Book Read Free

A Dog Like Daisy

Page 10

by Kristin O'Donnell Tubb


  Micah’s heart zooms. He looks to his dad. “What do you think?”

  Colonel Victor grunts into a squat. He looks deep into Katima’s eyes, then to me.

  “Is this the one, Miss Daisy? Is this my new service dog?”

  I fully realize what I’m doing: I’m sacrificing my position as Colonel Victor’s tool for Katima. I will go into the cage and she will come out. She will become his service dog. I will become the useless dog. He wants a different dog, not another dog. It is the right choice. I would do it again and again and again.

  I bark. Yes, sir!

  If I could salute, I would.

  The Colonel groans back to standing. “She’s the one.”

  Micah clears his dry throat. He steps forward, and I recognize his bravery stance. It reminds me of a flagpole, strong and straight. “But we’re keeping them both, right? I mean, look at them! We can’t separate them now!”

  His voice teeters on the edge of teary. Saltwater waves beneath his strength. And then he does it. He squats and hugs me, tight like fur. His heartbeat and mine, singing the same song.

  I hold my breath like a windless day.

  The Colonel pauses. Pauses feel like stopped time.

  Colonel Victor eyes Micah, hugging me. He cocks his head. And for maybe the first time, he hears. He hears the heart song. He smiles.

  “Looks like we’re adding another dog to our pack.”

  I am so yellow-sunshine full of joy, I feel I might burst. I plop my booty right down on the large gray welcome mat and give myself a long, satisfying butt scootch. My pack—plus one!—laughs rainbows. Full, glorious, rain-spun-into-sunshine rainbows.

  27

  THAT’S MY JOB

  When they say, “Block,” that means . . . ? I ask.

  Stand between the Colonel and the stranger, Katima answers. The Abeyta pack now calls Katima “Rosie,” but I don’t want to give up the name Katima. It means “powerful daughter.”

  And when you hear the command “Heel,” that means . . . ?

  Walk on the Colonel’s left.

  Good. Now—

  Mama?

  Yes, Katima?

  Don’t worry. I got this.

  I laugh with my tail. I know you do. You’re the right dog for this job. I give her a quick lap with my tongue.

  I watch her trot off, wearing the vest. Her head is held high like a police horse. She will earn those patches. She’s worked for weeks now and she’s a useful tool to Colonel Victor.

  He’s improved under her training, too. His heart is steady and his shadows less fierce. He has more rebuilding to do, but Katima’s the right tool for the job.

  We are unsure of where Katima’s two brothers ended up. A swirl of pain and hope fills me when I think of them, like a sky both blue and cloudy. Maybe they can find us someday, too. I’ve learned good-byes can be unfinished.

  “Daisy?” Micah shouts sunbeams out the back door. “Wanna go to the park?”

  I bark. I wag.

  Micah laughs dandelions.

  “Car, Daisy!”

  I dash around the side of the house, headed for the glorious car. But first—

  Fish scales.

  Smaug is there, sunning himself on a rock. Ah, greetings, pet.

  Greetings, pet yourself, I sniff. How did you get out of your tank?

  Yes, but my job here as pet is done, Smaug says, ignoring my question. Retirement is in my future. My services as healer are no longer needed.

  Smaug looks tired like trees in winter.

  What do you mean? I ask.

  His eyes spin halfheartedly. Did you find your usefulness?

  I smile. Pant. I did. I think I’m pretty useful as a pet.

  Smaug nods, and his lizard whiskers swish blue. I would agree. Sometimes we’re not the tool we think we are. That is acceptable. We’re all useful somewhere. He coughs a little, and his wobbly chin wiggles like juicy fat on meat.

  Are you okay? I ask.

  I am more than okay, Smaug answers. He walks away, dragging his tail through the sand, swooshswooshSWISH. I have healed. I am complete.

  I nod. Thank you for healing Micah, I shout after him.

  Micah. Yes. Him, too, Smaug says with a chuckle. He snaps his once-broken tail around the rock and disappears.

  I have the taste in my mouth that I’ll never see him again.

  Fish scales smell like astonishment.

  At the park, Micah unclips my leash.

  Thank you, I say. And he must hear me, he must, because he hugs my neck and his soft cheek is on my fur and he smells like clean grass.

  “Thank you,” he echoes, a whisper like a kiss. He squeezes me, and my heart squeezes him back.

  Micah throws the fuzzy ball for me and I catch it and bring it to him.

  Analise tugs my skin and squawks like a baby bird.

  Anna feeds me a happy purple popsicle.

  When we met, Micah and I both felt fireflies of hope. Those fireflies have turned into fireworks. Fireworks feel like love.

  I chase leaves and chomp them into dust—Pitoo! Pitoo! Ugh!

  Usefulness tastes like leaf dust.

  Which, to be honest, tastes dreadful. But it’s worth it, because it makes my pack laugh happy yellow sunshine.

  And that’s my job.

  * THE END *

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Dogs fascinate me, and especially service dogs. Service dogs help humans in so many ways: they help sight-impaired persons navigate the world. They warn children and adults with epilepsy when a seizure is impending. They can assist those of us with physical challenges by doing such chores as retrieving shoes and turning on lights. And yes, they can provide emotional assistance to those with anxiety challenges, like veterans with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).

  PTSD is a very real battle for many Americans, and particularly for military veterans. PTSD causes anxiety and horrific flashbacks in those who have witnessed or survived a traumatic event. According to the National Center for PTSD, run by the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs (www.ptsd.va.gov), PTSD affects the family and relationships of those suffering the disorder. Those with PTSD have nightmares and experience anxiety attacks, which can lead them to avoid social situations. PTSD is often described as being constantly on guard and anticipating the worst.

  I’m grateful to the brave men and women who share their stories of battling PTSD. It can be a struggle for these men and woman to experience daily life without extremely high degrees of panic and anxiety, and yet they courageously share their struggles, with the hope that sharing equals empathy and understanding. PTSD and other anxiety disorders are an epidemic among military personnel; it is estimated that twenty-two veterans take their own life every day.

  Service dogs help prevent that. These dogs are highly trained, and they are effective at calming and protecting their handlers when the need arises. They help reduce depression, ward off panic attacks, and assist their handlers in the event of an injury. In 2009, Senator Al Franken of Minnesota introduced legislation to help provide funding for service dogs for military personnel. Since then, an estimated 220 service dogs have been studied to see the impact on military families. However, because it is difficult to know exactly how a dog helps those suffering with anxiety disorders, it can still be hard for a veteran with PTSD to find funding for a service dog. Funding for service dogs is often allocated to veterans who have physical injuries first.

  I’ve tried to accurately depict the training these dogs receive; any errors within the story are mine. I am indebted to Katie Young of Southeastern Guide Dogs for enduring hours of my questions. Katie specializes in training dogs who assist people battling PTSD.

  If you’d like more information or would like to sponsor a service dog, there are many resources available online. Check out the following organizations:

  • Southeastern Guide Dogs, www.guidedogs.org

  • Paws for Veterans, www.pawsforveterans.com

  • Warrior Canine Connection, www.warriorc
anineconnection.org

  An excellent book about service dogs is Until Tuesday by Luis Carlos Montalván. Montalván was a captain in the United States Army, and his story about his golden retriever service dog, Tuesday, is both heartwarming and eye-opening.

  It is true that the handler can be the only person who pets, feeds, and interacts with a service dog for the first thirty days of the dog living with a new family. It often does cause jealousy and pain for the other family members, who can struggle to understand why a dog provides such special support.

  Military families—the whole family, not just the person serving—give our country their all. I am personally grateful to the Buttram family, the Durband family, and the Trew family for the many sacrifices they’ve made over dozens of years to ensure our collective safety and freedom. Thank you, friends!

  And finally, I am a dog owner and lover, and my family and I often narrate what our two silly dogs—Lucky and Cookie—are thinking as they lope and leap and love their way through the world. In this story, Miss Daisy sees a rainbow of colors, and while it’s likely that dogs aren’t fully color-blind as is commonly believed, they most likely have a mild red-green color confusion. It is also believed that dogs experience multiple senses simultaneously, like a human with synesthesia might. Knowing these facts truly makes me wonder how a dog navigates the world, and the voice of Miss Daisy comes from hours spent with my two fuzzy fur balls. We share this planet with our pets—with all animals—and we owe them our best.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The picture of a writer alone and struggling in an attic room might be a popular vision of how a book gets created, but it’s inaccurate. Books are a team sport, and I owe many thanks to the following:

  To Katie Bignell, who fell in love with Miss Daisy and thought others might, too.

  To Ben Rosenthal, who adopted Miss Daisy and helped make her the lovable, thoughtful pooch she is now. Thank you to all at Katherine Tegen Books who helped groom Miss Daisy, including Janet Robbins Rosenberg, Amy Ryan, Kathryn Silsand, Joel Tippie, Mabel Hsu, and Katherine Tegen. Thank you for loving A Dog Like Daisy!

  To Josh Adams, friend first and literary agent second, who believes in me every step of the journey. Thank you to Josh, Tracey, Abby, and Jessie Adams.

  To Ava Smith, the young neighbor who years ago said, “The guy who bred our Great Danes also breeds dogs who help veterans.” That one conversation while our dogs were playing was the spark of this story. Thank you to Wade, Mary, Ava, Aubrianna, and Gavin Smith.

  To Sylvester Criscone, my neighbor who said, “You know, I know someone who trains dogs to help veterans with PTSD.” Thank you to Syl, Debbie, Mike, and Giana Criscone. Another thanks to Debbie for lots of laughter and baked goods!

  (Yes, I have wonderful neighbors! Thanks, Kings’ Chapel!)

  To Katie Young, Syl’s friend and the trainer with Southeastern Guide Dogs, who answered my many, many questions about dogs and training them to assist those with PTSD.

  To Debbie Emory, writer friend and dog lover, who invited me to tag along and take notes while she and other trainers brought dogs to visit Monroe Harding Children’s Home. Seeing how dogs light up the eyes of those who are struggling was invaluable.

  To David Barberis, for his assistance in double-checking my Spanish grammar, and Jenny Rymer, my hometown friend who is immersed in and very knowledgeable about Mexican culture. Thank you for your help in making the Abeyta family and their celebrations come to life. My hope is that I’ve authentically captured the beauty and meaning of each one. Your help toward that end is much appreciated. Thank you to Jenny and her children: Ivan, Chloe, and Isaac.

  To Robbie Bryan (Franklin, Tennessee), Kelly Flemings (Chattanooga, Tennessee), Jennifer Bailey (Bowling Green, Kentucky), and Barnes & Noble event planners nationwide: thank you for connecting books and readers!

  To Stephanie Appell and all the awesome booksellers at Parnassus Books, and to independent bookstores and booksellers everywhere: thank you for building communities around the written word. And for shop dogs!

  To school and public librarians like Lisa Rice, Ashley Fowlkes, Renee Hale, Lindsey Anderson, Julie Caudle, Sharla Bratton, Sheila Rollins, and many, many others: thank you for being mighty word warriors.

  To the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators, especially the Midsouth chapter. SCBWI paves the road ahead for writers and illustrators; this journey would be next to impossible (and FAR less fun) without you. Thank you!

  To my critique group, who makes me laugh, cry, think, and write: you are like thick-cut, maple-spiced bacon. Thank you, Erica Rodgers, Courtney C. Stevens, and Rae Ann Parker. And Erica: thank you for both Micah and Miss Daisy; you are a name-picking genius.

  To my family, the O’Donnells, the Grishams, the Goodmans, the Kites, and the Tubbs: thank you. You always offer prime rib–level support. With horseradish. And au jus. I love you.

  To Byron, Chloe, and Jack: You are my everything.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo courtesy Kristin O’Donnell Tubb

  KRISTIN O’DONNELL TUBB is the author of several books for young readers, including John Lincoln Clem: Civil War Drummer Boy (written as E. F. Abbott), The 13th Sign, Selling Hope, and Autumn Winifred Oliver Does Things Different. She’s also written many activity books featuring well-loved characters such as Scooby-Doo, Bugs Bunny, the Powerpuff Girls, and Strawberry Shortcake. Kristin lives near Nashville, Tennessee, with her bouncy-loud family. Just like her two dogs, she can be bribed with cheese. You can visit her online at www.kristintubb.com.

  Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

  CREDITS

  Cover art © 2017 by Paper Dog Studio

  Cover design by Andrea Vandergrift

  COPYRIGHT

  Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

  A DOG LIKE DAISY. Copyright © 2017 by Kristin O’Donnell Tubb. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

  www.harpercollinschildrens.com

  * * *

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2016960212

  ISBN 978-0-06-246324-1

  EPub Edition © May 2017 ISBN 9780062463265

  * * *

  17 18 19 20 21 CG/LSCH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  FIRST EDITION

  ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

  Australia

  HarperCollins Publishers Australia Pty. Ltd.

  Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street

  Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia

  www.harpercollins.com.au

  Canada

  HarperCollins Canada

  2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor

  Toronto, ON M4W 1A8, Canada

  www.harpercollins.ca

  New Zealand

  HarperCollins Publishers New Zealand

  Unit D1, 63 Apollo Drive

  Rosedale 0632

  Auckland, New Zealand

  www.harpercollins.co.nz

  United Kingdom

  HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF, UK

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  United States

  HarperCollins Publishers Inc.

  195 Broadway

  New York, NY 10007

  www.harpercollins.com

 

 

 
>

share


‹ Prev