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By Root 997 0

front shirt pockets and they could all roll a cigarette with one hand. When you saw a man with a Bull Durham tag dangling, that meant look out. People went around talking about 2nd and 3rd mortgages. My father came home one night with a broken arm and two black eyes. My mother had a low paying job somewhere. And each boy in the neighborhood had one pair of Sunday pants and one pair of daily pants. When shoes wore out there weren’t any new ones. The department stores had soles and heels they sold for 15 or 20 cents along with the glue, and these were glued to the bottoms of the worn out shoes. Gene’s parents had one rooster and some chickens in their backyard, and if some chicken didn’t lay enough eggs they ate it.

As for me, it was the same—at school, and with Chuck, Gene and Eddie. Not only did the grownups get mean, the kids got mean, and even the animals got mean. It was like they took their cue from the people.

One day I was standing around, waiting as usual, not friendly with the gang, no longer really wanting to be, when Gene rushed up to me, “Hey, Henry, come on!”

“What is it?”

“COME ON!”

Gene started running and I ran after him. We ran down the driveway and into the Gibsons’ backyard. The Gibsons had a large brick wall all around their backyard.

“LOOK! HE’S GOT THE CAT CORNERED! HE’S GOING TO KILL IT!”

There was a small white cat backed into a corner of the wall. It couldn’t go up and it couldn’t go in one direction or the other. Its back was arched and it was spitting, its claws ready. But it was very small and Chuck’s bulldog, Barney, was growling and moving closer and closer. I got the feeling that the cat had been put there by the guys and then the bulldog had been brought in. I felt it strongly because of the way Chuck and Eddie and Gene were watching: they had a guilty look.

“You guys did this,” I said.

“No,” said Chuck, “it’s the cat’s fault. It came in here. Let it fight its way out.”

“I hate you bastards,” I said.

“Barney’s going to kill that cat,” said Gene.

“Barney will rip it to pieces,” said Eddie. “He’s afraid of the claws but when he moves in it will be all over.”

Barney was a large brown bulldog with slobbering jaws. He was dumb and fat with senseless brown eyes. His growl was steady and he kept inching forward, the hairs standing up on his neck and along his back. I felt like kicking him in his stupid ass but I figured he would rip my leg off. He was entirely intent upon the kill. The white cat wasn’t even fully grown. It hissed and waited, pressed against the wall, a beautiful creature, so clean.

The dog moved slowly forward. Why did the guys need this? This wasn’t a matter of courage, it was just dirty play. Where were the grownups? Where were the authorities? They were always around accusing me. Now where were they?

I thought of rushing in, grabbing the cat and running, but I didn’t have the nerve. I was afraid that the bulldog would attack me. The knowledge that I didn’t have the courage to do what was necessary made me feel terrible. I began to feel physically sick. I was weak. I didn’t want it to happen yet I couldn’t think of any way to stop it.

“Chuck,” I said, “let the cat go, please. Call your dog off.”

Chuck didn’t answer. He just kept watching.

Then he said, “Barney, go get him! Get that cat!”

Barney moved forward and suddenly the cat leaped. It was a furious blur of white and hissing, claws and teeth. Barney backed off and the cat retreated to the wall again.

“Go get him, Barney,” Chuck said again.

“God damn you, shut up!” I told him.

“Don’t talk to me that way,” Chuck said.

Barney began to move in again.

“You guys set this up,” I said.

I heard a slight sound behind us and looked around. I saw old Mr. Gibson watching from behind his bedroom window. He wanted the cat to get killed too, just like the guys. Why?

Old Mr. Gibson was our mailman with the false teeth. He had a wife who stayed in the house all the time. She only came out to empty the garbage. Mrs. Gibson always wore a net over her hair and she was always dressed in a nightgown, bathrobe and slippers.