A Dog's Journey Read online

  “Buddy! Come here right now!” Gloria snapped at me.

  I hastily made for the stairs, but I stumbled in the gloom and a pain hit my left rear leg, sharp and deep. I stopped, looking up at Gloria, who was framed in the light in the open doorway. I wanted her to tell me that whatever had just hurt me, it was okay.

  “I said come!” she said more loudly.

  I whimpered a little as I took my first step, but I knew I had to do what she said. I kept the weight off the leg and that seemed to help.

  “Would you come on?” Gloria took two steps down, reaching for me.

  I didn’t crave having Gloria’s hand on my fur and I knew she was mad at me for something, so I tried to shy away from her.

  “Hello?” Hannah called, her voice echoing upstairs. I put more speed into my gait now, and the leg felt a little better. Gloria turned and she and I entered the kitchen together.

  “Gloria?” Hannah said. She put down her paper bags and I went over to her, wagging. “Where’s Clarity?”

  “I finally got her down for a nap.”

  “What were you doing down in the cellar?”

  “I was, I was looking for some wine.”

  “You were? Downstairs?” Hannah put her hand down and I sniffed it, smelling something sweet. I was so glad she was home.

  “Well, I thought, wine cellar.”

  “Oh. Well, no, I think we have some and it’s in the cabinet under the toaster.” Hannah was looking at me and I wagged. “Buddy? Are you limping?”

  I sat. Hannah took a few steps back and called me and I went over to her.

  “Does he look like he’s limping to you?” Hannah asked.

  “How would I know?” Gloria said. “My expertise is children, not dogs.”

  “Buddy? Did you hurt your leg?” I wagged with the sheer pleasure of her attention. Hannah leaned down and kissed me between the eyes and I gave her a lick right back. She went over to the kitchen counter.

  “Oh, you didn’t want any cookies?” she asked.

  “I can’t have cookies,” Gloria said scornfully.

  I had never before heard the word “cookies” said so negatively.

  Hannah didn’t say anything, but I heard her give a tiny sigh as she began to put away the things she’d brought home in her sacks. Sometimes she’d have a bone when she came home, but I could smell that today she hadn’t been able to find any. I watched her alertly, though, just in case I was wrong.

  “I don’t want Clarity to have any, either,” Gloria said after a minute. “She’s chubby enough.”

  Hannah laughed, then stopped. “You’re serious.”

  “Of course I’m serious.”

  After a moment, Hannah turned back to the grocery sacks. “Okay, Gloria,” she said quietly.

  A few days later Gloria was sitting in the sun in the front yard with her knees drawn up close to her chest. She had small balls of fur between her toes and was touching them with a tiny stick coated with an eye-watering chemical. Each toe was darker after she was done with it.

  The smell was so powerful it overcame the strange taste in my mouth, which otherwise had become stronger and more persistent with each passing day.

  Clarity had been playing with a toy but was on her feet and tottering away. I looked over at Gloria, who had her eyes narrowed at her toes and the very tip of her tongue sticking out of her mouth.

  “Clarity, don’t wander off,” Gloria said absently.

  In the several days that Clarity had been on the Farm she had gone from having a slow, wobbling walk that dropped down to all fours every so often to being able to take off at a near run. She was headed purposefully toward the barn and I followed right behind her, wondering what I should do.

  The horse named Troy was in the barn. When Ethan was alive he sometimes rode Troy, which I didn’t approve of very much because horses are not reliable like dogs. One time when he was young Ethan fell off of a horse—nobody ever fell off a dog. Hannah didn’t ever ride Troy.

  We went into the barn, Clarity and I, and I heard Troy snort at our presence. The air was filled with the smell of hay and horse. Clarity marched right over to the kennel where Troy stayed when he was in the barn. Troy moved his head up and down in a quick jerk and snorted again. Clarity reached the bars of the gate and gripped them in her tiny hands. “Horsey,” she said excitedly. Her little knees were pumping up and down with glee.

  I could feel a rising tension coming off of Troy. The horse didn’t care for me much, and I had noticed from previous visits that when I was in the barn it made him nervous. Clarity reached her hand through the bars to try and pet Troy, who shied away.

  I went up to Clarity and touched my nose to her to let her know that if she wanted to pet something there was nothing better than a dog. Her eyes were wide and bright and her mouth was open and she was panting excitedly, her eyes not leaving Troy.

  A loop of chain kept the gate shut, but as Clarity leaned against the bars the slack in the loop made for a gap and I knew what she was going to do before she did it. Making happy noises, she slid sideways along the gate up to the gap and then pressed her way through it.

  Right into Troy’s kennel.

  Troy was pacing now, back and forth, swinging his head and snorting. His eyes were wide open and his hooves seemed to be hitting the ground harder and harder. I could smell his agitation; it popped to the surface of his skin, like sweat.

  “Horsey,” Clarity said.

  I put my head into the gap and pushed hard, trying to squeeze through. As I did I felt the pain in my left rear leg again, but I ignored it and concentrated on getting my shoulders through, and then my hips. Panting, I made it into the kennel as Clarity started forward, her hands raised up at Troy, who was stamping and snorting. I could see he was going to step on the baby.

  I was afraid of the horse. He was big and powerful and I knew that if he hit me with one of his hooves it would hurt me. My instincts were telling me to back up, to get out of there, but Clarity was in danger and I had to do something, something now.

  I swallowed my fear and barked at that horse with all the fury I possessed. I tightened my lips, showing my teeth, and lunged forward, putting myself between Clarity and Troy. Troy was making a harsh screaming sound, lifting his front hooves briefly off the ground. I backed up, still barking, pushing Clarity into the corner with my hips. Troy’s pacing was more frantic and his hooves were striking the ground close to my face and I kept snarling and snapping my teeth at him.

  “Buddy? Buddy!” I could hear Hannah calling frantically from outside the barn. Behind me, I felt Clarity’s little hands dig into my fur to keep me from knocking her over. The horse might strike me, but I was going to stay between him and the baby. A hoof whistled past my ear and I bit at it.

  And then Hannah was rushing in. “Troy!” She unfastened the loop of chain and swung the gate open and the horse bolted past her and through the big double doors and out into the big yard.

  I could feel the fear and anger in Hannah now. She reached down and scooped up Clarity in her arms. “Oh, honey, you’re okay, you’re okay,” she said.

  Clarity clapped her hands together, grinning. “Horsey!” she exclaimed happily.

  Hannah’s other hand came down and touched me and I was relieved to know I wasn’t in any trouble.

  “Yes, a big horsey, you’re right, honey! But you shouldn’t be in here.”

  When we were back outside, Gloria came up to us. She was walking strangely, taking steps as if her feet hurt her.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “Clarity went into Troy’s stall. She could have been … It was terrifying.”

  “Oh no! Oh, Clarity, that was so bad!” Gloria reached out and grabbed Clarity, hugging the baby to her chest. “Oh, you must never, ever frighten Mommy like that again, do you understand?”

  Hannah folded her arms. “I’m not sure how she got up here without you knowing.”

  “She must have followed the dog.”

  �
�I see.” Hannah still felt angry to me, and I lowered my head a little, reflexively feeling remorseful.

  “Would you take her?” Gloria asked, holding Clarity out at arm’s length.

  The pain in my hip stayed with me, after that, not so bad that I was hobbled, but a dull ache that never left. There was nothing wrong with the leg, though, nothing to lick.

  At dinner I liked to stay under the table and clean up when things fell on the floor. When there were lots of children around I could usually count on several morsels, but at that time there was just Clarity and, as I’ve said, her food tasted wretched, though naturally if some fell I ate it anyway. I was lying under there a few nights after the incident with the horse when I noticed that Hannah seemed a little nervous and anxious. I sat up and nosed her, but when she petted me it was in a distracted fashion.

  “Did that doctor call for me? Bill?” Gloria asked.

  “No. I said I would tell you.”

  “I don’t know why men do that. They ask for your number and then they don’t call.”

  “Gloria. I was … I was thinking about something.”

  “What?”

  “Well. First, I want you to know that even though you and Henry are not … you’re no longer together, and you never got married, you’re the mother of my grandchild and I will always consider you family and you are always welcome here.”

  “Thank you,” Gloria said. “I feel the same way.”

  “And I’m sorry Henry’s job has him overseas. He told me he’s still looking for a position back here so he can spend more time with Clarity.”

  When I heard her name, I looked over at Clarity’s little feet, which were all I could see of her under the table. She was kicking them, which was how she acted when she was feeding herself her yucky dinner. When Gloria was feeding her, Clarity would twist and turn in the chair.

  “Meanwhile, I know that you’re hoping to get your singing career back on track,” Hannah continued.

  “Right, well, having a baby hasn’t exactly helped that. I still haven’t gotten rid of this weight.”

  “That’s why I was thinking. What if Clarity stayed here?”

  There was a long stillness. When Gloria spoke again, her voice was very quiet. “What do you mean?”

  “Rachel will be back in town next week, and when the school year starts Cindy will be off by four o’clock every day. Between us and all Clarity’s cousins, we could give her so much attention and you’d have the chance to pursue your singing. And like I said, any time you wanted to come stay with me, we have plenty of room. You’d have so much freedom.”

  “So that’s what this is about,” Gloria said.

  “Sorry?”

  “I wondered. Inviting me here, telling me I could stay as long as I wanted. Now I know. So Clarity would live with you? And then what?”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Gloria.”

  “And then Henry sues to end child support, and I’m left with nothing.”

  “What? No, that’s the furthest thing—”

  “I know everyone in your family thinks I was trying to trap Henry into asking me to marry him, but I’ve met plenty of men who do just fine. I don’t need to trap anybody into anything.”

  “No, Gloria, no one ever said that.”

  With a lurch, Gloria stood up. “I knew. I knew it was something like this. Everyone acting so nice.”

  I could feel the anger coming off of her, and made sure I was well away from her feet. Suddenly Clarity’s chair was shaking back and forth and her little feet vanished up into the air.

  “I’m packing. We’re leaving.”

  “Gloria!”

  I heard Clarity give off a wail as Gloria stomped up the stairs. Clarity hardly ever cried—the last time I could remember was when she crawled into the garden and pulled a green vegetable off a plant that was so pungent it made my eyes water worse than Gloria’s toes. Though I could plainly tell it was something no one should ever eat, Clarity stuck the thing in her mouth and gummed it. She had a real look of surprise on her face when that happened, and she cried just like she was crying now—part shock, part hurt, part anger.

  Hannah cried, too, after Gloria and Clarity drove off. I tried to comfort her as best I could, sitting with my head in her lap, and I’m pretty sure it helped, though she felt very sad when she fell asleep in her bed.

  I didn’t really understand what had happened other than Gloria and Clarity leaving, but I figured I would see them both again. People always came back to the Farm.

  I slept on Hannah’s bed, which I had started doing shortly after Ethan died. For a time she would hold me at night and sometimes she’d cry then, too. I knew why she was crying: she missed Ethan. We all missed Ethan.

  The next morning, when I jumped down off Hannah’s bed, something felt like it broke in my left hip, and I couldn’t help it, I let out a yelp of pain.

  “Buddy, what is it? What happened? What’s wrong with your leg?”

  I could feel her fear and licked her palm in apology for upsetting her, but I wasn’t able to put my left rear leg on the floor—it hurt too much.

  “We’re going right to the Vet, Buddy. You’ll be okay,” Hannah said.

  We made our slow, careful way out to the car, me hopping on three legs and doing my best to look as if it wasn’t hurting so I wouldn’t make Hannah any more sad. Though I was a front-seat dog, she put me in the back, and I was grateful because it was easier to crawl up there than to try to jump up front with only three legs working.

  As she started the car and drove off, I had that awful taste in my mouth again, horrible as ever.

  THREE

  When we got to the cool room and I was lifted onto the metal bed I thumped my tail and shivered with pleasure. I loved the Vet, who was called Doctor Deb. She touched me with such gentle hands. Mostly her fingers smelled of soap, but I could always catch the scent of cats and dogs on her sleeves. I let her feel my sore leg and it didn’t hurt at all. I stood when Doctor Deb wanted me to and was lying patiently with Hannah in a small room when the Vet came in and sat down on a stool and scooted it over to Hannah.

  “It’s not good news,” Doctor Deb said.

  “Oh,” Hannah said. I felt her quick sadness and looked at her in sympathy, though she had never been sad with Doctor Deb before, so I wasn’t sure what was happening.

  “We could take the leg, but these big dogs don’t normally do well with the rear one gone. And there’s no guarantee the cancer hasn’t already spread—we might be simply making him less comfortable in what little time he has left. If it were up to me, I would just do painkillers at this point. He’s already eleven years old, right?”

  “He was a rescue, so we don’t know for sure. But yes, around that,” Hannah said. “Is that old?”

  “You know, they say that Labs average twelve and a half years, but I’ve seen them go a lot longer. It’s not that I’m saying he’s already at the end of his life span. It’s more that sometimes, in the older dogs, the tumors grow more slowly. That would be another factor to consider if we’re thinking about amputation.”

  “Buddy has always been such an active dog. I just can’t imagine taking his leg,” Hannah said.

  I wagged at hearing my name.

  “You’re such a good dog, Buddy,” Doctor Deb murmured. I closed my eyes and leaned into her as she scratched my ears. “Let’s start him on something for pain right away. Labradors don’t always let us know when they’re hurting. They have an amazing pain threshold.”

  When we got home, I was given a special treat of meat and cheese and then I got sleepy and went to my usual spot in the living room and collapsed into a deep nap.

  The rest of that summer it just felt better to keep my rear leg curled up off the ground and rely on the other three to get around, so that’s what I did. The best days were when I’d go into the pond, where the cool water felt so good and where my weight was supported. Rachel came back from wherever she had been and all of her children
were there and Cindy’s children would come over and they all lavished attention on me as if I were a puppy. I loved lying on the ground while two of Cindy’s little daughters tied ribbons into my fur, their small hands soothing as they worked. Later I ate the ribbons.

  Hannah gave me lots of special treats and I took lots of naps. I knew I was getting older, because my muscles were often stiff and my vision was dimming somewhat, but I was very happy. I loved the smell of the leaves as they fell to the ground and curled up, and the dry perfume of Hannah’s flowers as they became brittle on their stalks.

  “Buddy is chasing rabbits again,” I heard Hannah say one time when I was sleeping. I awoke at the sound of my name, but I was disoriented and it took me a moment to remember where I was. I had been dreaming very vividly of Clarity falling off the dock, but in my dream, instead of me being a bad dog, Ethan was there, knee-deep in the water. “Good dog,” he told me, and I got the sense that he was glad that I had watched over Clarity. When she came back to the Farm I would watch over her again. It was what Ethan would want me to do.

  Ethan’s smell had slowly left the Farm, but I still felt his presence in some places. Sometimes I would go and stand in his bedroom and it would seem as if he were right there, sleeping, or sitting in his chair and watching me. I took comfort from the feeling. And sometimes I would remember Clarity calling me Bubby. Though I knew that her mother, Gloria, was probably taking good care of the baby, I always felt a little anxious when I thought of Clarity. I hoped she’d soon return to the Farm so I could see for myself that she was all right.

  The cold weather came and I went outside less and less. Doing my business, I selected the nearest tree and got it over with, squatting because I could no longer lift my leg properly. Even if it was raining, Hannah would come out and stand with me.

  The snow that winter was a delight. It would support my weight just like water, and was colder and felt even better. I would stand out in it and close my eyes and was so comfortable I felt as if I could fall asleep.

  The bad taste in my mouth never left me, though sometimes it was strong and other times I forgot it was even there. The ache in my leg was the same way, though there were days when I would wake up from my nap with a start, the pain a sharp, breathtaking stab.