Dusty

by Jane B. Mason

  There was something about this young woman, these people. They felt different. They were not going to hurt him. Besides, he had nowhere to go. His family was gone. He was sick. He was weak. He was hurting. He didn’t have the strength to get away, even if he’d had the opportunity.

  Dusty (that’s what she called him) looked up through his blurry eyes at the dark-haired woman petting him and wondered what would happen next. He put his nose in the air, noticing how much better it smelled here than near the trash heaps where he searched for supper. His stomach rumbled.

  Sylvia set Dusty down on the floor, and the pup did the only thing he knew how to do: He started to sniff for food.

  The people looked on. “You won’t find much here, little dog. I just cleaned up,” Orelia said in Spanish.

  Dusty ignored her, nose down. He slipped between the counter and the stove, disappearing in the dark crack. A moment later he meandered out chewing a dried tortilla strip. The people laughed. “Are you trying to insult me, poquito?” Orelia asked. “Or do you just have a really good nose?” She trailed off, her eyes sparkling as she got some rice out of the fridge and served up a bowl with a little milk mixed in. She set it on the floor for Dusty, who dove in the moment his tortilla was gone.

  Orelia watched him eat. She sat down beside her niece, eyes still sparkling. She had an idea, and the more she thought about it, the more she liked it.

  “Thanks for seeing us!” Sylvia walked into the examination room at Milagros Caninos. The shelter was not far from her aunt and uncle’s house, and specialized in fixing and caring for abandoned dogs. They treated sick animals and also helped with adoptions.

  “It’s not a problem. We’ve definitely done this before.” A vet with light brown hair, an easy smile, and a stethoscope around his neck peered closely at Dusty.

  Dusty, who had been getting bolder with each day in Sylvia’s company, felt unsure and a little wobbly standing on a slick metal table. He was not crazy about this place. It smelled like disinfectant and had the faint whiff of panic.

  “Tourists fall in love with the strays and want to take them home all the time,” the vet went on. “All this puppy needs to board a plane with you is proof of a rabies vaccine and a certificate stating he’s in good health.”

  Sylvia let out her breath. That sounded easy … except maybe the “good health” part. “So, no communicable diseases?” she asked hopefully. Malnutrition and scabby paws looked (and must have felt) terrible, but they weren’t catching.

  “Right. When is your flight?” he asked.

  “In a week,” Sylvia told him. The vet nodded. He reached for Dusty, who shrank away from him, ears down. The street dog was getting comfortable with Sylvia and her family, but was still wary of other people—especially men. Sylvia stroked his back and crooned, “It’s okay. He just wants to help.”

  Dusty looked from Sylvia to the man and back. Slowly his ears stood back up. He understood that Sylvia thought the man was okay. Reluctantly he let the vet hold him, poke him, and turn him over. He kept his teeth together and fought the strong urge to nip the big stranger’s pushy fingers.

  “A week should be long enough for the mange to clear up. Keep him on puppy food, and I’ll give you some drops for his eyes. He should be healthy enough before you go. But you’re going to need a carrier.”

  The vet handed Dusty back to Sylvia. Xander raised his eyebrows. “Can’t she just put him in her pocket?” he joked. It was true that he would fit—Dusty was barely larger than two fists. The vet smiled but shook his head. “Airline regulations,” he explained. “But don’t worry, pup, you’ll be in your new home before you know it!”

  Sylvia didn’t bother to explain that she wasn’t going to be the one to adopt the little guy. They had other plans for him. Big plans. She lifted Dusty closer to her face, oblivious to his mangy skin. “You hear that?” She grinned. Of course he had, with those ears, but he hadn’t understood. “You are about to fly off on a real adventure,” she told him.

  The days passed confusedly at Hector and Orelia’s. Dusty slept a lot, but every time he awoke he was alarmed and leaped to his feet, forgetting where he was … forgetting that he was safe.

  “It’s okay, Dustito,” Sylvia would usually croon from the sofa. Her words calmed him.

  Food was another issue. Meals were provided twice a day, so Dusty never had to hunt for food. But he didn’t know anything else and didn’t know what to do with himself! Also, now that the food was plentiful, eating was hard. His system wasn’t used to it. Digesting food took a lot of energy and was tricky at best. Sometimes it came back up, which was uncomfortable. Other times it sped through him too fast. It was out of his control. It was embarrassing. And a lot of the time it hurt.

  Sylvia woke him up before sunrise on his last day in Mexico. When he staggered to his feet he saw that his bowl was gone. “Sorry, no breakfast for you. You don’t want to get sick while we’re traveling.”

  Dusty shook, his ears flapping, and then let Sylvia coax him into a soft-sided dog carrier. It was the smallest size they made and had mesh windows on the front and back.

  It felt strange to be carried. Dusty tried standing but slid into the fabric walls whenever Sylvia walked. Finally he lay down. The jostling was more manageable that way. After a ride on a bus and an escalator and a moving sidewalk, they boarded another big vehicle with lots of small windows. Dusty could smell fuel and food and lots of people. It was like a bus, with rows of seats, but also different.

  “Sorry you have to ride under here,” Sylvia apologized as she pushed the carrier into a dark space beneath the seat in front of hers. Dusty looked out. All he could see were purses, small bags, and feet. He heard voices. A rumbling engine. Dings. A muffled voice coming through speakers. He trembled in the dim tight quarters. If everything weren’t so big, loud, new, and frightening, he could settle down. He liked small spaces. And he used to like the dark. Now it reminded him of the night not so long ago when he lost his pack. The dark had become something big and awful that swallowed his whole family in an instant.

  Dusty let his tongue flop out of his mouth. He panted. He listened to Sylvia and Xander talk. The sounds of their voices and the thrum of engines finally helped him drift off to sleep.

  “You’re going to like it in California,” Sylvia said. Her words roused Dusty, and he opened his eyes. She was leaning down so he could hear her clearly. She reached a hand in through the carrier door to give him a reassuring pat. “We’re about to land.” Dusty couldn’t understand the words, but he read Sylvia’s tone loud and clear. “Things are going to be okay,” it said. Her voice was soothing, like the feel of his mother’s tongue on the top of his head.

  Dusty didn’t shake even a little when the plane bumped down on the tarmac in San Francisco.

  “We’re most of the way there now!” Sylvia said. She pulled the carrier into her lap. “It’s a good thing I still have a few more days before school starts,” she said. Dusty wasn’t sure whether she was talking to him or to Xander. He cocked his head to one side, lifting an ear.

  Sylvia grinned. She hadn’t thought it was possible, but Dusty was getting cuter by the second. After only ten days (and in spite of still being sick) he was heavier and healthier, too—which was a good thing. Her stomach did a flip. Dusty needed to be irresistible when they arrived at the Sterling Center. If the rescue dog operation turned him away, she wasn’t sure what she’d do. Not that she was looking forward to leaving the little guy there. She held up the carrier so she could see how Dusty was doing.

  “We can’t keep him,” Xander reminded her for the seventy-seventh time. Sylvia nodded sadly. She knew.

  A few hours later, Sylvia, Xander, and Dusty pulled into the parking lot in front of the Sterling Center. Dusty had traveled the whole last leg of the trip standing in Sylvia’s lap with his nose lifted toward the crack in the passenger side window. Never before had he smelled so much so fast! He wanted to breathe in everything!

  “Okay, little dude.
Let’s hope this goes well!” Sylvia would have crossed her fingers if she weren’t holding Dusty. Yes, Orelia and Hector had called and told Pedro they were coming with a dog. But Sylvia knew for a fact that they hadn’t gone into much detail.

  The Sterling Center wasn’t like the shelter they’d visited in Mexico. It was unique, and so were the canines who resided there. The dogs at Sterling were rescues, like Dusty, but instead of being adopted out to regular families they were trained to become search and rescue dogs, and then partnered with human handlers. The Sterlings trained human-canine teams to rescue people!

  “I think that place rescued Pedro, too,” Hector had explained. “My brother had a hard time settling down in his twenties and thirties, so he left Mexico. He traveled all over. He only found his real home, and his real calling, when he started working for the Sterling Center.”

  Carrying Dusty to the door, Sylvia hoped this was the place that would help Dusty find his real home and calling. She heard the jangle of a bell overhead as they stepped into the welcome center. She paused, noticing a mass of shelves covered with books about dogs and dog training along one wall. Across from the shelves was another wall covered in awards and plaques and pictures of dogs. Sylvia blinked and felt her heart leap into her throat. All of the dogs in the photos were BIG.

  “Hi,” Sylvia said. The girl behind the desk couldn’t have been older than fifteen. She tucked her pink-streaked hair behind her ears and gave the new arrivals her best “greeting the public” smile.

  “Hello! Welcome to the Sterling Center. How can I help you?” Shelby Sterling asked. She was young and very professional. Most of the time. The second she spotted Dusty in Sylvia’s arms, though, her professionalism flew right out the window. “Oh. My. Gosh. Is that a dog?” she squeaked, coming around the desk for a closer look.

  “This is Dusty,” Sylvia said a little proudly.

  “He’s adorable!” the girl cooed. “Did you say he’s named Dusty?”

  “He was hiding on a dusty, trash-filled roadside when I found him,” Sylvia explained with a grin.

  Shelby stepped right up to the tiny pup, who didn’t shy away from the attention as the young girl praised and pet him and now completely ignoring the woman holding him, as well as Xander. It was as if the humans had completely disappeared.

  “So, do we need to sign him in or anything?” Xander finally asked a little awkwardly.

  Shelby raised her head, appearing even more confused than she’d been about Dusty’s name. “Sign him in?”

  “Yes, um, we thought you were expecting him,” Sylvia sputtered. “My aunt Orelia called from Mexico several days ago and talked to Pedro …”

  “Oh,” Shelby said, her eyebrows rising in surprise. “Oh!” she repeated when she grasped the misunderstanding. “Orelia … as in Pedro’s sister-in-law? Your aunt? Of course he told me there was a new dog arriving … but … this is the dog?” she asked, her eyes glancing down at the minuscule pup. “I thought you were bringing a trainee. Dusty’s … tiny!”

  Xander looked at the floor. Sylvia bit her lip. Shelby blinked. It was true. Dusty did not look a thing like the certified search and rescue dogs on the wall. He did not look like a trainee.

  The room went silent and Dusty felt six eyes fall on him. He returned the stares, leaned into the hand caressing him, and let out a decisive yap. He wasn’t sure what these people were saying, but it didn’t matter. He liked this place and had an announcement to make: He had arrived!

  Now that he had everyone’s attention, Dusty let out several more barks to make sure the humans got the message. “Yip! Yip, yip, yip!” He liked it here! This place was filled with light and air and really, really good smells … not the faintest whiff of rubber or garbage or gasoline. ¡Ninguno! His nostrils were gloriously jammed with people and dogs and treats and dirt.

  “I’m Sylvia.” Sylvia extended a hand to the young girl. “Pedro’s niece.”

  Shelby flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, shaking Sylvia’s hand. “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Shelby.” There was an awkward pause, and then she added, “It’s not usually this quiet around here. My entire family is at the autumn potluck at the fire station in town.”

  Sylvia repositioned Dusty in the crook of her arm, realizing that she’d like to be at a potluck right now herself. It had been a busy day of travel, with inedible airplane food and little additional time to eat. “And my uncle?”

  Shelby let out a laugh. “He’s there, too. The dessert buffet is legendary … He talks about it all summer long and wonders why he has to eat dinner before he can dive in.”

  Sylvia’s lips rose into a knowing smile. The Sundal sweet tooth was well established and documented. Her uncle Hector would take a side of sugar at every meal if her aunt Orelia allowed it. Needless to say, she didn’t.

  Shelby reached her hands out gently. “May I?” she asked, her eyes resettling on Dusty.

  Sylvia hesitated. Dusty had been rescued just over a week before and was still getting used to being handled by new people. But he extended his neck to Shelby and even licked her hand. It looked like he was fine with it! He allowed Sylvia to pass him over, and the little Chihuahua gazed intently into the teenager’s eyes.

  Shelby gazed right back. Dusty had a black face with an upside-down wishbone of white that settled on either side of his nose, and a body that was mostly white now that his hair was growing back. But more than anything, Dusty had ears—big, triangle-shaped ears that pointed up and out on either side of his sweet face. His ears were literally as tall as he was! They reminded Shelby of satellite dishes, and she suspected they picked up even the tiniest of sounds. His left ear looked like someone had taken a bite out of the tip, though it had healed up nicely for a dog who’d been living on the street. Shelby felt certain it made him even more adorable than he would have been without it.

  “Yip, yip!” Dusty let out a double bark and wriggled in Shelby’s arms. He was done being examined by this new person, who smelled like shampoo and enchiladas.

  After getting an okay nod from Sylvia, Shelby set the little pup on the floor of the welcome center.

  Dusty’s tail wagged as he trotted over to the desk where the girl was sitting when he had come in. The floor was smooth and shiny under his paws, which were still burned and sore from the brutality of living on the street. His tummy rumbled. After more than a week of regular meals, his stomach was still uncomfortable most of the time, either gnawing with hunger or churning painfully in an effort to digest food. But no matter what it was doing, Dusty’s instinct told him to do one thing and one thing only: find food. He made a beeline for a tall plastic container with tangy delicious smells inside. He lifted himself onto his back paws and stretched upward, but his front paws were still several inches from the top. He let out a frustrated yip before remembering that, like always, there was another way. He knew what to do!

  While the humans talked, Dusty backed up until he stood several feet away from the plastic box. He tightened his muscles and took off at a dead run, heading straight for it. He threw his body with full force against the bin. ¡Ay, Chihuahua!

  The garbage can fell over onto its side, making the people turn in time to see a slightly dazed Dusty getting to his feet and shaking off the tumble. It was worth it. With the recycling bin on its side, he had full access to the not-yet-rinsed yogurt container he’d smelled. While Sylvia and the others laughed, he got to work licking up every remaining tidbit of tang.

  “We’ve been feeding him, I swear,” Sylvia said. “Twice a day!”

  Shelby nodded. “We see that a lot with dogs who have suffered from hunger. Their bodies take a long time to forget what it was like to never have enough to eat. Some never do …”

  She watched the pup work, using his tiny tongue to clean out every millimeter of the plastic container. “Has he shown any aggression around food?”

  Sylvia shook her head no. “None at all.”

  Shelby smiled. “That’s
a good sign. Sometimes we have dogs who—”

  A bell jangled and the threesome turned to see a gaggle of people traipsing through the front door.

  “Sylvia!” a man cried, rushing up to her with arms wide.

  Sylvia didn’t actually recognize her uncle Pedro—she hadn’t seen him since she was just a child. But his resemblance to Hector was undeniable, from his twinkly brown eyes to his close-cut, salt-and-pepper hair. They even had the same goatee!

  “¡ Tío!” she replied as they hugged. Pedro’s embrace was strong and welcoming, and Sylvia had the sense that no matter how unusual or unorthodox Dusty may be, she’d brought him to the right place. Pedro released her and stood back, smiling.

  “This is my boyfriend, Xander,” Sylvia said, introducing him to Pedro.

  “Are you a nice boyfriend?” asked a voice. The youngest girl in the group stood right next to Xander holding a very large tabby cat and scowling up at him.

  “Juniper!” a woman, presumably her mother, scolded.

  The other Sterling kids, who definitely looked related, with their wide-set eyes and delicate features, rolled their eyes. Shelby tugged her little sister’s twisted braid.

  Pedro chuckled. “Sylvia, Xander, this is Juniper,” he said. “And her friend there is Twig.”

  “He’s not my friend—he’s my soul mate!” Juniper corrected. She looked around, as if making sure the coast was clear, and then leaned in close to Sylvia and Xander. “He’s also the best cat in the universe, but don’t tell Bud I said that. He’s very sensitive because he lost his mother so young.”

  “That’s a whole other story, June Bug,” a tall man with light eyes like the boy’s replied. He smiled as he rested a gentle hand on the little girl’s shoulder.

  “Nice to meet you, Juniper, Twig,” Sylvia said. She considered shaking the cat’s paw, but then thought better of it—he looked like he’d been eating lemons.