by Linzi Glass
The New Hope coordinator was a young African American man named Steve Samuels, whose main job it was to get the word out to rescue organizations to save the “last call” dogs, as he referred to them.
“I want to help the dogs get homes,” I told him and Rayleen.
“Hey, we need some young enthusiasm around here,” Steve said, patting my shoulder. “I’m serious. I send out the same old emails to the same rescue people in big red letters with pleas to save these dogs from death row, but it seems like everyone is overloaded. You come up with a new idea to get them out and I’m all ears, Bree.”
Steve thanked Rayleen for bringing me and she seemed pleased that I had turned out to be such a trouper.
“That’s my gal.” She gave me a big hug. “Told ya you could do it!”
As we drove back to Santa Monica on the freeway I felt something inside me lift, like a giant weight. I had done something meaningful and important today and it wasn’t for myself. New Hope Steve and Rayleen had really appreciated what I had done at the shelter today. I really liked how it made me feel.
Chapter Twelve
“Daddy!” His spicy aftershave wafted over me as I opened the front door.
He stood in the entrance hall in his khaki slacks and blue blazer with his arms stretched out wide. I dropped my purse and ran into them.
“You smell so good!” I breathed against his white Oxford shirt.
“Can’t say the same about you!” He chuckled, but pulled me in even closer. “Smells like you’ve been cleaning Soprano’s stable with Lulu.”
“No! Not horses. Dogs.”
At the word “dog,” he released me and looked into my eyes. “I can’t believe he’s not here.” He ran a big hand through his thatch of hair. “The house feels ridiculously empty….”
“I know,” I said softly. “I can’t believe Mom let him get out.”
“Look, you have every right to be upset, but it was a mistake, Bree.”
I wasn’t up for a long discussion about my mom right now.
“Can we talk about this later, Dad? I gotta take a shower.”
“Sure, kiddo. I’ll be in the bedroom unpacking.
I lay on my bed and closed my eyes. The sound of dogs barking and whimpering filled every inch of my head. My ears rang with their cries. The shelter had followed me home. Not just in the grime under my nails or the stains on my jeans or the animal scent that clung to me. The shelter dogs had gotten under my skin, crawled their way into my veins, jumped inside my limbs, burrowed into my muscles. They curled up behind my closed eyelids. I felt the pain of all the abandoned dogs at the shelter who might never make it out alive. I must have fallen into a long, deep sleep because when I woke up my room was mottled in purple shadow.
As I sat up a strange, excited feeling washed over me.
I knew what I had to do. I needed to save as many of the shelters dogs as I could. I, Bree Davies, could make a difference in their lives. All I had to do was figure out how. I was so lost in thought that I was startled when my cell phone rang.
“Hey, Bree.”
I paused before realizing who it was.
“Ashton,” I said, sitting up with a jolt.
“Yeah, you okay? You sound kinda confused.”
“I’ve never been clearer.” I felt the blood rush to my head.
“So, tomorrow. We still on?” I could hear the electronic collisions of video games in the background.
“Yeah. That would be great.” I wanted to tell Ashton about all the dogs I’d met downtown but decided it would be better in person.
“Cool. I’ll see you at, like, noon?”
“Sure. That’s fine. You’ve got my address?”
“It’s in the school directory, right?” I heard a loud crash and guessed he must have wiped out in his game.
After we hung up I made a “To Do” list.
1. Find Danny: Ashton/more flyers, internet, door to door.
2. Talk to Rayleen and Steve/New Hope coordinator on Monday or sooner about how I can help the shelter dogs.
3. Get Lulu and others from school involved once I get the okay from above.
4. Try very hard to get back to getting As.
5. Stop by and say hi to Martha and help in garden, if needed.
6. Pray every night that Danny is safe.
The one thing that wasn’t on the list was what to do about me and my mom, since I really didn’t have a clue how even to begin fixing things between us.
Epiphany: a sudden, intuitive perception or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some experience.
I text messaged Lulu and told her that there was something really important I wanted to talk to her about and she should call me immediately. But she wrote back and said, Riding Soprano now—don’t worry, I’m being careful. Then violin lesson, will call after xoxo.
Just a few days ago the first thing I would’ve wanted her to know was that Ashton was coming over, and while I was glad that he was going to hang out with me, what I really wanted to talk to her about was the shelter and figuring out a way to save the dogs.
Chapter Thirteen
While I sat next to my dad at the sushi bar, he mixed the wasabi and soy sauce into a paste with one chopstick like he always did. As a welcome-home treat he took me to dinner at my favorite sushi restaurant. He knew I loved the spicy tuna hand rolls that Nayago, the owner and chef, had been making for me since I was about seven. I was all cleaned and showered and felt truly hungry for the first time in days. The newsmom was working late at the station so it was just the two of us.
Nayago’s restaurant was on the corner of San Vicente Boulevard and Twenty-fourth Street. It was surrounded by a trendy coffee house, a hair salon, and a yoga studio, so the people coming in were either carrying yoga mats and had wet, stringy hair, or were perfectly groomed and reeked of hair mousse and lattes. Nayago’s also attracted all the Brentwood and Santa Monica locals, some of whom were pretty famous, but the number one rule if you lived among celebrities and stars was to ignore them and let them eat their sushi in peace.
I smiled at Nayago, with his brown, twinkly eyes and bright red kimono jacket, as he set my plate down in front of me. He always told me that I was his favorite twelve-year-old, ten-year-old, or eight-year-old, depending on what age I was at the time.
“Bree,” my dad said as he chewed on an edamame bean. “I know your mom’s career has a lot to do with why you feel so let down by her.”
“She’s never around, Dad.”
“I know.” He took a long sip of green tea.
“And she lost Danny.”
“It was an accident.”
“Right, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s gone.” I dipped my spoon into the hot miso soup.
“Being a news anchor is something your mom’s wanted since I met her when she was a communications major in college. She’s never been closer to getting an anchor position than she is now.”
“That’s great, Dad. Then I guess I’ll be seeing her even less.”
Nayago handed me the spicy tuna hand roll.
“No, the whole thing with Danny has her really upset. She’s thinking of cutting back her hours at the station, actually.”
“Then she’ll never be an anchor.”
“That’s right,” my dad said slowly and deliberately. “Sometimes you have to make decisions like that.”
“I don’t want her quitting because of Danny.” I wiped my hands on a napkin. “And I don’t want her staying home just because she feels guilty.”
After dinner my dad suggested that we take a walk, so after thanking Nayago, we headed out of the restaurant in the direction of the ocean.
San Vicente Boulevard is known for its long center isle of beautiful coral trees and green grass, which is the perfect stretch for joggers, cyclists, and walkers to get some decent exercise. Most people started at the end of Brentwood where the boulevard began and ran, biked, or walked all the way down to Ocean
Avenue, which was my favorite street. It sat on a bluff high above the sparkling Pacific Ocean below. It was well worth the sweat and pain to reach the end of a run and look down at the sandy white beach and expanse of blue ocean. I would walk Danny to Ocean Avenue, which wasn’t far from our house, at around sunset at least three times a week.
The sun looked like spilled orange juice across the sky, and if I was lucky enough to catch it as it went down, I’d always make a wish. Different ones at different times. One of my wishes was that Danny and I would be together always. “Make a wish Danny-O. Look at the sunset,” I would say, and rub my hand in his soft fur. He’d look up at me confused about what I meant. “Okay, then, I’ll have to make one for you.” I would try and imagine what a dog would wish for. A big juicy bone? A playdate with the pretty golden retriever down the road? A long sleep in a big comfy bed?
As I walked with my dad toward the bluff, I thought of how different my doggy wishes would be for Danny now. To never get lost, or be put into a shelter. Or worse, euthanized.
“So, who’s this hippie woman Mom says took you to the shelter?” my dad asked as we picked up our pace.
“Hippie! Is that what mom called Rayleen?” I had to laugh.
“‘Bohemian,’ was actually what she said.”
“What does that mean?”
“Someone unconventional, a free spirit.”
“That’s hilarious, Dad. Just because she happens to wear cargo pants and flip-flops and not heels and Chanel suits that makes her a bohemian hippie?” I skirted around two women who were walking at a leisurely pace. “She’s awesome and she saves dog’s lives. I want you to meet her. You’ll like her.”
“Sure,” my dad said. “Let me know when.”
“How about now?”
My dad looked down at his watch.
“Okay. We have time. It’s early enough,” he said in his warm, agreeable way.
I stopped and leaned against one of the giant coral trees, its large trunk the perfect place to rest my head. I was puffing and panting just a little. Walking fast after eating was never ideal. I reached for my cell phone in my back pocket and scrolled through my address book until I found Rayleen’s number. It rang four or five times. I was about to hang up when she answered.
“Rayleen, it’s me, Bree.”
“I know that, sweet pea, your name came up on the ID thingy.”
“Can I come over?” I asked, then added quickly, “My dad’s in town and he really wants to meet you.”
I could hear barking in the background.
“Sure. Just me and the dogs kicking back on a Saturday night, howlin’ at the full moon.”
I laughed, mostly because it was dusk and not quite night yet, and there certainly wasn’t a full moon out yet.
“She said yes.” I handed my dad the phone so Rayleen could give him directions to her house.
Chapter Fourteen
On the way up Topanga Canyon’s mountainous road of twists and turns and long stretches where the world outside was empty and black, my dad and I talked about Danny for a long time. He told me how guilty he felt because he wasn’t in town when Danny ran off. I told him that I felt like a piece of me was missing, but then told him about the shelter and why it was so important.
I could see his smile in the dark, his straight, white teeth flashing. “I’m proud of you, kiddo.” He reached over and squeezed my hand across the seat.
“Don’t be proud till I’ve done something, Dad.”
It took us an extra fifteen minutes to actually find Rayleen’s house. She was right, it was buried way, way up the canyon on a dirt road that led to nothing but shrubbery and trees.
We almost had to feel our way through all the overgrown bush in the dark to find the entrance, but eventually we found the front door and I lifted the oversized knocker, which was in the shape of a tortoise.
It was hard to introduce my dad to Rayleen over the dogs trying to greet us at the door. They were a pack, that’s for sure, and they all jumped and barked as Rayleen tried to quiet them.
“Allakazam!” she yelled, and amazingly they all stopped and went to lie in their doggy beds, which were scattered around the room. “My grandpa the magician taught me that trick.” She winked. “Works like a charm.”
Rayleen’s house was something like I had imagined, only better. On every surface there were gold-colored candles of every shape and size, and sweet-spicy incense was burning. There were no chairs to sit on, only giant-sized velvet cushions that were scattered among the doggy beds.
“Keeps us all on the same level.” She curled up on a large, red velvet cushion and patted for me to sit down on the green one next to her. My dad stood uncomfortably shifting from one leg to the other.
“I am so sorry, Mr. Davies, for the lack of appropriate chairs, but there’s a chest if you’d like to sit on it.” Her southern drawl came out slow and sugary. She pointed to a mahogany chest and my dad coughed and sat and stretched his long legs out in front of him. One of the dogs got off his mat and went over to sniff him. He looked like a giant, black, shaggy terrier.
“Well, what do we have here, a scruffy muppet monster?” My dad patted the dog on the head.
Rayleen laughed. She was wearing low-slung jeans and a belt with a big rodeo buckle. She had on cowboy boots and a checkered shirt. I knew the newsdad, being a reporter, had already made a mental note of everything about her and every detail in the room. I imagined him sharing his impression of Rayleen with my mom later. “Well, she’s more like a New Age cow-girl who herds dogs instead of cattle.”
Rayleen offered us mint tea and agave, a natural cactus sweetener that looked like honey but tasted better. She told us the names of each of the rescue dogs. There were ten, including Clay, who came right over to me and licked my hand softly. He lay down next to me as I sipped the sweet tea, and I rubbed his back.
“Alfie’s the big muppet monster,” she told us. “Found him half dead in the middle of the road in Alabama, but now look at him.” She pointed at Alfie, who now had his shaggy head resting on my dad’s lap. “Fat ’n’ sassy. That’s what five years of good livin’ will do for a dog.”
She went around the room and pointed to each one and introduced them to us like you would a friend. There was Mr. P, a four-pound Chihuahua who bit everyone, including Rayleen; there was Raka, a German shepherd who she got for twenty dollars from a homeless man who had been beating her; and Woof the wolfhound, who came from a sanctuary that was forced to close because of lack of money; there was Matteo, a bug-eyed white Pekingese pulled from a shelter in the nick of time; and Matilda, a beagle who was abandoned in the yard of a home when the owners moved away. There were three strays Rayleen had found hungry and starving and skinny on the streets of downtown LA not too long ago. Their names were Belinda, Chadney, and Maddy, all sweet mutts who were a mix of this and that. Rayleen was fattening them up before she found them homes.
The newsdad seemed impressed. “You do good work.”
“It’s not my work. It’s my calling.”
“Like she has to do it, Dad,” I said.
Rayleen had explained to me in the car coming home from the shelter that animal rescue was something she felt chosen to do by a force greater than herself. A higher power, she called it. I wondered if only special people got to be chosen to have a calling.
“I know what a calling is, Bree,” my dad said quietly.
“Do you have a calling, Dad?” I asked and put my head down on Clay’s neck.
He cleared his throat. The candlelight flickered and I felt like everything around us had gotten spooky quiet. Even the dogs were still, all sprawled out and sleeping.
“Well, that’s an interesting question. No one’s ever asked me that.” His eyes seemed to mist over and he shifted his square jaw from side to side. “I think I hoped to enlighten people with what I had to say in my reporting. But I guess I spend most of my time writing nasty details about nasty situations.”
Rayleen lit another stick
of incense, and her green eyes looked sparkly bright just before the match went out.
“I feel there’s a book in you, Mr. Davies. Then you can say all you really want.”
My dad rubbed his chin. “Funny, I’ve always wanted to write about my experiences and observations around the world. I’ve never told anyone about it before.”
“It was just a hunch.” Rayleen turned and smiled sweetly and asked my dad if it would be okay to leave me with her for a while. The newsdad made a quick phone call to a photographer friend who also lived up in Topanga Canyon. He was home and my dad said he’d go there for an hour or so and then be back to get me.
“Sounds grand to me.” Rayleen stretched her hands above her head and arched her back like a cat.
I knew my dad was being extra nice to me tonight by agreeing to leave me alone with Rayleen. I felt like he was making more effort with me during this hard time.
Rayleen took the teacup from my dad’s hand and he looked at her earnestly.
“You’ll help us find Danny, won’t you?”
“Yes, sir. Already am. I can’t wait to meet him.”
“You think he’ll come back?”
Rayleen paused for a moment and sucked in air. “He’ll be back. When the time’s right.”
She walked my dad to the door and shook his hand in a very formal way. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Davies. I’ll keep your lovely gal safe an’ warm till you come back.”
Rayleen put on some strange music and I asked her what it was.
“Monks chanting in a monastery in Tibet, sweet pea. The sound’s good for healing the soul, humans and animals both. I play it every night for the pack. It’s like their bedtime lullaby.”
My dad left me at Rayleen’s house for only two hours, but it felt like he was gone for days. Rayleen and I talked and talked, back and forth with such ease, like a river that flowed downward and deeper, while the dogs stirred and slept. It seemed like time had slunk away. It wasn’t important or wanted here. There was nothing pushing Rayleen to be somewhere else or hurrying her in any way. She focused all her attention on me as we sat cross-legged facing each other on the cushions.
