BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

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Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 181 she was a few weeks old. One day, around my age nine, it was the last time my parents ever insisted I go to St. Johns to Mom‟s goddamned family reunion. As if I wanted to go hang with a bunch of farm kids from Ovid, Elsie, St. Johns and DeWitt? I think not. Or, just to get a spot on the Greatest Losers of All Time list, maybe I could go to my damned family reunion to meet some girls? I truly think not. No, sir. Anyway, we were gone all day. Far later than we thought. I think I got in a fight with some kid and whaled his ass, but that may have been at a company picnic held by my Dad‟s employer. When we got home, it was around nine at night. Scampy had been in the house all day long. Mom was horrified at what she knew she‟d find. She just knew that damned dog probably developed diarrhea and left a trail from one end of the house to the other. When we got inside, the dog acted as if she had mixed emotions. She was really glad to see us, but also acted kind of guilty. We were all pretty sure she‟d made a huge deposit somewhere, so everyone but my old man started looking. I found it, and it cracked Mom up so bad she had to sit down. There was an end table next to the end of the couch. I wondered to myself if the fact it was at the end of the couch had anything to do with calling it an end table, but I digress. <strong>My</strong> apologies. Mom always kept a napkin or two there in case she came into the living room carrying a cup of coffee and needed to set it down, perhaps to answer the phone, or maybe just to pick her nose. Who knows about Moms, anyway, right? This napkin had fallen off the end table and landed beneath it. Scampy must‟ve had to shit. Bad. Couldn‟t hold it one damned minute more. No matter who was gonna get upset, she needed to take a dump. So, she searched all Leviticus, Limited 33-0505963
Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 182 over the house and finally found a piece of paper, just like when she was a puppy. I would‟ve loved to see that fat dog scrunch down and back her butt under that end table, „cause that‟s what she did. Her pile was right there, two feet back on the napkin, just the way she‟d been taught. When I grabbed her and hugged her, a very happy Scampy licked my face in appreciation. And here she thought she‟d be getting her ass chewed. A few years later, circa my age fifteen, Scampy developed uremic poisoning from bad kidneys and had to be put to sleep. It was sad, and I cried a lot that day, but I got over it after a while. Being a teenager is a stressful and busy time. I remember it only too well. Still, I wanted a dog. It was important to me. I bet I asked Mom about it a hundred times or more, but she always said no. She didn‟t want to suffer the pain of losing another dog. If I wanted one, I could wait until I had my own house and get one. <strong>My</strong> old man just said, “You heard your mother.” He said that a lot, the prick. That was another thing that always pissed me off. “Wait until you get your own place and you can stay up as late as you want.” have anyone over you want.” talk any way you want.” eat whatever you want.” go to bed when you feel like it.” get up as late as you want to.” drink beer around the house.” go away for the weekend without asking.” Leviticus, Limited 33-0505963
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BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

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