We recently had a barbecue for my sister’s birthday. A couple dozen family members came, including my brother who drove down from Ocala for the day with his 9-year old grandson, Jamey. Jamey looks a lot like Harry Potter: he’s small for his age, awkward and bookish, with thick eyeglasses. He’s a quiet child, bordering on solemn.
Jamey has had a turbulent home life. His parents are divorced and his father, my nephew, has kids with three different women. My nephew’s habit is to be a loving, doting father until he leaves his wife for a new woman, starts another family and forgets his old one.
By all indications, Jamey’s mother doesn’t like him very much. She’s a cold woman, and angry, who speaks to Jamey in severe, staccato sentences. She recently sent Jamey to a psychologist for an evaluation, convinced that he is a sociopath because he won’t hug her, or make eye contact with her, or tell her “ I Iove you.”
As it turns out, Jamey is no sociopath — he simply doesn’t like his mother– but he loves my brother, and he was thrilled to come to the BBQ, free from his mother’s disapproving presence for a day.
Jamey walked through the gate into our backyard and was immediately knocked flat by Ali, our 80 pound old Lab mix who straddled him, licking him enthusiastically. After that, they were inseparable. Ali brought Jamey her favorite toy, a Frisbee, and they played together as only a boy and a dog can play. Sometimes they chased the Frisbee and sometimes they chased each other; a couple of times they ended up wrestling on the grass, a writhing blur of legs, eyeglasses and a tail. When they were tired they drank from the garden hose or sat silently in the shade of the live oak tree, Ali’s head in Jamey’s lap. Then they would go for another round.
Playing hard gives a boy an appetite and when dinner was ready I could not help but notice that there was a huge amount of food on Jamey’s plate. I wasn’t surprised to see that he avoided the grown-up table and was eating under the live oak, Ali by his side. First Ali ate from Jamey’s fingers, then right from his plate. When she was thirsty it was only logical that she would drink from his cup.
All too soon the afternoon was over and it was time to make the long drive back to Ocala. Ali and I escorted Jamey and my brother out the back gate. “Did you have fun?” I asked Jamey.
“This was the best day of my whole life,” said Jamey, “Ali’s the best friend I’ve ever had.” I simply nodded, not knowing what to say; I looked to my brother but he looked like he had been punched in the gut.
Jamey shook my hand and then knelt down to give Ali a hug. He buried his face in the thick, soft fur on her neck and held her for a long time. “I love you, Ali,” he whispered. Ali licked his face.
“It’s time to go,” said my brother gently and Jamey reluctantly stood up and got into the car.
Ali and I watched them drive away and we spent a long moment staring into the empty street before I rejoined the party. A while later Ryan asked me if I had seen Ali, who is generally the focal point of any gathering. We found her sitting silently beneath the live oak tree with her Frisbee at her side, intently watching the gate, waiting for her new best friend to return.