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He feels all around under Buddy’s belly. Buddy gives him a look like if he does that too much more, Buddy just might take out a little piece of his hand.
    Then the vet gives him a little whomp on the behind and says, “There’s nothing wrong with him. It’s time for him to get up, even if you have to force him.”
    When we get home, Daddy says this is the last time he’s carrying Buddy. He puts him down on the blanket and leaves out.
    Buddy lays there like he ain’t never going to move again.
    â€œWhat’s wrong, Buddy?” I say. “Why ain’t you happy here?”
    Granpa T is standing there in the door and looking in.
    â€œHe’s old,” Granpa T says. “Maybe he’s just too tired. Maybe he’s been knocked down so many times, he just ain’t got the heart to get up anymore.”
    â€œSo you’re saying he wants to die?”
    â€œAw, no! He’s a dog! He don’t want to die! I’m just saying maybe he’s too tired to live. Look at his eyes. You ever seen any eyes look tireder than that?”
    I look at Buddy’s eyes. They look big and sad and tired. But they don’t look
that
tired.
    â€œGranpa T,” I say, “that’s the stupidest thing I ever heard. That’s the craziest, stupidest, wrongest, dumbest thing I ever heard in my entire life!”
    â€œProbably so,” Granpa T says. “Ain’t the first time I said something dumb.” He gives Buddy a good hard look then looks at me. “Your mama’s cooking red beans,” he says. “Don’t stay out here too long.” Then he turns around and heads on inside.
    â€œHe’s crazy, ain’t he, Buddy. He’s crazy and stupid and dumb.”
    I’m rubbing the place that collar used to be. Buddy’s laying still as a stone and breathing soft and low.
    â€œRight, Buddy?” I say, but Buddy don’t say nothing.

6
    Tanya wakes me up that night screaming. Granpa T’s banging the door downstairs and cussing, and Mama comes whipping into the room like her hair’s on fire, and Baby Terrell starts up in his crib, and Tanya’s sitting up in the bed next to mine screaming.
    â€œWhat is wrong?” Mama yells, and then Tanya stops and I can hear the rain coming down like a waterfall on the porch roof outside the window.
    â€œI had a dream,” she says, “and Buddy died.”
    â€œThat dog,” Mama says, and rolls her eyes. She reaches around Tanya and hugs her up, and Tanya’s kind of crying a little, and Daddy comes limping into the room carrying Baby Terrell.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” he says.
    â€œBad dream,” I say, and the thunder rolls.
    Daddy sits down on my bed holding Baby Terrell, who’s smelling like a wet diaper.
    â€œI think I broke my toe,” Daddy says.
    And then Granpa T hustles in the door and says, “What the blue blazes is going on?”
    â€œBad dream,” I say again.
    Granpa T looks over at Tanya. The way Tanya’s hair is standing out all over her head, she sure looks like she had a bad dream. “What were you dreaming about?” he says.
    Tanya’s digging her fists in her eyes and Mama’s rubbing her back and then Tanya hiccups and she says, “Buddy.”
    â€œWe’re all tearing around the house in the dark because you’re dreaming about that dog?” Granpa T says.
    Tanya nods. “He died,” she says, and the lightning flashes all over the room.
    â€œIn your dream,” I say.
    â€œFor true,” she says, and looks at me with her great big old, wet eyes. Then they start overflowing again. “He couldn’t never stand up and so he died,” she says. “And he grew angel wings and flew up, and we were all standing on the ground watching.”
    â€œThat ain’t scary,” I say, looking out the window toward where the shed is.
    â€œI ain’t finished,” she says.