Dogs Running a Hill

By Joe Abruzzo

If you love something so much, you are vulnerable. Somebody or something can get to you. If you lack faith, you have created another vulnerability, a second Achilles heel. Jay Gerinni has an unconditional love for the dogs that he raised, trained, and bird hunted. He also questions faith. Hounded by Evil, yet aided by Good, Jays adventures, from hunting the bird fields of Kansas to traveling the world to help with search and rescue, further strengthen his bond with and love for dogs.

Based on the screenplay A Day In Dog Years, the story depicts the growing relationship between Jay and a series of canines that helped him find comfort, direction and hope. When Evil attacks his love by harming his dogs, he has nowhere to turn, except to respond in kind. Now, as Jay faces his own mortality, the secret that he has kept covered for many years threatens to overtake his peace of mind. Can the canine friends he has devoted his life to now be the answer to his own salvation?

Dogs Running a Hill is a unique and inspirational story of love, devotion, and friendship between man and his best friend.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 27, 2012
• ISBN: 9781475932997

Joe Abruzzo

Joe Abruzzo is a doctor and outdoor enthusiast who has claimed a friendship with dogs for over 50 years. He began breeding a line of English pointers in 1986 under the kennel name of Gunnery. As a member of the Screen Actors Guild, many of the dogs he trained and handled appeared on television, movies and commercials. He has acquired numerous championship titles on both field dogs and show dogs, was judging instructor for NSTRA (National Shoot to Retrieve), a member of NAHRA (North American Hunting Retriever Association) and participated in Maryland Search and Rescue. In Dogs Running a Hill, he has combined his love of dogs with a passion for spirituality.

Book preview

Dogs Running A Hill

Joe Abruzzo

DogsCover2001200dpi.jpg

This photograph of the author’s dogs was taken in January 2001 on a bluff in Kansas. It was the inspiration for the title of the book.

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

Dogs Running a Hill

Copyright © 2012 by Joe Abruzzo

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4759-3298-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-3299-7 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-3297-3 (dj)

iUniverse rev. date: 07/24/2012

Contents

Acknowledgments

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Eight

Thirty-Nine

Forty

About The Author

Acknowledgments

To my editor, Mur Rathbun, author of The Arcane

For staying up all night repeatedly, often with an apartment full of English pointers, to edit this manuscript and make it live up to its potential.

www.breathlesspress.com/arcane

To director William A. Billy Graham

Director of such notable actors as Robert Duvall, George C. Scott, and Charles Bronson.

He always told me, Don’t give up, we’ll get it done.

Sadly, a severe neurological injury prevented him from going ahead with the film version of this project, but following the encouragement of his mantra led me to keep this project alive in novel form.

To my good friend Les Goldman

For his unending support and encouragement,

I couldn’t have done it without you.

3ABillyWithDogs.jpg

Director William A. Billy Graham interviews the author’s dogs.

3BCastingCouch.jpg

ONE

The year was 1995 and a devastating earthquake had rocked the country of Turkey. Nothing was visible, just gray dust and smoke. A male voice could be heard. Incredible, it was absolutely incredible.

A second male voice chimed in. He is incredible. At least now the news can have something good to talk about.

The dust slowly began to settle. Through its gray tint, Jay Gerinni, a fifty-five-year-old American rescue worker, was able to make out an extreme close-up of his five-year-old, sable colored, German shepherd’s face. The dog sat motionless with ears erect and dark piercing eyes staring forward. White dust circled an eye and covered one ear. His regal presence was undaunted by the continuing chaos behind him. There was a third male voice. Congrats Jay. Rhett is one of a kind.

Ten years had passed since the earthquake, and it was actually shaping up to be a pretty spring afternoon in Virginia. It wouldn’t matter much however, since most of the day would be spent elsewhere.

It was the worst of times. It was the best of times. It was just simply time. Here comes another shockwave! Pappy, a large sixty-seven-year-old man wearing a baseball cap, recalled hearing those rambling words less than twenty minutes earlier. He shook his head with bewilderment as he sat behind the wheel of a dilapidated red and white Ford Bronco. The truck sat stationary, hugging the curb in front of a veterinary clinic.

A motionless man, seated next to him, had uttered those words prior to drifting off into a deep trance-like state. The man was Jay Gerinni, a sixty-five-year-old retired dentist in failing health. He had been one of the rescuers at the Turkey quake ten years earlier. He was also Pappy’s best friend. A folded newspaper rested in Jay’s lap with a picture of Pope John Paul II on the front page, and a headline indicating the pontiff to be near death.

An earthquake and some Charlie Dickens’ stuff caught up in a game of fifty/fifty to boot, Pappy muttered as he continuously tapped his restless fingers on the steering wheel while squinting at the distant world which engulfed his friend. He repositioned his baseball cap forcing his salt and pepper colored hair to bulge slightly and mix with the gray strands tunneling out of his ears. Moments later, his boredom had him tugging at some threads from the frayed cuffs of an old army jacket he wore. He glanced at his watch and sighed.

Finally, he nudged his old friend’s shoulder. Hey! Hey Jay, you’ve been out of it for almost fifteen minutes.

Jay blinked his eyes rapidly and slowly came out of what appeared to be a deep sleep. He sat up causing two silver chains around his neck to swing clear of a partially unbuttoned work shirt trimmed out by a blue jacket. He briefly fumbled with the chains, finally securing them back inside his shirt before asking, What?

You’ve been somewhere else for the last fifteen minutes, Pappy replied, momentarily removing his baseball cap and wiping his oversized front teeth with the back of the same hand. He studied Jay’s appearance. You look like shit. You sure it’s not the medicine?

Jay used the palms of his hands to rub the fog from his eyes. Nah, it’s something I go through every time, Pappy. What time is it?

Almost two, Pappy replied before tilting his head to one side and raising his bushy eyebrows. You’re going to revisit everything again. Aren’t you? he asked in a mildly condescending tone.

The dog stuff, anyway, Jay sighed.

Why? Pappy asked, already knowing the answer but hoping for a different response.

It’s just what I do, Pappy.

Pappy’s tone changed from condescending to somber, focusing on the reason why they had parked outside the animal clinic on a Saturday afternoon in the first place. Then you’ve made up your mind. I mean, on what you’re going to do?

Jay massaged his forehead and ran a few fingers through his sparse gray hair while gazing at the grimy windshield whose corners were still coated with the April pollen that was out of reach of the truck’s wipers. He gave a weak cough clearing his throat. I stayed with Rhett the last three nights. He won’t eat. It’s time. Jay shifted his gaze through the passenger side window and looked down at the sidewalk that would eventually lead him to the veterinary clinic. He wiped away a couple of tears.

Pappy sat momentarily with an empathetic expression. Seconds later, he forced himself to revert back to condescending again. And then you’re going to dwell on it the rest of the day. Jay slowly shifted his look back at the dirty windshield, but this time remained silent. Jay, I’m sure it’s normal to think about things after something like this, but you take it to a whole new level.

Probably, Jay said in a shallow hoarse voice as he pulled his jacket collar higher over some old, sensitive burns that had scarred his neck. Yea, I do ... always have, Jay confessed, and then moments later tried to offer some sort of explanation using a stronger voice. Kurt Vonnegut wrote that life is a collection of moments. I’ll just revisit them again. There’ll be some good ones too, Pappy. Hey, remember some of those days in the field with the dogs?

With this comment, Pappy had been defused. He smiled briefly, happy to alter the conversation with his old friend. That was a lot of fun. After a lengthy pause of remembrance, Pappy continued speaking. Hey you ever figure out why they liked climbing those hills so much?

Jay slowly responded. Nah. It was the damnedest thing though. It was like when they would eat a ton of grass and barf it out twenty minutes later.

Another mystery, Pappy suggested.

I guess, Jay mumbled.

Only wish I could have had a hunting license, Pappy added.

You weren’t even supposed to have a gun, Jay quipped.

Spending time in the big house will do that to you, Pappy admitted.

No big deal. We did it anyway, Jay told him in a humble, but slightly boastful manner.

Pappy had totally capitulated. He heaved a sigh. Where else you going today, Jay?

Not really sure, Jay said while rubbing his chin and then studying a wedding band on his left hand. But there’ll be some of the same old cast of characters, like the old guy who believed dogs were reincarnated.

He was pretty weird, Pappy commented.

Yeah. But a good kind of weird, Jay protested, coming to the old guy’s defense. He grimaced with discomfort as he leaned forward trying to find a more comfortable position. The folded newspaper on his lap slid forward as well. He glanced down and quickly secured the falling paper against one knee. He kind of reminded me of this guy, Jay mused exposing the Pope’s picture while pulling the newspaper back to its original position.

You’re kidding? Pappy asked incredulously.

No, I’m not. They both look a lot alike. They were both spiritual. And they both came to the defense of dogs, Jay insisted, having given a great deal of thought to this similarity before.

Harvey, wasn’t it? Pappy asked, attempting to steer the subject back to the old guy’s idiosyncrasies and leave the Pope out of the conversation.

Nah. His dog’s name was Harry, and supposedly every eleven years or so, Harry would return as a puppy under a different Zodiac sign. Jay tried rubbing the soreness out of his lower back. He thought for a moment, and added, Still only eleven tombstones on the hill this morning.

Pappy gave a quick analysis. Ya know if he had a puppy for every Zodiac sign, he’d be over 130 years old. He looked for Jay to respond, but Jay’s mind started to drift off again. Pappy finished the analysis anyway. Do the math. Eleven times twelve.

Lee Anne kind of believed in that stuff too, Jay solemnly said as his thumb slowly rotated the gold band on his left hand.

She was a little superstitious, Pappy concurred.

Yeah. I know, Jay said in a soft, thoughtful tone. He paused and then added, She would have loved Rhett. To her, nothing was nobler than search and rescue. Jay smiled pleasantly for a brief reflective moment. Suddenly, acknowledging another character from the cast, the smile disappeared as fast as it came. He tightened up and shivered, pulling his jacket even higher around his neck. He swallowed hard trying to get the words out. And then there was the bad guy.

Pappy noticed Jay’s hands starting to tremble. He begged, Oh man, don’t go there! Pappy banged on the steering wheel loudly asking, Why do you want to think about someone so evil?

Jay brought both hands together in an attempt to quell the tremble. He gulped a huge breath and in a deliberately slow and insightful voice said, He certainly hated love. Especially the unconditional kind.

Yes he did! Pappy remarked sternly, hoping Jay would drop the thought.

They never found him, Jay muttered while biting on a thumbnail and dropping his eyes to the floor mat.

That’s cause he’s still out there, Jay!

After a short period of silence, Jay regained his composure and raised his eyes from the floor and began speaking philosophically. Loving something a lot does create a vulnerability. Pappy sat quietly, letting Jay finish his thought. And questioning faith doesn’t help much either. It’s like being the proud owner of two Achilles’ heels.

Pappy stared at Jay and simply crossed his arms, shook his head, and offered a sarcastic commentary. Boy, I’m not sure I’d want to be rattling around in your head with a flashlight today.

Jay ignored Pappy’s unflattering comment as a quizzical expression materialized across his own gaunt face. The outcome doesn’t seem to change, though. The story just gets a little longer.

They’re memories, Jay! They’re not supposed to change!

I wish some of them would, Jay replied in a monotone voice.

Why don’t you just concentrate on the good ones, and stop beating yourself up? Pappy suggested as he leaned toward Jay while raising the brim of his baseball cap. Jay remained silent and turned away, viewing the front of the veterinary clinic once again. Pappy felt he had been a little too harsh with his friend, and decided one more time to change the subject. How are your brothers?

Jay looked back with childlike exuberance. They’re coming to visit next month! And then asked, What time you say it was?

Pappy glanced at his watch, and followed up with a quick review of his sick friend thinking that the family reunion may not happen in time. Two o’clock, he replied.

I’ve got to go, Jay claimed, cranking on the truck’s door handle. The door didn’t move. Jay continued the pressure until the door screeched and opened like a mummy’s crypt. He looked over at Pappy. You ever going to trade this in?

I won it fair and square, Pappy declared, offering up a large horsey grin, beaming with self-satisfaction.

One day this Bronco is going to quit on you, Jay warned him as he pushed his legs out of the truck, balancing his feet on the walkway. Jay dropped the folded newspaper on the seat and raised his body with noticeable pain. He took shuffling half steps up the sidewalk toward the clinic’s entrance.

Jay was once a handsome man with chiseled features. Age and sickness had accentuated those features, but not in a positive way. The once dark headed, well-built man was now an underweight gray haired shell of his former self. He resembled an emaciated occupant of a prisoner of war camp. The prostate cancer he was diagnosed with earlier had taken its toll, turning his body into that shell, but his mind was still anything but.

Jay possessed the unique ability to regress in thought, recapturing specific moments of his past. Professional hypnotists referred to this process as revivification. What made this quite unique in Jay’s case was the spontaneity of the regression without the aid of a hypnotist.

When he was very young, schoolteachers accused him of constantly daydreaming, not applying himself properly. As he got older, he was able to harness and partially control this gift. The more life he lived, the more memories he acquired, and thus, the more he had to revisit.

The regression was generally triggered by profound emotional events. Jay would get a gentle buzzing vibration in his forehead at the bridge of his nose, signaling a pending shift in time. He claimed the sound was similar to that of a bumblebee and came to nickname the process, Honey. If the emotional events unleashing Honey were strong enough, Jay’s nose would actually start to bleed slightly as well. At first, the medical specialists poked and probed, coming up baffled. Over time, the nosebleeds stopped on their own, probably as a result of a callusing of the nasal lining, rather than a decrease in outside emotional stimuli. Jay’s case was even written up in two separate journals, one scientific and the other medical, with identical results of no diagnosis, no prognosis, and no conclusion. It was just rare.

Jay thought of life as a zero sum game, fifty percent good and fifty percent bad, woven into a tight mesh most of the time, easy to differentiate, but difficult to separate.

And since it was so difficult when revisiting the past to separate the good moments from the bad, Jay was never really sure if this ability of regression was a blessing or a curse.

What was also troubling to accept and deeply frustrating for him was his inability to alter any of the past bad events and savor only the good ones, even if in memory only. And although the events that he revisited were so acute, right down to the sense of smell, touch, sight, and sound, the past was the past, and could never be changed.

Although well liked, because of this hypnotic peculiarity, Jay came across as a little moody for some, and somewhat of an enigma to others. But to Pappy, they were the best of friends. He and Pappy went back over forty years.

The name Pappy was short for Pappatropolus, a surname that rolled off the tongue, but was much too long for quick identification among friends. If you couldn’t identify him by his name, you could certainly recognize his physical presence by the huge smile that he wore. His oversized front teeth resembled a cross between a beaver and a horse, framed by a round face, trimmed out with an old Yankees baseball cap. His signature horsey grin was his hall of fame trademark.

Pappy had run around with the wrong crowd in his early years, which landed him in prison for a short stint. Jay was one of the few to visit him during his incarceration. When Pappy was released from prison, Jay, with some influence, helped him land a good job with a Ford dealership. Pappy worked hard, and within a couple of years was considered one of the best salesmen on the lot. He was awarded a red and white Ford Bronco truck for his achievements. Pappy was so proud, he told everyone he would never get rid of that truck, and to date, kept his word.

Pappy didn’t know much about dogs, but loved to go bird hunting. The condition of his prison release, however, prohibited him from owning any firearms. In fact, he wasn’t even supposed to be around guns. As a result, his hunts were limited to going only with Jay. Jay was okay with it, and would always bring an extra shotgun to the bird field. They trusted each other implicitly.

Pappy married an educated woman named Clare. She was a strong, opinionated woman who came from old money. Clare wasn’t too much into dogs, but loved horses. Horseback riding was one of her passions. In order to encourage her husband, Pappy, to join her on the trail, she became a member of a fox hunting club. Although Pappy preferred bird hunting, he found the use of foxhounds chasing their quarry an acceptable compromise. Pappy and Clare had two children, Betty and Jimmy. Jay was the best man at Pappy’s wedding, and Pappy at Jay’s.

A fierce loyalty existed between the two men. They had experienced many things together, but today Jay was on his own. All Pappy could do was worry and wait as the emotional events of the day were about to trigger, catapulting Jay into an episodic odyssey of the past the likes of which Jay never anticipated.

Just as Jay reached the outside door to the veterinary clinic and twisted its handle, Pappy stuck his head out the Bronco’s passenger window and yelled, Hey Jay, try and remember something good! That earthquake thing was pretty good. I mean ... all in all.

TWO

The day quickly returned to 1995, and coming into Jay’s view behind the German shepherd, in the distant Turkish background, were collapsed buildings of brick and stone. A large dark green tent, displaying a universally recognizable Red Cross emblem, sat in the vicinity. Uniformed personnel quickly moved in and out of the tent. Two noisy bulldozers pushed at the fallen debris. A nearby jackhammer pounded atop a rubble pile. Several people moved about frantically, shouting. Some were in foreign voices.

A radio squawked near the German shepherd. The shepherd remained stalwart. Momma Bear One to Proud Mary, do you copy?

Go ahead Momma Bear One.

Jim, I need another generator up here.

Roger that. I’ll see what I can...

The radio conversation became interrupted and took on a serious tone as the background began to rhythmically vibrate. Static, followed by a few words, came across the radio. Oh no! Brick and mortar shifted amidst screams of fear and chaos.

Shockwave. Shockwave.

Here it comes again!

The unflinching German shepherd remained steadfast, continually staring forward. A few sable colored hairs along his neck bent from the turbulent air.

Just as quickly as it began, the vibration suddenly stopped. An uneasy hush blanketed the area. Moments later, the sound of a jackhammer resumed in the distance as radios tried to reestablish communication. Jim? Jim, you still with me? There was a long pause. The German shepherd had still not moved.

We’re with you Momma Bear.

I’m going to need a couple of dogs too. Suddenly, there was commotion behind the radio voice. The voice became frantic. And a doctor ... I need a doctor!

The pounding beat of the jackhammer began to slow and become muffled, resembling dull slapping footsteps on a tiled floor. The earthquake site slowly faded away, and was replaced by a modern veterinary clinic ten years later.

Jay Gerinni heard the soft voice of a female as her footsteps gradually linked him to the present. Doctor Winters. Doctor Winters, he’s in room 2.

Her voice came from a moderately lit, off-white examination room with an aluminum table in the center. On the table was a listless German shepherd wrapped in a blanket. He was thin and very old. A six-inch tattered light green circular pillow, with a dark green embroidered four-leaf clover in its center, had been placed alongside his body.

To one side of the room, at a counter, was the back of a young woman about twenty-five-years of age. She was dressed in a white lab coat, busy reaching into the above cabinets. She efficiently and quietly placed vials of solution and syringes on the top of the counter. The rest of the room was neat and orderly with only a few pieces of medical equipment pushed against the walls.

Jay stared vacuously at the center of the room where the table and the German shepherd were located. The two silver chains around his neck swung clear of his open shirt. One held a crucifix, the other a St. Francis of Assisi medallion. The chains rubbed at some of the old burns on his neck. Jay’s eyes were red and moist. He swallowed slowly, holding back his grief. The reverberating sound of the jackhammer at the earthquake site from ten years earlier had now faded from his mind, and Jay had completely returned to the present.

From a side door, another man dressed in a blue lab coat entered. He carried a stethoscope around his neck. He too was sixty to sixty-five-years old, slightly overweight, but unlike Jay, appeared to be in good health. He made sympathetic eye contact with Jay. One got the impression that they had known each other for a long time.

The man dressed in blue was Dr. Winters, an old-school veterinarian. Not to block Jay’s view, he approached the table from the other side where the dog lay. He gently placed his hands on the old shepherd and paused, waiting for Jay to also approach the table opposite him.

Reluctantly, Jay limped slowly out of the shadow, and figuratively, into more darkness. He stood at the table and placed his hands gently on his old dog, stroking him. The dog, almost blind and very weak, sensed his owner. He was able to lift his head just enough to rest his muzzle on the top of his master’s hand.

The young assistant slowly turned towards the table with a small tray. On the tray were a fluid filled syringe with needle, a small rubber tube, and a vial where the fluid had been drawn.

Jay made an accidental audible sound of grief. His vet friend gently placed his left hand on Jay’s forearm. The assistant seemed uncomfortable with the situation. Her eyes quickly moved from the tray to Jay, to Dr. Winters, and back to the tray. Jay smothered the dog’s head with his own wet face and trembling hands crying softly to him. Oh Rhett. We’ll see each other again. I promise.

Jay slowly nodded, giving a sorrowful expression for Dr. Winters to proceed. With this gesture, Dr. Winters removed the rubber tube from the tray and wrapped it around the dog’s front right leg. Just as quickly, he placed the needle with syringe into the dog’s leg administering the lethal fluid. The old dog never moved. Dr. Winters removed the needle and rubber hose from the dog and placed them back on the tray. The assistant turned slowly back to the counter with the tray. In a quick and professional manner, Dr Winters placed one end of the stethoscope in his ears and the cold end to Rhett’s fading heartbeat.

It was over. Jay felt Rhett’s warm fur without the movement. And although he had been there before, the depth of one’s love always remained a mystery until that final moment of separation.

Dr. Winters removed the stethoscope from his ears and held it in one hand. In a soft voice, he said to Jay, He was one of the best. Jay never lifted his eyes off his dog. The assistant stood quietly a few feet away, moving her eyes slowly, sympathetically, between the vet, Rhett and Jay.

After several seconds, still stroking his beloved canine friend, Jay softly said, Maybe Lee Anne can take care of you now. With this comment, Dr. Winters and his assistant made subtle eye contact. Several more seconds passed as Jay continued to stare at his dog, stroking him one last time. He then quietly turned away and left the room.

Jay moved slowly, with some discomfort, through a hallway to the front office where the receptionist desk was located. On the way, another young female assistant passed him, giving him a small understanding smile. She was thin, moderately attractive with large gentle eyes. Jay appeared momentarily confused. He stopped and asked, Lee Anne? She softly bit down on her bottom lip in a compassionate manner and slowly shook her head. She continued to the entrance of the examination room and stood in the doorway looking back, studying Jay.

Jay stopped in front of a water cooler stretching his lower back. He reached into his front shirt pocket and removed a pain pill, swallowing it with the help of some water. He splashed a small amount of the cool water on his neck and face and proceeded to the receptionist area.

Inside the examination room, the first assistant was placing vials and other material back in the overhead cabinet. The second assistant who had just passed Jay in the hall walked in and picked up the light green circular pillow from the examination table and set it on a counter. Concerned by Jay’s confusion, she turned to speak to Dr. Winters who was still standing at the table with Rhett. Who is Lee Anne? she asked.

Never lifting his eyes, he quietly answered, She was his wife. She died twenty years ago.

They must have been very close, the assistant commented in a kindhearted tone.

In