After I drank a little, I went over to the jukebox and put some money in to help pass the time and help take my mind off thoughts of Mildred. They had fourteen Tom T. Hall songs, and I played every one of them. It seemed to put everybody in a good mood. I noticed several people looking at me kindly, as if to say thanks for playing all that Tom T. I knew that, by then, Mildred had seen my dead dog. I didn’t want to think about it, and I didn’t know what she would think about it. I knew that she would be unhappy with me for not going ahead and burying the dog, and also for being out late drinking and riding. We had been over this thing many times before, and we weren’t getting any closer to a solution. I just couldn’t do anything with her big Tunnel of Love. I could hit one side at a time, but not both sides. I didn’t feel like this was my fault, since I, like many other men or nearly all men, played high school basketball and football and baseball and hockey and have taken many showers with naked boys and know by casual observance that I am adequately hung. Perhaps even well hung. I have seen boys whose peters looked like acorns. Mildred would not have even known one of those boys had it inserted. I would have had to be the Moby Dick of love to adequately satisfy Mildred. But I had sworn before God and Church to always cherish her and I supposed I would always have to. I did not cherish my first, other wife; I threw her over for Mildred. But it did not keep me from wanting something a little different from the feeling of sticking my equipment out the window and having relations with the whole world.

I got back on my stool and drank a little more and thought about the time Mildred and I discussed corrective surgery for her deformity. Mildred, I should point out, had the most wonderful ass. That was the original point of interest that attracted me to her. I have seen men pant, looking at her in a bathing suit. Mildred was always naturally hot-sexed. I knew it had to be frustrating for her to be like that. But she said she would be absolutely mortified to have to undergo an operation of that nature or even discuss it with a doctor or nurse. So, sitting there on that stool, I didn’t know much other way to turn. I knew she wasn’t going to like that dead dog lying in our front yard. I thought, Hey, baby, what about your cruel cats?