by Bobbie Pyron
He limped over to a lichen-covered outcropping and sniffed the damp moss. It smelled vaguely of skunk, but not too recent. Tam lay down with a sigh and licked the feeling back into his paws, then pulled sticks and leaves from his tail. His hip still hurt from his fight with the eagle.
Tam watched the moon rise above the far ridge, hanging full and golden between two peaks. All the night creatures stirred around him, beginning their ancient agreement between predator and prey. A fox barked in the hollow below the road.
Many times, Tam had watched the moon with his girl. Sometimes, they had watched from the front porch, with the sound of crickets and the big man’s fiddle. Other times, they’d watched from the window seat in her bedroom. Tam had never known why the girl watched the moon with such longing. It had not mattered to him. He loved the moon because he loved the girl, the girl who held him close as she gazed into the night sky. He’d listened to her steady breathing, the thump thump of her heart. Her heartbeat had filled his world.
Tam could not know that his girl watched this same moon at this same moment, thinking of him. A dog can only know what he feels in his heart. Tam lifted his head, closed his eyes, and gave the long cry of a dog lost, cold, and lonely.
The next morning, Tam resumed his journey south on the Parkway. The road descended steeply, mile after mile, dropping away from the high, open spaces he had grown accustomed to. Every mile the road descended brought him closer to spring. And closer to the town of Blowing Rock.
By late afternoon, Tam watched children rush off the school bus from the cover of a forsythia hedge. He quivered in anticipation of seeing his girl, of hearing her voice cry, “Tam! Come here, Tam!” It was, after all, time. Time for his girl.
But, of course, she did not call.
Hunger drove Tam from beneath the hedge. He skirted the edges of the sprawling lawns of Green Briar Estates. He stayed always just out of sight, beyond the street lamps’ widening skirts of light. Each house carried the sound of voices and the smell of food.
The largest of the houses sat at the end of the maze of streets, high up on a hill, surrounded by large oak trees.
Tam trotted up through the trees and watched the house. A cold wind blew through his thin frame. He shivered. But with the wind came the scent of fresh food. Tam searched the wind with his nose for the source of that smell. Then he found it. A large garbage can, the lid halfway off, crouched to the side of the house. Tam licked his lips and slipped from the trees.
After Tam had feasted from the overturned garbage can, he found a toolshed to bed down in. He listened as a late-March storm worried and tossed the tops of the trees. Somewhere, a hound bayed, and the delicate hooves of deer stirred the undergrowth. Tam dreamed of home.
For two more days, Tam raided the garbage can of Lilith McAllister and slept in her late husband’s toolshed. For the first time in weeks, Tam began to feel rested and strong.
But on the third morning, as Tam stood on his hind legs just about to pull the can over, a voice cried, “Shoo! Get out of here, you bad dog, you!”
Tam froze. Guilt flooded his little body. How often had he heard the old woman in his home with the girl call him that same name, “bad dog,” when he had gotten into the garbage?
He cowered and turned shame-filled eyes to the woman standing in the morning shadows. She flapped her hands at him. “You heard me, shoo! Get out of my garbage!”
Lilith McAllister watched, hands on her hips, as the dog scurried away into the woods. “Lord knows who that creature belongs to, but it doesn’t belong in my garbage,” she said to no one in particular.
After breakfast, she called Animal Control. By afternoon, the white truck pulled up in her driveway. “It’s been getting in my garbage every blessed day,” she said, showing the officer where she’d seen Tam early that morning.
“Did you notice if it had a collar or anything like that?” the man asked.
“I did not.” Mrs. McAllister sniffed. “It looked like it had the mange of something, though,” she said. “It looked wild.”
The man whistled and called, “Here, doggy, doggy.”
Tam cocked his head from his lookout at the edge of the woods.
The man walked around the property looking for signs of the dog. He pushed open the sagging door of the toolshed and shone his flashlight around.
“Looks like something’s been sleeping in here,” he called down to Mrs. McAllister. “Could be the dog.”
The woman wrapped her arms around herself. “Good Lord, I can’t have some wild dog eating out of my garbage cans and sleeping in my toolshed. Who knows what it’ll do? You have to get rid of it.”
The man in the uniform sighed. “Probably just a scared, hungry stray. Lots of them right now, what with so many folks losing their homes. Folks dump their pets out here in the wealthier areas, hoping someone will take them in. Our shelter’s full of them.”
“I want it gone,” Mrs. McAllister cut him off.
“Yes, ma’am,” the officer said. He went to his truck and returned a few minutes later with a cage.
“I’m going to bait this trap and set it up in the toolshed. I reckon if the poor thing’s hungry enough, we’ll catch it pretty quick.”
Tam watched warily as the man carried the cage up to the toolshed. His wariness changed to interest as the smell of meat drifted to him from inside the shed.
The officer stepped back into the sunlight. He scanned the woods for any sign of the dog. He headed back down the hill. “I’m willing to bet we catch it tonight.”
“Won’t be soon enough for me,” Mrs. McAllister said.
“I’ll check back first thing in the morning and see if we got our dog,” the officer said.
Tam stayed away from the house and the shed until nightfall. He managed to knock over a few more trash cans, but the pickings were slim. At one house, an old hound dog chased him from the yard. At another house, two boys threw rocks at him. By the time Tam made his way back to the toolshed, he was hungry and bleeding.
Miraculously, the rich scent of meat greeted him inside the shed. Tam’s heavy heart lifted. He pushed his way inside the odd metal box that held the meat. He grabbed the meat and clank! The door of the box slammed shut. Tam’s heart filled with panic. He clawed and bit at the metal bars. He threw his weight to one side and then the other. It was no use. He was trapped.
Sunlight slapped Tam in the face. He squinted at the open door of the shed.
“I heard all this barking and howling last night. It was quite a racket,” a woman’s voice said.
“He’s probably in there, then.” Tam recognized the man’s voice from the day before.
Footsteps approached the trap. Tam pushed himself as far back into the tiny cage as he could. He needed to hide, he knew that. But he was trapped and there was nowhere to go.
A light from the man’s hand shone in Tam’s face. Tam turned his head away.
“Hey there, little guy,” the man said. He ran the light from the flashlight across Tam’s body. Tam shivered.
“Yeah, you look like you seen better days, that’s for sure.”
He grabbed the handle on the top of the trap and yanked Tam and the cage into the air. Tam scrambled in the wire cage, his eyes wide with fright.
The man carried the trap down the hill. He held it aloft for the woman to see. “Caught ’im,” he said, grinning. “Just like I said.”
Mrs. McAllister pulled her wool cardigan closer around her shoulders and frowned at the trap. “And not a moment too soon,” she said. “It could be rabid or something.”
The officer shook his head. “Well, it’s not your worry now,” he said.
The officer put Tam and the trap into the back of his truck. He gazed at the dog, taking in Tam’s dull, matted coat and skinny frame. He noted the dirty plaid collar around the dog’s neck.
“I reckon you was someone’s dog once,” the man said to Tam.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up in front of a squat, concrete building
. The sound of frantic barking filled Tam with fear.
The man slung Tam and the trap onto a metal table inside the building. Tam cowered at the smell of fear and sadness and sickness.
“What you got there, Woodrow?”
“Another garbage dog out in Green Briar,” the man said.
A large woman peered down at Tam. “Looks pretty bad off,” she said, not unkindly. “Have you tried to handle him yet?”
The man shook his head. “Didn’t want to get bit.”
She laughed. “You’re in the wrong line of work, Woodrow T. Farnsworth.”
She flipped open the end of the cage and stuck her fingers in and wiggled them. “Come here, little fella,” she said in a high voice. “I won’t hurt you.”
Tam didn’t budge.
She grabbed a dog biscuit from a jar and held it out to Tam. “Come here, little doggy. I’ve got a treat for a good boy.”
Tam caught the words treat and good boy. He licked his lips and inched his way forward. But just as he stretched his neck out to take the treat, the woman grabbed him by his ruff and hauled him out of the trap.
She ran a large hand across his trembling frame. “Lord almighty,” she said with a sigh. “He’s a skinny one.”
She felt around his neck. “Well, he does have a collar on, but no tags.”
“Yep. Looks like he got into a fight or something too,” the man said, pointing at the scabs on Tam’s hip.
The woman scooped him up and carried him to an empty kennel. “No telling what he’s been through.” She deposited Tam onto the cold, concrete floor and clanked the wire door shut. “I’ll give him some water and food after I get all the other kennels clean.”
“You reckon there’s any point in checking him for a microchip?” the officer asked.
They both watched as Tam investigated the dirty blanket in the back corner.
“Probably not,” she said. “But I will, when I have a free minute.”
All morning, Tam tried his best to shut out the sound of the other dogs’ voices. One dog cried over and over, “Come get me! Come get me!” Another whimpered in her dreams of angry fists and being chased. Still another howled, “Where-oh-where have they gone?” Tam buried his head beneath the blanket and trembled.
“Oh, look how cute!” Tam awoke to the sound of a girl’s voice. His heart leaped in his chest. He untangled himself from the blanket and stood.
“Is this one of the new ones?” the girl called over her shoulder.
The big woman came and stood beside the girl. “Yeah, got him in this morning. Haven’t had time to fool with him yet, though. Been too busy.”
“Can I go in and see him?” the girl asked. Tam wagged just the white tip of his tail.
The woman frowned. “I don’t want you going in there by yourself. I need to check him for a chip, though. Let’s both go in and check him over. Wait here while I get the scanner.”
The girl knelt down in front of Tam’s cage as the woman disappeared down the row of kennels. The girl pushed her fingers through the chain-link door and called softly to him. “Come here, little boy. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
Tam took two hesitant steps toward her. He knew by now that this was not his girl. This girl calling him did not smell of apples and a swift creek. But still, the girl’s voice was sweet. He walked over and sniffed the tips of her fingers. They smelled of peanut butter and milk. He licked first one finger, then the other.
The girl laughed. Tam wagged his tail.
“Looks like you’ve made friends.”
Tam jumped at the sound of the big woman’s voice.
“Let’s go in and see if he’s got a chip,” the woman said to the girl.
They both knelt beside Tam. The girl encircled his chest with her arm and scratched him behind his ears. “That’s a good boy,” she cooed. “This won’t hurt you.”
The big woman held the scanner just above Tam’s shoulders and clicked it on.
She scanned his right shoulder and between his shoulder blades. “Nothing,” she grumbled. “Bloody waste of time.”
Then she passed the scanner across his left shoulder. A light on the top of the wand blinked. She frowned. “It must be wrong.”
She held the head of the scanner closer to Tam’s skin and ran it slowly across his left shoulder.
“Well, I’ll be dipped,” she breathed.
“What is it?” the girl asked.
“He’s got a chip! It’s PAL and the number is”—she squinted at the tiny screen—“seven-one-six-five-seven.”
The girl hugged Tam. “What do we do now?”
“We call the company and find out who that number is registered to,” the woman said. “Then we pray that whoever cared enough to chip this dog is still there.” The woman glanced at her watch. “We’ve got just enough time for a quick call.”
The girl trotted behind the woman down the row of barking, howling dogs to a small, cluttered office. The woman paged through a notebook until she found the number she needed.
“First, let’s call the company,” she said to the girl. After the fourth ring, someone answered.
“Yes, ma’am, this is Dorothy Pollard at Watauga County Animal Shelter in Blowing Rock, North Carolina. I got a stray here we just picked up with one of your chips.” Dorothy winked at the girl. The girl crossed her fingers.
“Okay, the number is seven-one-six-five-seven.” Dorothy tapped a pencil on the edge of the desk. She put her hand over the mouthpiece. “She’s checking the number in their database.
“Yes, I have something to write with,” Dorothy said, sitting up straighter.
“Abby Whistler at Box Twenty-nine, Wild Cat Cove Road, Harmony Gap, North Carolina,” Dorothy repeated as she wrote furiously on the pad of paper. “Is there a phone number?”
Dorothy glanced at the girl. The girl held up crossed fingers.
“Oh good.” Dorothy nodded as she wrote down the phone number on her pad. “Thanks so much for your help.”
Dorothy leaned back in her chair. “I can’t believe it. Of all the dogs out there who have a microchip, that one’s not the one I’d ever expect.”
The girl clapped her hands. “Did they say what his name is?”
The woman glanced back down at her paper. “Yes, actually, they did. His name’s Tam.”
The bell on the front door of the shelter jingled. A voice called, “Julie, time to go home.”
“Shoot,” the girl said. “It’s my mom. It must be five thirty.”
She waved to her mother standing out at the front desk. “Can we try to call his family before I leave?”
“Sure,” Dorothy said. She punched in the numbers and waited. Julie crossed her fingers again.
Dorothy shook her head and hung up the phone. “Busy. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry,” Dorothy said as she walked Julie to the front door. “At least we know someone’s there. He’s not going anywhere between now and tomorrow.”
Dorothy watched the slight girl and her mother walk to their car. The girl turned and called, “Don’t forget, he’s got a name now! It’s Tam!”
Dorothy waved. “I won’t forget!”
The woman locked the front door and turned off the computer and lights. “Not one single adoption today,” she said, sighing.
She walked down the row of kennels, double-checking to make sure all the doors to the outside runs were closed. She stopped in front of Tam’s cage. “You are one lucky dog, Tam.”
Tam threw his ears forward at the sound of his name.
“Hopefully by this time tomorrow, you’ll be back with your family, Tam, and I’ll have one less dog to worry over.”
Tam watched the woman as she walked down the hall and turned off the lights. The word she had spoken echoed in his mind. It was not the name the old woman had called him, the name not quite his name. This was his name. The name his girl murmured in his ear, shouted with joy. The name that linked him with her, that marked him as her dog. Tam.
The name to lead him home.
CHAPTER 35
Abby
To: [email protected]
From: “Abby Whistler”
Date: Thursday, March 24 9:02 pm
Subject: Hey
Hey Olivia,
Just a quick note to say I’m real excited your grandpa is going to let you have two of Ginseng’s kittens! I guess that will kind of make us relatives, since Ginseng is my grandmother’s cat. I know how much you always wanted a kitten. Two is way more fun than one.
I talked with Meemaw for a long time last night. I told her, just like you told me to, how worried I am about Mama being tired and sick all the time. She said that just did not sound right, so then she talked to Mama for a long time. Mama seemed to feel better after that and ate a whole big bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream. And she doesn’t even like mint chocolate chip ice cream! I ate my share too, just so Mama wouldn’t feel lonely eating hers.
Maybe we’ll get through the next three weeks until Daddy’s home. He called last night too, from Erie, Pennsylvania. I need to add that to my map.
Your friend,
Abby
P.S. I’ve been dreaming about Tam again.
Two days later, Mama had a big grin on her face when she picked me up from school. “Can I go over to Cheyenne’s?” I asked, leaning in the truck window.
She shook her head and pushed open the passenger door. “Not today, honey.”
“But Mama…”
She patted the car seat. “No buts, young lady. Get your fanny in this seat.” She laughed like she’d made the funniest joke in the world. I rolled my eyes and waved to Cheyenne to go on home.
“What’s gotten into you?” I grumbled.
“A big surprise,” she said, grinning like a cat that’s swallowed a canary.
My heart danced in my chest. “Is Daddy home?”
Her face fell just the tiniest bit. “Well, no. But I have a surprise that’s the next best thing.”