Storm Dog

by Jennifer Li Shotz

  Luisa dropped to her knees, and the dogs fought for space on her lap. She laughed and cooed at them in Spanish. After they’d said their hellos to her, the dogs migrated over to Scout, who stood still—calm and cool, like the alpha dog he was—while they sniffed him. “Scout, meet Little One, Handsome, and Uncle. At least that’s what I call them.”

  “Nice names.” Matt laughed. Once they’d sized up Scout, the three dogs bounced around him playfully. They tripped and stumbled all over each other, then stretched their front legs out and lowered their chests to the ground, their rumps in the air and their tails up high. Their mouths were open in big, goofy smiles, and their tails wagged so hard they created a breeze. They were letting Scout know that they wanted to play, and Scout obliged, ducking and bobbing with them, then sniffing their bellies when they rolled onto their backs and stuck their paws in the air. “Are they strays?” Matt asked.

  “They’re satos,” Luisa said with a nod. “It means ‘street dog’ in Spanish. There’s a lot of them around here.”

  “They’re so sweet. Are they all like that?”

  “It depends. Some of them are kind of wild, and lots of them are too scared to go near people. But mostly they’re really cute like these guys. And hungry.”

  “How many are there?” Matt asked.

  “I don’t know, hundreds. Maybe thousands?” Luisa must have seen Matt’s eyes bug out. “It’s just the way it is here,” she said. “We’re used to them.”

  “Do they just, like, roam the streets?” Matt couldn’t quite get his head around the idea. He tried to picture Silver Valley with hundreds of dogs wandering around while people just went about their day.

  “Yeah. A lot of them live on Sato Beach.” She pointed in the direction of the water. “The storm made things even worse for them.”

  “Do people adopt them?”

  “Some. And there are rescue groups that take them back to the U.S. for adoption. But there are just so many satos, they can’t possibly all find a home. So I try to help them out when I can.”

  She spoke matter-of-factly, but Matt heard the note of sadness in her voice. She turned to the dogs and pulled out the container of rice. The dogs pounced on the food, tails wagging. “We have to go, guys. Hasta luego. I’ll be back soon.”

  Scout tore himself away from his fans and left the trio of dogs to their meal. Matt, Luisa, and Scout set off again, heading toward town. Matt looked over his shoulder at the dogs chowing down.

  “You could adopt one,” he said.

  Luisa let out a laugh but shook her head. “My parents are not exactly dog-friendly. And even if they would let me have one, they would never let me adopt a sato.” She paused. “They think they’re all dirty strays.”

  “That stinks.”

  “Yeah.”

  Matt tried to imagine Scout wandering the streets or living on a beach with a bunch of other dogs, with no one to feed him or care for him. Scout had been a runaway puppy, but he hadn’t been homeless for very long, Matt knew. He’d been rescued by a family and trained to be a search-and-rescue dog. But Scout was one of the lucky ones—it wasn’t the satos’ fault they didn’t have homes or people to care for them. They were just dogs like Scout, who wanted to be loved. What if every one of them could bring a person as much joy as Scout had brought Matt and his family?

  He knew Luisa was doing as much as she could to help the satos, but he wished they could do even more. Every dog deserved a home. But he had no idea how to make that happen, and until he figured that out, the best thing to do was to help them one by one.

  “Let’s get going,” Luisa called back to Matt, who’d paused in the road.

  “Coming!” Matt called, racing to catch up.

  6

  LUISA WALKED QUICKLY, and Scout bounded along beside her. Matt scrambled to keep up with them both. They reached town and walked along the main street, with its small cafés and shops. Three-story houses were lined up in tight formation, and were all the colors of the rainbow. One house was bright turquoise, the next a deep brick red, then sunny yellow, electric blue, and hot pink. Almost every house shared one detail, though: blue tarps tied to their roofs. Matt guessed that first responders had handed out the tarps after the storm.

  As they walked, Matt saw kids playing in the street and old ladies sitting in front of the buildings. Two young girls ran over and called out Luisa’s name. They wrapped her in a hug and spoke to her in Spanish. Luisa knelt down and talked to them, and Matt heard her say “Scout” at the end of a sentence. Scout walked over to the girls and sat down while they petted him and giggled. The girls waved at Matt, and he waved back.

  Luisa started walking again, and a mom with a baby on her hip smiled and waved from the front door of a house. A shopkeeper came out of a small grocery and said hola. As they passed a small café on the corner of the main street, Luisa popped in and came out holding two bottles of Coke. She handed one to Matt.

  “They’re warm,” she said. “There’s still no electricity here.”

  “Thanks,” Matt said, happy to drink the syrupy-sweet liquid.

  Matt kept expecting Luisa to turn into a doorway and reveal her big secret. But she powered ahead until they reached the end of the main road on the edge of town, and then kept going. Matt’s head began to spin with possibilities of where they were headed.

  Finally, after what felt like an hour, Luisa turned onto a small paved road that angled gently uphill. As they climbed, the area around them turned a lush green and grew thick with trees. It was as if they’d stepped onto a different planet. They crested a small rise and Matt stopped to look out. Scout paused too and doubled back to stand by Matt’s knee. Together they scanned the skyline.

  The view was breathtaking. Below them, spreading out in every direction, was an ocean of green, a hilly forest that rose and fell like waves crashing toward the horizon.

  But floating on this sea was an endless array of debris—split trees and jagged trunks. Matt could see clearings flooded with water and clusters of homes with their sides peeled off and tarps on top. From this elevation, though, he could also see a lot of houses with their roofs still intact, sprinkled throughout the destruction. It was as if the storm had touched down on some buildings and torn them apart, but randomly missed others.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “We’re almost there,” Luisa replied. “Come on.”

  They continued uphill until Matt was huffing and puffing. Scout, on the other hand, was barely panting. He acted as if they hadn’t just walked for miles and climbed a long, gradual slope. They rounded a curve and a small building emerged from the foliage.

  “We’re here,” Luisa said, pointing to a long, low building across the road. Matt would have walked right by without noticing it. It was windowless. Long, heavy tree branches still lay across the roof, and strips of tar paper had been ripped off and hung down the sides of the building. From where they stood, it looked half destroyed, abandoned.

  Scout was going nuts. His nose was on overdrive, and he skittered back and forth in front of the building, inhaling every inch of asphalt and dirt, every patch of grass. He sniffed the walls, the downed trees, even the drainpipes, and slowly made his way toward the far end.

  “What is this place?” Matt asked.

  “Follow Scout and find out.”

  Scout had stopped at the corner of the building and was looking back at Matt, as if he was waiting for a sign that it was okay to proceed.

  “Go ahead, buddy,” Matt said. Scout shot off around the corner, his tail up and his back legs flying out behind him.

  An ear-shattering clamor broke out as they walked around the building, and Matt nearly jumped out of his skin. It was an orchestra of barks. Dozens of dogs were howling and yipping and snapping and yowling all at once—some in high-pitched squeaks, others in deep bass bellows. Matt covered his ears, and Luisa laughed.

  It was a sight even more overwhelming than all the barking: long rows of rusted, bent, open-air cages, a
t least twenty, each one the size of a small room and holding two or three dogs. Matt took it all in, and the pieces began to click into place: Luisa’s secret was that she was sneaking off to an animal shelter. Suddenly it all made sense—the food, the stop to play with Chiquita, Guapo, and Tio along the way, her friendliness with Scout.

  Matt turned to Luisa. “This is what you’re hiding?”

  She nodded.

  “Are these . . . satos?”

  “Mostly,” Luisa said.

  “Are they here because of the storm?”

  “Mostly,” Luisa repeated. “People have been rounding them up and bringing them here. It’s just so crazy out there. It’s not safe for them right now.”

  Matt pictured the jagged wreckage and knee-deep water and rusting furniture lying by the side of the road. It wasn’t safe for anyone—dogs or humans.

  “So that’s why it’s a secret,” Matt said. “You can’t tell your parents you come here . . .” He thought back to their earlier conversation. “. . . because they don’t want you to get a dog.”

  “Exactly,” Luisa said with a sigh and a sad smile. “But I’m still trying to help the satos as best I can.”

  And there were so many satos in this shelter. Some had big, round eyes and scrunched-up, fluffy eyebrows. Others had wide, pointed ears sticking straight out from the sides of their heads, like the dogs they’d met earlier. Some of the dogs were short, with stubby little legs and coarse fur. Others were long and lanky, like Scout. Many were stocky, with muscular legs and barrel chests.

  And every single one of them was staring at Matt and Luisa with a look of such hope, such longing, that Matt sucked in his breath. Each and every one of them needed a home.

  Scout ran along the front of the cages, stopping at each one to sniff through the bars and jump up on his hind legs to greet the shelter dogs. His tail was wagging wildly.

  “Come on. Let’s head to the back.” Luisa pulled Matt away by the elbow and led him to a small, unmarked door on the back side of the building. The screen was practically hanging off its hinges. She pushed it open with a loud creak and they stepped into a dim interior with low ceilings and a pungent smell of animals. Lots and lots of animals.

  Inside were smaller cages, filled with more dogs and a few cats. They lay on their sides. Their ears twitched at the sound of the door, but they barely lifted their heads to see the newcomers. These were clearly the injured or sick ones.

  “Scout,” Matt said, “stay.” He didn’t want Scout to startle any of the animals. Scout sat down and took in all the sights and scents and sounds of this strange new place. Matt scanned the room too. The rest of the long, open space was lined with metal supply shelves. They were looking pretty bare, except for a couple of fifty-pound bags of kibble, a bunch of old blankets, and a sprinkling of medicines and first-aid items.

  But that was it.

  In the center of the room were four stainless steel exam tables, each one with a different dog on it, waiting to be cared for.

  For all of this, there were two staff members in scrubs.

  “¡Hola, Luisa!” said a man with a surgical mask over his face. He didn’t look away from the dog on the table, who he was trying to convince to swallow a pill.

  “¡Hola, Alberto!”

  “¡Luisa, llegaste!” said a short woman with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She waved, but then bent back over the exam table and cooed to the dog in front of her. “Mi cariño,” she whispered as she used tweezers to pull something from the dog’s paw. “Muy bien.” She patted the dog on the head and carried her back to a cage, then came over to Matt and Luisa.

  “Hola, Dr. Correa,” Luisa said. “This is my friend Matt.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” Matt shook Dr. Correa’s hand.

  “¿Hablas español?” she asked him.

  Matt shook his head. Beside him, Scout wagged his tail at the veterinarian.

  “Hola,” she said, placing a hand on Scout’s head. “You’re a handsome fellow, aren’t you.” She sized him up. “Is he a working dog?” she asked Matt.

  “Yes. Search and rescue for the National Guard,” Matt replied. “How could you tell?”

  “It’s in his bearing. See how he holds his head”—she straightened her neck and gently stuck out her chin—“and keeps his eye on me, but his nose is still working overtime.”

  Matt studied Scout as if he were seeing his dog for the first time. He was so used to Scout, but now that Dr. Correa mentioned it, he could see what she was talking about. Scout was . . . self-possessed. Aware. Attuned to what was happening around him but also focused on the person talking to him. It was like he had heightened senses.

  “It’s okay if he wants to wander around,” Dr. Correa said. “You can release him. He can go play with Jorge.”

  “Okay, Scout,” Matt said. At the command, Scout hopped up and headed off to tour the room on his own.

  “How’s it going today?” Luisa asked the doctor. “Any supplies come in?”

  Dr. Correa frowned. “No. Not a drop.” She let out a long sigh. “We have enough food for another day—two at the most. I just hope the trucks can get through soon.”

  “I brought whatever I could find.” Luisa pulled her backpack from her shoulders and unzipped it. Plastic baggies tumbled out, packed with food Luisa had made earlier and the leftovers of the amazing dinner Ric and Sonia had prepared for them last night. There were baggies of savory chicken and rice, crispy chicken skin, even a couple of sagging carrots. Matt emptied his backpack and then the heavy tote bag, pulling out the fresh rice and everything else that Luisa had jammed in there.

  “This will feed a lot of our guys today!” Dr. Correa exclaimed. “Thank you both.” She wrapped an arm around Luisa’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.” She looked up at Matt. “It’s just me and Alberto here,” she said grimly. “We wouldn’t make it through the day without this one.”

  Luisa looked down at the floor, shy at receiving so much praise. “You guys do all the work,” she said softly.

  “We’re a team,” Dr. Correa corrected her.

  “¿Doctora Correa?” Alberto called her over.

  “Pardon me,” the vet said. With a wink at Matt and Luisa, the vet headed off across the room.

  Matt stared at Luisa, unsure what to say.

  “What?” she asked. “It’s so run-down—is that what you’re thinking?”

  “What?! No!” Matt said. “Not at all. I was thinking that this place is amazing, actually. I can’t believe they’re here helping all these animals. I can’t believe you’re helping too.”

  She shrugged. “I don’t get paid or anything”—she waved a hand around the shabby room—“obviously. But I do what I can.”

  Matt knew that Luisa didn’t have to come here. She didn’t have to trek through the ruins of the island, steal food from her parents, and sneak off to help. She could stay on base where it was safe, where there was food and electricity and everything she needed. But she didn’t choose to do that. Matt was impressed. “It’s amazing what you’re doing,” he said. “Really.”

  Luisa looked shy again. “I want to be a vet, so I want to help.” Her eyes lit up. “But you haven’t even seen the best part yet.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Not what, but who,” Luisa said, and flashed a broad grin. “This way.”

  7

  LUISA LED MATT TOWARD THE BACK of the room, where a fat mutt—Jorge, Matt guessed—and Scout were chewing on opposite ends of a knotted length of thick rope. She scooted past them and stepped around a desk. There, in the farthest corner of the room, in the center of a giant beat-up dog bed, lay the cutest dog Matt had ever seen.

  “Matt,” Luisa said, “meet Rosita. Rosita, meet Matt.”

  At the sound of Luisa’s voice, the dog whimpered excitedly and her face lit up in a tongue-dangling grin. Her whole body wagged into the cushion. She got to her feet somewhat awkwardly, and Matt saw that her left
front leg and back right leg were wrapped in bandages.

  “No, honey, don’t get up,” Luisa cooed. But Rosita wasn’t interested in that advice. Even with her injuries, she was a wiry, bright-eyed ball of energy. She stepped off the cushion and trundled unevenly toward Luisa, practically vibrating with delight.

  Rosita was small—she weighed maybe fifteen pounds—with short black fur and a terrier’s frame. But her head was something else entirely. It was huge and round and looked like it belonged on a dog twice her size. She had saucer-like brown eyes and, topping it all off, a pair of tall, pointy, slightly mismatched ears that would have fit nicely on a bat. Patches of white fur dotted her chest. One of her front paws was white, the other black. Her back feet were the exact opposite. She had short, skinny legs and a big plump belly.

  Rosita looked like a dog patched together from many different dogs, and yet there was something proud about her as she limped along, her head held high. Matt had to laugh—somehow Rosita managed to be both regal and goofy at the exact same time.

  Luisa sat on the floor and held out her arms to greet the dog. Rosita climbed onto Luisa’s lap and swatted at her with one paw, as if to give her a high five.

  “Mi querida,” Luisa said softly. “How are you feeling today?” Luisa lowered her face so their noses touched, and Rosita licked her cheek. She leaned into Luisa’s chest. The dog’s whole body relaxed as Luisa gently scratched her sides. They stayed like that for a moment. Rosita had her eyes closed, and Matt thought that if she were a cat, she would have been purring.

  As she snuggled into Luisa, Rosita opened one eye and turned it on Matt. She sized him up while he held out a hand for her to sniff. She ran her snout over his knuckles, across his palm, and around his wrist. Rosita must have decided that he was worthy of her attention, because she licked his hand and closed her mouth around it in a playful—and possessive—nibble. Matt found himself smiling at her, and he was ready to swear on his life that Rosita had just smiled right back at him.