{"id":13254,"date":"2016-12-02T07:00:45","date_gmt":"2016-12-02T15:00:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/bullmensfiction.com\/?p=13254"},"modified":"2022-08-03T13:14:28","modified_gmt":"2022-08-03T17:14:28","slug":"saying-goodbye-to-seamus","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/fiction\/saying-goodbye-to-seamus\/","title":{"rendered":"Saying Goodbye to Seamus"},"content":{"rendered":"

Seamus died last night. We told Artie he didn\u2019t look so good, but Artie said let him be, he\u2019s enjoying the music. Sean Brennan was singing The Black Velvet Band and Artie was drinking his black and tans but Seamus was sick. He didn\u2019t even drink his beer. I should\u2019ve stepped out from behind the bar, taken him in my arms, got him out of there. But I didn\u2019t. Seamus was lying by the fire, dying, and I didn\u2019t do a thing.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m tending bar again tonight. They\u2019ve got pictures of Seamus on a table topped with gifts. Jim brought him biscuits, Terry his home-made jerky. I filled his bowl with Guinness. Mary showed up with a rawhide bone so big she had to stand it up against the chair. Pete asked if she\u2019d perhaps overdone it, seeing as Seamus wasn\u2019t around to eat it, and she started to cry. I gave her a generous pour and told her it was perfect, Seamus would\u2019ve loved it. \u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0Artie isn\u2019t here yet, but I know he\u2019ll show. I think about what I\u2019ll say when I see him. I think about not serving him. Saying you don\u2019t deserve a drink. You can stay thirsty the rest of your miserable life.<\/p>\n

Mary feels the same. \u201cWe all knew he was sick,\u201d she says. \u201cWe told him he was sick. But Artie\u2019s going to take care of Artie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s all there is to it,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s all there is to it.\u201d She\u2019s crying again and I don\u2019t blame her. I pour myself a beer.<\/p>\n

We called him the designated dog. Artie would get drunk the way he got drunk every night, too drunk to find his way home. Then he\u2019d put the leash on Seamus and let him lead the way. He never remembered getting home but he always did. Sometimes he\u2019d get so drunk he\u2019d fall on the sidewalk or the street and just lie there. Seamus would bark until the neighbors came out. Saint Seamus, he was man\u2019s best friend, stuck it out to the end.<\/p>\n

\u201cCan\u2019t we get the game on?\u201d Pete asks. The Celtics are on tonight, but we\u2019ve all agreed a mourning period is in order. The Jews cover their mirrors, we keep the TV black.<\/p>\n

\u201cPete, let it be. It\u2019s one game. Just enjoy the music.\u201d Tonight\u2019s music is a selection of Seamus\u2019s favorite songs. You knew it was a favorite if it made his tail wag.<\/p>\n

\u201cFucking christ,\u201d Pete says. \u201cHe was just a fucking dog. We really need a wake?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can watch the game tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere ain\u2019t no game tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen the day after that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere ain\u2019t no game the day after that, either.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThen I don\u2019t know what to tell you. And yes, we need a wake.\u201d<\/p>\n

I clean some glasses and decide Pete\u2019s next drink I skimp on the liquor.<\/p>\n

When Angie left the only thing I looked forward to was seeing that god damn dog. I\u2019d kneel down and give him a hug. He\u2019d kiss me, put his paws on my shoulders, knock me over. He was a golden retriever, a little overweight, and I was a little overweight, too, though Angie swore that wasn\u2019t why she left.<\/p>\n

I pour an Old Speckled Hen for Terry. Terry was a fireman in town, broke his back falling through a burning floor. He once saved a dog from a burning house, so he gets it.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe always loved this one,\u201d Terry says as I let the Old Speckled Hen build a head. It\u2019s the Bee Gees. You don\u2019t know what it\u2019s like. To love somebody. The way I love you. The way Seamus loved Artie, Artie had no idea. \u201cHe really did love this song. His tail would wag so hard he\u2019d knock your beer off the table.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI refilled many a beer on Seamus\u2019s account.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMark, I\u2019m not going to lie,\u201d Terry says. \u201cThere was a few times, I was almost done with my beer, I put it on the edge of the table on purpose. Knowing he\u2019d get it with his tail and I\u2019d get a free one.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d I tell him.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou do?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYep. I saw you do it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you gave me a free one anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHalf the time. The other half you were so drunk I\u2019d charge you for two. So it evened out in the end.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo shit,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo shit. But this one\u2019s on the house.\u201d I hand him his Old Speckled Hen. He once saved a dog from a burning building, so he gets it.<\/p>\n

I clean some glasses and sip my beer and ask Patsy to throw some wood on the fire. He\u2019s always happy to help. I pay him in Powers.<\/p>\n

And then Artie walks in. He\u2019s bundled up, gloves and a green wool hat. He takes his time getting out of his jacket, hanging it by the door. Nobody says a word except the The Bee Gees. The son of a bitch let Seamus die. All for a black and tan. I pour him one because I don\u2019t know what else to do.<\/p>\n

\u201cEvening, Mark,\u201d Artie says, sitting at his spot next to Mary. I put down the coaster and I put down the beer. \u201cI suppose you heard the terrible news.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe all heard the terrible news,\u201d Mary says. \u201cWe told you he wasn\u2019t looking good.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s right,\u201d Artie says. \u201cYou did. And I should\u2019ve listened.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re damn right you should\u2019ve listened. But you didn\u2019t, did you?\u201d
\n\u201cNo, I didn\u2019t.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd now he\u2019s gone.\u201d Mary cries. Artie looks straight ahead, but I won\u2019t look at him. I let him sit in it.<\/p>\n

Now it\u2019s The Irish Rover. Sean Brennan always sings this one. When the only souls left on the ship are the guy and the captain\u2019s old dog, he says, \u201cWe called him Seamus.\u201d We\u2019ve all got the hang of it and we shout it out, too, we called him Seamus. That made the tail wag, all us calling his name. Sad song, though. The ship struck a rock, Lord what a shock. The boat was tipped right over. Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned. I\u2019m the last of the Irish Rover.<\/p>\n

This dog wasn\u2019t drowned. He was dragged sick and dying through the cold night. Found dead in the morning by his drunken master\u2019s bed. And now he\u2019s got a memorial on the table by the fire. Artie\u2019s taken note, though he hasn\u2019t got up for a closer look.<\/p>\n

Pete\u2019s staring up at the black screen like he\u2019s trying to will the game into being. He says, \u201cYou\u2019re a son of a bitch, Artie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat so, Pete?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t care about your dog, but I do care about the Celtics. And thanks to you I can\u2019t watch the Celtics.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAin\u2019t you got a TV at home?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t want to watch the game at home. I want to watch the game here, like I always do. Instead I gotta listen to you sissies cry over some dumb dog.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right now, Pete,\u201d I say. I could do more than skimp on his liquor. He knows it, I\u2019ve done it before.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe wasn\u2019t a dumb dog,\u201d Artie says.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen why\u2019d you let him die?\u201d Terry says, halfway through his Old Speckled Hen.<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t let him die,\u201d Artie says. \u201cIt just happened.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBullshit,\u201d Terry says.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not bullshit. I woke up and he was gone. What was I supposed to do?\u201d<\/p>\n

No one will answer that one. We told him what he was supposed to do. Bring that dog to a vet. We should\u2019ve stepped in, we all know it. We all know it\u2019s all our faults.<\/p>\n

Jim lifts his bottle of Bud and I get him another. He\u2019s doesn\u2019t say much, he never does. One summer day his daughter went for a swim and never came back. He brought Seamus a tennis ball. I watched him put it on the table and close his eyes. He stood there with his eyes closed and I wondered if he was thinking about his daughter, too.<\/p>\n

When Angie left, it was like Seamus knew. He came right over to me that night, lay his head in my lap, looked me right in the eye. Like he was saying, you are still loved. By me, Seamus the dog. I cried and he put his paws on my lap and licked my tears. Angie hadn\u2019t been that kind to me in years.<\/p>\n

Patsy orders a Guinness and a Powers. Patsy has long grey hair and he\u2019s told me many times that he was in the IRA. Always says it\u2019s a secret. I say if it\u2019s a secret why is he telling me. He says because he trusts me. In that case he trusts everyone, because everyone\u2019s heard it.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know what we would have done to you back in Ireland?\u201d Patsy says while I let the Guinness sit half-full, a proper pour. Artie pretends not to hear him. \u201cI\u2019m talking to you, Artie.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d Artie says.<\/p>\n

\u201cI says, you know what we would have done to you back in Ireland?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, here\u2019s what we would have done to you back in Ireland.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe get it,\u201d Pete says. \u201cYou\u2019re back in Ireland.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRight then, it\u2019s pretty simple. We would have gotten together, myself and a few of my friends. I will not say what organization we may or may not have been a part of.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIRA\u201d Pete says, still pissed about the Celtics.<\/p>\n

\u201cHold now, Pete. I didn\u2019t say IRA. You didn\u2019t hear that. But, let\u2019s just say it was IRA, which it wasn\u2019t. But if it was, here\u2019s what we would have done.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBack in Ireland.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBack in Ireland. Yes, Pete, god damn, stop interrupting. Now, Artie, first we would buy you a car. Do you know why we would buy you a car?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Artie says. He\u2019s looking into his black and tan.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe would buy you a car because you don\u2019t have a car.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe also doesn\u2019t have a license,\u201d Mary says. \u201cLost it.\u201d
\n\u201cWell then we\u2019d get you a license, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cImpossible,\u201d Mary says. \u201cThree DUIs.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell now Mary, nothing\u2019s impossible back in Ireland. Especially when you run with the group of fellows I ran with.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIRA\u201d Pete says.
\n\u201cNot IRA,\u201d says Patsy. \u201cThough if we were, which we weren\u2019t, but if we were we\u2019d know what to do with you too, Pete.\u201d
\n\u201cIs that so?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s so.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust steal his TV when the Celtics are on,\u201d Terry says, and that gets a laugh. First laugh all night. I hope it\u2019s not the last.<\/p>\n

\u201cNow, back to Artie,\u201d Patsy says. \u201cFor whom we have bought a car and procured a license, DUIs notwithstanding. Artie, what kind of car you like?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t have a preference.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course you do. Pickup, convertible, sedan?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cConvertible, I suppose.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cConvertible it is, then. Now, we\u2019d buy you the shiny new convertible, and you\u2019d drive around with that top down. We\u2019d let you feel the wind in your hair, the sun on your face. Let you feel like a man. That\u2019s the least we could do for you, one last time. But we\u2019d never forget. Though you might forget, we would not. Do you know what we would not forget?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t,\u201d Artie says. And I can\u2019t help but feel bad for Artie, at least for a moment.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe would not forget what you did to that blessed creature. Seamus. Finest god damn dog\u2026\u201d But now Patsy\u2019s choked up, can\u2019t go on. He shoots the Powers and I hand him the Guinness. Then he crosses himself and walks back to his table, next to Seamus\u2019s table, close by the fire.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know why they\u2019d buy you some fancy car,\u201d Mary says. \u201cYou don\u2019t deserve it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI never said I did.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou two,\u201d Pete says. He\u2019s not looking at the empty television any more.\u00a0 \u201cYou\u2019re a couple slow sons of bitches.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, Pete,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a car bomb. They bought you a car so they could blow it up with you in it. Patsy, isn\u2019t that right? Patsy?\u201d Pete turns around to face him. \u201cIt\u2019s a car bomb, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye,\u201d Patsy says.<\/p>\n

\u201cAye,\u201d Pete says.<\/p>\n

Artie says nothing. But he\u2019s done with his black and tan and I pour him another.<\/p>\n

Sweet Caroline. Good times never felt so good. I remember Mary and Artie dancing to this one and Seamus barking, trying to get in on the action. And he did. He jumped up on Artie from behind and humped the hell out of him. Wouldn\u2019t let go. Artie kept yelling \u201cDown boy, down!\u201d but he wouldn\u2019t get down and we were howling. It plays now, Sweet Caroline, good times never felt so good. I wonder if the music was a mistake. Good times don\u2019t feel like this.<\/p>\n

Reggie comes up for another round. Guinness for him, zinfandel for Ellen. Reggie and Ellen, they\u2019ve got three boys; two marines and a junky. That\u2019s how Reggie put it to me one night, too much to drink. He doesn\u2019t remember telling me so I never bring it up. He talks about his two sons, the marines, all the time.<\/p>\n

\u201cBoys\u2019ll be back this summer,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019ll be in, of course?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou tell them drinks are on me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI will.\u201d<\/p>\n

There\u2019s an art to tending bar. It\u2019s the silence. Knowing when to let it sit and when to fill it. Reggie now, I fill it.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou and Ellen brought the best gift,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you know, dogs aren\u2019t allowed to eat chocolate. Forbidden fruit and all.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSeamus would\u2019ve loved it. Though I\u2019ll tell ya, Reg, I don\u2019t think that cake will last the night. These bastards have been eyeing it since you came in.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, that\u2019s the idea. We\u2019ll break into it in a little bit. It\u2019s double chocolate. Ellen calls it death by chocolate.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDeath by chocolate,\u201d Pete says. \u201cThat\u2019s a way for a dog to go.\u201d For a guy who\u2019d rather be watching the Celtics, he\u2019s paying attention.<\/p>\n

\u201cI suppose it is,\u201d Reggie says.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey Artie,\u201d Pete says. \u201cReggie was just saying death by chocolate would be a great way for a dog to go. How is it Seamus went? Death by neglect? Death by drunkenness? Death by what? What would you say? Death by Artie?\u201d<\/p>\n

Pete holds up his glass for another and I give him a look that says cool your jets. I know there\u2019s a part of me that doesn\u2019t want him to. He\u2019s saying what I would say if I could, if I wasn\u2019t tending bar tonight.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t skimp on the whiskey,\u201d he says, knowing I\u2019ve done it before. \u201cI\u2019ll take death by Jameson any night.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ernie walks in and leaves the door open too long. We shout at him to close it. It\u2019s a cold night, but it\u2019s easy to forget that in here. The embers in the fire and the candles on the tables, the wooden beams and wooden floor, the low wooden ceiling. It\u2019s like a wool sweater on a rainy day. Or a good lady under the covers with a foot of snow outside. Angie never liked sleeping in, but when she did.<\/p>\n

And then I hear it. Coming from the corner. He\u2019s sobbing. His whole body. Mary\u2019s got her arm around him, rubbing his back, telling him it\u2019s okay.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay, Artie. Artie, it\u2019s okay.\u201d<\/p>\n

And then Jim speaks for the first time. Jim whose daughter went for a swim and never came back. \u201cIt\u2019s not okay,\u201d he says. \u201cIt\u2019s not.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou be quiet,\u201d Mary says.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right. I will. But first I\u2019m going to say it\u2019s not okay. It\u2019s not okay what he did.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s right,\u201d Terry says.<\/p>\n

\u201cFor once I agree with these idiots,\u201d Pete says.<\/p>\n

I\u2019d say the same, but I\u2019m here on behalf of the establishment.<\/p>\n

\u201cI loved him,\u201d Artie says, his head still down, Mary still rubbing his back. \u201cI loved him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe all loved him, Artie,\u201d Patsy says from his seat by the fire.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, but he was my dog.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe might have been your dog,\u201d Patsy says. \u201cBut he belonged to all of us.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, but he was mine. My dog. He was my dog, god damnit.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay, Artie,\u201d I say and I\u2019m ready with his black and tan. I give him a shot of Powers, too. \u201cOn the house,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you fucking kidding me?\u201d Pete says. \u201cHe gets a free shot? Fucking christ. If I knew killing Seamus got you a free shot I\u2019d have killed him long ago.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sometimes a bartender fills the silence. Sometimes he lets it be. I let it be. And I\u2019m happy I do. Because Terry shakes his head at what Pete said. And then he laughs.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d Pete says.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe thought of you killing a dog just for a free shot,\u201d Terry says.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s funny?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m laughing, aren\u2019t I?\u201d<\/p>\n

The second laugh of the night, I\u2019m thankful for it.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell guess what, fat ass?\u201d Pete says to Terry. \u201cI\u2019d kill you for a shot, too.\u201d Terry laughs harder and now I\u2019m laughing, too.<\/p>\n

\u201cAll you sons of bitches. I wouldn\u2019t think twice. Like that,\u201d he snaps his fingers. \u201cI\u2019d do you for a shot any day.\u201d<\/p>\n

And because I\u2019m glad we\u2019re laughing, I pour him another Jameson.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd I didn\u2019t even have to kill for it,\u201d he says, proud of himself.<\/p>\n

When I turn back to Artie, he\u2019s done with his black and tan and Powers. He\u2019s not a fast drinker, but tonight he is. I won\u2019t stop him.<\/p>\n

And these are the songs that play. The Body of An American, Dirty Water, Dirty Old Town, Jack and Dianne, Summer of \u201969, Four Green Fields, The Leaving of Liverpool, Night Moves, Fisherman\u2019s Blues, A Pair of Brown Eyes. Angie had brown eyes. They were crying all the time. Always something I did wrong. Sometimes I miss her but I\u2019m better off without her. It took me two years to come to that, but I know it\u2019s the truth.<\/p>\n

And then Atlantic City plays and we eat the cake, death by chocolate. They\u2019re all good and toasted now that Atlantic City plays. And it\u2019s Jim again, Jim who rarely speaks, Jim who knows loss, whose daughter went for a swim. \u201cYou hear this one, Artie,\u201d he calls across the bar. He has to yell it. The place has filled up a bit, folks who\u2019ve never been here before, never met Seamus.<\/p>\n

\u201cI said, Artie,\u201d he yells. \u201cYou hear this one?\u201d<\/p>\n

But Artie doesn\u2019t answer. He\u2019s had a few more and so has Mary and they\u2019re whispering to each other at the end of the bar. Jim gets up, takes a walk. Steps between them. I saddle over to keep an eye on it.<\/p>\n

\u201cArtie, boy. I\u2019m asking if you hear this song.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI do,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n

\u201cEverything dies, that\u2019s a fact. But everything that dies some day comes back. What do you think of that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know. I don\u2019t really care for this song.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell Seamus did. That\u2019s why we\u2019re playing it. I can remember him sitting right there by Patsy, wagging his tail.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t remember that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell I do.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay.\u201d<\/p>\n

I take Artie and Mary\u2019s chocolate-stained paper plates, walk them to the garbage. Pete\u2019s sitting over there, the Celtics long gone.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s about to happen,\u201d Pete says.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n

He nods to Artie. Jim\u2019s got his hand on his shoulder. I know what\u2019s about to happen.<\/p>\n

Jim rips him off the stool. Artie lands on his back and Jim kicks him in the side. Mary yells at him to stop but he doesn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

I used to work a place in Hyannis, there was a fight every night. I got good at jumping the bar. That was years ago, when I first met Angie. I try jumping the bar again and all I do is hurt myself, something down in my back. And it\u2019s all for nothing. Jim got his kicks, that\u2019s all he wanted.<\/p>\n

It clears the place out. Everyone who\u2019s never met Seamus wants to leave and I don\u2019t blame them. Jim has to leave, too.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know I do,\u201d he says. And as Artie stands with Mary\u2019s help, I tell him the same. \u201cMaybe you should go, too, Artie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck you, Mark,\u201d he says. He never talks like that. But he drank a lot, even for him. And he drank it fast. And that\u2019s my fault, but it\u2019s his fault, too. Like a lot of things tonight. \u201cFuck all of you. Pete, fuck you. Terry, fuck you. Patsy, Jim, fuck both of you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay now, Artie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, it\u2019s not okay. I\u2019m not done. Reggie, Ellen, fuck you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThey made you cake,\u201d Mary says.<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck you, too, Mary.\u201d<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve seen this before. You tend bar long enough you see a man try and kill everything he\u2019s got. The sad thing is, it works.<\/p>\n

\u201cFuck all of this,\u201d he says and he walks up to the table, the pictures of Seamus, the gifts. The rawhide bone, the jerky, the bowl of Guinness. Jim\u2019s tennis ball. \u201cHe was my god damn dog.\u201d He flips the table and it knocks over Patsy\u2019s table before crashing into the fireplace.<\/p>\n

I go to the fire and Patsy goes to Artie. He does what they would\u2019ve done back in old Ireland, back before the IRA. Patsy said his grandfather was a bare knuckle champion and I believe him now, now that Artie\u2019s laid out.<\/p>\n

But he\u2019s not down for the count. He\u2019s staggering, the way he staggered last night. Last night he was in no shape to make it home on his own, but it was all right, he had Seamus. Seamus who could barely lift his head. Seamus who still did his duty, walked his friend home one last time.<\/p>\n

Artie doesn\u2019t say a word. He just sways. Then he looks at me. Because he can sense it, what I\u2019m thinking. I\u2019m thinking it\u2019s my fault, too. A bartender knows when to step in, when to let it be. I should\u2019ve stepped in but I didn\u2019t. I should\u2019ve called the vet myself, taken Seamus. It\u2019s my fault, too, and he\u2019s looking at me like he knows it. And what I want to say is it\u2019s okay, Artie. We all make mistakes. Don\u2019t kill yourself over this. Seamus lived a long, happy life. You take care of yourself now, Artie. That\u2019s what I want to say. But I\u2019m mad. Like Pete and Patsy and Terry and Jim, like Ellen and Reggie and Mary, if she had the guts to tell him. I\u2019m mad. And so I don\u2019t say any of that.<\/p>\n

Instead I say, \u201cGet the fuck out of here, Artie.\u201d<\/p>\n

And he does.<\/p>\n

And as he leaves, Terry says, \u201cGood luck getting home on your own.\u201d<\/p>\n

And Patsy, waiting on his Guinness, says, \u201cYou don\u2019t take care of your designated dog, you don\u2019t get a designated dog.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHope he falls in a ditch and dies,\u201d Jim says and I remind him he\u2019s done, too.<\/p>\n

Artie leaves and Jim leaves and when they\u2019re both gone, Pete speaks. Pete, who wanted nothing to do with this, who was pissed he couldn\u2019t watch the game, who didn\u2019t even bring Seamus a gift, he lifts his Jameson and says, \u201cTo Seamus.\u201d And they all lift their glasses, even me. \u201cMay the wind be always at your back. And may the father, the son, and the holy spirit look after your soul for ever and ever. Jesus, I\u2019m talking to you. He was a good dog. He took care of us, now you take care of him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAmen,\u201d Terry says.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not done,\u201d Pete says. \u201cMary, I\u2019m calling on you, too.\u201d Mary in the corner lifts her head. \u201cMary, if you liked dogs, and I\u2019m guessing you did. The mother of Jesus, you had a big heart for the big-hearted ones. If you got a heart for dogs then you got a heart for Seamus. We\u2019re asking you to sit him at the right hand of the father. Let the father scratch him behind the ears, let the son play fetch with him, and see to it the holy ghost walks him a few times a day. Not just for a piss and a shit, but a good walk. Let him chase a few birds.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd squirrels,\u201d Terry says.<\/p>\n

\u201cSquirrels, too, that\u2019s right. We ask this of you, Mary, the blessed virgin. Hail Mary full of grace the Lord is with thee. Blessed are thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of god, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death, amen.\u201d<\/p>\n

Amen, we all say.<\/p>\n

All but Mary. She says, \u201cYou should say a prayer for Artie, too. He lost his best friend.\u201d<\/p>\n

But they don\u2019t say a prayer for Artie. And I don\u2019t blame them.<\/p>\n

The last song plays, The Ring of Fire, and Reggie and Ellen drive Mary home and the rest of the guys leave on their own and then it\u2019s just me closing up shop. My back hurts from jumping the bar and I\u2019m thinking about Angie and thinking about Seamus. I\u2019m thinking about Artie, too.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m cleaning glasses when Walter knocks on the door. He drinks here his nights off, let me out of a speeding ticket once. He\u2019s on duty tonight and he tells me what they found.<\/p>\n

Seamus wasn\u2019t there to walk him home. He went the wrong way and kept going the wrong way and then he fell in the street. Seamus didn\u2019t bark, didn\u2019t wake the neighbors. The door is open and I\u2019m shivering from the cold and the news. And all I know, when I close the door, is that Mary was right. We should have said a prayer for Artie, too. And tomorrow we will. I\u2019m sure we will. We\u2019ll all regret the way we treated him. And we\u2019ll talk about how he\u2019s up with Seamus now. But I know what we won\u2019t do. We won\u2019t put his picture on the table by the fire. We won\u2019t bring him gifts. We won\u2019t play him songs.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m a bartender. You know when to let it sit. When it is what it is. It\u2019s sad, but I\u2019m bartender and it is what it is.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

An Irish wake for a golden retriever. A dog they want to remember, a night they’d rather forget. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[358,1096,1098,1095,1097],"class_list":["post-13254","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","tag-dogs","tag-guinness","tag-ira","tag-irish-wake","tag-st-patricks-day","writer-dicky-murphy"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13254","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13254"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13254\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13255,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13254\/revisions\/13255"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13254"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13254"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13254"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}