Man's Best Friend

For three days now, the stray dog has been sitting outside the back door of the diner. Norman has been feeding it scraps when Statler's back is turned. It's an ordinary mongrel with a look of German Shepherd about its ears and muzzle. It has bright, curious eyes and a feathered tail that wags when Norman appears but otherwise hangs still. The dog likes Mary and Norman but it's wary of Statler and Mrs. Spool, and Myrna won't entertain it at all. She says it's mangy and filthy and most likely covered in fleas. But Norman sees a kindred spirit- someone lonely and deserving of love, and so he brings it chunks of hamburger and slices of cheese and sits on the step while the dog devours each morsel, tail swinging back and forth.

"He's feeding that old mutt again," Myrna drawls from the side of her mouth as she passes Mary in the kitchen.

Mary rolls her eyes. "Oh, Myrna, it's just a dog. It's not as if he lets it sit at the counter."

"Funny haha. Wait until Statler catches him. That dog will be outta here before you can say Lassie come home."

"Mr. Statler already knows. Norman isn't exactly subtle- you can't miss him taking handfuls of leftovers out into the yard every day. It's nice that he's kind to it. Nobody else is."

Myrna's expression softens. "Norman's like a big kid sometimes. I guess he has a lot of years to catch up on."

Mary goes to the door and leans against the wall with her arms folded. She watches the dog enjoying half a cheeseburger. Norman is perched on the step with his back to her. Myrna is right. He does, at this moment, resemble an overgrown kid. He has a little boy's tousled hair and slender neck. The dog swallows the meat and looks up, wags his tail at Mary. Norman turns his head to the side, looks at her from the corner of his eye.

"Hi, Norman," says Mary. "And hi to you too, Scruffy."

"He's hungrier than ever today," Norman says. The dog isn't afraid of Mary; it approaches the step, allows Norman to scratch behind its ears.

"Poor thing. Still no idea where he came from?"

"No. I've asked people, but they don't know. Anyway he's here now, and I'm not going to let anything happen to him. I'll take care of him, isn't that right, boy?"

The dog pants and grins and his tail wags harder.

Mary glances back quickly, then sits next to Norman on the step. The dog nudges her hand with its nose and she gives its ears a quick rub.

"I'm leaving work a little earlier today. I've got a dentist appointment in town. But I can still swing by later, right?"

"Of course," Norman answers. "Not toothache, I hope?"

She smiles at his concern; both for her and the homeless animal wagging its tail in front of them.

"No, nothing like that. Just a checkup. I'll be home by seven. I mean, y'know... your home."

Norman gives her that odd smile of his. "It's your home too, Mary. For as long as you want to stay there." He strokes the dog's head. "Everyone needs a place they can call 'home'. Hey, boy?"

Mary watches Norman for a while until Statler's voice comes booming out of the kitchen.

"Hey, Bobbsey Twins. Get back to work, and make sure you wash your hands after touching that critter!"

Norman winces and Mary lays her hand on his shoulder.

"C'mon, Norman. Duty calls. You'll see your friend again tomorrow."

At 4pm, Mary changes into her sweater and jeans, grabs her bag and heads out the door. Norman waves to her as she goes, then returns to slicing tomatoes. Mary gets into a waiting cab and drives off in the direction of Fairvale.

A mile down the road, Mary snaps her fingers and lets out a cry of dismay.

"Damn! I need my library card! Can we turn around, please? I'm okay to pay for the extra time."

The cab driver murmurs his discontent, but they turn around and start heading back the way they came.

"Not the diner," Mary says. "Further on, to the Bates Motel. I'm staying there, you see."

The driver lifts his eyebrow in the rearview mirror. "Rather you than me."

Mary laughs. "There's nothing wrong with that place anymore. I've been there almost a whole week and I'm still here, aren't I?"

"You're a brave girl," the driver says, shaking his head.

The cab passes Statler's diner and Mary ducks down and hides her face. But Norman is arranging salad on a plate and doesn't notice.

At 5:30pm, Norman grabs his jacket. He bids goodbye to the staff, and says hello to the late shift workers who are just arriving. It's a pleasant evening with a cooling breeze and he walks for a while with his jacket over his arm, enjoying the familiar view of fields and distant hills.

He's just about half way home when the dog comes slinking out from behind a thicket of dry scrub, wagging its tail in a submissive, guilty fashion. Norman is surprised but delighted to see the scrawny creature. He discards his jacket and makes a fuss of the dog, scratching its head and ears and talking to it in the exaggerated, happy way that people talk to dogs.

Traffic is heavier now, even on the old highway. There are more cars on the road than there were twenty two years ago, and people drive fast and carelessly. Norman is afraid the dog might get hit. He picks up his jacket and rises to his feet. "Come on, boy," he says, firmly. "You're coming with me."

The dog is happy to oblige.

At 6:25pm, Mary arrives home. She gets out of the cab to find Norman and the dog in front of the cabins playing fetch with an old stick.

"Hey, Mary!" Norman yells, waving madly. "Look who's here!"

Mary is astonished. "Did he wait for you at the diner?"

"No, I met him on the way home! He's gonna live with us now, aren't you, Lucky?"

"Lucky?"

"Yeah. I know it's not exactly original, but he is lucky and he responds to the name. Don't you, Lucky?"

The dog, now called Lucky, barks in agreement.

"He does kind of look like a Lucky," Mary says with a grin. "And he's sure taken to you, Norman. I've never seen you so happy."

"He's the dog I couldn't have when I was a child," Norman says, and his whole face is shining.

"Well, that's wonderful," Mary replies.

"Good things come to those who wait. Right Lucky?" Norman bends down and hugs the dog like it's Christmas morning.

"It's great to see you so happy." Mary bites her lip. "Well, not to be rude but I really need the bathroom. I'm going on up to the house. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

"Nah, I'm good. Lucky and I are just gonna play here for a while." With that, Norman tosses the stick and Lucky runs after it, barking joyously.

Mary runs up the steps to the house and hurries to the kitchen. She drops her bag on the floor and goes to the table. Her mouth dry, she searches for the note. It's there, right where she left it, underneath the pepper shaker. It hasn't even been disturbed. She whips it out and looks in disgust at the words scrawled across it.

Norman! You know very well that a boy's best friend is his Mother! Don't let that mangy mutt near you again or I'll see to it that he's killed!

Mother

Suddenly Mary really does need the bathroom. Her heart is pounding, her stomach churning. She folds the note and ascends the staircase. She does her business, and then she tears the note into tiny pieces and flushes everything down the toilet. She waits to make sure that every last scrap of paper is gone.

"A boy's best friend is his Mother," she says to herself- and perhaps Lila, "but a man's best friend is his dog. And right now, Norman needs as many friends as he can get."

Lucky's barking is loud enough to reach her in the bathroom. She puts the toilet seat down, washes her hands, and runs down the stairs to join them.