For the dogs who rescue people and the people who rescue dogs
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
A Note from the Authors
Teaser
About the Authors
Copyright
The morning started out like it always did. Gem woke up on Lexa’s bed, like she always did. Lexa’s mom yelled about how many times she’d told her daughter, “No dogs on the furniture,” like she always did. Gem hopped down from her cozy spot, ears low, and slunk toward the door so she wouldn’t have to hear the shouting. That was when things got weird and different. There was no more shouting. Lexa didn’t object to the rule. The mom stepped out of Gem’s way with a sigh and mumbled something Gem didn’t understand.
Things got even stranger after that. The always-hungry young puppy had barely swallowed her last bite of breakfast when Lexa’s brother, Jay, clicked her leash onto her collar. He dropped down to one knee and pushed his face into her reddish-gold fur. That wasn’t something he usually did. Then the skinny boy stood up, sniffed, and pulled the retriever outside, toward the car.
The whole family piled into the minivan: the mom, the dad, Lexa, and Jay. Usually when they were all together on an outing, there was a lot of talking and yelling or singing along to loud music—and the car was loaded with food. Today it was quiet. Lexa didn’t even reach up front to turn on the radio. She just slumped in her seat, not saying anything.
When the car stopped and the people got out, Gem watched the family through the window of the car. Their faces hung low. She wagged to try and cheer them up, and also to ask if they were going to let her out. Jay opened the back door, but none of them looked her in the eye. And there was no trail or picnic spot waiting … just a big parking lot and a low square building.
“We just can’t keep her anymore,” the mom said, breaking the silence to answer a question nobody had asked.
Jay and Lexa walked on either side of Gem. They led her through a swinging door and into a room with hard floors and hard chairs. It smelled of dogs and dogs and dogs … and sadness. And fear. The smell made Gem a little afraid, too. She whimpered and felt Lexa’s hand in her fur.
A woman greeted them from behind a desk. She talked to the mom and dad, and they passed papers back and forth. Nobody smiled. After the woman put the papers on a board, she opened a door that led into another, bigger room. She was still talking, but now Gem couldn’t hear her words over the barking. Dozens of dogs behind metal fences lined the walls of the big room. The barks echoed. Some were scared barks. Some were warning barks. Some were begging barks. The desperate noises made Gem’s floppy ears ache. They twitched forward, but she couldn’t block out the sounds. She looked at Lexa, then at Jay, to ask what was happening. She didn’t understand. What were they doing here? This was not a fun place. She wanted to go home.
Neither of the children could look at the young golden retriever. They could barely move. The dad took the leash from Jay’s hand and pulled Gem behind the woman, who was leading them down the cement path between the rows of chain-link kennels. The woman walked briskly. She smelled like the disinfectant spray the mom used when Gem had accidents in the house. She opened the door of an empty kennel. She patted the metal, making it clang. “In here,” she instructed. “Then say your goodbyes. It’s best to do it quickly.”
Lexa swallowed so hard Gem heard it while the dad directed her toward the cage.
Gem slunk through the door, confused and sad and worried.
“I’m so sorry, kids,” the mom said, covering her mouth with her hand. “It’s just too much.”
Gem didn’t know what the mom was saying exactly. But the sound and smell of her gave the sensitive pup a lot of clues. Gem could smell sorrow, like a rotten apple. And briny guilt. And she thought maybe she smelled something else, too … sickly-sweet confusion.
“Woof!” She let out a short sharp bark—a question—to ask what was going on. Lexa stepped closer, reaching for Gem.
The disinfectant woman snorted impatiently and swung the gate closed. Shutting Gem in, shutting the kids out.
Gem looked at her family on the other side of the fence, her ears and tail low. The mom wouldn’t meet her eyes. “The digging … the endless digging,” she said to no one in particular. The barking of the other dogs quieted enough for Gem to hear a word she knew: “dig.” Her tail drooped lower. She remembered the yelling after she dug up the roses. And the flower bed. And the earth underneath the porch steps. The mom had yelled and called her a bad dog. Bad dog. Gem knew those words, too. And she didn’t like them.
Suddenly, Gem knew why she was there, in a kennel. She knew why her family wouldn’t look at her. It was because she was a bad dog. Because of the digging. And the accidents.
Gem let out a whimper.
Jay started to cry. The dad put his arm around him. He reached for Lexa, too, but she shook him off. She knelt down and looked at Gem through the fence. Her eyes were extra wet and sparkly. Jay’s shoulders shuddered with silent sobs, but Lexa blinked back tears. She was working hard to hold it together. Gem could smell her determination.
The young dog’s snout felt full of sadness and regret, her family’s and her own. The regret gnawed at her. She hadn’t really wanted to dig up everything in the backyard. It was … just … so … lonely at the house when the family was gone. All day. Every day. And there were so many smells in the soil! The smells wafted into her nose. They called to her. They made her paws itch to uncover them. Gem felt sure if she dug deep enough or in just the right spot, she would find … something …
“Do you promise she’ll get a new home?” Lexa choked out, looking at the disinfectant lady. She pressed her hand to the chain link. Gem whined and licked her palm through the metal mesh.
“We do everything we can to make sure every animal finds a home,” the woman answered. She was tapping her foot impatiently and jotting things down on a clipboard … things about Gem.
“What are you writing?” Jay shrugged out from under his dad’s arm, stepping closer to the woman and looking at her defiantly. “What are you saying about our dog?” He reached for the clipboard. The woman stepped back with a tired sigh, and the dad put his hand on Jay’s shoulder to stop him.
“It’s okay, Jay. She wants to help. Everyone here does. And she’s not our dog anymore.”
Gem saw Lexa’s eyes flash. “Do you have to write about the digging?” she asked.
The woman pressed her lips into a straight line. “We have to be honest about an animal’s behavior. If we aren’t, it can lead to a bad fit and the dog will end up right back here again.”
Lexa looked from her mom to her dad
and back to her mom. A whine crept into her voice. “You can’t do this! Gem is part of our family! Would you send me away if I messed up the yard?” Her voice cracked, and she shook the fencing, which rattled.
Gem whined, too. She stopped licking and started to pace. She wanted to get out of this cage. To jump on Lexa and make her laugh.
“We’ve been over this. Let’s just go home,” the mom said softly. “Please.”
Gem barked again. Yes. Home. She wanted to go home, too!
Letting another puff of air out her nose, the disinfectant lady nodded.
The dad bent over and unwrapped Lexa’s fingers from the chain link. He tried to hold her hand, but Lexa yanked it away.
The tears finally spilled out of Lexa’s eyes and down her cheeks. “Bye, Gem,” she whispered. Then she turned.
Gem watched helplessly, whining and pacing, jumping up to put her front feet on the metal fencing as her family walked away. When they disappeared through the door, she dropped back to all fours and began to scratch at the concrete at the bottom of the gate. Her nails clicked uselessly against the hard surface over and over. Finally she sat down on the cold concrete and let out a long, mournful howl.
“Ooowwwooooo!” Gem’s desolate howl echoed in the big room, and after several long moments, other dogs joined the discarded retriever’s sorrowful song.
The mournful music brought the disinfectant lady back. She poked her head in the door, and though her brow was creased, her eyes looked softer now. She walked over to Gem’s kennel and shook her head. “Did you start this racket?” she asked. “I don’t know many howling golden retrievers …” She blinked and took a deep breath, letting it all out in a silent howl of her own, and then went back to her office work.
The howling continued for a full fifteen minutes. Then, after the rest of the dogs had worn out or given up, Gem kept going. The final wail left her throat at last, and with it her last hope of her family’s return. They were not coming back for her. They were not her family anymore. The empty feeling she sometimes had in the backyard on long lonely days sat in her chest like a hole, and her paws began to move with a life of their own. While the other shelter dogs curled onto their beds, she dug at the floor. She dug and dug and dug.
Gem dug until her nails were broken and bloody. She didn’t know what else to do. Her family. Her kids. Her life. They were all gone. She was all that was left. Alone.
Sometime during the first horrible day at the shelter, a worker brought Gem a bowl of food and fresh water. The next morning, both were still in her cage, untouched.
“Oh! You haven’t eaten? You poor pup!” a gentle voice crooned. It was Edna, one of the shelter volunteers.
Gem thumped her tail at the sound of the kind voice, momentarily forgetting where she was. Then it all came back. She tried to stand and whimpered. Her paws were tender from clawing at the unforgiving surfaces. She lay down to lick away the dried blood around her nails. Everything hurt!
“Oh no. Look at that.” Edna crouched down to get a closer look. “What did you do to yourself?”
The short, white-haired woman stroked Gem’s soft rosy-golden fur. It wasn’t unusual to see sensitive dogs nervously lick themselves bald in patches or chew away their own skin with sadness and worry. She wasn’t sure how this dog had managed to injure her paws so badly, but she was pretty sure she knew why: The poor pup was anxious and depressed. After gathering some supplies to help treat Gem’s injured paws, she spotted the scratches on the concrete by the gate.
Gem felt herself relax a little as she listened to Edna’s soft voice. She didn’t want her feet to be touched, but the woman was gentle as she trimmed the torn nails and put ointment and bandages on her broken skin.
“No licking!” Edna scolded kindly. “And no taking these off.”
Holding one of her front paws aloft, Gem shook it gingerly. She hated the bandages, but she was too sad and tired to chew them loose.
Edna stood up. She volunteered twice a week at the animal shelter because she couldn’t have a pet of her own. She loved the work and spending time with the animals—especially the dogs—who required extra attention. But there were so many animals! She needed to continue her rounds, feeding and walking the rest of the pups waiting to be found or adopted. She closed the gate and looked back. There was something about forlorn Gem that made her linger.
Curious, Edna took the clipboard off the hook on Gem’s kennel. Every dog had a list of notes—useful information for people looking to adopt, as well as the dog’s more challenging characteristics. Did she bark too much? Did he chew too much? Or dislike children? Gem’s reddish fur, floppy ears, sweet brown nose, and soulful eyes made her a great candidate for adoption. The sheet clipped to the board said she was great with kids, and Edna knew that the breed was notorious for loving people—usually preferring human company to that of other dogs—so she wondered what her undesirable traits might be. The more she read, the more her concern rose. With a single nod, she replaced the clipboard. Gem was a digger. And if the damage she had done to herself was any indication, she was also extra sensitive, anxious, a little obsessive, and did not like to be left alone.
“Things are going to get better, sweet girl,” Edna said as she opened the kennel door. She could spare a few more minutes. She sighed, wishing she felt as certain as she sounded. It would take time—possibly weeks—for Gem’s paws to heal, and she wouldn’t be placed on the adoptable list until they did. Those weeks were going to be tough on a dog as perceptive and tender as this one. Edna sat and gave Gem another long pet, lingering behind her ears when the pup leaned into her touch. The paws would heal in time, Edna knew. She just wasn’t so sure about the dog’s broken heart.
Though there was no cushy couch (or Lexa to cuddle with, or Jay to tussle with, or scraps slipped under the table from the dad’s plate, or a yard to dig in), there was a rhythm to life in the shelter that Gem settled into. She did not wag much—only for Edna—but she didn’t howl or claw at the floors anymore, either. Her paws had healed. She had food and water. She had a tidy kennel and a dry dog bed to sleep on, and it helped to hear the breathing (and snoring!) of the other dogs at night. Gem was not alone. Still, she was very lonely.
The best days were the days when Edna came. Gem loved the soft, round woman who’d made her paws better. She was gentle, smelled like cinnamon, and never raised her voice. She also kept treats in her pockets and made sure she spent extra time with Gem, scratching her in the good spot behind her ears before she left. Sometimes, Edna took Gem out for a walk by herself, without any other dogs. When it was just the two of them, Edna led her to a spot behind the shrubs where the dogs all ran and peed. She showed her an expanse of dirt without any grass or flowers and kicked at it with her comfortable shoes to release some of the smells in the rich soil.
“It’s okay to dig here,” Edna said. Gem scratched cautiously and looked back at Edna to make sure she was still smiling. “Go on!” the woman encouraged her. Gem scratched again, and then with both paws she slowly began to dig. The smells crowded into her snout, and she held them in, letting them swirl around behind her nostrils. Holding scents in like this was almost like tasting them. Rotting wood! Insects! Rainwater! Mushrooms! Gem’s feet flew, faster and faster, paw over paw, spraying dirt and unearthing aromas. She dug deeper and deeper, digging down and down to … where?
Gem paused and shook the dirt from her fur. Where was she trying to dig to? What was she digging for? She wasn’t sure. She only knew that she needed to dig. It filled a hole inside her, if only for a moment … a hole that had been there for as long as she could remember.
Watching Gem dig, Edna felt a small, sad empty spot in her own chest. The poor pup looked happy as she sent the soil flying, but she also looked a little desperate, as if she were frantically searching for something. Edna bit her thumbnail, which was already short from habit and worry. A dog this smart needed the right person to help her feel stable—someone steady and calm. Edna was determined to help her fi
nd that certain someone.
When Richard came into the shelter a few days later, Edna zeroed in on him as a candidate for Gem right away. He was calm and laid-back, and when Edna asked him why he wanted a dog his answer was spot-on: “I need company. I guess I’m looking for a new best friend.” Darlene, the director at the shelter, who Edna was pretty sure took baths in Lysol, was steering him toward a terrier mix—a lapdog—when Edna interrupted.
“You seem like more of a ‘big dog’ guy,” she said. Really, what she was thinking was that he seemed like a worn-in easy chair in human form. He didn’t look capable of raising his voice, and his eyes had a smile in them even when his mouth wasn’t joining in.
Richard let his mouth catch up with his beaming eyes and nodded at Edna. “I have plenty of room for a big dog. And a yard!” he added.
Darlene gave Edna a look, wondering exactly what she was up to, but kept her mouth shut. Edna pointed at Gem’s kennel.
The retriever had only been green-lighted for adoption for a few days, but for weeks she had been watching people walk by the kennels, stop and pet, and then take other dogs for walks out back. Sometimes the dogs left with the people. Sometimes they didn’t.
Richard’s grin grew even wider when his eyes locked on Gem. “Hey, girl!” he said softly. “Aren’t you pretty!”
Gem walked closer to the fence. She sniffed the skinny man’s hands, though she’d smelled him coming a mile away. He smelled delicious! Gem could not get her nose close enough.
“Wow!” Edna commented when Gem pushed her soft brown snout right up against the fencing. “You must have some sweet cologne.”
Richard let out a great belly laugh. “I work at Hamburger Heaven,” he said. “Or maybe they should call it Dog Heaven.”
After a walk and a half hour of getting to know each other in one of the special rooms that was set up like a cozy living room in a house, Richard and Gem seemed like an ideal fit. It might have been the aroma of flame-broiled meat, or the fact that Richard quickly found the sweet spot behind Gem’s ears, but Edna had never seen Gem so waggy!
Gem Page 1
