A Dog's Journey Page 16

  That was the last I saw of my sisters. I was glad that the two men, who were obviously good friends, took them as a pair so that Abby and Annie could see each other the way Rocky and I stayed together.

  “Don’t worry, Max. You’ll find a home,” Gail said to me.

  A few days later we were back in the same place, and on that occasion my mother, plus a few other dogs, went home with people. Three times the door to my pen was opened, and all three times I slunk down to the ground and growled when people tried to pick me up.

  “What happened? Was he abused?” a man asked Gail.

  “No, he was born in the shelter. I don’t know, Max is just … anti-social. He doesn’t play well with other dogs, either. I think he’d do well with someone who stays at home and doesn’t receive a lot of visitors.”

  “Well, that’s not me,” the man said with a laugh. He eventually left with a little white dog.

  A while later a man joined Gail at the side of the pen. “Anyone interested in Max today?” he asked. I looked up at him beseechingly, but he made no move to open the cage door so that I could get out and find CJ.

  “’Fraid not,” Gail replied.

  “We have to put him on the list after today.”

  “I know.”

  They stood looking at me. With a sigh, I lay down in the grass. Apparently I would have to wait a while longer before I was let out.

  “Well, maybe we’ll get lucky. Hope so,” the man said.

  “Me, too,” Gail said. She sounded sad and I glanced up at her before resting my nose between my paws.

  And then, on that cloudless, warm afternoon, the thunder of cars and machines vibrating the air and the scents of countless dogs and people and foods filling my nostrils, I caught sight of a woman walking down the street, and I leaped to my feet to see her more clearly. There was something about her bearing, the way she walked, her hair and her skin.…

  The woman was striding briskly next to an enormous dog, not just compared to me but to every other dog I had ever seen. I was reminded of the donkey who lived on the Farm years and years ago—the dog was that big, with a lean body and an enormous head. As the woman drew abreast of me, the wind caught her scent and brought it to me.

  It was, of course, CJ.

  I yipped, and my bark, frustratingly quiet compared to all the background noise, earned me a quick glance from the giant dog, but CJ didn’t even look my way. I watched her in frustration as she went down the street and disappeared.

  Why hadn’t she stopped to see me?

  A few days later I was back out in the pens in the same grassy area and at precisely the same time of day CJ came by again, walking the same dog. I barked and barked, but CJ didn’t see me.

  “Why are you barking, Max? What do you see?” Gail asked me. I wagged my tail. Yes, let me out; I needed to run after CJ!

  The same man came over to see Gail, but I was focused on CJ’s retreating back.

  “How’s our Max doing?” he asked.

  “Not so well, I’m afraid. He nipped at a little girl this morning.”

  “You know, even if we were able to adopt him out, I don’t think anyone would be able to handle him,” the man said.

  “We don’t know that. With better socialization than we can give him, he might be fine.”

  “Still, Gail, you know my position.”

  “Right.”

  “If we didn’t euthanize, we’d wind up being populated with nothing but unadoptable dogs, and then we couldn’t save any more of them.”

  “He hasn’t bitten anyone!”

  “You said that he nipped.”

  “I know, but … he really is sweet; I mean, deep down I think he’s a really great animal.”

  I wondered what it meant that CJ had a dog with her. Was he her dog? Every person needed a dog, especially my girl, but why would she need a dog so big? Though it was true there were a lot more people here than any other place we’d ever lived, so perhaps a big dog like that would be more protection, in case several people tried to get in the car at night in the rain. But surely he wouldn’t be able to protect my girl the way I would. Only I had known CJ since she was a baby.

  “Tell you what,” the man said to Gail. “We’ll give Max one more adoption fair—when is it, Tuesday? Okay, one more. Maybe we’ll get lucky. But he’s already past the established time.”

  “Oh my,” Gail said. “Poor Max.”

  That night I reflected on CJ. She was older than when I’d been Molly and her hair was shorter, but I would still have recognized her. You don’t spend hours and hours gazing at a person to forget what they look like, even if they change a little. And though there was a riot of scents wafting all around me in this place, I could still find her smell on the wind.

  The sky was cloudy the next time I was taken to the open-air pen. Gail stood on the other side of the fence and leaned in to talk to me. “This is it, Max. Your last day. I’m so sorry, little guy. I have no idea what happened to you that you’re so aggressive. I still think you’re the greatest, but I can’t have dogs in my apartment, not even a small puppy like you. So, so sorry.”

  I wasn’t expecting to see CJ until late in the day, but after only about half an hour I spotted her, carrying two bags and walking alone, without the big dog. I yipped at her and she turned and saw me. She looked me right in the eyes! She seemed to slow for a second, glancing at the cages and people out on the grass, and then, astoundingly, she kept right on walking.

  She’d looked me in the eyes! I yelped and then sobbed, scratching at the fence. Gail came over. “Max, what is the matter?”

  I kept my focus on CJ, crying as loud as I could, my heartbreak and frustration pouring out of me. I heard the cage door rattle, and then Gail was bent over, snapping a leash onto my collar.

  “Here, Max,” she said.

  I lunged, snapping, my teeth clicking so close to her fingers I could almost taste the skin. With a gasp Gail jerked back, dropping the leash. I bolted out of the open gate and ran after CJ, the leash trailing on the cement behind me.

  What joy to finally be running in the open, chasing my girl! What a great day!

  I saw her crossing the street, so I dashed out in front of the cars. There was a loud screech and a big truck, high off the ground, came to a halt right over the top of me. I was able to squirt out from underneath the thing without even having to duck. I dodged another car and then I was on the opposite side. CJ was several yards ahead of me, turning up a walk.

  I pursued at a dead run. A man opened the door to a tall building and CJ went into it. The drag from the leash was slowing me a little, but I turned the corner and managed to get through the glass door just as it was easing shut.

  “Hey!” the man yelled.

  I was in a big room with a slick floor. I skittered, looking for CJ, and then saw her. She was standing in what looked like a closet, a light on over her head. Joyously I ran across the floor, my nails ticking.

  CJ looked up and saw me. The doors on either side of her started to come together. I leaped, and then I was inside with her. I put my feet up on her legs, sobbing.

  I had found her; I had found my girl.

  “Oh my God!” CJ said.

  Suddenly the leash snapped taut.

  “You’re caught! Oh God!” CJ shouted. She dropped her bags and they hit the floor with an explosion of sound and food smells. CJ reached for me, but I couldn’t go to her. The leash was pulling me backward.

  “Oh no!” CJ screamed.

  TWENTY

  CJ threw herself on the floor, her hands reaching for me and fumbling desperately at my neck as I slid helplessly back, my collar so tight it choked off my breathing. She was full of fear and was screaming, “No! No!”

  The leash pulled me relentlessly backward and I banged up against the wall behind me and then with a snap my collar came off. It fell to the ground and there was a loud grinding noise and, with a shudder, the black lips of the doors opened slightly and the collar disappeared.


  “Oh, puppy,” CJ cried. She pulled me to her and I licked her face. It felt so wonderful to be held in her arms again, to taste her skin and smell her familiar scent. “You could have been killed right in front of me!”

  I also smelled dogs and a cat and, of course, the pungent smell of the liquids leaking from the bags she had dropped.

  “Okay, good dog, good puppy. Hang on.” She laughed. She scooped up her wet bags. “Oh boy,” she said sadly.

  When the doors opened I followed her down a short carpeted hallway, the smell of a dog getting stronger as CJ stopped in front of a door. She fumbled with it and pushed it open.

  “Duke!” she called, nudging the door shut with a hip.

  I heard the dog before I saw him: He was the enormous canine I’d seen walking on a leash with CJ. He was a white and gray dog, with blotches of black fur on his chest that were larger in total area than my mother. He stopped still when he saw me, his tail coming straight up in the air.

  I marched right up to him, because I was here to take care of CJ. He lowered his head and I growled at him, not giving an inch.

  “Play nice,” CJ said.

  I couldn’t even reach up to sniff him properly, though when he tried to sniff at me I clicked my teeth at him in warning.

  CJ spent a few minutes in the kitchen while the giant dog and I circled each other uneasily. I could smell a cat and knew one lived here, but didn’t see it anywhere. CJ came out, wiping her hands on a towel, and scooped me up. “Okay, puppy, let’s see if we can figure out where you belong.”

  I stared down with contempt at the big dog, who was watching forlornly. He might get to go for walks with CJ, but she would never pick him up for a cuddle.

  We went back out and got into the same little room where we’d met, and then she carried me down a hall to some glass doors that opened to the outside. The man who had yelled at me was there.

  “Hello, Miss Mahoney, is that your dog?” he asked.

  “No! But he nearly got hung in the elevator. Um, David? I’m afraid I dropped a bottle of wine saving this little guy and some of it seeped onto the elevator floor.”

  “I’ll see to it immediately.”

  The man reached a gloved hand toward me and I gave him a warning growl because I couldn’t tell if he was trying to touch me or CJ—and nobody was going to touch CJ while I was around. He pulled his fingers back with a jerk. “Spunky,” he said.

  My name was Max, not Spunky. I ignored him.

  CJ carried me down the street and it was with alarm that I registered the smells of the outdoor dog pens. I squirmed in her arms, turning away. “Hi, I think this might be one of your dogs,” my girl said as I put my head on her shoulder and licked her ear.

  “It’s Max!” Gail said from behind me.

  “Max,” CJ said. “He’s such a sweetie. He ran right into the elevator in my building as if he lived there. The leash got caught in the doors and I was afraid he was going to be strangled.”

  CJ was stroking me and I burrowed my head in the crook of her neck. I did not want to go back to the place of the barking dogs. I wanted to be right here.

  “What a love dog,” CJ said.

  “No one has ever called Max a love dog,” Gail said.

  I kissed CJ’s face and snuck a look at Gail, wagging my tail a little to let her know I was happy now and she could go back to taking care of other dogs.

  “What kind of dog is he?”

  “The mother is a Chihuahua. The father, we’re thinking Yorkie.”

  “Max, you’re a Chorkie!” CJ smiled down at me. “So, anyway. Where do you want me to put him?”

  Gail was watching me; then she looked up at CJ. “Truthfully? I don’t want you to put him anywhere.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Do you have a dog?”

  “What? No, I can’t. I mean, I’m dog-sitting at the moment.”

  “So you like dogs.”

  CJ laughed. “Well, I mean sure. Who doesn’t like dogs?”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “Actually, now that you mention it, I have met someone who didn’t like dogs.” CJ was gently pushing me away from the tight snuggle I had going against her shoulder.

  “Max obviously likes you,” Gail observed.

  “He’s really sweet.”

  “He’s scheduled to be euthanized tomorrow morning.”

  “What?” I felt the shock flash through CJ, the way her hands tightened on me and she took a small step back.

  “Sorry, I know it’s … I know it sounds brutal. We’re not a no-kill shelter.”

  “That’s horrible!”

  “Well, sure it is, but we do our best and when we can we foster them out to no-kills. But they’re full, we’re full, and we have new dogs coming in every day. We normally can place puppies, but Max has never warmed up to anybody and he’s overdue. We need the space.”

  CJ pulled me away and looked at me. Her eyes were moist. “But…,” she said.

  “There are other dogs who need help. Rescue is like a river; it has to keep flowing. Otherwise even more dogs would die.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Max has never warmed up to anybody except you. He snapped at me this morning, and I’m the person who’s been feeding him. It’s as if he picked you, out of all the people in New York. Can you take him? Please? We’ll waive the fee.”

  “I just got a cat two weeks ago.”

  “Dogs and cats that grow up together usually do fine. You’ll be saving his life.”

  “I can’t; I just … I’m a dog walker, I mean, I’m an actress, but I’ve been walking dogs, and they’re all big.”

  “Max can handle himself around big dogs.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You sure? All he needs is a chance. You, you’re his chance.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “So tomorrow he dies.”

  “Oh God.”

  “Look at him,” Gail said.

  CJ looked at me and I squirmed in pleasure at the attention. She brought me within range and I licked her chin.

  “Okay,” CJ said. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  After we left the dog cages we went to a place full of the sound of squawking birds and rich with animal smells I’d never scented before and CJ put a collar on me and snapped a leash onto it. My head held high, I walked at her ankles, glad to be back in charge of protecting her.

  Soon we were back in the small closet where I’d finally been able to get back to CJ. The wet spill from her bag was gone, but I could still smell the residual scent from the sweet liquid. I strode confidently next to her in the hall, but she scooped me up as she opened the door. “Duke?” she called.

  There was a noise like a horse running and the huge dog came dashing up to us. I showed him my teeth. “Duke, Max is going to live with us now,” CJ said. She held me out and as the dog, Duke, raised his nose I gave him a warning growl. His ears dropped a little, and he wagged his stiff tail. CJ didn’t put me down.

  “Sneakers?” she called. She carried me into a bedroom, Duke following us, and there was a young cat lying on the bed. Her eyes widened when she saw me. “Sneakers, this is Max. He’s a Chorkie.”

  CJ dropped me on the bed. I figured I knew how to handle cats—you just have to let them know you won’t hurt them as long as they stay in line. I trotted right up to this Sneakers, but before I had a chance to lay a paw on her the cat spat at me and raked me in the face with her tiny sharp claws. They hurt! I scrambled back, too shocked to do anything but yelp, and fell off the bed. Duke lowered his massive head and licked me, his tongue the size of my face.

  That was my introduction to these creatures, neither of whom seemed to recognize the significance of my arrival or my importance to CJ.

  That night CJ cooked some wonderful things, the smell of meat filling the apartment. Duke followed her around, sticking his head on the counter to see what she was doing. “No, Duke,” CJ said, shoving him away. I was reduced to
standing on my hind legs and scrabbling at CJ’s calves for attention. “Okay, Max, you’re a good dog,” she said to me.

  I was a good dog, and Duke was “no, Duke.” That’s what I got out of the exchange. Unfortunately, Sneakers was in the bedroom and missed this indication that I was the favored pet.

  While she was cooking, CJ also played with her hair and her clothes, though not in a game in which a dog could participate. She put on shoes that smelled like they’d taste good, and after that her footsteps rang with sharp percussion in the kitchen.

  Soon there was a noise at the door and CJ picked me up and opened it. “Hi, honey,” she said to the man standing there. He was stocky and had no hair on his head and he smelled like something burned and peanuts and a pungent spice of some kind.

  “Whoa, what’s this?” he said. He stuck his fingers right in my face and I growled at him, showing my teeth.

  “Max!” CJ said. “Come in. It’s Max; he’s sort of my new dog.”

  “Wait, sort of?” He edged inside and CJ shut the door.

  “He was on death row for tomorrow. I couldn’t let them put the little guy down. He’s so cuddly.”

  The man was leaning in too close to CJ. I showed him my teeth again.

  “Yeah, cuddly. What’s Barry going to say when he gets back and you’ve got a new dog in his apartment?”

  “He’s already letting me keep Sneakers. Max isn’t really any bigger.”

  Duke was trying to shove his big stupid head under the man’s hand, and the man pushed him away. CJ set me down and I glared at the man—I didn’t yet know if he posed any sort of threat and at my size I couldn’t afford to let down my guard until I was sure.

  “I’m cooking broccoli beef,” CJ said. “Want to open the wine, Gregg?”

  “Hey, come here,” the man said.

  CJ and the man held each other very close and then went down the hall. I followed but was too short to get on the bed with them. Duke might have jumped up with ease, but Sneakers streaked out the door when CJ and the man went in and Duke was more interested in following the cat. Sneakers went under the couch. I could have crawled under there after her pretty easily but elected to forgo the opportunity to let the cat slash at me again. Duke, on the other hand, was apparently dumb enough to think he could get under there if he just worked hard enough. Snorting and groaning, he shoved his head under the couch until he actually moved the thing on the rug. I wondered how long Sneakers would tolerate this before she demonstrated to Duke why she had claws.