Page 11 of Fall From Grace

We took off running after him. He was always visible in sight, going house to house, trailer to trailer, peeing on everything, but we couldn’t get close. He’d spot us and take off running like a bolt of lightning. We kept at it for a long time, often cornering him on both sides, but he somehow always got the better of us.

It wasn’t until I ran inside and grabbed some more bologna that I was able to coax him into coming to me, but by then it was too late. We watched from behind another neighbor’s house—where we caught Bruce—as Bruce’s turd owner pulled into the driveway. And when he stepped out of his truck, placing his hand on his hat, the first place he looked was the spot Bruce was supposed to be, then I just knew he saw the opened gate next. I held Bruce by the collar and turned to Noah nervously as we led him over to his house.

Noah and I were both covered in sweat and exhausted, but now I was scared of what Bruce’s owner was going to say to me. “It’s okay, Grace,” Noah told me. Maybe he knew I was on the verge of crying. “We got him, he’s safe, and we are taking him back.”

I nodded but when I looked up, Bruce’s owner was heading toward us with an ugly scowl on his face. “Mind telling me why you kids have my dog and my gate is wide open?”

“I saw that his bowl was empty—”

Noah prevented me from talking any further. “I just went to give him some food and water since it’s been hot today, and his collar was looking a little tight—”

“Kid, are you trying to say I’m not feeding my dog?” He seemed angrier now.

I was truly scared because I knew I shouldn’t have. “No, sir,” Noah started.

“You little shits are starting to make me angry.” He looked to me and pointed. “I should have known you would eventually make your way over into my yard, always hanging around the fence and calling for Bruce.”

Tears were in my eyes. “She just likes your dog, sir,” Noah sounded angry now, and I hated that I got him into this.

“I’m sorry,” I started.

“Give me my damn dog,” he yanked Bruce from my hold, and even his pet whimpered and hunkered down. My heart broke.

He looked at Noah again. “Your John’s boy, ain’t ya? No wonder,” he spat the words out, and I immediately turned to see how Noah would react. His parents were his sore spot. He gripped his fists but otherwise held it in.

“Everything okay out here?” Noah’s dad, John, hopped off their porch with no shoes or shirt on. Just his jeans and a cigarette in his hand. He sauntered on over to us.

“Yes, your son and his friend came over into my yard and let Bruce out.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” I said quickly. “It was an accident.”

“My son?” John asked, looking back and forth between us. “Doesn’t sound like something he’d do.” I felt my cheeks color. Somehow, I knew he knew this was because of me.

Bruce’s owner placed his hands on his hips and huffed. “Shit,” he said in disbelief. “With parents like y’all, it’s no wonder… I’ll have to check and make sure nothing’s been stolen.”

“Say whatever you want about me, but my son’s not a thief. He’s a good kid.” It was weird hearing his father praise him when Noah refused to talk about them. “Check your shit, just leave the kids alone. You got your dog, and y’all won’t go back into his yard, will ya?” I shook my head immediately. Noah looked like he was about to explode. Maybe he didn’t like his dad helping us, there was so much I still couldn’t figure out about Noah.

“The next time it happens, I’ll call the cops. Y’all staying up and partying all hours of the night, keeping everyone up is getting out of hand too,” he huffed before jerking Bruce by the collar. “Come on, boy.”

John blew out a stream of smoke as he watched him leave before turning back to us. “You didn’t really let that dog out, did ya?” he asked Noah.

“Not on purpose,” Noah replied.

“You weren’t even the one in the yard.” John smiled at me, and my eyes widened before I averted his gaze.

“Yes, I fed the dog and loosened his collar because it was too tight. He got out before I finished closing the gate.”

“Noah,” I whispered, but he ignored me. Why was he taking the blame? The worst part was over, he didn’t have to go that far.

John didn’t look like he believed him anyway though. “Mm-hmm,” he said through another cloud of smoke. Then he threw the cigarette on the blacktop and ruffled up Noah’s hair. “Well, well,” John said through a yellow smile.

“Stop it.” Noah pushed him away.

“So, you have something you want to protect, do ya?” John asked him. Noah looked to me then immediately turned back to his dad with a hint of red across his cheeks.

“Just leave me alone,” Noah huffed. I stood there quietly, observing their interactions. I was glad that Noah’s dad had come outside and diffused the situation, but most of all, this weird feeling warmed my chest at the thought of Noah protecting me when he could have done otherwise.

A few months later, Bruce died and that fear of his owner only turned to hatred. Maybe I should have left him to be a stray. Maybe he would have still been alive.