I Thought You Were Dead Read Free Page B

hand,” Stella said, “everybody gets old and dies. You know that, don’t you?”
    â€œOf course I know that.”
    â€œIt’s supposed to work that way. If it didn’t, the whole planet would fill up with decrepit, useless old wrecks everybody else would have to take care of. And that wouldn’t be good, would it?”
    â€œNo, that wouldn’t be good.”
    â€œIf you ask me, you humans have already artificially extended your life spans to the point where you’re seriously screwing up the environment for the rest of us. You’re supposed to die at forty or forty-five, tops. You’re not supposed to gum up the works by hanging around for an extra thirty or forty years.”
    â€œ
That’s
a bit insensitive.”
    â€œNothing personal.”
    â€œLook who’s talking,” Paul said. “How old are you? Fifteen? What’s that in dog years?”
    â€œFifteen and a half,” she said proudly. “And it’s all relative. In tortoise years, that’s nothing. In butterfly years, it’s forever. I want your dad to be okay, but if he’s not okay, that’s no less desirable, in the grand scheme of things. That’s all I’m saying. If he goes, it means more food for you.”
    â€œIt’s not a question of food,”
    Paul said. “Paul,” Stella said, “
everything
is a question of food. Everything except where you lie down. And even that has to be somewherenear food. If you had a choice between sleeping somewhere that was soft and warm but a thousand miles from food, and sleeping in a place that was totally uncomfortable but right next to the kitchen, you’d sleep where there was food.”
    â€œI’m just a bowl of Iams to you, aren’t I? That’s all I am.”
    â€œYou’re more than a bowl of food, Paul. You’re a dish of water too. You even pick up my shit.” Sometimes she’d crap in the middle of the sidewalk downtown and turn and say, “Be a dear and get that, would you, Paul?”
    â€œAll I’m saying,” she continued, “is that there’s a line. And above the line, life is good, so keep on living, because you’re healthy and alert and everything is okay. But below the line, life isn’t good. Below the line, you’re in pain, or you’re hurting others, or you don’t enjoy seeing your loved ones anymore, or you’re embarrassed all the time because you’re incontinent and you’re pissing on yourself. Below that line, pulling the plug is better than not pulling the plug. Just play it by ear when you get there.”
    â€œI’ll take it under advisement,” he said.
    She nestled in, resting her head on his leg.
    â€œIf he dies,” she asked a moment later, “will that make you the alpha dog in your family?”
    He’d once explained to her how wolves organized themselves as social animals, referencing research he’d done for the book he was working on, tentatively titled
Nature for Morons
.
    â€œNo,” Paul told her. “That would be my brother, Carl.”
    â€œOh,” Stella said. “So you’re not even going to try?”
    â€œDon’t worry about it — I lost that battle a long time ago,” he said. “That’s one thing you and I have in common. You don’t remember, but you were the shiest pup in the litter when I got you. Your siblings used to knock you all over the place.”
    â€œIn that case,” she said, “you might want to bring some sort of offering …” But he was asleep before she got the words out.
    She sniffed the air, then cocked her head to listen a moment. She heard the furnace in the basement kick on. A truck, somewhere far off. The pilot light in the gas stove hissing. A mouse scratching, somewhere behind the mopboard in the kitchen, and of course, her master’s breathing, his heart beating, his teeth grinding slightly,