The Lost Dogs (31 page)

It had taken a ton of work by both Cris and Jonny to reach this point, and Cohen found it gratifying to see the progress. Jonny too seemed happier to have a routine, steady attention, and a sense that good things happened to good dogs. Cohen looked forward to Saturday’s training class. It would be Jonny’s fourth and although he had shown steady progress, Cohen was expecting Jonny to knock some socks off this weekend. He hoped a good showing would earn Jonny the nod to interact with Lilly. Not only would that be fun for the dogs, but it would make life much easier for the people, namely, Cris and Jen.

That wouldn’t help Cris today, though. He took the dogs for a long walk in Golden Gate Park before heading out for an early dinner at an old friend’s house. After dinner he spoke to Jen on the phone for a while and then fed the pooches a little leftover turkey. Lilly fell asleep in her crate, so Cris let Jonny out.

The morning’s long walk and the heavy meal made Cohen tired, so he lay down on the floor. The house was silent and the light dim. Jonny roamed around sniffing for a while, then chewed on his fuzzy toy. Eventually he made his way over to Cris. Jonny sniffed around Cris’s side, then circled once and very gently lay down beside him.

Cris looked down at the little dog. He thought about where Jonny had come from and wondered if Jonny had ever done anything like this before—snuggle next to someone on the carpet of a warm house on a cool night. Cris was sure Jonny hadn’t, but he was happy the dog was getting a chance to do it now.

He’d begun to feel better about his Thanksgiving and to miss Jen just a little less. A few minutes later he felt Jonny’s head come to rest on his arm, the soft fur warm against his skin. Then, the sounds of the house and the street outside, the soundtrack of Thanksgiving, were joined by the familiar sound of Jonny’s snores.

Cris Cohen was laughing again. Jen was back from her trip to Pennsylvania and that certainly lightened his mood, but her return had nothing to do with his outburst.

As Jonny had become more settled—more confident and normal—his personality had begun to emerge. Or develop, Cohen wasn’t sure which. Either way it had become clear that Jonny Rotten was a bit of a scoundrel. He hid things, he snatched things off countertops, he played games to avoid his crate when he didn’t feel like going in. Most amusing of all was that he followed these acts with a blinking, doe-eyed look of innocence.

Cohen had been hand-feeding Jonny each morning and although they no longer needed to work on
sit
, Cris continued to use this training method for other things. This morning they were working on
look
, which required Jonny to look into Cris’s eyes on command. Every time Jonny did it right, he got some more food.

As usual, Cris was sitting with his legs stretched in front of him and he had the food in the bowl next to him. When the food was all gone and they were done with the session he pushed the bowl out on the floor where Jonny could lick the crumbs out of it. The little dog was lapping away when all of sudden his head lifted out of the bowl, his leg raised into the air, and he began to pee. Right on Cohen.

“No!” Cohen yelled.

Jonny stopped midstream. He slowly lowered his leg. Cohen jumped up off the floor. Jonny sat down and looked up at him with big, innocent eyes—“Not good?” Cohen was suddenly caught in that bizarre place between fury and laughter. He quickly leashed the dog and led him to his crate. Then he shuffled back to the kitchen and burst out laughing. He laughed as he wiped urine off the floor and he laughed at the pee-soaked jeans that clung to his leg. He laughed at the idea that he found the entire episode funny.

It helped that he and Jonny had had a good weekend. Training class on Saturday had gone great. Jonny performed well and it was clear to everyone how far he’d come in just over a month. Afterward, Donna Reynolds and Linda Chwistek, another trainer and BAD RAP volunteer, had complimented both Cris and Jonny. Cris soared. Donna and Linda knew dogs and they knew pit bulls, and they knew how much work it took to get Jonny where he was now. Coming from them, the encouragement felt great.

Tim Racer was even more enthusiastic. He joked that Jonny was ready for his Canine Good Citizen exam, a certification given by the American Kennel Club to dogs that can pass ten stringent behavior tests. More than eighty-five BAD RAP dogs had earned the honor over the years. The idea of getting one of the Vick dogs to pass the test had been discussed among the group and it was a shared goal. If one of the dogs could pass it would be a bellwether moment for pit bulls.

“Maybe we should change his name,” Tim went on as he petted Jonny. “He’s not rotten anymore so we can’t call him Jonny Rotten. Maybe he should be Jonny Justice instead, since he got his justice from Vick and he could get justice for pitbles.”

Cris laughed at the time, but when he told Jen the story later he admitted that it had crossed his mind. “I think I can get him there,” he said. “Not to prove anything to anyone. That would be great, but it’s about Jonny. He’s a good dog, and I think he could do it. I have a gut feeling.”

Jen agreed. She saw a lot of promise in Jonny, too. But she added, “First you have to get him to stop peeing on everything.”

Cris laughed about that, too.

Jonny had a good Christmas. On December 23, he was given clearance to interact with Lilly, and Cris could finally let them roam together in the yard or around the house. Sometimes they played and sometimes they were pests, but for the most part they simply hung out, trotting around, smelling stuff, exploring. They got in the habit of lying in a sun spot that stretched across the living room. Jonny liked to recline on his back, legs sticking up, pink belly facing the ceiling. When Cris lit a fire, Jonny would curl up near the fireplace, like a dog in a fairy tale. He would yawn a few times and then get to snoring.

Around the house he was becoming quite the gentleman. At feeding time he lay on the floor outside the kitchen and waited for the okay before he approached his bowl. Besides the long list of standard commands he could now do a few tricks: shake paws, roll over, kiss.

Jonny had always loved people, but now that he had manners Cris felt freer to let him interact with those they encountered. Jonny made friends everywhere he went, although whenever someone asked to pet him or inquired about him Cohen couldn’t help but wonder how people would react if they knew where he’d come from. It didn’t matter much because the gag order was still in place, so Cris couldn’t have told them if he wanted to.

Cris continued to work with Jonny. The dog was still a bit impulsive, but Cris felt that, however slowly, he was progressing toward that Canine Good Citizen test. Jonny was doing so well in fact that in March, Donna Reynolds called. BAD RAP had another dog who had been tried as a law dog but didn’t succeed. He had then been passed around a few fosters. He was a great dog, but he needed to be turned into a house pet, much like Jonny had been. “Would you be willing to work with the person who has the dog?” Donna asked.

Cris thought about it. He didn’t see how he could talk someone else through what he had done with Jonny. The process required total immersion. He said no, but then added something else. “If you can find a place for Jonny, I’ll take the other dog.”

The words stung a little even as he said them, but he’d been down this road before. He worked with a dog for a while, a bond formed, but then he gave the dog up. It was never easy, but it was in everyone’s best interest.

He and Jen had always agreed that they didn’t want two dogs on a full-time basis. Taking on a foster for a few months at a time every now and then was fine, but two was too much. Cris knew it was true. He also knew that however difficult letting go might be, he always got over it. Getting over Jonny might take a little longer, but maybe not. A new challenge was on the way.

On March 29, Jonny moved on to a new foster home. A week later Hector, another Bad Newz pit bull, arrived.

ONE NIGHT CATALINA AND
her family sat around the table talking and eating dinner. Throughout the home are reminders of Catalina’s background as an artist. The kitchen connects to a large dining-living area and along one of the walls Catalina and her children have painted a giant angel. The rest of the room is devoid of furniture with the exception of a few water bowls and dog beds, and a large hand-painted picnic table. At any given time, the cat and ever-changing cast of dogs lie about and wander around.

The basement door remained open as was the door to Jasmine’s room down the stairs and the door to her crate. Like the rest of the creatures in the house, she was free to come and go as she pleased, but she still spent most of her time within the confines of her little safe zone.

As the family ate, Catalina thought she heard a creak on the steps. The meal carried on. She heard another sound. She stayed put. Finally, a little pink nose appeared in the doorway. Slowly a snout emerged and finally, those familiar brown eyes came into view. Jasmine surveyed the situation. Her body was tense and she was ready to bolt at the slightest provocation, but there she was. Catalina was ready and as soon as Jasmine appeared she told the kids to throw Jasmine some food—she wanted to reward the dog for her courage. Jasmine picked up the offerings and as suddenly as she appeared, she retreated back downstairs to eat.

The visit lasted seconds but felt enormous to Catalina. It was the first time Jasmine had ever ventured out of her crate unaccompanied, the first time she’d come up the stairs, the first time she had become part of the household. It was part of an ongoing coming out for Jasmine.

Sometime earlier Catalina had taken on another foster dog through Recycled Love, a three-legged basenji mix named Desmond. Despite his disadvantage Desmond was a ball of fire who loved to play. He and Jasmine became great friends, and when Catalina let them loose in the yard they would have a wild time, running, tumbling, chasing, and rolling around in the grass. When they had worn themselves out, they’d climb the steps to the deck and lie in the sun. The time with Desmond not only brought Jasmine much joy, but it built up her confidence.

During this time Jasmine also started getting regular visits from Sweet Pea, the other troubled Vick dog that Recycled Love had taken in. The theory that Sweet Pea was Jasmine’s mother had never been confirmed, but Catalina was more convinced than ever that it was true. Not only did the dogs look similar, but they had a clear bond. Whenever they saw each other they grew visibly excited, racing around, sniffing all over and rubbing up against each other. They loved to be together and Catalina and Sweet Pea’s foster caretaker would take them for long walks together in a large park near her house.

Catalina had also begun including her two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Anaise, into Jasmine’s training sessions. When Jasmine performed her tasks properly, Catalina would give her a click, but Jasmine would have to go touch Anaise with her nose to get the treat. When Jasmine was out in the yard and Anaise came out, the dog would run up to the girl and nose her. Jasmine still wouldn’t let the girl pet her, but she was the first person other than Catalina that Jasmine had really interacted with.

Catalina reveled in Jasmine’s progress. When they were alone in the house, Jasmine would come and go, up and down, in and out of rooms. She would nap on the couch or stretch out on the floor. Sometimes Catalina thought, “If I were single, she would be a very happy dog.” It was true, their bond was now so strong that Jasmine loved to be with Catalina. She would get excited when Catalina came into the room or spoke to her, wagging her tail and shaking her whole body. She would lick Catalina’s face and hands and rub up against her legs.

Watching these things, feeling these feelings, sharing this time with Jasmine, Catalina knew that everything had been worth it. Worth the carrying and cleaning up after, the work and the heartache. She watched Jasmine in the yard with Desmond, lying in the sun, running with Sweet Pea, walking around the house, sleeping curled up in her open crate, and she never felt better about the dog or life or herself.