The name Everlasting Coals was emblazoned on Denton’s fleet of service vans. The vans were wrapped in vinyl decals portraying hot embers in a fireplace. The vans looked like they were made of molten metal, but were supposed to represent a cozy hearth. Denton’s company installed and repaired fireplaces, and the name was consistent with his curious use of language. The business had become such a fixture that no one thought twice about it. Everyone knew, Everlasting Coals meant fireplaces.
Denton, the owner, had come up with the name when he was just out of college during the energy crisis of the 1970s. All of a sudden, heating a home with wood or gas was in vogue. He survived competitors such as “Fireplaces R Us,” “The Fireplace Place,” and “Five Alarm Fireplace” which later changed their name to “Safety Fireplace.” Denton’s business grew, time passed and he became more and more respectable. He served on boards for the Chamber of Commerce, sponsored a Little League baseball team, worked with a program to hire recently paroled non-violent offenders, and could be counted on to support civic projects and fun runs.
He had several locations and loyal employees busy with new construction, old remodels or maintenance for his long-time customers.
The motto of the company was, “Fire is a living thing, and it needs a nice home to keep it happy.” It was confusing, but everyone liked Denton so much they simply nodded and smiled in agreement. Also, despite his obtuse explanations about the nature of fire, Denton’s fireplaces worked better than anyone else’s. Wood burned longer, they required less gas, the concrete logs looked more real and less ash was left behind. Denton just had a gift for fireplaces.
“It’s the flue. He uses an oversized flue so more air gets to the fire and it burns hotter.”
“He imports the logs from Italy; he has a whole team of artists sculpting the logs by hand. It’s the same guys that do all the work for the Vatican.”
“He uses a special nozzle, I think it’s brass or copper, that mixes the gas and the air in a special way so it’s a cleaner burn. I heard he has them machined in Germany.”
Many homeowners had theories about Denton’s skill, but nobody knew for sure. Even his long-time employees, of which there were many, couldn’t explain why Denton’s fireplaces were better.
He had cornered the southwestern Idaho fireplace market, but didn’t want to expand any further.
“The bigger the fire, the more fuel it needs. I like to keep it just right,” Denton would say when financers approached him about expanding or franchising his brand.
Denton’s slow and steady manner and his conservative approach to business made his choice to buy a tiger all the more surprising.
***
“You bought a what?” his wife asked.
“A tiger cub! I’ve always wanted a tiger. We’ll make a nice pen, and maybe use him in commercials!” Denton enthused.
Denton’s wife trusted him, and he’d been a good partner for nearly fifty years. This was the first time he truly surprised her.
“A tiger, dear? You mean a real, living, breathing, clawing, eating, killing tiger?” she asked.
“He’s still drinking from the bottle. He’s harmless. I read about him on the Internet. Poachers killed the mother and this little guy needed a home. The money went to a nature preserve in Russia.”
“A Russian nature preserve is selling tigers on the Internet? Doesn’t that sound a little shady?” she asked.
“Well, I paid the money and now I have a tiger in the garage. Wanna see him?” Denton asked.
They went to the garage where a tiger cub was sitting in a dog kennel. It made a squealing growl and tilted its head.
“That means he’s hungry. He likes goat milk the best so far.” Denton removed a gallon of goat milk from the refrigerator and put it in the microwave.
“So far? How long has he been here?” she asked.
“About a week. I had him at the office, but just brought him home today. I wanted to be sure he would be okay.”
Denton’s wife watched as Denton put a large nipple on the bottle of milk, opened the kennel, took the cub in his lap and chuckled with glee as it started biting and sucking.
“Isn’t he cute? I named him Tony.” The cub mewled in delight, holding the bottle between its oversized paws. Denton’s wife watched nervously, trying to smile.
The Denton’s lived on a five-acre lot, which Denton converted into a tiger play land. Lots of full-sized trees, two swimming ponds, tire swings and climbing logs stacked all around for Tony to explore. He had zoo-grade fencing installed as well as an indoor pen for when the weather was too hot or too cold. Denton also installed a wall-sized monitor behind thick glass with nature shows running all day so Tony could watch other tigers and prey and feel more at home. Denton stopped going into work so he could take care of Tony. He would wrestle and swim with him, going to the urgent care a few times a week to have cuts sewn shut.
“He’s just a kitten. These are love bites. He doesn’t realize how strong he is. A tiger is only wild if you treat him that way.” Denton told his wife.
***
“Is it a mid-life crisis?” Denton’s wife asked her friend Angie.
“It’s not a Corvette or a trophy wife, but it does seem like something snapped in Denton’s mind,” Angie offered.
“He’s not crazy! I won’t believe that the man I’ve been married to for fifty years has gone bonkers!”
“Maybe it’s dementia. Not crazy, but just a brain disease. Has he been to a doctor?”
“He goes to the doctor twice a week to get put back together from that goddamn tiger!” Denton’s wife gasped. She had never sworn out loud before.
Angie approached Denton’s wife, putting her arm around her shoulder. “He may not be able to tell that he’s slipping away. That’s what’s so cruel about it. What if you talked to him about it?”
“We don’t really talk about things like that. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a wonderful man, but mostly he works, and eats and sleeps.”
“Does he have any friends who could talk to him?”
“No. Everyone knows him of course, but it’s all work related. I don’t think he’s ever had any friends, not even when he was a boy. Oh my God, that sounds terrible doesn’t it?”
“Men are different. They throw themselves into their work, and in Denton’s case his work and his life are the same thing. When they eventually retire they follow their wives around the house all day like a lost dog. I finally got Frank to start bowling and even encouraged him to stay and have beers with his team. Anything to keep him out of the house for a while. He eventually adjusted. Is there anything like that for Denton?”
“Just the tiger.”
Denton burst in from the garage and ran to the sink. “Oh, hi Angie.” He was bleeding, and a flap of skin was dangling from his arm. “Just need to clean up a bit,” he said as he washed out the wound and wrapped a roll of paper towels around his arm. “I’m going to the urgent care, does anyone need anything while I’m out?”
“Denton,” his wife said, “are you alright?”
Denton smiled and shrugged, “This is my fault. Tony doesn’t like it when I mess with his toys and he gave me a little swat. We were just playing. See you in a bit.” He grabbed the keys hanging over the washing machine and headed out the door.
At the suggestion of one of the urgent car doctors, Denton took to wearing a leather jumpsuit when he played with Tony. Eventually he had sheet metal sewn into the lining and wore a motorcycle helmet when he entered Tony’s pen. In a short time the tiger was fully grown; he was eleven feet long not including his tail, his paws were the size of catchers mitts and his head was the size of a lawnmower.
Denton had retired from work, selling the company to his employees who gave him a generous pension on top of the millions he made from the sale.
Despite her best efforts, Denton’s wife couldn’t make peace with her husband’s tiger habit. She finally confronted him about it after he left the pen for dinner.
“Denton, we have to talk.”
Denton removed his helmet, punctured with dozens of bite marks. “I’m sorry honey, what did you say?” He worked on removing his armored jumpsuit which weighed almost one hundred pounds.
“We need to talk. About the tiger,” she said.
“Tony? Sure, what do you need to know?”
“Why Denton? Why did you buy a tiger and turn our house into a pen? And why do you risk your life every day with that monster who can toss you around like a rag doll?”
“Tony doesn’t come in the house. He stays outside.”
Denton’s wife took a deep breath. “I understand that, and thank you for not letting him in the house.”
“I bet he’d really have some fun with the furniture. Maybe I’ll go to the Goodwill and get him an old couch!” Denton interrupted.
“Why Denton? Why do you have a tiger? What possessed you?”
“The little guy needed to be rescued. He lost his mama and was all alone in the world. I know he’d probably rather be running lose in the forest, but those poachers might get him. This way he’s safe. I’ve been thinking about getting him a wife, cause he’s probably lonely. I won’t be around forever. Then maybe he could have a family and we could turn this place into a tiger zoo, but a really nice one, where Tony and his family can live and not have to worry about anything.”
Denton’s wife smiled, kissed Denton and grew to love the tiger as much as he did.