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that was all.
But I couldn’t send him to strangers.
THE END
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
1. Is there any significance to the reversal of the word gad being dog? If so, what?
2. Does the writer try to impart human qualities to a nonhuman creature? Why? Discuss
anthropomorphism in the light of the phrase, “Thou art God.”
3. Discuss the love the writer shows in this essay. Compare and contrast it with other
forms of love: the love of a man for a woman, a mother for a child, a son for a mother,
a botanist for plants, an ecologist for the Earth.
14
In his sleep, Nathan Stack talked.
“Why did you pick me? Why me...?”
15
Like the Earth, the Mother was in pain.
The great house was very quiet. The doctor had left, and the relatives had gone into town for
dinner. He sat by the side of her bed and stared down at her. She looked gray and old and crumpled;
her skin was a powdery, ashy hue of moth-dust. He was crying softly.
He felt her hand on his knee, and looked up to see her staring at him. “You weren’t supposed
to catch me,” he said.
“I’d be disappointed if I hadn’t,” she said. Her voice was very thin, very smooth.
“How is it?”
“It hurts. Ben didn’t dope me too well.”
He bit his lower lip. The doctor had used massive doses, but the pain was more massive. She
gave little starts as tremors of sudden agony hit her. Impacts. He watched the life leaking out of her
eyes.
“How is your sister taking it?”
He shrugged. “You know Charlene. She’s sorry, but it’s all pretty intellectual to her.”
His mother let a tiny ripple of a smile move her lips. “It’s a terrible thing to say, Nathan, but
your sister isn’t the most likable woman in the world. I’m glad you’re here.” She paused, thinking,
then added, “It’s just possible your father and I missed something from the gene pool. Charlene isn’t
whole.”
“Can I get you something? A drink of water?”
“No. I’m fine.”
He looked at the ampoule of narcotic painkiller. The syringe lay mechanical and still on the
clean towel beside it. He felt her eyes on him. She knew what he was thinking. He looked away.
“I would kill for a cigarette,” she said.
He laughed. At sixty-five, both legs gone, what remained of her left side paralyzed, the
cancer spreading like deadly jelly toward her heart, she was still the matriarch. “You can’t have a
cigarette, so forget it.”
“Then why don’t you use that hypo and let me out of here.”
“Shut up, Mother.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Nathan. It’s hours if I’m lucky. Months if I’m not. We’ve had this
conversation before. You know I always win.”
“Did I ever tell you you were a bitchy old lady?”
“Many times, but I love you anyhow.”
