Bloodlines

manufacture monkey c how, ferret food, and stuff like that, with only one obvious omission. Hills Brothers, lams, where are you? The market is here. I’d buy it. I’d be delighted. No more wondering what to fix, no more pans to scrub, no more checking to make sure you’ve included the four food groups? I mean, I’d want to go out to a restaurant once in a while for a little variety, of course. But most of the time? Just dish up the Purina People Chow, and I’d be perfectly happy.
    In the meantime, Gloria and I ate cheese sandwiches and continued the discussion we’d had in the car.
    “Could I get something straight?” I asked. “How did you get to Woburn?”
    “Hitched,” she said, with an air of empty, precocious sophistication.
    “But how did you know to go there? Where did you get the idea?”
    She chewed, swallowed, and said, “At a meeting. It’s a... I don’t belong. I haven’t joined. I just go sometimes and listen.” Then her high voice took on die self-righteous tone I’d heard earlier. “It’s a group of people who care about the planet.”
    She made it sound like some place other than where I lived. There’s no mirror in my kitchen, but I’m sure that my mouth took on the pseudosmile dogs make when they’re about to vomit.
    I said, “And these people want us to share it without exploiting it. And with all living creatures without exploiting them. Right?”
    If Gloria had been even a few years older than she was, her expression of astonished recognition would have been funny.
    “Look, Gloria,” I went on. “You picked the wrong person’s dog. I happen to be interested in Antarctica. I probably know more about it than you do and probably more than these people do, either. I am very concerned about it, and the way I got interested in it was exploitation, and, not only that, exploitation of dogs. So I understand about abuse of the environment and abuse of dogs, and I’m just going to tell you that my relationship with my dogs is not abusive and certainly not exploitative.”
    “You bought them, didn’t you?”
    “No, as a matter of fact, I didn’t, but I would have. I’ve bought dogs. I’ve paid for them.”
    “At pet shops.” Gloria bit defiantly into her sandwich.
    I dropped mine on my plate and slammed my fist on the table. “Absolutely not! I won’t spend a dime in one of those goddamned places. As a matter of fact, one of the main things on my mind right now is what to do about a pet shop. You know this place, Puppy Luv?”
    Her jaw was locked. She nodded.
    “There’s a malamute puppy there. I won’t buy the puppy because I will not give these bastards any profit, I will not create a market, and I will not contribute to their damned industry. But I’m still worried about the dog. Do you know where those puppies come from?”
    “Puppy mills,” she said.
    “Yes! Now if you really want to do something about animal exploitation, and if you ever want to get seriously active, those are the places to go after. I mean, that’s real exploitation. If you want to get somebody, get those people, not me. And not people like me, either.”
    I controlled the urge to show her the puppy mill tape. It’s strong stuff; it gives me nightmares. I was still angry at her as well as sorry for her, but not that angry.
    “Anyway, we have business to take care of,” I said abruptly. “You owe me thirty-five dollars.”
    “I don’t have any money.” Her eyes were wide and childish. “Besides, I didn’t touch the trail mix. Your dog did.”
    I just could not help laughing. “I thought he wasn’t mine to own! If I don’t own him, I’m not responsible for his debts, am I? Anyway, I am, and I paid, and the only reason I had to pay the thirty-five dollars was that you let him loose.”
    We got into what may seem like a petty quarrel. Although Gloria had dropped out of school, she didn’t work, and when she’d said that she had no money, she’d been describing her chronic state, not temporary empty pockets. Her mother, Gloria told me, provided room, board, and nothing else. If the Massachusetts economy had merely been in a recession, as the newspapers kept claiming, I’d have tried to talk Gloria into finding a job. But even if there had been jobs out there, what did Gloria know how to do? If I wanted to be paid, I’d have to employ her myself. I own this house, or I will eventually, and I do most of the maintenance and repair. I can paint, spackle, cure dripping faucets,