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He
put
the
hammer
down
carefully
,
spat
the
nails
he
had
been
holding
in
his
mouth
back
into
his
palm
,
and
then
dumped
them
into
the
pockets
of
his
workman
's
apron
.
He
went
to
Church
and
picked
the
cat
up
.
Live
weight
,
he
thought
with
a
kind
of
sick
excitement
.
He
weighs
what
he
did
before
he
was
hit
.
This
is
live
weight
.
He
was
heavier
in
the
bag
.
He
was
heavier
when
he
was
dead
.
His
heart
took
a
bigger
jog
this
time
--
almost
a
leap
--
and
for
a
moment
the
garage
seemed
to
swim
in
front
of
his
eyes
.
Church
laid
his
ears
back
and
allowed
himself
to
be
held
.
Louis
carried
him
out
into
the
sunlight
and
sat
down
on
the
back
steps
.
The
cat
tried
to
get
down
then
,
but
Louis
stroked
him
and
held
him
on
his
lap
.
His
heart
seemed
to
be
taking
regular
jogs
now
.
He
probed
gently
into
the
heavy
ruff
of
fur
at
Church
's
neck
,
remembering
the
sick
,
boneless
way
Church
's
head
had
swiveled
on
his
broken
neck
the
night
before
.
He
felt
nothing
now
but
good
muscle
and
tendon
.
He
held
Church
up
and
looked
at
the
cat
's
muzzle
closely
.
What
he
saw
there
caused
him
to
drop
the
cat
onto
the
grass
quickly
and
to
cover
his
face
with
one
hand
,
his
eyes
shut
.
The
whole
world
was
swimming
now
,
and
his
head
was
full
of
a
tottery
,
sick
vertigo
--
it
was
the
sort
of
feeling
he
could
remember
from
the
bitter
end
of
long
drunks
,
just
before
the
puking
started
.
There
was
dried
blood
caked
on
Church
's
muzzle
,
and
caught
in
his
long
whiskers
were
two
tiny
shreds
of
green
plastic
.
Bits
of
Hefty
Bag
.
We
will
talk
more
about
this
and
by
then
you
will
understand
more
...
Oh
,
Christ
,
he
understood
more
than
he
wanted
to
right
now
.
Give
me
a
chance
,
Louis
thought
,
and
I
'll
understand
myself
right
into
the
nearest
mental
asylum
.
He
let
Church
into
the
house
,
got
his
blue
dish
,
and
opened
a
tuna-and-liver
cat
dinner
.
As
he
spooned
the
gray-brown
mess
out
of
the
can
,
Church
purred
unevenly
and
rubbed
back
and
forth
along
Louis
's
ankles
.
