Joyland

"No," Mike said. He still wasn't coughing, but dark patches had begun to creep out beneath his eyes. Where his cheeks weren't flushed with excitement, he looked pale. "I didn't know I was supposed to… "

Fred took off his own hat, peered inside, showed it to us. It was empty, as all magicians' top hats must be when they are displayed to the audience. He looked into it again, and brightened.

"Ah!" He brought out a brand new Joyland dogtop and put it on Mike's head. "Perfect! Now which beast do you want to ride? A horse? The unicorn? Marva the Mermaid? Leo the Lion?"

"Yes, the lion, please!" Mike cried. "Mom, you ride the tiger right next to me!"

"You bet," she said. ''I've always wanted to ride a tiger."

"Hey, champ," Lane said, "lemme help you up the ramp."

While he did that, Annie lowered her voice and spoke to Fred.

"Not a lot more, okay? It's all great, a day he'll never forget, but-"

"He's fading," Fred said. "I understand."

Annie mounted the snarling, green-eyed tiger next to Mike's lion. Milo sat between them, grinning a doggy grin. As the merry-go-round started to move, "A Bicycle Built for Two" gave way to "Twelfth Street Rag." Fred put his hand on my shoulder.

"You'll want to meet us at the Spin-we'll make that his last ride-but you need to visit the costume shop first. And put some hustle into it."

I started to ask why, then realized I didn't need to. I headed for the back lot. And yes, I put some hustle into it.

36

That Tuesday morning in October of 1973 was the last time I wore the fur. I put it on in the costume shop and used Joyland Under to get back to the middle of the park, pushing one of the electric carts as fast as it would go, my Howie-head bouncing up and down on one shoulder. I surfaced behind Madame Fortuna's shy, just in time. Lane, Annie, and Mike were coming up the midway. Lane was pushing Mike's chair. None of them saw me peering around the corner of the shy; they were looking at the Carolina Spin, their necks craned. Fred saw me, though. I raised a paw. He nodded, then turned and raised his own paw to whoever was currently watching from the little sound booth above Customer Services. Seconds later, Howie-music rolled from all the speakers. First up was Elvis, singing "Hound Dog."

I leaped from cover, going into my Howie-dance, which was kind of a fucked-up soft-shoe. Mike gaped. Annie clapped her hands to her temples, as if she'd suddenly been afflicted with a monster headache, then started laughing. I believe what followed was one of my better performances. I hopped and skipped around Mike's chair, hardly aware that Milo was doing the same thing, only in the other direction. "Hound Dog" gave way to the Rolling Stones version of 'Walking the Dog." That's a pretty short song, which was good-I hadn't realized how out of shape I was.

I finished by throwing my arms wide and yelling: "Mikel Mikel Mikel" That was the only time Howie ever talked, and all I can say in my defense is that it really sounded more like a bark.

Mike rose from his chair, opened his arms, and fell forward.

He knew I'd catch him, and I did. Kids half his age had given me the Howie-Hug all summer long, but no hug had ever felt so good. I only wished I could turn him around and squeeze him the way I had Hallie Stansfield, expelling what was wrong with him like an aspirated chunk of hotdog.

Face buried in the fur, he said: ''You make a really good Howie, Dev."

I rubbed his head with one paw, knocking off his dogtop. I couldn't reply as Howie-barking his name was as close as I could come to that-but I was thinking, A good kid deserves a good dog. Just ask Milo.

Mike looked up into Howie's blue mesh eyes. "Will you come on the hoister with us?"

I gave him an exaggerated nod and patted his head again. Lane picked up Mike's new dogtop and stuck it back on his head.

Annie approached. Her hands were clasped demurely at her waist, but her eyes were full of merriment. "Can I unzip you,

Mr. Howie?"

I wouldn't have minded, but of course I couldn't let her. Every show has its rules, and one of Joyland's-hard and fast-was that Howie the Happy Hound was always Howie the Happy Hound.

You never took off the fur where the conies could see.

* * *

I ducked back into Joyland Under, left the fur in the cart, and rejoined Annie and Mike at the ramp leading up to the Carolina Spin. Annie looked up nervously and said, "Are you sure you want to do this, Mike?"

"Yes! It's the one I want to do most!"

"All right, then. I guess." To me she added: ''I'm not terrified of heights, but they don't exactly thrill me."

Lane was holding a car door open. "Climb aboard, folks. I'm going to send you up where the air is rare." He bent down and scruffed Milo's ears. "You're sittin this one out, fella."