burst into tears again; the dog stopped nibbling the flip-flop and began licking her ankle, and the woman bent down and picked him up, but this time she didn’t choke him; she sat him carefully on her lap and began feeling the fur on his neck and said: “I forgot to tell you, I have a dog.

  “Just a dog.

  “A stray.

  “I don’t know. Ugly. A puppy.

  “Maybe two months. Small.

  “We found him last night. When he brought me home, it was under my building.

/>   “But I couldn’t just leave him outside. He was starving. That’s why he came up with me in the first place, to feed the dog. That was the excuse. He said he’d take him away afterward.

  “No. I wouldn’t let him. I don’t know why. I felt sorry for the poor little thing. Do you think he’ll call to ask about the dog?

  “I don’t know. I can’t throw him out now. Maybe I’ll wait a day or two. Let’s see what happens. Let’s see if he gets in touch. You want a dog?”

  When she hung up the woman dried her tears and went to the bathroom. The dog heard her shouting and then she came back into the living room. She shook a finger at him. He dropped the rubber flip-flop and lowered his eyes. He knew he had done something bad, but he didn’t know what. The woman burst out crying again, but it wasn’t the same crying as in the morning and the afternoon, it was different, flat and deflated.

  “Sonofabitch!” she shouted. “What do I need this for?”

  She went into the kitchen, got a stick and a rag, and went back to the bathroom. He followed and watched her mopping up the puddle on the floor and crying. She turned her head—just as she had done at night when she caught him looking at her—and for a minute he filled with joy, but then the woman threw the wet rag at him. He was alarmed and ran to hide under the sofa. The woman ran after him. She kicked the sofa and hurt her toe. Now she cried in a different way, which alarmed him more than all the other kinds he had heard before. She hopped around the room, holding her foot in her hand and crying, but all of a sudden she stopped. He saw her kneeling and stretching her hand toward him, so close it was almost touching him, and pulling out the sock, which was now full of holes and fuzzy dust. He didn’t protest or try to take the sock back. Something in him wanted to make friends with the woman and something in him wanted to go back to the street, but he made no move, because he knew she was dangerous now—she was quiet, not kicking or crying, just walking around the room with the white sock crushed in her hand, whispering: “It’s all because of you.”