Mountain Dog

by Margarita Engle

in a teenage way

  that makes me

  feel dizzy.

  The cabins are too far apart

  for trick-or-treating, so we play

  all sorts of hilarious games

  at a Cowboy Church Carnival

  where Gabe and I ride perched

  on top of a giant pumpkin

  in a decorated wagon

  pulled by Gracie’s

  elephant-horse.

  I imagine it’s the last time I’ll feel

  young enough to enjoy acting silly,

  but it’s also the first time I’ve ever

  been old enough to laugh

  at people

  in monster suits.

  In my other life, Halloween

  meant guarding the pit bulls

  from drunk, costumed thieves.

  In my other life

  all the monstrous nightmares

  were real.

  But everything isn’t always

  easy now. Instead, the hours flip

  back and forth between hopeful

  and sad.

  There’s an ugly surprise waiting for me

  at the end of my life’s first happy

  Halloween. It comes in the form

  of a call that makes Mom’s

  phone voice

  sound as poisonous

  as deadly nightshade berries.

  Mom’s in trouble. She’s been fighting.

  A guard was hurt. Time will be added

  to her sentence. Years will be added

  to my foster care.

  Tío doesn’t make me wonder

  what will happen next.

  He tells me right away

  that he wants to raise me,

  one way or another, either

  as my foster dad—or if Mom

  and the family court judge

  can agree—as my really, truly

  adopted dad

  forever!

  But it’s not just him, B.B. wants me too.

  When they talk about OUR family,

  Tío calls her Beatrice, or Bee,

  and suddenly, I realize that she

  has a name of her own.

  She’s not just Gracie’s grandma

  or a bear biologist. She’s herself,

  helping me figure out how

  to be myself.

  Best of all, she’ll soon be

  my foster mom, or maybe even

  my adopted mom,

  because beautifully brave

  Beatrice and my hero-uncle

  are getting married!

  With Gracie’s parents due

  to come home soon,

  I won’t even have to worry

  about becoming anything weird

  like my best friend’s stepbrother.

  Being part of the family seems

  so complicated and exciting

  that I feel like a dog

  in a pack of strays,

  trying to understand

  glances and gestures

  because I don’t have

  enough words

  to express

  my wildly

  wondrously

  mixed-up

  feelings.

  36

  GABE THE DOG

  WINNERS

  I don’t know what all

  his fast human words

  mean

  but I love the sound of Tony’s

  happiest voice

  so I listen

  and I sniff his hands

  until I’m sure his mood rhymes

  with winning a shared

  hide-and-seek

  game.

  37

  TONY THE BOY

  PUPPY TESTING

  Gracie’s parents are back just in time

  for an engagement party.

  Gabe and I will both be the best men

  at a wedding in the spring,

  but for now, I don’t have to dress up.

  I just wear regular clothes,

  and watch grown-ups dancing

  half-festive island salsa,

  and half-calm, cool, old-folks

  American.

  Everything’s changing

  so fast

  that I feel

  like I’m sliding

  down

  down

  another

  steep

  mountain slope

  before climbing

  back uphill

  one granite boulder

  at a time

  until I’m level and calm

  instead of scrambling

  and scared.

  I don’t know all the details

  of how I’m going to feel

  about losing Mom

  and gaining a family

  that’s sort of unusual

  but also pretty normal.

  I do know how I feel

  about Gabe—he’s brave, goofy,

  smart, silly, bouncy, and I love him

  like a brother.

  Gabe and Tío both help me enjoy

  our first Thanksgiving

  as a family.

  With snow on the trees

  that surround the corrals

  of Cowboy Church, the forest

  looks like it’s draped in lace

  or spiderwebs

  or magic.

  The wedding is months away,

  so for now it’s just me and Tío

  and Gabe, and this feeling

  of finally understanding

  a few simple words

  like safety

  and hope.

  At night, in the cabin,

  while Gabe and I gaze

  out the window at stars

  I find myself wondering

  if the lost-and-found hunter

  will decide to stop killing

  when he’s not hungry,

  now that he knows

  how it feels to be lost

  in the wild.

  I hope the hound is healthy

  and happy, and I hope I can really

  learn math

  so I can study science

  in college, maybe even get into

  veterinary school.

  I could figure out new cures

  for dog wounds, and learn how to heal

  bear diseases and elephant injuries …

  but I’ll need great grades

  in algebra and geometry,

  all the tests of number courage

  that stand between me

  and my future.

  I sleep with fine dreams at night—

  running dreams—racing toward

  something happy, instead of running

  away from fangs and claws.…

  Then, on a cold, clear morning

  between Thanksgiving and Christmas,

  there’s another burst of amazement

  in my life, an unexpected gift.

  Magic, real, living, breathing

  trail magic—a puppy!

  Gabe is already six. He can only work

  for a few more years, so Tío has decided

  that I should help raise our family’s

  next hero, a puppy that will need

  nearly two years of training

  before it can rescue the lost.

  Quickly, I figure out the math.

  If we start teaching a puppy now,

  it will be six when I reach eighteen,

  the wizardly number

  that will make me an adult,

  allowing me to join a real search-and-rescue team.

  12 + 6. It’s so hard to believe.

  In just 3 + 3 years I’ll be able

  to volunteer as a SAR dog handler,

  instead of a make-believe victim

  who hides.

  Choosing a puppy is an art.

  The lowland animal shelter

  is so crowded with homeless dogs

  that I have to remember: looks

&nb
sp; don’t matter! Cute and cuddly

  or bony and rat-haired, it’s the nose

  we need, along with a brave,

  loyal temperament.

  Sorrowful eyes. Mournful whines.

  So many lonely dogs, all hoping

  to be adopted! I wish we could

  take them all.

  We have to choose.

  It’s part of adult life, this constant

  narrowing of wild wishes

  down to one calm task

  at a time.

  Tío shows me how to follow

  the scientific process of puppy testing.

  We have to figure out which pups

  are calm enough to let us teach them,

  curious enough to crave work-play,

  bold enough to explore,

  and attentive enough to persist,

  no matter how challenging

  the hide-and-seek-game.

  Puppy testing is the best work-fun

  I’ve ever had in my 6 + 6 years.

  At the back of my excited mind,

  I’m already writing an article

  for the school paper,

  and a poem for my blog.

  There’s no rule that says

  a scientist can’t also

  love words.

  Puppy testing is simple—

  I cradle each pup to see

  if it’s friendly and trusting.

  Then, since a SAR dog can’t fear

  sudden movements—umbrellas,

  crumpled sheets of tumbling paper,

  or spooky, windblown plastic bags—

  we test their courage. And we play!

  We check to see which puppies

  love to chase toys,

  and which won’t give up

  in a long tug-of-war game,

  but we also need a calm pup

  that knows how to rest when tired,

  not a nervous one that acts crazy.

  We scratch bellies, pat heads,

  and press down on paws with our fingers

  to see how each puppy reacts

  to being touched, rubbed, hugged,

  and loved—a SAR dog can’t be mean.

  Aggressive dogs aren’t allowed

  to do search-and-rescue work.

  Bullies aren’t qualified

  to be heroes.

  We keep score.

  We assign numbers.

  Tío trusts me with the

  scientific math.

  The highest puppy test score

  goes to a brave, focused,

  curious, wolf-eyed splash

  of sun-yellow fur.

  She’s three months old.

  Her stumpy tail and yellow color

  mean she’s probably a mix

  of supersmart Australian shepherd

  and energetically friendly

  golden retriever.

  When we choose her, the surprise

  isn’t over yet—with a satisfied grin,

  Tío writes my name on all

  the adoption papers! I officially

  have my own dog now. I’m considered

  responsible. I’m practically

  a grown-up.

  Then comes the naming.

  Short sounds, to make it easy

  for the dog to learn, and maybe

  a human name, to remind

  everyone my puppy meets

  that dogs need the same

  love and care

  as people.

  I don’t want a name that rhymes

  with NO or BAD, or a confusing sound

  that rhymes with any command.

  I try out dozens of girls’ names.

  Summer? Too long. Dawn?

  Not quite bright enough

  for her soft golden fur.

  Then it strikes me—I’m not limited

  to English. Tío knows Spanish.

  He can teach me. By next year’s

  Hispanic Heritage Month,

  would I be halfway fluent?

  Could I speak to my class

  about learning my family’s

  language? Would I start

  to feel like a part of two

  natural places

  at once?

  We’re still in the shelter, playing

  with my newly adopted SAR pup,

  when I start asking Tío to suggest

  one-syllable island sounds.

  He gives me Paz. Peace.

  Mar, Sea.

  Miel. Honey.

  Luz. Light.

  As soon as I hear that last one,

  I know it’s perfect. Luz sounds

  exactly like this gold frizz of fur.

  Luz and the Trail Beast.

  I hope Gabe will like Luz—she’s

  bouncy and playful, he’ll never

  feel old, as long as we’re all

  walking

  or running

  or searching

  together.…

  From now on, I expect

  only good dreams.

  38

  GABE THE DOG

  FULL MOON

  The yellow puppy’s milky scent rhymes

  with roundness, and the sound of her name

  almost rhymes with moon, and when I sing, she sings,

  and she understands chase games,

  so we’re friends, but I’m older,

  so I get to teach her

  all about life.

  39

  LUZ THE DOG

  FINDING HOME

  In my other life there were mean kids.

  I was called hey mutt, but now I’m Luz,

  and I have my own boy who takes me

  to puppy obedience kindergarten

  at the dog-and-horse church

  and who lives with me in a house

  with a man and a big dog in a forest

  where I sniff

  sniff

  sniff

  sniff

  as I follow little footprint trails that always

  lead me back to my boy whose scent

  rhymes with home.

  HOW TO STAY FOUND IN THE WONDROUS WOODS

  BY GABE, LUZ, AND TONY

  Never hike alone.

  Tell someone where you’re going, and how long you’ll be gone.

  Stay on marked trails.

  Take plenty of water and high-energy foods.

  Make sure the adults who go with you have the right equipment (GPS, satellite phone).

  If you do get lost, remember that many plants are poisonous. Only gobble wild berries if you recognize them as familiar—blackberries, strawberries, raspberries. Surprise: insects are some of the safest wild foods! If you’re starving, try to think like a bear. They eat ant eggs, beetle grubs, grasshoppers, and crickets. (Never nibble spiders.)

  If you’re lost, don’t panic. Stay in one place. Hug a tree. Every time you wander in circles, you make it harder for a four-footed trail angel to find you.

  Trust the dog’s nose.

  A NOTE TO READERS

  The characters in Mountain Dog are imaginary, but the story was inspired by a real boy, and real dogs. One of my husband’s search-and-rescue dogs, Maggi, is a calm, wise Australian Shepherd/Queensland Heeler cross. Maggi came to us as a stray, needing to be rescued and adopted. She loves to herd humans, making sure we are all in one place. Our younger SAR dog, Chance, is an energetic Yellow Labrador Retriever who shares Gabe’s enthusiasm for all things round and high-flying, even the moon.

  When my husband trains Maggi and Chance, I serve as a volunteer “victim,” hiding in the forest so the dogs can practice finding a lost person. Sometimes I just hide for a few minutes, but there are days when I have to wait for hours before a dog’s smart nose finds my invisible scent trail. It feels like magic, but my husband calls it science.

  Many other aspects of Mountain Dog were also inspired by my real life. I have relatives who left our ancestral island on a raft. I’ve stood face-to-face with a b
ear on a trail, and I’ve heard a mountain lion’s eerie cry. I’ve visited a sad, confused woman in prison. I’ve seen mountain areas remote enough to have tiny, old-fashioned schools, as well as cowboy churches where horses and dogs are welcome. I used to dread math, but in order to study botany and agriculture, I had to overcome my fear of numbers.

  Most of all, throughout my life, whether on wilderness paths or city sidewalks, I have often received trail magic in the form of unexpected acts of kindness from strangers.

  I hope you enjoy reading Mountain Dog as much as I enjoyed writing it!

  YOUR FRIEND,

  MARGARITA ENGLE

  CLOVIS, CALIFORNIA

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I thank God for wilderness and trail angels.

  I am joyfully grateful to Curtis, our dogs, the rest of our family, and the following canine search-and-rescue organizations: CARDA, MADSAR, SLOSAR, and NSDA. Special thanks to Kai Hernández, Norma Snelling, Nancy Acebo, and Dr. Cheryl Waterhouse.

  I wish to express profound gratitude to Ann Martin and Laura Godwin for this opportunity to write about canine trail magic. Special thanks to Kate Butler, April Ward, and the entire Holt/Macmillan publishing team.

  I am grateful to Olga and Alexey Ivanov for their beautiful illustrations.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Margarita Engle is a poet and novelist whose work has been published in many countries. Her books include The Surrender Tree, a Newbery Honor book and winner of the Jane Addams Children’s Book Award, the Pura Belpré Award, the Américas Award, and the Claudia Lewis Poetry Award; The Poet Slave of Cuba, winner of the Pura Belpré Award and the Américas Award; and Hurricane Dancers, winner of the Pura Belpré Award.

  ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

  Olga and Aleksey Ivanov immigrated to the United States from Russia in 2002. The husband-and-wife team received a classical art education in Moscow and have collaborated on over eighty children’s books, including The Tall Book of Mother Goose and Charlotte’s Web. They live and work together in an artist studio near Denver, Colorado.

  Text copyright © 2013 by Margarita Engle

  Illustrations copyright © 2013 by Olga and Aleksey Ivanov

  Henry Holt and Company, LLC

  Publishers since 1866

  Henry Holt® is a registered trademark of Henry Holt and Company, LLC.

  175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010

  mackids.com

  All rights reserved

  The Library of Congress has catalogued the print edition as follows:

  Engle, Margarita.

  Mountain dog / Margarita Engle; illustrations by Olga and Aleksey Ivanov. — First edition.

  pages cm

  ISBN 978-0-8050-9516-6 (hardcover)

  [1. Novels in verse. 2. Rescue dogs—Fiction. 3. Dogs—Fiction. 4. Human-animal relationships—Fiction. 5. Great-uncles—Fiction. 6. Foster home care—Fiction. 7. Hispanic Americans—Fiction. 8. Sierra Nevada (Calif. and Nev.)—Fiction.] I. Ivanov, O. (Olga), illustrator. II. Ivanov, A. (Aleksey), illustrator. III. Title.