A Dog's Purpose Boxed Set

by W. Bruce Cameron

  Most of the time when CJ ate, someone would hand her a bag of food from a building. Sometimes we ate at an outside table. The meals were exotic and delicious. This was one of the best car rides I’d ever taken!

  I was in a deep sleep when the car stopped and shut off. I shook myself, blearily looking around. We were with a lot of other cars. The sun was not yet very high in the sky. “We’re here, Molly!” CJ said.

  We got out of the car and the smell hit me and, just like that, I knew exactly where we were.

  When I was a dog who Worked doing Find and Show, I would often come with my people, Jakob or Maya, to this very place. It was the ocean. CJ led me down to the water and let me off the leash and laughed and I leaped into the water, a couple of days’ worth of pent-up energy inciting me to run though the waves in lunges.

  We played there for a while and then walked up to some outdoor tables. CJ gave me water and food and sat with me in the sun as it got warmer.

  “Nice day,” a man said. “Pretty dog.”

  He reached down to pet me. His hands smelled like mint.

  “Thanks,” CJ said.

  “Where’re you from? I’m going to guess Ohio.”

  “What? No, I’m from here.”

  The man laughed. “Not with that coat you’re not. My name’s Bart.”

  “Hi,” CJ said. She looked away.

  “Okay, I get it, you don’t want company. It’s just such a nice day, I wanted to say hello to you and your dog. Be careful the cops don’t catch your pooch on the beach; they’ll ticket you if they do.” The man smiled again and then went over to a table and sat by himself.

  For the next couple of days we would sleep in the car and then CJ would go to stand under some flowing water and take me with her into a small building where she would change her clothes. Then we would drive around, mostly to restaurants, by the smell of them. CJ would tie me up in the shade and go inside and sometimes come right out and sometimes stay in for a while. By the end of the day her hair and clothing was rich with wonderful cooking odors.

  CJ always took me to the ocean to run and play, but she didn’t ever swim herself.

  “Oh, you are such a good dog, Molly,” CJ said. “It’s a lot harder to get a job than I thought it would be, even for minimum wage.”

  I wagged at being a good dog. We were, as far as I was concerned, having one of the most wonderful times ever. We were either in the car or outside every day!

  Several nights later, as we were settling in to go to sleep, it began to rain. CJ usually left the windows cracked open, but when the rain started to come in she rolled them up, which was why I didn’t smell the man. I saw him only when he emerged from the rain under the tall street lamp. It was as if the night and the rain came together and suddenly made a wet, dark man. I sat perfectly still, watching him. He had long hair on his head and face and was carrying a big bag over his shoulder. He was looking right at us.

  I felt the fear rise in CJ and knew she saw him, too. A low growl came from my throat.

  “It’s okay, Molly,” CJ said. I wagged. The man looked around slowly—he seemed to be examining the other few cars in the parking lot. Then he turned to look at us again.

  CJ inhaled sharply as the man strode deliberately toward us.

  SEVENTEEN

  The man came right up to the car and when his hand reached out to touch the door I hit the window in full snarl, barking and snapping. I was letting him know if he tried to get in the car he would be met with teeth. And I would bite him; I could feel it in my mouth.

  Rain was pouring off of the man’s long hair, flowing down his face as he bent over to see us. He was ignoring me and was instead watching CJ. CJ was so afraid a small cry came from her lips. I could hear her heart beating.

  I was enraged that anyone would frighten my girl. Incensed, I scratched at the glass, hurling myself at it again and again, wanting to get through it. My bark had the same savage quality to it that I’d brought to the barn to protect Clarity from Troy.

  The man smiled and knocked at the window. I bit at the glass where his knuckle was rapping. Then he straightened and looked around.

  “Go away!” CJ yelled.

  The man didn’t react. After a minute, he walked off, disappearing into the gloom.

  “Oh my God. Oh, Molly, you are such a good dog,” CJ said, throwing her arms around me. I licked her face. “I was so scared. He looked like, like a zombie or something! But you protected me, didn’t you? You’re a guard dog, a guard dog and a poodle—a goodle! I love you so much.”

  There was a huge bang and CJ screamed. The man was back and he had a stick and he had hit the window with it. He was smiling—all I could see in the rain and the dark were his crooked, yellow teeth, his eyes hidden by the brim of his hat. He hit the window again and I put my face to the glass and now I could see his eyes and I stared at them, my mouth in a snarl, drool flying. He was frightening my girl and I let the rage flow into me and I desired nothing more but to bite that man.

  He laughed, looking in the window. He pointed his finger at me and then shook it, the way Gloria did when she talked to me. And then he straightened and vanished into the wet darkness.

  I’d always thought of sticks as being something to play with, but now I understood a stick could also be a bad thing, if you were in a scary place and the person holding it wasn’t trying to play with you.

  The rain made a loud roar on the car all night. CJ didn’t sleep at first, but gradually the fear left her and she put her head down. I pressed up against her as I dozed to let her know she was being protected by her dog.

  The next morning it was very bright outside. The wet ground smelled really interesting, but CJ wanted to go to the place where we could sit at outdoor tables. When we got there the nice man we’d met a few days before greeted us and leaned down to pet me. He was taller than most men I’d ever met. His hands smelled like mint again. “Let me buy you breakfast,” he said.

  “No thank you,” CJ said. “I just want coffee.”

  “Come on. What do you want, an omelet?”

  “I’m good.”

  “She’ll have a veggie omelet,” the nice man said to the woman who brought food.

  “I said I was fine,” CJ said as the woman left.

  “Hey, sorry, but you look like you’re hungry. You an actress? Model, you’re probably a model. You’re pretty enough. I’m Bart. My parents named me Bartholomew, I’m like, thanks for that. So I pick ‘Bart,’ but are you ready for it? My last name is Simpson. So yeah, I’m Bart Simpson. Doh! What’s your name?”

  “Wanda,” CJ said.

  “Hi, Wanda.”

  We all sat comfortably together for a few minutes, enjoying the smell of bacon coming from the kitchen.

  “So was I right? Modeling, that’s why you’re so thin,” the man said.

  “Actually, I’m thinking of becoming an actress.”

  “Well, good for you. I represent actresses; that’s what I do. I’m a talent agent. You have an agent?”

  I sat up because the woman brought out food and set it in front of CJ, who started to eat it but then stopped and gave me toast!

  “No, I’m good when it comes to representation, actually,” CJ said. “But thanks.”

  “What did I tell you? You were hungry. Look, I know what’s going on.”

  CJ stopped eating and looked at the man.

  “I go for a walk on the beach in the morning. I’ve seen you get out of your car, like you’re just pulling up, except I came down here the other night and I saw it parked there. You think you’re the first actor to sleep in a car? There’s no shame in it.”

  CJ started eating again, but more slowly. “I’m not ashamed,” she said softly. She tossed a piece of cheesy food at me and I expertly snagged it out of the air.

  “What you should do is come home with me, now.”

  “Oh. Like, as a reward for the omelet?” CJ said.

  The man laughed. “No, course not. I have more than one bedroom.
Just until you’re on your feet.”

  “Actually, we’re on vacation and I have to leave tomorrow.”

  The man laughed again. “You really are an actress. What are you worried about, that you won’t be able to get what you need? Whatever it is, I can get it for you.”

  “What?”

  “I’m trying to protect you here, help you out. What’s with the hostility?”

  “Drugs? Is that what you’re talking about? I’m not on drugs.” I could feel CJ getting angry, but I didn’t know why.

  “Okay, my mistake. Most of the girls are, to tell you the truth; I mean, this is LA.”

  “Most of the girls. So you’ve got what, a harem? A stable?”

  “I said I represent—”

  CJ stood up. “I know what you represent. Bart. Come on, Molly.” She gathered my leash.

  “Hey, Wanda,” the man called after us. CJ did not stop walking. “You know you’re going to see me again, right? Right?”

  We spent that day sitting on a blanket on the sidewalk. There was a box on the blanket and every so often someone would stop and drop something in the box and nearly always they would talk to me. “Nice doggy,” they usually said. CJ would say, “Thank you.” I loved seeing all the people.

  We stayed on that blanket until the sun went down, and then CJ fed me. “I’ve got enough to get you some more food tomorrow, Molly,” she said. I wagged to show her that I’d heard my name and was happy I was eating.

  As we got back to the car, CJ slowed. “Oh no,” she said.

  The ground around the car was covered with small pebbles. Curious, I went to sniff them. They glinted in the light from the street lamps.

  “No, Molly, you’ll cut your feet!” CJ pulled the leash and I understood that I had done something wrong. I looked at her. “Sit,” she said. She tied the leash to a post so that I couldn’t follow her to the car. The windows were open, and she stuck her head in. I whined because if we were getting in the car I didn’t want to be forgotten.

  A car slowly approached us. A beam of light came from the side of it and landed on CJ, who whirled around to look at it.

  “Is that your car?” a woman said out of her window. CJ nodded. The woman got out of her side and a man got out of the other and I saw they were both police officers.

  “They take anything?” the policewoman asked.

  “I had clothes, stuff like that,” CJ answered.

  The policeman came over to pet my head. “Nice doggy,” he said. I wagged. His fingers smelled spicy.

  “We’ll take a report,” the policewoman said. “Insurance will pay for the glass and maybe the contents, too. Depends on your deductible, and the like.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m not sure it’s worth it.”

  “No problem,” the policewoman said. “See some ID?”

  CJ handed something to the policewoman. The policeman stood up and took whatever it was and went back to sit in his car. CJ came over to me. “Good dog, Molly,” she said. She seemed a little afraid, for some reason.

  The policewoman was walking around the car. CJ unclipped my leash. The policeman stood up. “She’s in the system,” he said.

  The policewoman looked at CJ, and CJ turned and ran! I didn’t know what we were doing, but I was more than happy to gallop along beside her.

  We hadn’t gone very far before I heard footsteps behind us. It was the policeman. He caught up to us. “How long you want to do this?” he asked as he ran next to us.

  CJ faltered, then stopped. She put her hands on her knees and I licked her face, ready to take off again.

  “I’m doing a 10K this weekend, so I appreciated the opportunity to do a quick wind sprint,” the policeman told her. He reached down to pet me and I wagged. “Want to tell me why you took off like that?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to go to jail,” CJ said.

  “You’re not going to jail; we don’t put people in jail for running away from home. But you’re a minor and you’re in our system, so you’re going to have to come with us.”

  “I can’t.”

  “I know it looks that way now, but believe me, you don’t want to be a street person. What do they call you?”

  “CJ.”

  “Well, CJ, I am going to have to cuff you because you took off on us like that.”

  “What about Molly?”

  “We’ll call Animal Control.”

  “No!”

  “Don’t worry; nothing’s going to happen to her. They’ll hold her until you can pick her up. Okay?”

  We went back to the car and the people stood around and talked. Eventually a truck came with a cage on the back. I didn’t want to go for a car ride in that cage, and shrank to the ground when a man got out of the truck with a pole that had a loop on the end.

  “No, wait, it’s okay. Molly, come here,” my girl said. I dutifully went to her. She knelt down and took my head in her hands. “Molly, you’re going to have to go to the shelter for a few days, but I will come get you. I promise, Molly. Okay? Good dog.”

  CJ seemed sad. She led me over to the truck, and the man with the pole opened the cage door. I looked up at her. Really?

  “Come on, Molly. Up!” CJ said. I jumped up into the cage, then turned around. CJ put her face next to mine and I licked the salty tears on her face. “You’ll be okay, Molly. I promise.”

  The car ride in the cage was not fun. When the truck stopped, the man opened the cage and slipped the loop at the end of his pole over my neck and we went into a building.

  I smelled them and heard them before he even opened the door: dogs. Inside the building the floor was slick and I couldn’t get a good purchase on it and the barking was so loud I couldn’t hear my nails as they scrabbled for traction. The din was amazing, an absolute riot of dogs. He took me back into a room and had me walk up a ramp until I was on a metal table. Two other men were there and they held me.

  “She’s friendly,” said the man with the pole.

  I felt a hand grab the fur behind my head and then there was a small, sharp pain. I wagged, my ears low, to let them know that though they had hurt me, it was okay.

  “So that’s the first thing we do, is inoculate them. Won’t hurt them if it’s redundant, and that way we avoid a distemper epidemic,” one of the men said. Because it was so loud, he had to shout. “So that’ll be your job as part of the induction process.”

  “Got it,” said the third man.

  “The owner’s over at the women’s shelter. She’s a minor,” said the man with the pole.

  “Yeah, well, she’s got four days.”

  I was led down a narrow corridor. The floor here was just as slippery—it was very unnerving. The hall was lined with cages and every one of them had a dog in it. Some of them were barking and some of them were crying. Some of them were at the gate and some of them were cowering in the back. The place stank with fear.

  I had been in places full of barking dogs before but never as loud as this.

  A strong chemical smell wafted on the air. It smelled like the machine in the basement where CJ liked to put her clothes to get them wet. And I could smell cats, too, though I couldn’t hear any because of all the noise from the dogs.

  I was put in a small cage. There was no doghouse, but there was a small towel on the slick floor. The man shut the cage door. There was a drain in the floor and I sniffed it. Many dogs had marked it with their scent. I chose not to do so at that time.

  Across the hall from me, a large black dog was throwing himself at his cage door and growling. When he saw me he met my eyes and snarled. He was a bad dog.

  I curled up around the towel. I missed CJ. The heartbroken barking and crying and howling went on and on.

  After a while, my voice joined theirs. I couldn’t help it.

  EIGHTEEN

  I was scared and, despite the constant din from all the dogs, I had never felt so alone. I curled up on the towel on the floor in as tight a ball as I could manage. I was given food and water, served in paper
bowls. The dog in the cage across from me ripped up his bowl, but I did not.

  After a long time had passed, a man came to get me. He led me out of the cage and put straps on my face so that I could only open my jaws a small amount. He took me into a cold room with the same slippery floor. It was quieter in there, but I could still hear barking.

  I could smell many dogs in the room, and their scent carried with it fear and pain and death. This was a place where dogs had died. The man led me over to a hole that was covered with a metal grate. I stood, my legs trembling. I tried to press into the man for comfort, but he backed away from me.

  I recognized the scent of the other man—he had been in the room the day before. I wagged my tail at him a little, but he did not say my name.

  “Okay, this the first time you’ve been in here?” the man who had led me in said.

  “No, I loaded out the bodies of the ones we euthanized yesterday,” the man I knew said.

  “Okay, well, this is the aggression test. They fail this, they’re short-tracked. That means they only get the four days before we put them down. Otherwise, we give them longer if we’re not crowded.”

  “Are you ever not crowded?”

  “Ha, yeah, you’re catching on. Sometimes we’re not completely packed, but usually it’s like this.” The other man went to a counter and grabbed a bowl full of food. “What I’m going to do, here, is let her smell this and get used to the idea that it’s her food. Then I start to pull it away using this plastic hand. Okay? If she turns to snap at the hand, that’s aggression. If she growls, that’s aggression.”

  “How does the dog know it is a hand?”

  “It’s shaped like a hand and it’s kinda flesh colored. It’s a hand.”

  “Well, all right. Looks more like just a wedge of white plastic to me.”

  “So growl at it.”

  Both men laughed.

  I did not know what was happening, but I had never felt so miserable. The man in front set the food down in front of me. I started to salivate—were they planning to feed me? I was hungry. I put my nose down and the man came at me with a big stick.