Dusty

by Jane B. Mason

  Forrest took a big bite of bread. There was a long silence while everyone chewed.

  “I can’t argue those points,” Pedro finally said. “But I think the little guy deserves a shot. We’re not too heavy on dogs-in-training right now, and they recently certified a twelve-pound dog in Japan.”

  Roxanne looked at Pedro. The two were partners, but she made the calls on the dogs and he was in charge of humans. It was the first time he was advising her on canines.

  “Twelve pounds is almost as big as a Dusty and a half,” she said. She just wasn’t convinced, and the last thing she wanted was to put the little dog in danger.

  “He’s also curious, and he’s never had issues with other dogs,” Shelby added. Small-dog attitude could cause fear aggression, which was a deal breaker. “And he doesn’t show aggression around food, either.” They all knew that was rare in a dog who’d spent months on the edge of starvation.

  Georgia watched the conversation without comment. Her dark eyes took in everything. Though she was in charge of the day-to-day operations at Sterling, this was not her decision. When it came to selecting dogs to train, it was up to Roxanne. If she wanted a second opinion, she asked Pedro. Georgia and Martin and Frances were generally included in the conversation, but they were not the decision makers. What was unusual about this situation was that Pedro and Roxanne disagreed. That had never happened before.

  The silence around the table grew.

  “Um, if you’re thinking about training a micro dog with giant rabbit ears, why aren’t we talking about training a brilliant kitten like Bud?” Juniper piped up. She pointed to the small, mostly gray kitten who had strolled into the dining room and settled down next to Cocoa by the radiator. “He has great agility and great eyesight. He’s even smarter than Twig, and we all know Twig is a genius and a natural search and rescue cat. I mean, he saved an entire litter of kittens who’d lost their mother!” The littlest Sterling pursed her lips and lifted her chin defiantly, looking at the adults sitting around the table in turn.

  Roxanne and Pedro had to look at their laps to keep from laughing. The eight-year-old was dead serious.

  “If anyone can train a cat, it’s you, June Bug.” Her dad gave her the only vote of confidence. It was true. Juniper’s tenacity was astronomical. “But we’re talking about Dusty.”

  “Are you sure you’re not biased, Pedro? Because Dusty came from your niece? Or maybe because you want to keep him around?” Roxanne asked, bringing the conversation back to Dusty. Like her dogs-in-training, Roxanne never lost the thread—she was tracking information that would lead to the right decision, the way her dogs stayed on a trail until they found their objective. She looked at Pedro with sharp green eyes that were open and inquisitive. She did not mince words, or shy away from tough questions. She studied her partner’s body language, searching for unspoken clues.

  Pedro was quiet for a good minute. The conversation had turned extremely serious. “I can’t deny it. I like this dog. I’m attached,” he answered honestly.

  Shelby nodded silently. She was attached, too.

  “But, that aside, his agility today was remarkable, and I think he deserves to be evaluated. He’s healthy enough for us to do an assessment, and we can do that without straining our program or ourselves.” Pedro’s dark eyes were questioning, not demanding. He didn’t want to push.

  Roxanne looked to Frances, who had been uncharacteristically quiet. The matriarch usually had a story to relate, pulled from her years of experience. Nobody refuted her keen intuition when it came to assessing dogs or risks. But today Frances returned Roxanne’s gaze silently, and the younger woman could tell by the elder’s expression that she’d decided to keep quiet. She was leaving it up to her.

  “I think he deserves to be evaluated,” Morgan said softly. At ten, Morgan was by far the quietest of the Sterling kids, the resident animal whisperer, and the savviest about training. She could easily be the next Roxanne, or even the next Frances Sterling.

  Every head at the table turned to look at Morgan. This was the first time she’d spoken since they sat down, and her comment carried weight. It didn’t wash away all of Roxanne’s reservations, but it did tip the scales.

  “All right,” Roxanne agreed. “We’ll take him through the basics tomorrow, and let the results speak for themselves.”

  Shelby and Pedro heaved sighs of relief. Morgan saw them catch each other’s eyes … the Dusty fan club. She smiled to herself. Being the quiet one could come in handy; when she chose to speak up, her voice came through loud and clear.

  Shelby sat behind the welcome center desk, biting her cuticles. It had been a long week, and it was only Tuesday. She glanced down at her cold, empty lap. She missed Dusty any time he wasn’t with her, and today was particularly hard. Today Dusty was being assessed to see if he was search and rescue material.

  Shelby sighed. She’d lobbied for the Chihuahua to be given a shot at training. She wanted this for him. But sometimes you wanted things that hurt, too. She knew she should be happy, and she was, deep down. But she was sad, too. Sad that he was somewhere else, sad that she couldn’t see him being assessed, and saddest of all about what she knew in her heart: Dusty was going to leave the ranch to become a search and rescue dog.

  She had tried to convince one of her siblings to cover her desk duties so she could watch Dusty’s assessment. She asked her brother first, and Forrest straight up turned her down. Morgan, whom she could usually talk into anything, was next. Morgan reluctantly told her no, too. Apparently Roxanne had promised that she could help with the assessment. Shelby had been a little heartbroken but didn’t give Morgan a hard time. She knew her younger sister would do anything to be involved in training. And unfortunately, there was no point in asking Juniper for help. She was too young to work the desk.

  Inspecting her thumbnail for any remaining bits of polish she could scrape off, Shelby tried not to fidget. She was so anxious that when her phone pinged she jumped. It was a message from Alice.

  How’s your boyfriend?

  The word “boyfriend” made Shelby’s face get hot even though Alice wasn’t talking about Ryan. She knew better than that. Ryan talk had been off-limits since the movie incident. Shelby had been avoiding him at school, too, which meant she’d also been avoiding most of her friends. The whole thing was making her miserable, which was why Alice knew better than to bring it up.

  She wasn’t asking about Ryan … she was asking about Dusty. The tiny therapy dog she’d been spending as much time with as possible since “the incident.”

  No idea—they took him for assessment. Waiting to hear. Chewing my fingers off.

  She added an emoji of painted nails and a grimacing face. Alice sent one back of crossed fingers.

  Shelby looked at her empty lap again. She felt just as empty on the inside. She knew if Dusty passed assessment he wouldn’t need constant care and holding—he’d be working most of the time. But, she argued with herself, having him accepted for training was the best way to keep him on the ranch for the longest time. Not to mention was what was best for him.

  On the training grounds, the rest of the Sterling siblings were as tense as their oldest sister. Morgan and Forrest waited on the field. Juniper watched from the observation trailer with Pedro and Frances, holding not just Twig, but Twig and Bud! It was quite an armful and quite a crowd; Dusty had worked his way into each of their hearts as deftly as he’d worked his way out of the disaster pile!

  Roxanne had already completed the first task. She’d walked with Dusty on-leash through the canine pavilion holding a toy—a squeaky bear as big as Dusty—that the Chihuahua was obsessed with. They’d walked rapidly, Roxanne checking continuously to see where Dusty’s attention lay. Even as they passed by a dozen dogs, Dusty kept his eyes on the bear. That was good. He had focus.

  Outside on the expansive training field, she held Dusty’s toy out again. He dropped into a play bow, wagging. Then he grabbed the bear by the ear. Sure, he was so light Roxann
e could pull him around the dusty field, but he didn’t show any signs of letting go. With the little dog still clamped on to the toy, Roxanne raised a hand, signaling Morgan and Forrest.

  Morgan went first. She banged two pans together, making a huge racket. Dusty looked to see what had made the sound but kept his jaws locked on the bear. That was also good.

  Forrest was next. He stepped closer, holding his hands behind his back. All at once his right arm swung around. He popped an umbrella open, flung it on the ground, and stepped back. The sudden movement would alarm many dogs, making them cower or attack the startling object. Dusty gave a tiny hop sideways, a little side eye, and kept tugging.

  Roxanne grinned. “You’re a tough one, aren’t you?” she said. She wouldn’t have expected a street dog to be so unflappable.

  Inside the trailer, Pedro cheered. “That’s my guy!” he crowed. Though they’d just begun, Dusty was batting a thousand. In the distance Pedro could see Dusty’s next challenge waiting patiently. Eloise, one of their training assistants, had brought her rottweiler, Harris, to lend a paw. Harris was all black except for the tan mask that covered most of his lower face. He also had two tan spots above his eyes, which made him look as though he was always asking a question. He was a huge love and also an unneutered male. If Dusty was going to have a fearful or aggressive reaction to another canine, it would be toward an intimidating dog like Harris.

  Roxanne released the squeaky bear, and Dusty gave it a victory shake. Then he trotted around with it, making sure everyone saw his big win. He had to hold his head extra high to keep from tripping on the toy, which made everyone laugh. Roxanne took a few steps away and sat down on a bench at the edge of the training grounds. She wanted Dusty to be on his own for the next test.

  Eloise and Harris approached slowly, just as Dusty was settling down to chew on his bear. When he saw the big dog coming closer, he stood and puffed out his chest. His tail started to wag.

  “Good dog,” Roxanne murmured to herself.

  Dusty stood at attention, his ears like tiny sails, while Harris approached. The big rotty gave him a thorough sniffing.

  Inside the trailer, Frances chuckled. “I don’t think your dog has any idea he’s small,” she said to Pedro.

  Dusty wasn’t “his” dog, but Pedro didn’t correct her. “Harris could eat him in one bite, for seguro,” he agreed proudly.

  While the dogs sniffed and made friends, Roxanne signaled to Morgan again. The last assessment for the day was a search test. With Dusty distracted, Morgan snuck off with the beloved bear. Moving slowly, she walked to a set of seven barrels cut in half and lying side by side. Lifting one end, she stashed the bear in the third barrel before walking back to where she’d been watching from the shade structure.

  The two dogs finally got their fill of smells and began to wander a little. Dusty went back to where he’d left his bear and noticed right away that he was gone. He sniffed the spot where the bear had been and raised his head to look around. Where was Bear? He sniffed again. Bear smelled like so many things he loved: Pedro’s trailer, Cheetos, cotton stuffing, his pillow … Thinking about it made him want Bear more and more. He wanted to chew him and shake him and sleep on him! He sniffed the dusty ground. He lifted his nose and sniffed the air. There! Bear was over there!

  Dusty ran to the barrels, barely bothering to sniff them. Through a tiny hole his nose pinpointed the scent. Bear was there! “Yip!” he barked at the third barrel. “Yip! Yip! Yip!”

  Forrest cheered. Morgan clapped her hands together, and even from outside the trailer they could hear the observers celebrating Dusty’s success, too.

  Roxanne had to admit that Dusty’s assessment had gone as well as any she’d seen. She lifted the barrel and let the Chihuahua get his reward. He pulled Bear out and trotted proudly around the field, showing him off to anyone and everyone.

  “Well?” Morgan asked, running up to the trainer.

  Roxanne knew that the pup had done well. But despite his impressive performance, there were still many things to consider.

  Roxanne turned to Morgan. “So far, so good,” she said. “But there is a lot more to be seen.”

  Morgan felt a small wave of disappointment, but quickly pushed it aside. He’d done great so far, and she believed the tiny pup was destined to do amazing things.

  “Mrowr.” A spooky-sounding meow echoed down the stairs ahead of Juniper, who leaped into the hallway after it. The third grader was dressed in a tabby-striped pajama onesie with a tail and ears to match. Morgan had helped her draw whiskers on her cheeks, and she’d blackened a tiny triangle on the end of Juniper’s nose to complete the feline effect.

  “Here, kitty, kitty,” Morgan called from the living room. Juniper slunk in, acting aloof—just like a cat—but secretly excited to show off her Halloween costume. She prowled back and forth in front of her parents.

  “Oh!” Georgia clapped her hands together. “Baby, you look fantastic!” Martin’s booming laugh let everyone know he approved of the outfit as well. “It’s purrrrfect,” he said, chuckling.

  “What do you think, Twig? Bud? We’re practically twins!” Juniper sidled up to the cats sleeping beside Shelby on the couch. She pet them both with a mittened paw. While Bud purred, Twig opened his eyes, gave a disapproving glare to let Juniper know he did not like being woken up, and rested his head back on the cushion.

  “I know I look good!” Juniper said, as if the cranky tabby had paid her a compliment. She pretended to lick her paw and ran it over the back of her headband ear.

  “Where’s your costume, Morgan?” Georgia asked.

  “Oh, be right back!” Morgan had been so busy helping Juniper she’d almost forgotten. She raced back up the stairs, grateful her costume did not involve makeup.

  Georgia glanced at Shelby sitting across the room in street clothes. She had a slightly haunted look about her, slumped on the couch. Her mom knew it had nothing to do with the holiday, however, and thought it might have everything to do with the boy she liked and had been avoiding.

  “You sure you don’t want to dress up and hang out with your friends tonight?” Georgia asked.

  Shelby shook her head. “Nope. But I told Juniper I’d take her trick-or-treating.” It had been a good excuse to give Alice and the others, and Shelby’d made sure to make it sound to her friends like it hadn’t been her choice.

  “Yes! Candy!” Juniper pumped her fist and practiced a cat leap. Just the thought of all the sugar headed her way had her amped up. “Let’s go! Let’s go!”

  “Hold on, tuna breath.” Shelby got up at the same time there was a knock at the back door. She opened it to find Pedro and Dusty on the porch. This was the other reason she’d agreed to take Juniper out … Pedro said she could take Dusty along. The crowds and costumes and strange noises would be good for him since rescue dogs needed to be prepared to deal with all kinds of new and strange situations.

  “Thanks for bringing him over,” Shelby said.

  “No problemo.” Pedro nodded, handing Dusty over. “I wanted to get him a costume but I didn’t have time. I think he’d make a great Yoda.”

  “Or maybe a Gremlin!” Forrest hurtled into the hall dressed in a red jumpsuit and sandals like a tethered character from Us.

  Shelby shuddered and held Dusty closer. “Creepy, bro.”

  Forrest reached over to give Dusty a pat. “You really should have dressed up like a kangaroo and kept that lap rat in your pouch like a joey!” Forrest laughed. Dusty’s ears flattened.

  Shelby narrowed her eyes. She opened her mouth to tell Forrest what she thought of his jokes but closed it again when she saw her parents standing together in the doorway looking at her with “concerned” faces.

  Georgia stepped closer and scratched Dusty behind his ears while Shelby tucked him inside her jacket. She loved having the little dog close and immediately felt her breath deepening as she zipped him in.

  “He really is a comfort to you, isn’t he?” Georgia asked.


  All Shelby could do was nod.

  “So, are we ready?” Martin took the car keys off the hook in the hall. He was shuttling the whole crew to the best trick-or-treating spot in town. Looking around, he realized that they were one kid shy.

  “Morgan!” he called. “Or should I say Serena?” He laughed as Morgan descended the steps dressed in a Serena Williams black tennis tutu and carrying a racket.

  “Grand slam, my dear!” Georgia approved of her middle girl’s costume. “Stay safe,” she called as they traipsed out to the car. “And bring me some Skittles!”

  During the ride, Morgan quietly offered Shelby a lace mask in the shape of a butterfly. “If you want,” she told her.

  Shelby accepted the offering and let Morgan help her tie it on. She knew her sister was worried about her. Her whole family was. They knew better than to fuss at her, which would be super irritating, but each of them in their own way had let her know they were concerned. They missed the old, happy Shelby, even if she could be a little snarky and a lot bossy.

  With Dusty in her arms and her face mostly covered, Shelby felt almost okay as she climbed out of the car. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about being recognized.

  The sidewalks in Trestle Glen, which was one of those neighborhoods that went all out with the decorations and attracted a bazillion costumed kids and cost the neighbors a fortune in candy, were already crowded. Dusty craned his neck to take it all in. His round eyes were open wide, his ears twitched, and his teeny nostrils flared. He smelled greasy makeup, hair spray, caramel corn, chocolate, plastic, and fruity candy. He also smelled excitement wafting off the swarms of crazy creatures. There were box-headed robots, vampires with dripping fangs, rag dolls, superheroes, and monsters … and they all smelled like kid. It made him so happy he couldn’t keep his tail still.

  “Take it easy,” Shelby chuckled. She didn’t want Dusty to jump out of her jacket and go exploring on his own. It was hard enough to keep an eye on Juniper, who was racing from house to house in order to meet her goal of filling her pillowcase to the brim. Shelby peered over the crowd and spotted Juniper’s ears, then stepped back to wait. She was having so much fun watching Dusty greet each kid that passed that she forgot to watch out for the friends she wanted to avoid until—