The Mountaintop School for Dogs and Other Second Chances (31 page)

“Well, I'm leaving you on your own with, you know, them.”

“You mean the staffers?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm all right with them,” I said. “I'm getting used to them.”

“But doesn't it make you a little nervous, or something, that they're so
good,
and it's like, you have to be good when you're around them, like totally watch yourself?”

“They're not that good, George. I mean, they're great about the dogs, but basically, they're just people. They're just old.”

“Don't you ever wonder about them?”

“Kind of. Maybe. Not really, though. I'm too busy. I'm at school here, remember? Me, student. Them, teachers. That's it.”

He gave me a shrug. I had the feeling he was about to go into some sort of debriefing with me, some Sanctuary-staffers-insider thing from a voice of experience, as a runner in a relay hands the next one a stick, or whatever object is in play. But instead, he just came closer to me, to my face. The kiss he placed on my cheek was as slobbery as a dog's. Then he was gone.

I wouldn't find out until later that there was no such thing as a Sanctuary jacket. He'd had one of the staffers sew the decal on a jacket they'd bought for him through an online outlet for winter gear.

Dora sleep-stirred in my lap. I couldn't tell what was happening with her by the sound of her sigh or the tone of the little yip she let out. Maybe she was dreaming about being alone in that apartment. But maybe she wasn't. Maybe she'd forgotten all about it. Maybe Josie had forgotten her past. Maybe Shadow too, with his new vocabulary meaning for
outside
. He was still having trouble with the command to lie down, unless he commanded himself to, but maybe that was okay. I thought about how that moment, somewhere in America, someone was buying a cup of coffee, or talking on a phone, or having daytime sex, and ahead of them was a future in which they found themselves trapped in a partly burned-down building, or in the wreckage of a plane or rubble from a bomb or snow from an avalanche, and here would come this puzzle of a dog with his deep, wise eyes to save them, and they would not care less what his grades were in Basic Obedience, or even if he forgot his manners and peed on their hand.

You're going to be heroic, Shadow, I messaged him in his sleepland.

Someone will adopt you, Dora, I messaged her, and she sounded another little yip. I just hope, I added, whoever they are, they have really high IQs.

I looked over at Boomer and Josie. I couldn't think of Boomer doing anything except butlering. Josie was so peaceful beside him. I couldn't send thoughts her way about believing she'd be adopted too. I didn't believe it, even though little dogs are supposed to be so much easier to place than big ones. But what if she'd be better off here?

It was the first time the thought occurred to me. What if Josie was feeling she didn't want to leave?

On that awful Skype interview with the maybe-adopter who said Josie didn't fit her moron idea of identity, Josie ended up with hurt feelings and also some hopelessness. I was sure she was sorry she lost control of herself and bit Giant George in the interview before that one. I was sure she'd felt terrible about it. What if she'd prefer to stop with the interviews, and forget the whole thing of find another family, another home? What if she'd found them already?

Boomer had to tell her he didn't want her in his crate with him, but that was only when Dora was around. He never invited Dora in there for a sleepover or even a little cuddle. So naturally Dora was not about to let Josie have something she'd been denied herself. Josie never, ever snapped at Dora. But she was dying to, and Boomer was too much of a golden to be able to tolerate the friction. What if Josie knew that? What if Josie was really connected to Boomer? Everyone knew what it was like to see those two look at each other.

Boomer was lonely! All along, while doing his job, he was lonely! He was too much of a professional to let on!

What if, pressed against his fur for a nap, Josie dreamed of becoming a sort of under-butler, trotting about with Boomer while he worked? And taking over herself on the days his arthritis was too much for him?

Josie, I messaged her, you have to stop snapping. There cannot be people coming here who need to be greeted and instead get the feel of your teeth.

Boomer, I messaged, hang on. Trust me.

And what about Alfie?

Just then Agnes appeared, coming toward me. She entered the sweet normal silence of these sleeping dogs without changing it by even a tiny ripple. She'd come to give me the news that the pitties were settled. I don't know how she didn't look exhausted. She looked like she'd just woken up. I saw no sign in her face or body of the ordeal she'd been through so far today. You'd think the new dogs had arrived in great shape, from homes where people loved them, as if they'd come to a grooming salon, like all they needed was a little freshening up.

She whispered to me her feeling that the volunteers were
superb.
I liked the way her mouth moved with that word. I had made a resolution to get to know those people better. I'd promised myself, Evie, get going on
cruising the unmarried guy volunteers.

Then she thanked me for taking care of the dogs who were my students. I would have to continue being in charge of them. The pitties were going to be sequestered indefinitely. Was I all right with that? I was. I tried to remember the last time I had a reason to say, “I'm all right.” I didn't remember. It didn't matter.

Once again I waited for her to bring up the subject of did I do my assignment of the notes on myself? If she mentioned it, I was ready to answer with a “sort of.” Or I could say I'd forgotten, and thanks for the reminder.

But she said, “I'm sorry we had to delay the agility course, Evie. We know you weren't happy we postponed having it.”

“We can have it now,” I pointed out. “Next week, maybe.”

“Actually, we can't. We'll be busier than we'd thought with the new ones. And there are more than we expected. We need to wait much longer.”

“We need a fence,” I said.

“We'll have to wait for that too.”

She smiled and drew herself away as silently as light. It was practically spring! We still couldn't have agility? The ground was almost unfrozen. I could smell winter leaving. The dogs had been smelling it a thousand times more.

Into my head rushed the arguments I could make to get this thing under way. Included in the arguments were the pitties. What if they went outdoors to a cheerful, exciting new playground? What if the yin-yang dog could start erasing the past by learning to jump through a hoop? What if the pups could course-train while still babies? They could compete in agility tournaments and win trophies! We should start immediately!

Alfie opened his eyes and stared at me as if I'd spoken my thoughts and he understood what I was saying. He wasn't forgetting his vigil. No one could undo what he knew about those dogs, just from watching the way they were carried. I was thinking about tournaments? I was thinking about
trophies?

Teacher, you're so fucking idealistic, he was telling me.

Go back to sleep, I answered. Would you please go back to sleep and dream of pooping outdoors like a normal dog?

I tipped my head to look out the window, at the air above. I thought about obedience. The sky was so blue. The clouds were so white. I saw many of them, floating serenely, all of them small. And in front of my eyes, not the eyes of someone hallucinating, I saw that one cloud had started forming a letter of the alphabet. Then another one did, another, another. It was skywriting, without a plane. All the letters were in capitals. One cloud turned into a comma.

Okay, I'd wait for agility. I sighed so hard when I saw what the letters spelled out, my breath went all the way to my legs, stirring Shadow, who wiggled in his sleep as if a breeze had come in.

The letters said:
SURRENDER, EVIE
.

I jumped up. I made it outside before Tasha and Giant George disappeared. I had the feeling Giant George was hoping I'd do exactly what I was doing, but he'd also prepared himself to be disappointed. I didn't care that it was cold and I wasn't wearing a jacket, and my feet were in slippers, without socks. I squatted beside Tasha and let her lick my face. I touched two fingers to her polka dots. I whispered to her that I loved her.

Then up on my feet, I said to Giant George, “You suck for taking her.”

“I know,” he said.

“But I love it that you're taking her,” I said.

“Yeah. I know. Can I ask you a question? I was going to text you, like tomorrow or something. But now I don't have to.”

“Is it about keeping in touch with you?”

“No. I already figure you will. Anyway, I'm not someone you want to have in a chart on an iPad.”

He was so hobbity, and so sure of himself, I had to laugh at him. Tasha stared up at us with her tongue hanging out and her eyes all sparkly. Her tail was in a steady, smooth back-and-forth of a wag. Maybe she wasn't his dog only. Maybe she was mine too. Maybe we could share her, like in a long-distance relationship.

I was starting to picture Tasha's face in a Skype on my laptop when Giant George decided to tell me one more thing. He'd waited until I stopped laughing. His look became serious, and I could see he was suddenly nervous. Then he drew a deep breath and blurted, “I just want to know, Evie, like if I told you I was kind of like a puppy, when it comes to certain experiences, you'd be interested in that. Like, maybe, if I didn't want to be a puppy about it anymore, you're the one I wish I could . . . well, you know. Do you know? I mean, do you know what I'm talking about?”

It wasn't just the cold that was making his face turn pink like a quick-flashing sunburn. I slipped one hand into his. I stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, on one of his flushes. My lips against his skin were just like my fingers on Tasha.

“I'm too old for you,” I said. “Go to high school. Go to the prom. But I'll tell you, if I were your age, and you weren't about to leave, you know what we'd be doing right now? We'd be in my room, honest to God. We'd be
naked.
”

“We wouldn't. I'd be busy with the new dogs.”

“If we didn't have the new dogs,” I said.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Totally,” I said.

For a moment, I was afraid he might mention the fact that I sort of had a history of not being dependable about telling the truth. I actually expected him to bring up “Sure, I know how to walk on snowshoes.” But he didn't. He cheered up. He stopped looking at me like I was someone who might be willing to break his heart, because I was a grown-up and he wasn't.

“Don't think I'm going to any prom,” he said. “I'm not that type of kid.”

“You are.”

“I'm not.”

“You
are.
You just don't know it yet.”

Tasha was getting bored. She head-butted Giant George on the leg. She seemed to know that the car pulling up was the one she needed to get into. She seemed to know that no one in that car would open a door later on and push her out and drive away.

I hugged Giant George, and he hugged back, tightly, cushioning me with his Sanctuary jacket. Then I hurried inside so I didn't have to see them go. Josie and Alfie met me at the door. When I leaned to pat them, Josie let me touch her for about half a minute before she went to Boomer. But Alfie went into a sit in front of me, his head tipped to one side, like he was trying to figure out what tears were. He stayed that way until Shadow came over and jumped me for some attention. I didn't remind him that jumps on humans are bad. I ruffled his ears and said he was good. He wanted me to keep going with that, but Dora woke up and decided to try climbing the side of my leg. I sat down and let her into my lap, and I messaged to Alfie, as he curled himself up by a window, I will die before I ever give up on you, you beautiful, beautiful dog.

A
PPRECIATION
.
THERE'S
a mall off the highway. A pet-supplies store moved in. For their opening day, they held a Pet Appreciation event, where people with pets could show up and receive free stuff, and take part in raffles and various games and contests. There was also a buffet of dog food and treats the store sold, plus an indoor agility course.

I wanted to be there as soon as I overheard some volunteers talking about it. They were arranging to carpool in a minivan one of them owned, so they could attend together, with their own dogs, who could officially be called “pets,” because that's what they were.

I thought about bringing Dora. As the eldest, not counting Boomer, she'd be the logical choice. But first was the problem of getting there. I asked the volunteers if they had room in the van for two more. But they said they didn't. They were suddenly in a hurry to walk away from me, like I was inviting myself and a Sanctuary dog to a place where we'd be non-pet aliens—like there's a circle around dogs who belong to someone, and there's a border patrol on the whole perimeter to keep the rest of us out.

So that was a big never-mind. I had to be glad my dogs couldn't know what they were missing. I gave them all treats, as random acts of appreciation. I really wanted them to know that word.

And because I was in the right mood for it, I told Agnes I appreciated getting news about Dapple and Hank. I'd been worried the staffers would exclude me from knowing about them, maybe as a lesson on what it means to keep in touch with someone. I had found two sheets of printouts waiting for me at my usual place in the dining room. One was a photo of Hank in his new life as Basil. The picture had been taken with a background of that herb garden. Some of those basil plants were as big as small bushes. Some were deeply purple. I could tell, from the look of the light, that Hank was in a desert. So I had to acknowledge the reality that anyone who grew plants like those in a desert would be okay for Hank. He was in a sit. His face was relaxed. It seemed to me the photographer had caught him in the moment he realized, for the first time, after looking around, he was somewhere without trees. The only wood around was part of cacti, which he'd never think of as actually being woody. Hi, Hank, I messaged to the photo. I was willing to be uncritical of the fact that his new people had posed him wearing a cowboy hat. It wasn't on his head. It was a white one, perhaps purchased in a boutique that sells accessories for animals. Or it might have been a cowboy hat for humans. It was on the back of his neck, secured by a loop of fabric that was even more purple than the herbs. He didn't seem to mind the hat. He seemed to think it was cool.