There were a couple of different women whose voices I could hear occasionally and whose presence I could feel from time to time. My mother’s body would tremble as she wagged her tail as these people came; I would feel it as I nursed.
The first time my vision had cleared and I saw one of these people, though, I was shocked. She was a giant, looming far over us. “Such cuties,” she said. “Good dog, Zoey.”
My mother wagged, but I was staring up at the enormous woman, blinking, trying to focus. When her hand came down to pet my mother, I cringed—the hand was huge, larger than me, larger than my mother’s head.
As we got older, I watched my sisters skittering over to say hi to the giant women when they came to the cage. Fearful, I hung back, not even trailing after my mother when she went to be petted. Why weren’t my siblings afraid?
When the woman picked me up, her hands enveloping me like a blanket, I growled at her, though her strong fingers held me trapped. “Hello, Max. You a fierce dog? You going to be a watchdog?”
Another giant woman came up to peer at me. I growled at her, too. “I’m thinking the father is a Yorkie, maybe?” she said.
“Sure looks like Chihuahua-Yorkie mix,” the woman holding me said. Her name, I would soon learn, was Gail, and of all the people in that loud place, she spent the most time with me.
They called me Max, and my sisters were called Abby and Annie. When I played with my sisters it was always with a sense that what I should really be doing was finding CJ, though always before, when I’d been in a place of barking dogs, she’d found me. What I needed to do, probably, was wait, and she’d come. My girl had always come.
One day Abby, Annie, and I were let out into a small pen with some other dogs. They were all puppies and ran to meet us, too young to know you’re not supposed to directly touch noses and jump up on another dog without pause. I disdainfully slid to the side of the one who assaulted me, ignoring his tongue and moving to show him that we should be politely sniffing each other’s genitalia first.
There were other dogs in other pens and when I gazed through the chain fence at them I received a shock: they, too, were enormous! Where was this place, where the dogs and people were gigantic monsters? I went to the fence to sniff a white dog and he lowered his head and it was ten times the size of my mother’s. We sniffed through the fence and then I backed up, barking, letting him know I wasn’t afraid (though of course I was).
“It’s okay, Max. Go play,” Gail the giantess said to me.
Other than when we were in pens, we were allowed no time to be off leash. I was being led down a hallway full of cages and dogs back to my cage when I spotted a dog who looked a little like Rocky: same eager set to the head, same thin-boned legs. I knew it wasn’t Rocky, but the resemblance was so strong it made me pause—though this dog, like so many others in this place, was gigantic.
That’s when it occurred to me: it wasn’t that the people and the dogs were huge; it was that I was little. I was a tiny little dog!
I had met tiny dogs in my life, of course. But I had never before considered that I might be one—I had always been large, because people sometimes need the protection a large dog affords them. CJ certainly did! I remembered being in the car with her, when the man tried to get inside and he hit the window with a stick and I made him go away by snarling at him. Would a tiny little dog be able to accomplish that?
Yes, I decided. When it happened again, I could still snarl, still let the man know that if he opened the door I would bite him. Wrestling with little dogs had taught me they have very sharp teeth. I would just have to convince bad men that I would be willing to sink mine into their hands. That would stop them from trying to get into the car.
Back in my pen, I watched Abby and Annie play and they watched me watch them. Naturally, they were looking to me for leadership, as I was obviously the more experienced dog. Or at least, they should, though when I went to join their frolicking they ganged up on me instead of submitting to my dominance. That was something else: little dogs usually wound up on their backs, pinned down. I would have to work hard to prove that just because I was small I wasn’t a dog that others could oppress.
I put my new resolution into action the next time we were penned with other puppies, letting them know that no matter what their size, I was the dog to pay attention to. A goofy black and brown canine, all feet and ears, obviously destined to be as big as Rocky someday, thought he’d put me down with his superior weight, but I slipped out from his forelimbs and went after him with snapping teeth and he fell over on his back in docile surrender.
“Be nice, Max,” Gail said to me. Yes, my name was Max, and I was a dog to be reckoned with.
Once my sisters and I were no longer nursing, we were taken for a car ride, in cages, to some outdoor pens. Our mother was kept in a separate kennel, which upset Abby and Annie but didn’t bother me: I knew what was coming. It was the time when people came and puppies went home with them.
The open pens had no bottom; they sat right on the ground. I wanted to roll in the green grass, luxuriate in the sun, but I was momentarily stunned by the smells and sounds. The roar of noise was constant, not with barking but with the same sort of mechanical rumbles and shrieks that greeted me the day I was tilted left and right inside a plastic crate, the day CJ picked me up from the place of barking dogs by the ocean. And the smells: cars, dogs, people, water, leaves, grass, and, on top of all of it, food—great gusts of food smells swirling around me. Abby and Annie seemed as dazzled as I was by the sheer volume of sensual stimulus—we just stood there, noses to the wind, drinking it in.
Many people came by, peering into the pens and sometimes spending a little time playing with the dogs within. “Look at the puppies!” people would say when they gazed in on my sisters and me. Abby and Annie would race over in loving enthusiasm, but I always shied away. I was waiting for CJ.
Two men were soon kneeling by our cage, poking their fingers through the fencing, and Gail came over to talk to them.
“We think they have Yorkie in them. Their mother is the Chihuahua over there,” she said.
Gail opened the gate and Abby and Annie bounded out, the two men laughing in delight. I slunk along the back of the cage, keeping my head low.
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 wal
king 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.”
A Dog's Purpose Boxed Set Page 40
