Howard the Sheep

keith rutledge

When his father died, the first and strongest emotion Philip felt was relief. Not for the merciful passing of the old man's suffering, but because he was finally going to get those hands off his back. The morning that Philip discovered him, dead in his superintendent's apartment, he sat on the side of the man's bed and, first, he hugged the body tight, then he simply sat there and felt like he could float unfettered into the rest of his life.

Philip Senior was buried three days later. The hearse, procession and all, got stuck in traffic in mid-town. All through the ceremony, as the minister recited bits of scripture, the honking and noise of traffic filled Philip's ears.

It didn't hurt that his father left him some money, and the apartment house too; so he had a nice little nest egg, and a steady source of income. It wasn't as much income as he would have liked, especially considering the prime Manhattan location, but most of the tenants were pretty old, and had rent-controlled apartments. At least, he supposed, they were quiet.

Philip threw away everything in his father's apartment and moved all his things in. He was now the building's superintendent. He felt the position demanded a certain amount of respect. He thought about buying a hat to wear into his new life, but decided against it. His father had worn a hat.

One of the first things he did in his new take-charge, father-free lifestyle was to go around to each of the apartments in the building with a list of the tenants to see what kind of condition their apartments were in. Most of them were very well maintained, filled with doilies and carnival glass, dust and dentifrice. Philip checked off their names and doodled a few notes in the margins of the paper on his clipboard in a hatless attempt to look more professional. "Pretty old. Will probably die soon," he wrote, or "Horrible taste in knick-knacks, incl. cut-crystal penguins."

There was nothing remarkable about any of the apartments until he came to Carmen Sanguinette's two-bedroom, on the second floor. When Philip introduced himself, Carmen silently scowled and stood aside to let him in. Philip reached up to adjust his hat and then realized that he wasn't wearing one. "Very unpleasant old woman," he wrote on his clipboard.

"What are you writing?" asked Carmen.

"Oh, just notes on the condition of the apartment," Philip answered.

"Can I see?"

"No," said Philip.

Carmen stared at him for a moment and then stalked off into the kitchen. Philip wandered around the apartment, looking at things and jotting down notes. "Large collection of shawls," he wrote in the living room. "One cast-iron pan," he wrote in the kitchen. "Strange loom or something," he wrote in the spare room. "Smells bad," he wrote in the hall.

Then came the bathroom. It was larger than most of the bathrooms in the building, shaped like a capital-L with the door at the long end. The space at the short end looked like it might have been designed to fit a washer and dryer but instead, lying on the tile floor was a black-and-white sheep on a blanket. The rest of the space was taken up with a large mat of Astroturf, upon which rested several small piles of shit. The floor around the blanket and Astroturf was yellowed.

Philip adjusted his scalp and gaped at the sheep, which blinked its strange eyes at Philip and burped. "Mrs. Sanguinette?" Philip called.

Next to the sheep was a large basin filled with water. A bale of hay sat on top of a shelf in the back of the sheep's area

Carmen stomped into the bathroom, drying her hands with a dishrag. "What is it?" she asked impatiently.

Philip stuttered at her, "It's just this sheep. It'll have to come out."

"Oh no he won't," she said, and stomped off to the kitchen again.

After a few seconds, Philip followed her, and waved his clipboard in the air. Carmen was standing at the window, reaching out and tending to a small herb garden growing on the sill. "Mrs. Sanguinette, this is not a petting zoo," Philip said. "It is an apartment building! You cannot have sheep running around in an apartment building!"

"Howard can't run," Carmen said, without turning around. "He's crippled. On a good day I can get him up and walking around for twenty minutes."

"It doesn't matter if he's actually running," said Philip. "Sheep are clearly not in the lease agreement."

Carmen turned around and glared at him. She stomped into the living room, opened a closet door, and began digging through the contents. Philip could see several more bales of hay in the closet. "Ah HA!" Carmen emerged from the closet waving a yellowed sheet of paper triumphantly over her head. She thrust it at Philip, who glanced at the lease agreement. Carmen pointed at a paragraph toward the bottom of the page. "Small pets are allowed. Large pets must meet with landlord's consent." Off to the side of this, in Philip Senior's handwriting and accompanied by his initials and a date many years past, was the word “SHEEP.” Carmen snatched the paper out of Philip's hands and stuck it to the fridge with a magnet that looked like a strawberry.

Philip rolled his eyes. "Okay, you can keep the sheep. But you have to clean up after it a little better. There are health regulations for this kind of thing."

Carmen rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure," she said. "I've been meaning to build a platform for him, anyway."

As she shut the door behind him, Philip trudged back down to his apartment and promised himself that he would get a hat.

Over the next few weeks, Philip occasionally heard banging noises from inside Carmen's apartment and was delighted that she was following up on his requests. He also got a fine gray suede hat and wore it regularly.

One morning Carmen came knocking at his door. She was wearing a scarf over the top of her head and looked even unhappier than usual. She handed a key to Philip. "I need you to take care of Howard," she said.

"That damn sheep?" Philip asked.

"Yes. My twin sister Rose died in California and I need to fly out."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Philip said, taking off his hat and holding it in front of his chest.

"It's okay. I should be back in a week or so." An irritated prolonged honk came from outside. "That's my cab," said Carmen. She started to walk away. "Thank you for taking care of Howard for me. "

"Wait a minute!" said Philip, running after her down the hallway. "I'm not taking care of your stupid sheep!"

"Nothing to it," said Carmen. "Feed him a couple pounds of hay every day. Make sure that he's got water. And play with him for a while." She shut the car door and rolled down the window. As the cab rolled away she stuck her head out the window and yelled, "Thanks again!" Philip looked down at the key in his hand and gave the cab the finger. He put the hat on his head and went upstairs.

Philip could hear muffled bleating through the bathroom door before he opened it. Howard was rolling around on the astroturf. When he saw Philip, he stopped rolling and looked up at him. "Those are some creepy eyes," said Philip. Howard bleated happily.

Carmen had built a six-inch raised platform to fit in the space. There was a ramp leading up the edge. The sides were latticed and on top of the platform were a few layers of astroturf and Howard's blanket. Philip poked his finger through the lattice. Underneath the platform was a tarp covered with sand. It stank of piss.

Philip pushed the sheep over with his foot. Howard rolled onto his back and crooked his spindly legs, exposing his belly. There were several parts of the sheep's underside and legs that were matted with manure. Philip shuddered.

Philip pulled several handfuls of hay off the bale and sat down on a clean part of the astroturf. "You want some of this?" he motioned with the hay at Howard. "This hay really get your digestive juices flowing? Those freakish stomachs filling up with bile?" Howard bleated and stood up on unsteady feet. He took a wobbly step towards Philip and fell over. Philip scooted out of the way and the sheep's chin hit the astroturf, dripping drool onto the plastic. The sheep bleated. Philip tossed the hay on the astroturf and left.

The second day, Howard greeted Philip at the bathroom door, lifting his head from his legs as he lay and butting his filthy head against Philip's knees. Philip scowled and looked around. The astroturf was littered with shit. Philip tipped back his hat and put on the rubber gloves that he had brought with him. He scooped it up with toilet paper and threw it, and then the rubber gloves, into a big trash can in the corner. When he looked back, Howard was taking walking unsteadily towards him. Philip backed up against the wall. When the sheep got within a foot of him, he stuck out his foot as an obstacle and nudged the sheep up the ramp. Howard collapsed on the astroturf. Philip threw some hay on him and left.

That night, one of the tenants on the third floor had a pipe burst. Water was continuously pouring all over the floor. Philip was on the phone all night trying to get a plumber out to fix it, and he finally found one, not cheap, to come out at five in the morning. He didn't sleep a wink.

When he finally made it to the Sanguinette apartment, Howard wasn't bleating. Neither did the sheep greet Philip at the door. When Philip pushed the bathroom door open, he saw the sheep, soaked through and through, lying on the blanket and shivering. The ceiling, floor, and walls were covered with water that had come down from the apartment above. Philip broke some hay off of the bale and tossed it towards Howard, who made no motions to eat.

Philip sat down next to Howard and held the hay out close to the sheep's mouth. "What's wrong with you?" asked Philip. As he ate, Howard rolled onto his side. Philip looked at his spindly legs and sodden wool and realized that he had no way to get in touch with Carmen Sanguinette.

He took a towel from the rack and toweled Howard off. Initially, the sheep pulled his head back, retreated and bit at the towel. A few minutes after Philip started drying his sides, Howard started acting almost like a dog, bleating and rolling around. Philip rolled his eyes and hand-fed Howard some of the hay. Howard ate very slowly, and was still shivering. Philip replaced the blanket with a dry one while he fed the sheep, and then lay back against the wall and closed his eyes as Howard ate from his hand.

When Philip woke up, he was very confused. "When did I get a wool heating blanket?" He asked himself, and then he realized where he was. He lay on Howard's blanket, spooning the damn sheep. Howard was still shivering.

Philip cleared his throat and sat up to adjust his hat, which was no longer on his head. He looked over at the sheep, who was quietly chewing on something gray. Philip waited for a pause in the rumination and then pulled the hat out of Howard's mouth. It was chewed out of shape, riddled with holes and covered with drool. Philip sighed and threw the hat onto the floor.

Philip stood up and brushed hay off of himself. He smelled like a barnyard. He checked his shirt and pants in the mirror and stretched. When he looked back, Howard was taking slow, labored steps towards him. Philip dropped into a squat and patted his knees. "Uh, here boy!" he said. Howard falteringly made his way down the ramp and toppled to the floor at Philip's feet. Howard's eyes, in addition to their usual creepy and rectangular state, looked milky. Philip ruffled the hair around his face.

"Good boy," he said. When he fed the sheep some more hay, Howard nipped at his fingers. Philip couldn't help but laugh.

When it was time to go, Philip led Howard up the ramp and rubbed the sheep with the towel for a few minutes. When he stood up to walk out, the sheep bleated plaintively. "Sorry, gotta go," said Philip. He shut the door behind him and could hear the bleating as he walked out.

The next day it became apparent that Howard was definitely sick. When Philip found him, he was taking shallow breaths. His stomach looked bloated and his eyes were filmed over. When he heard Philip come in, Howard managed a sickly bleat and looked towards the door. "Oh, hell," said Philip. He sat down on the platform and looked Howard over carefully.

"Carmen will be home soon," he said. "She'll know what to do." Howard rolled over and put his head in Philip's lap. "Jesus!" said Philip, fighting the urge to push the sheep away. He sighed as Howard went to sleep, slobbering thick sheep drool on his pants.

When Carmen came back, Howard was dead. She walked into the bathroom and called out, "Howie, I'm home!" Then she saw Howard, lying splay-legged on the Astroturf, his head in Philip's lap, tongue lolling. Philip was crying silently and holding the sheep's head in his hands.
"He just…died," Philip said.

"Oh." Carmen's eyebrows arched. She cleared her throat and stood for a few minutes, holding her purse in front of her. "Well." She stepped from foot to foot. Philip's tears dropped onto the sheep's wool. Next to him were the tattered remains of the hat.

"He was an old sheep," Carmen said.

Philip sniffed. "I think he died happy," he said, motioning to the hat. "Chewing on my hat. He loved that hat."

Carmen looked at the two of them. She put her purse over her shoulder. "Well," she said, "I guess I'd better get another one. Bring Howard, will you?" She turned around and walked out the bathroom door.

Philip stared after her. "What?"

"Oh, just put him over your shoulder. Come on!" she said from the living room.

Philip gently put Howard's head on the Astroturf. He stood up and turned around and just looked at the sheep for a few minutes. After a while, Carmen poked her head through the door. "Come on! We're going to be late!" Philip started to follow her. "Bring him, I said.” She jerked a thumb back at Howard.

Philip carefully picked up Howard, who was surprisingly heavy, slung him over his shoulders and carefully followed Carmen outside, where she was opening the back door of a big old black car. "Put him in the back," she said. Philip painstakingly lowered the corpse into the back seat. "Now get in," she said.

Philip got into the passenger seat and Carmen got behind the wheel. "Put your seatbelt on," she said, and started driving. She cranked down the window, lit a cigarette, and drove north, out of the city.

The sun was low in the sky and it was starting to get chilly by the time they pulled up at the farm. Philip had been napping and he woke as the car stopped and his head rolled forward. "Where are we?" he asked, and peered out the window at the faded barn and the farmhouse.

"Get Howard out of the back, please," Carmen said, as she got out of the car and started walking toward the farmhouse.

Philip opened the back door, slung Howard over his shoulders, again, shut the door with his foot, and hurried to catch up with Carmen as she knocked on the farmhouse door. "I'm comin'," said a voice from inside, and then the door opened. A very old man in coveralls looked out at them. "Carmen," he said.

"Philip, this is Mister Sanguinette," said Carmen. "Mister Sanguinette, this is Philip."

"Ayuh," said Mister Sanguinette, and stuck out a hand, which Philip shook, hunching forward so as not to drop Howard. "Need another one, yeah?" he asked, pointing at the sheep with his cigarette.

"Yes, please," said Carmen.

"Ayuh," said Mister Sanguinette, as he shut the door. "Come with me," he said to Philip, and started for the barn. Philip began to lower Howard's body, and Mister Sanguinette said "Bring him, too."

The barn was dark inside, lit only by the sunlight coming through the boards. It was full of sheep. "Put the dead one on that bench," Mister Sanguinette said, motioning to a long wide wooden bench. Philip set Howard carefully down.

"Can you still shear him?" asked Carmen.

"Ayuh, if there's enough wool on him," said Mister Sanguinette. "When did you crutch him?"

"Oh, four, five months ago," said Carmen.

Mister Sanguinette nodded. "Ayuh," he said. "Okay, here's what I got." He walked between the sheep, who stood to make room for him, while Carmen and Philip followed him to the back of the barn, where there were six sheep all lying on a large blanket.

"What's wrong with them?" asked Philip.

"Oh, you know how it goes," said Mister Sanguinette. He took a pull off his cigarette. "I let 'em roam free on the property, sometimes they fall in holes and break legs, get bit by snakes or coyotes. Any number of things."

"Why do you keep them?"

Mister Sanguinette gave him a look. "Just 'cause they can't walk, don't mean they can't be happy," he said. "Besides, the same amount of wool grows whether they're inside or out."

"I like this one," said Carmen, pointing at a small black sheep. She looked at Mister Sanguinette.

"Ayuh," Mister Sanguinette said.

Carmen started walking out through the barn door. "Grab that one for me, will you Philip?"

Mister Sanguinette sat down on the wooden bench with Howard's body. Philip slung the bleating black sheep over his shoulders and walked with it to the car. Carmen slammed the trunk, unfolded a tarp, and spread it over the backseat. "Put the sheep in there, please," she said. Philip lowered the sheep and put it in the backseat. Carmen shut the door, and the sheep looked through the window at them.

"Looks like he got you there," said Carmen. She went to the back of the car and opened the trunk again.

"What?"

"Your arm," Carmen said. She pulled a roll of paper towels out of the trunk, shut it, went to Philip, and tore off several sheets. "Looks like he got you."

Philip looked down at his jacket, where a splatter of manure streaked down the arm. Carmen laughed as Philip wiped his arm off. "Get in," she said. The sheep bleated all the way back to the apartment house.

For Christmas that year, Carmen gave Philip a big gray wool blanket. It was very warm.