Pato
 
by Wayne Paquette
 

This is a story about a boy and his dog.
It wasn't his dog exactly but they did spend one summer together.

That was back in 1955. School was almost over and Ty would soon be eleven. He was the type of kid who liked to play with the others on his street but still had a solitary side to him.

Counting his mom and dad and the boarder that roomed with his family there were ten people in his house. His new sister had been born in March so his mother was quite busy with their new baby and his other infant sister. His brother Joe was beginning to hang around with a group of older boys from the neighborhood. His younger sister Judy was, of course, a girl so he didn't hang around with her or her friends. And Paul, his younger brother, was too young to cross the street and besides he had friends of his own.

So Ty was often absorbed in his own fantasies. He'd be working on something or other in the basement, in the backyard, or across the street in the vacant lot where the vegetable gardens were. He made all kinds of stuff like wooden guns, bows and arrows, shacks, miniature cities out of mud, and even a submarine out of a pile of old lumber. Always making things up to act out all kinds of adventures.

The month before, in May, new neighbors had moved in next door. Their name was Trepanier. Mr. Trepanier had bought the duplex next to them and he and his wife had taken over the lower flat. Their back porch and long narrow yard ran beside his own much larger yard. Mr. Trepanier was a bus driver.

Ty's house was a two story single family house that his mother always referred to as a cottage though it was not like a cottage in the country. His mother said that cottage just meant it had two floors.

One day after school he was up in his room, the one he shared with his brother Joe, when the sound of a puppy yapping somewhere outside grabbed his attention.

His first dog, old Jumbo had been gone for a few years now and Ty often asked when they were going to get a new dog.

He went out onto the upstairs porch to see if he could see the pup. He followed the sound of the dog until he spotted the little guy in the bus driver's backyard on the other side of the high green fence.

Down Ty went. Over the porch railing. Then hanging by his arms until he got a foothold on the sill of the small window of the pantry that extended out from the kitchen below. Next he shifted his hands to the top of the window frame and lowered himself onto the roof of the shed that covered the door into the basement. After crossing the roof he squeezed down the space between the shed and the wall of the next building to the ground. Finally out from between the wall and the shed and into the backyard. He and Joe had discovered that secret path when their mother was in the hospital having the baby. They had a few wild days when they were home alone while their father was at work and the younger children were staying with their grandmother.

Ty went over to the fence that ran between the yards. The picket fence he had watched his father and uncle build a few years earlier. He moved towards the puppy. The little dog spotted Ty and ran towards him. For Ty it was love at first sight. He loved that little dog so much he couldn't even admit it to himself. He couldn't want it, it wasn't his.

Of course the puppy with all its energy and friskiness wanted to play with him. Without any sense or care the little pup tried to squeeze through the fence. He was trying to get under the lower board that held the pickets. Ty hoped the little guy would make it through but he didn't dare help him. He looked towards the back door of the bus driver's house. Checking. He saw nothing. Ty relaxed and talking puppy talk with the little dog, watched him do his puppy things.

He was tiny. Perhaps a month old. Still awkward on his big puppy paws. His fur was light grey and white. It was short and stiff, but not wiry like a terrier. His ears were the kind that fold over but not big and floppy like a cocker spaniels. Compact. His snout was sharp like Lassie's. The boy reached down to touch him. First on the wet nose that poked through the fence. The puppy nipped at his hand with those sharp little puppy teeth. Then he reached between the pickets and began to pat the pup on the back. But of course the pup didn't stay still for a moment. It was all bounce and play and tumble. The pup began to yap quite insistently when the boy wouldn't follow after him and chase and tumble around like puppies do.

Checking again, Ty noticed the lady looking through the window. He became shy and embarrassed. She had caught him. He had wanted to keep his love for the pup a secret so he felt doubly guilty. He pulled his arm back too quickly through the fence and gave himself a scratch with a stray nail that was used to stake the tomatoes that his father grew every summer. The scratch was starting to bleed a little. It gave him reason to go in. He would show it to his mother and get it cleaned.

Of course the puppy wanted to follow him. Puppies don't like their friends to leave them alone. He started to whine and yap and squeal. Ty felt good that his new friend called after him.

When he found his mother she was busy with the baby and besides his cut had stopped bleeding so he wandered through the house and out to the front where he sat on the steps. He was staring at the scratch but the smell of the puppy on his hands filled his imagination.

The next day was Saturday and of course he woke up full of wonder about his new friend. When he went down to the backyard he saw the bus driver out in his yard playing with the pup. The man seemed to think the pup was older than it was. Ty wandered over to the fence and looked through trying to appear disinterested. When the bus driver began to speak to him it was in french. Ty was english so he didn't understand very well what was said but he got the gist of it. Ty asked the dog's name. The man told him but the boy couldn't get his english tongue around it. He repeated the sound he thought he had heard and the man nodded that Ty had it but it didn't seem to register on his tongue. Oh, he could repeat the sound but he wasn't sure. At that moment the barking pup caught the attention of the bus driver so he returned to his play with the dog.

As Ty continued to watch through the fence he heard the screen door snap shut behind him. It was his dad. He had come out to sit on one of the deck chairs and enjoy the warm spring sun. He said his hello to the bus driver. They knew each other. His dad drove in the bus driver's bus each morning to work. Ty knew they were talking about the new pup. Then his dad got up and walked over to the fence. They were both looking down at the pup as they talked. Ty heard the name being said again but still he didn't catch it with his tongue. He knew he could check with his father later. He would get it for sure.

His father told him it was Pataud. Ty heard Pato. Seemed an odd name. Pato. His father said it meant that his paws were so big that he was clumsy. Just like him, his father teased. So the little dog's name was Pato. His father also told him that it would grow up to be a very large dog. And that it was part husky. That is the kind of dog used to pull dog sleds. Such a big small dog.

His father went on to say (and this confused Ty) that the bus driver sort of said that maybe they could have the dog. Not to keep but sort of a loan. Or sort of a trial. But his dad said that he shouldn't get his heart set on it because it might not work out. They'd see.

What a confusing jumble of maybes for a ten year old.

Then, two things came together. The first was the news that when school ended the whole family was going to move to the country for the summer. They were going to rent a cottage in Pointe Calumet. That was on the shores of the Lake of Two Mountains. Ty's dad took him to Ste. Anne de Bellevue and from the bridge showed Ty the two mountains on the other side of the lake. Ty was quite fascinated by the adventure of a summer full of woods and water.

The second was that Pato would be coming with them. He didn't quite understand the arrangement. It seemed that Pato wouldn't quite be their dog but since he would be a big dog and the yard was so small his family would sort of give him a good summer and that, "they would see later," when they came back from the country. Ty didn't know about the miscarriage that had happened to Madame Trepanier. He didn't even know the facts of life yet.

At last school ended and up they went to the country. Pato with them.

Up at the summer cottage Pato went wild. He was no longer confined to the long narrow yard. He was free to roam wherever he wanted. Of course he was the delight of all the city kids. He was one of the gang on the short street of summer cottages. He went with them everywhere.

Except swimming.

Pato didn't like swimming. What happened was that soon after they had arrived Pato had an accident. They heard the pup crying and whining and barking. Ty went out to look and see what was up. He found Pato around the back of the cottage stuck in the cesspool. Ty knew he didn't want to be near Pato when started to shake himself dry so he ran back into the house. He told his mom what had happened. But they could still hear the dog yelping and barking. Ty's mom said the poor dog was stuck and told Ty to use the leash to pull Pato out and then drag him down to the lake to rinse off.

Well of course poor Pato was in a panic. And Ty had no desire to get right up close and explain things. So, Pato was dragged down the sandy street, across the beach and into the water. He had struggled against it all the way. Ty towed him into water deep enough that the pup had to do the dog paddle. He knew this would help to clean the dog's fur. Ty pulled the dog back and forth in the water along the beach a few times then let him go while he took a swim and rinsed himself off as well. Pato swam back to the beach and shook himself off. Just to be sure Ty dragged him back into the water and repeated the process.

As they walked back up to the house Ty had the time to tell Pato what had happened and why such drastic measures were required. Maybe the dog understood, maybe he didn't.

From then on, although he might go down to the beach with the family, Pato had no inclination to play in the water. He would normally find a place on the beach that was in the shade and wait for the boys to return.

By the end of July Pato was two months old and beginning to wander off on his own. When he didn't go to the beach he would often explore the woods that started just behind their cottage. Ty's dad had told them that the woods stretched all the way to Bay Road where an apple orchard started on the north side. About halfway between their cottage and the orchard were the railway tracks that carried the men into town after they had spent the weekends with their families. There had been a couple of times when a crashing noise in the brush behind their cottage had given the two brothers a fright. Then they would laugh at themselves as Pato came charging out of the woods towards them.

During this first month at the cottage Ty and his brother Joe had become like two river otters. They couldn't get enough time in the water. Waiting after meals, being careful when the sun was high, and coming out when their lips turned blue with cold, the three cardinal rules were so hard to keep. They never ran out of adventures to act out. And there was almost always a cluster of other kids out at the raft. Really two rafts. They were built up from the bottom and Ty and his brother were able to swim from one to the other. Their most favorite game was to play frogman with each other. They would chase each other in and about the bridge like structures that supported the rafts. Just like river otters. Or navy frogmen discovering each other as enemy and struggling under water in hand to hand combat.

But then things changed up in that cottage community. One morning when Ty and his brother were putting on their trunks their mother told them that the beach was closed. Of course they wanted to know why, and how come, and who said. But there was no reprieve. The lake had become too polluted. It was no longer safe for people to play and swim in. The boys had both noticed that there was more and more of this stringy green algae floating around where they swam. And it grossed them out.

What to do now?

Pato at least was glad that the lake had been closed for swimming. Ty and his brother now took their fantasy adventures into the woods back of the summer place. This was Pato's territory. When they first started to explorethis forest, this jungle, this land that time had forgotten it was Pato who led the way. He knew all the trails and crossings. From time to time the boys had to find their own paths when they were to tall to follow one of Pato's trails. Pato did everything with them except climb trees.

When they were jungle men up in the trees, swaying from one tree to the next Pato would be barking and jumping excitedly, following as the boys moved above him.

One day their wandering took them all the way to the railway. When they came out of the brush into the right of way for the train they were confused. They weren't sure where they were. Then they remembered their father telling them about the tracks. But they also realized that they had no trail to follow back to their house. One of them suggested that they could follow the tracks. But both of them knew that would only take them farther away even though it seemed safe. Before they could really start to worry Pato was barking at them to keep moving as he headed back into the brush at the edge of the right of way. They shrugged their shoulders to each other and followed. This was a real adventure. It was like in one of the Lassie shows where Lassie would get the boys out of trouble. And though they were aware of the risk, they liked the excitement. It wasn't very long at all before the three of them had crossed back through the woods and were once again on the short street in front of their cottage.

At times they did play on the street. There were some girls that lived on the same street as Ty's family and the young ladies often tried to flirt and play with these adventurers. But except for a few shy smiles and greetings, the hunters resisted the call of the girls. The girls of course were afraid of the bush. All that the hunters found exciting and adventurous the girls had been taught to fear. The snakes, the frogs, the noises of the bears as they went charging through the woods. Or at least to act as if they were afraid. The girls were patient though. They were waiting to teach the boys a few things when they were finished playing out their primal male fantasies. Things like kissing and hand holding and sweet talking. Things that the boys had been taught to mock and ridicule. The male expression of fear. Or at least to pretend.

Ty wasn't totally immune. From time to time he did catch himself looking at the girls when they were in their bathing suits. It was a little more than simple curiosity. He was also watching the older ones. The older teenagers and young marrieds who behaved in ways that seemed odd to him. They did these things, teasing and touching and the like, that he knew were not supposed to be done. And he knew they knew it. But they simply made the fact that it was forbidden part of the play.

One day he did try to say something romantic to the girl he found attractive. It turned into an embarrassing catastrophe. He had tried to say the word darling to her, in french, as she passed him. She was part of a flirtatious parade that walked by him and his brother. He said "mon chéri" to her as she went by. She repeated it very mockingly and all the girls broke into laughter.

It had gone wrong. His brother told him it should have been "ma chérie", for a girl, instead of "mon chéri". He was so embarrassed.

He turned right around and went off into the bush with Pato following him.

It was Pato that taught Ty to hunt in the bush. When they would go exploring, expanding the territory that they could roam without getting lost, Pato was always sweeping the area ahead of the boys. He had already done this for himself before the beach was closed. The dog was a natural pointer. Over and over again he would freeze in his tracks as he led the adventurers deeper and deeper into the woods. When the dog stopped the boys stopped. They strained their eyes to see what had caught the dog's attention. Most often it was a frog. Sometimes a snake. Snakes were very hard to see. And even if they caught sight of one of them the snake would disappear before their very eyes because of the way it moved through the undergrowth without moving. It was the rabbits that were the hardest to spot because they didn't run to hide they simply froze where they were. Sometimes so much in the open that it was as if the boys' eyes refused to see. The skunks and porcupines were big game. Lucky for them Pato knew enough to keep his distance. As for the chipmunks and little red squirrels, well, they always let the hunters know they were around. They would oumph and chatter their threats at the three of them from the safety of the trees.

Day by day Ty became quicker at spotting the little animals at which Pato was pointing. But even if Ty's eyes became sharper, they were no match for Pato's nose. It always gave him an edge in knowing that there was someone around.

And so it went as Ty enjoyed the timelessness of summer with his brother and their dog.

But it did come time to leave. The whole summer community left more or less at once. School would begin for the children on the day after Labour Day. For Ty, the hustle and bustle of the shuting down of things was the final adventure. All manner of trucks and cars and boxes and bags and fathers and uncles and older brothers arrived in a jumble and bustle to pack up all the women and children and dogs and cats and carry all of them back to the city.

His family arrived back in town in the late afternoon. When they got into the house they could see how big Pato had grown in just two months. He was beginning to catch up to his large paws. Ty took him into the back yard and out of the way. Pato acted a little strange at first. Sniffing around and peeing here there and everywhere. He was becoming familiar with a new place. He was also looking to find a way out of the yard. He kept exploring the edge of the picket fence.

The bus driver came out onto his porch. Ty saw him and remembered all that his father had said about it being maybe an indefinite arrangement and that the dog wasn't really his and that it was maybe just for the summer for the sake of the dog.

His heart sank. At first the bus driver seemed not to recognize the dog. Then he asked Ty if that was really Pataud. The man couldn't believe that he had grown so big. He called his name. At first Pato wasn't sure of what to make of this stranger calling him but he did go over towards the fence. Then Pato recognized the bus driver. Ty became completely depressed. He was sure he was going to lose Pato.

The bus driver's wife, Madame Trepanier, opened the kitchen door and called him for supper. He showed her Pataud and said how amazing it was that he had grown so big. She smiled and told him his supper was ready. As the bus driver went in for supper he told Ty that of course Pataud would have to come to his house for a visit. Ty was in a panic. As soon as the bus driver had closed his door Ty brought Pato into his own house.

Once inside though, he forgot about the bus driver because what was happening to poor Pato was too funny. As the overgrown puppy tried to follow and chase Ty around the house he would slip and slide on the tiles and the hardwood floors. He wasn't able to turn a sharp corner without sliding into things. When he would start out to run his feet would slip out from underneath him and he would collapse on the floor. Ty's father said that the dog was worse than a new born calf. Everyone was laughing at him in his clumsiness.

Ty's dad told him that Pato was having trouble because his nails were too long. His paws were used to the soft earth of the country. It would take time for his nails to wear down. His father said this would happen as he began to walk and run on the asphalt roads and concrete sidewalks of the city. When he heard this Ty decided to take Pato to the front door and let him out to play on the street.

It wasn't long before Ty remembered the bus driver. In his mind he thought the man might see Pato out front and call him into his house for a visit. Maybe the man would come to really like Pato and he might decide to take Pato back and keep him. He was so anxious. He didn't want to lose his dog.

He went out the front door and onto the porch. He looked first to see if there was any sign of Mr. Trepanier. There was none so he called out to Pato. Ty couldn't see him because of all the cars parked on both sides of the road but he knew he would come when he was called.

And so he called again and waited. He heard the dogs running steps, his long nails against the concrete of the sidewalk. Then he saw him coming off the sidewalk and onto the road between two parked cars directly in front of him on the other side of the street.

Then Ty saw the car, only one instant from Pato. And Pato disappeared. Overrun by the car. Run over by the car. Ty was devastated. He knew Pato was gone. He turned and ran back into his house. Screaming in grief that Pato was dead, that Pato was dead. His mother couldn't understand what he was saying but she was afraid for the worst. His mom had heard the tires squeal and as always prayed that it wasn't a child. That it wasn't one of hers. When she finally understood Ty she was relieved, it was just the dog. Just the dog. Ty didn't understand how she could say, "It was just the dog."

His mom tried to encourage him saying that maybe he was just hurt. But Ty still held that last moment clearly in his mind. There was no chance.

He went back outside. Numb. The driver of the car had moved Pato to the side of the road just in front of the house. The man was saying something. That he had no chance to stop in time. Ty knew he hadn't. And that because he was hit in the head he did not suffer. Ty grabbed onto that. It helped as he sat down on the street afraid to touch Pato. The dog was lying on his side a bit curled up and with his tongue hanging out. Ty stroked him very lightly. Pato had a couple of nicks in his fur but mostly he looked dusty, with the dust from the side of the road. Nothing to be done, nothing to be done.

His dad came out and crouching beside Ty, talked to him as he wrapped the dog up in a black piece of tarp. He asked Ty to give him a hand and the two of them lifted Pato into a wooden box, a butter box. Then they carried the box into the basement through the outside entrance. As they did this Ty's dad assured him that it was better in the long run. Pato had a wonderful summer but he would never have beenable to adapt to the city. Had this not happened he would have been very unhappy. This consoled Ty. He accepted it. And sat on the basement stairs holding onto the railing looking through the rungs and into the box and at the lifeless folds of the tarp.

He knew deep, deep, in his heart that he had killed poor Pato. That his jealousy and possessiveness had killed the dog he loved so much. How could he ever forgive himself?

Postscript:

Tyrone parked his car a few blocks up from his old house next to the park he played in during his childhood. He wanted to walk down through that park with the same grass and trees that he had known and loved since forever. The huge shady maples and chestnuts. The smells, the textures even the shadows were familiar to him, were home to him even though he had not been there for fifteen years. Past the corner where the motorcycle gang used to hang out then slowly down his old street so full of sounds and images and stories. Past the spot of Pato's death. Very slowly and with tears still.