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Chapter One
He was a shy dog, so the neighbors were surprised when onemorning he got up from his mat, leaped on the old womanclimbing the steps with her shopping bag, and ripped off her ear.He was a retiring dog, a shadow of a dog, with the build of a hyenaand the gentleness of a bird. He always walked on tiptoe, his tailfolded between his legs; he had short, thick brown fur, droopingears, and long, fragile legs which might have possessed anaristocratic grace but for the fact that they trembled all the time.
He was one and a half years old, but he seemed older. Thecurve of his spine, the slump of his tail, the hanging pelvis withthe ribs sticking out like wings gave him a deflated look, but it wasmainly the way he walked—half sitting, shrinking, apologetic, as ifevading imaginary kicks. The old lady was fond of him, andsometimes she would stop on her way home from the market,choose something from her basket, a chicken neck, a slice ofcheese or salami, a sesame cracker, and throw it onto his matbefore resuming her slow climb to the top floor. Only when thedog heard her door close and the key turn twice in the lock didhe get up, sniff the offering, pick it up gingerly with his teeth, letit drop, circle it a few times, pick it up, reconsider, and then,looking from side to side, snap it up and swallow.
The neighbors had always ignored him. They were used to thesight of the dog dozing on the mat, lying outside one of theapartments, the one with a sign on the door bearing two nameswritten in round letters—a woman's and a man's—and a childishdrawing of a dog.
Now the oldlady's groceries were strewn across the second-floorlanding—chicken, potatoes, onions, apples, a grapefruit, amelon which had rolled into a corner, green bananas, slicedsmoked turkey wrapped in white paper, a bar of dark chocolate, ahead of garlic, and a bunch of parsley, lying in a little pool of blood.
That morning the old lady had planned to give the dog somesmoked turkey, but before she had time to bend down andrummage in her baskets, the dog pounced and knocked her to thefloor. She let out a shriek of surprise. The dog was surprised aswell. He retreated and circled the old lady a few times, taking carenot to step on her. She tried to get up but fell back again. Thedog came closer, wagged his tail, and looked deep into her eyes.She turned onto her side, gripped the railing with both hands, andtried to pull herself up. He began to lick her face, and the oldlady, who was heavy and short of breath, gave up and rolled overon her back again, let her hands fall to her sides, and sighed, andthen the dog seized hold of her left ear with his teeth, and withone pull tore it off.
The old lady pressed her hand to the wound, which was spurtingstreams of blood, and screamed. The neighbors came out to the floorlandings. A man wearing rubber flip-flops approached and removedher hand from the place where her ear had been. "He bit off herear!" one of the neighbors shouted from her doorway, pointing withher cigarette toward the dog, who was hugging the wall andtrembling, his tail between his legs and the ear dangling from hismouth. A few of the neighbors panicked, slammed their doors, andlocked them. The man in the rubber flip-flops said they should getrid of the dog before he bit off the other ear, too.
But the dog sat back on his hind legs, looked at the old lady,whose screams had given way to rhythmic, desolate sobs, and thenat the neighbors clustering around; he stood up, dropped the earon the floor, and tottered back to his mat, where he waited quietlyuntil the ambulance came and the men from the city pound. Hesaw how they put the old lady on a stretcher, how a hand in aplastic glove picked up the ear and dropped it into a bag. Helistened to the neighbors giving the victim's particulars andwatched two paramedics carrying the stretcher down the stairs.
The city dogcatchers said they would have to put the dog tosleep, but first he had to be quarantined to make sure he wasn'trabid. One of them asked the neighbors to step back, while theother went down to the street and returned holding a long ironpole with a loop at the end of it.
"No!" yelled the older dogcatcher. "Get the stun gun. You can'tcatch him with that. He's dangerous."
"Yes I can," said the younger one quietly. "Just get these peopleout of the way."
"Back into your houses!" ordered the older man, clapping hishands. "Everyone inside!" The neighbors remaining on the landingwent back to their apartments obediently, but they kept their doorsajar to watch the dog being trapped. The dog lay on his mat in aball, both pleased and embarrassed by the attention, his eyesclosed, his nose touching the tip of his tail, and one of his earspricked up.
"Look at him," said the older dogcatcher. "He's trying to pull afast one, the bastard. Get the gun."
"Let me do it," said the young one. "He doesn't look dangerousto me."
"You're so wrong," said the older one. "I know his sort. He'sbluffing. Just look at him. He's cunning. Look at his ear moving.He's only pretending to be asleep."
"He's always like that," whispered a neighbor dressed in a dirtypink bathrobe, peeping out from behind her door. "That's how hesleeps."
"Lady, get back inside. Please!" The older man gave her a push,then wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand.
The two men stood and looked at the dog. His eyes were closed,his ear twitched a little, and his ribs rose and fell with his slowbreathing. He looked too peaceful to attack anyone. The youngman approached him, holding the pole in both his hands like aspear, trying not to make any sudden movements, but suddenlythe dog opened his eyes and the catcher, who took a stepbackward, saw that he was wagging his tail.
"He's wagging his tail," he said, without taking his eyes offthe dog.
"Don't trust him!" the other man whispered. "He's bluffing!"
"Are you wagging your tail?" said the young one. "Are you afriendly dog?" And the dog stood up, then sat down on his hindlegs, and lowered his eyes shyly.
"What's going on?" hissed the older man. "What's he up tonow?"
"Shhhhhh ...," the young one whispered. "He's not doinganything. Shhhhh ... good dog!" And he aimed the loop at thedog's head.
"Watch out," said the older man. "I'm telling you, watch out!"
The young catcher leaned forward and went down on one knee.He tightened his hands around the pole, and moved it right andleft until the loop hovered over the dog's head. The dog lifted hishead and looked up at it. Then he looked at the catcher kneelingnext to him, holding the pole and biting his lower lip inconcentration. He turned his eyes to the loop again, which lookedlike both a snare and a halo.
"Quick!" whispered the older man, who was sweating heavily.
The young one lowered the loop until it touched the dog's nose;the dog sat still, looking upward, and didn't move even as the loopslowly encircled his head. The catcher jerked the pole back andthe loop tightened around the dog's neck. The dog then stood up,dropped his tail between his legs, sidled along the wall, and ledthe catcher to the stairs. He descended slowly step by step, themetal disks on his collar rattling, and when he reached the entrancethe older man was already standing there, holding the door open.He pressed his back against the door and watched his youngcolleague leading the dog to the yellow van. The dog stood untilthe young catcher opened the back doors of the van, then jumpedin and bowed his head for the loop to be removed. He steppedinto one of the empty metal cages, which the man shut slowlybehind him, even though it was unnecessary. It was clear to theyoung catcher, and to the older one, who sat down in the driver'sseat and wiped the sweat from his forehead, and to the neighbors,who crowded into the street to watch the final stage of the capture,that the dog wanted to go.
2
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The man sat on the floor in the bathroom. He watched his friendbathing his baby daughter. He looked at him intently, followingevery movement, admiring the way in which he supported thebaby's back with one hand and held her little head above the waterwith the other, sailing her body to and fro and making noises likea ship: the hoots and coos and gurgles of a doting father.
The man looked at his friend and said to himself that he mustremember these details. That bathing a baby was exactly the kindof thing nobody ever explained to you—you just had to know. Hewanted to be sure that when he had a baby of his own he wouldbe able to give her a perfect bath, exactly like this one. He didn'twant to make any mistakes.
He rested his arm on the ledge of the bath and dipped hisfingers into the water, feeling the temperature, the warm soapiness,the little waves made by the baby's kicks. He picked up the bottleof baby soap and began to read the label. He wanted to know whatit was that turned ordinary soap into baby soap. His friend lookedat him and smiled, and the man felt suddenly embarrassed, as ifhe had been caught reading something forbidden—something pureintended for babies and fathers only, which in his bachelor handsturned into pornography.
He stood up, wiped his hands on his jeans, and handed thefather the baby's white terry-cloth bathrobe, which had a little hoodlike a monk's habit. He knew the ritual by heart. The father tookthe baby out of the bath and wrapped her in the robe. He huggedher to his chest and pressed his lips to her head and combed herdowny yellow hair with his fingers. Then he carried her to thenursery with the man following like a faithful retainer, holdingthe tiny hand poking out of the robe between his two fingers. Thefather laid his daughter down on the chest of drawers, asked theman to keep an eye on her, and left the room. The man remainedalone with the baby, flanking the chest of drawers, tense and readyto save her if she fell, but the baby lay quietly on her back, tryingto catch the edge of the terry-doth sleeve in her mouth. The fathercame back with a bag of disposable diapers and put it down on thefloor. The man asked whether he could help and the father smiledand rubbed his nose on the baby's belly and asked her what shethought, whether they needed any help, and the baby laughed andkicked her legs in the air. The man picked up a round flat jar ofointment and again found himself reading the label. Then he putthe jar down and picked up the box of talcum powder, which hadpictures of elephants and giraffes on it, and sniffed the tale. Heput it down and picked up a bunch of colored plastic keys andshook them in front of the baby, who turned her eyes toward themfor a minute. The man was pleased, thinking to himself that hewas quite a success at this, but then the baby turned her eyes backto her father's face as he bent over her and fastened the diaperaround her waist, and she smiled. She put out her hand to touchhis face and the father kissed her fingers. The man put the keys
(Continues...)
Excerpted from HOUSEBROKEN by Yael Hedaya. Copyright © 1997 by Yael Hedaya.
Translation copyright © 2001 Metropolitan Books.Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
