A Million Ways Home

by Dianna Dorisi Winget

  Carol smiled. “Anyway, Greg, I’ll be glad to keep my eye out for you, but I thought the department was buying from European breeders.”

  “For the patrol dogs we do. The criteria isn’t so rigid for narcotics. But they need to be under three years old, without a history of behavioral issues.”

  Carol snorted. “No issues? Shoot, we all have issues.”

  “I know. I just thought I’d check since we’ve had decent luck with shelter dogs before.”

  I looked back and forth between them, trying to make sense of the conversation. “You can use shelter dogs for police work?”

  “Sometimes.”

  Carol nodded. “Two of our puppies went to the Border Patrol last year. And we’ve had several chosen for training as service dogs.”

  “You mean like for people with disabilities?”

  “Yep.” She looked back at Officer Kinsley. “At any rate, you know our turnover rate is pretty constant, so I’ll give you a call if I find one who fits the bill.”

  My heart started to pound. Narcotics? He was looking for a drug-sniffing dog? Why didn’t she tell him about Gunner?

  “Good enough,” he said. He tipped his head. “Ladies.”

  “Wait,” I said. “I know a dog that might work.”

  Carol’s eyes sparked with surprise. “You do?” she said, and then just as fast her smile faded, and she smacked her forehead. “Oh, no, Poppy.”

  “What?” I said. “He’s young and super smart and really pretty.”

  “Yeeeeees, he is. He’s also totally unsuitable for the position in question.”

  Officer Kinsley looked like he wanted to laugh. “I’m sensing a little dissention here.”

  Carol looked toward the sky without tilting her head. “Poppy has taken a real liking to one of our dogs. He’s handsome as all get-out, but he’s got a history.”

  “What sort of history?”

  “People claim he bites,” I said, “but he’s real friendly to me. You just have to let him warm up to you.”

  “It’s not just a claim, Poppy. He bit a young boy; that’s why he’s here, remember?”

  “That’s what the guy told you, but nobody knows the real story. Remember?” I added.

  Carol’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

  “How old is he?” Officer Kinsley asked.

  “Young,” I said. “Probably eighteen months or so. Right, Carol?”

  “Does he know any of the basics? Sit, stay, come?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” I said. “But I can teach him whatever he needs to know. Do you want to see him?”

  Carol sighed. I knew she was about to say no way, but something in my face must have stopped her. “When did you say the program starts, Greg?”

  “Four weeks.”

  “That’s hardly any time at all, Poppy.”

  “It’s plenty of time,” I said. “He’ll learn fast. I know he will.”

  I held my breath as Carol stared at me, and I could tell she was trying to figure out just what to do with such an unpredictable, hot-blooded, impulsive kid. But then she broke into a grin and threw her hands up. “I still say he’s totally unsuitable, Greg. But Poppy won’t be happy until you at least look at him.”

  He winked at me. “Lead the way.”

  I was so surprised that it took a second for his words to register. “Really? Okay. He’s out this way.” I wasn’t a very experienced prayer, but I prayed the whole thirty seconds it took to reach Gunner’s kennel.

  “Hey, boy,” I called softly, giving him as much forewarning as I could. “Hey there, Gunner.”

  He rose in the same impressive way he always did — in a single smooth motion — but his eyes focused on the stranger at my side.

  Officer Kinsley gave a low whistle. “Hey there, big guy. You are one good-looking dog. You look like a dog I had when I was a kid. Yes, you do.”

  Gunner flicked an ear back and forth, listening to the new voice. Then, after a minute, Officer Kinsley pulled a key chain from his front pocket and jangled it. Then he dragged his knuckles across the kennel several times, and it made a harsh drumming sound. I didn’t know what he was trying to do, and I could tell Gunner didn’t, either. He gave a low growl.

  My heart sank. “Gunner,” I scolded.

  “No, it’s okay” he said. “A little aggression can be a good thing. Plus he’s not so much aggressive as he is wary.”

  “He is?”

  “Sure. Look at his posture. A dog’s body language speaks volumes. His is more, ‘I’m keeping a close eye on you,’ rather than, ‘I want to tear you to pieces.’ See how he carries himself?”

  I welled up with pride. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

  Officer Kinsley stood there a few more minutes, watching Gunner and sharing tidbits of dog-training wisdom with me. Then he said, “Tell you what, no promises, but if you can teach him sit, stay, and come in the next three weeks, I’ll come back and see how he handles for me on a leash. Think you can do it?”

  I had to fight hard to keep from throwing my arms around him. “I know I can.”

  I gave Carol a glance of triumph, and she shook her head as we walked Officer Kinsley back to his patrol car. As soon as he pulled away, she turned to me with her hands on her hips. “Okay, Poppy Parker. You want to explain to me what just happened here?”

  I raised my hands in surrender, but I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. “Nothing. Just trying to give a great dog a chance. That’s what the shelter’s all about, right?”

  “Was yesterday the first time you’ve been inside Gunner’s kennel?”

  “Yeah. But I petted him through the wire before that and he’s always been fine.”

  She groaned. “You could’ve been badly bitten.”

  “He won’t bite me,” I said. “I keep telling you, that kid he did bite probably deserved it.”

  Carol seemed to think about things for a minute, and then she puffed out her cheeks. “All right, you listen to me. In light of what you just committed to, you may work with Gunner, but not alone. I want somebody else with you just in case. And you can only work with him in the enclosure with no other dogs in there. Understood?”

  I straightened and gave her a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She laughed as she wagged a finger at me. “Don’t you give me attitude. I have to put up with enough of that from Eliza May.”

  “Can I ask her to help me?”

  “Sure. If you can talk her into it.”

  “Can I start working with him now?”

  She snorted and turned on her heel. “Seeing as how you have less than a month, I suggest you do.”

  I found Lizzie in the Kitty Palace wearing rubber gloves and carrying a bottle of bleach. “Hey,” I said, “want a much better job?”

  “Such as?”

  “Working with Gunner.”

  She gave me a startled look. “Mom’s gonna let you?”

  “Yeah, but it’s even better than that. If I can teach him all the basics, he might get considered to be a police dog.”

  “No way.”

  I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as I gave her the short version of what had just happened with Officer Kinsley. “But I can’t work with him alone,” I said. “I need somebody out there in case Gunner decides to rip me to shreds. You can sit under the tree and play Angry Birds if you want.”

  “I would,” Lizzie said. “But my stupid phone’s dead. I forgot to charge it last night.”

  “Then you can use mine.”

  Her eyes lit up, and she put a finger to her lips. “Okay, then, but don’t tell Mom. I’m supposed to be working.”

  I hunted up a leather lead and a tennis ball, and went back out to Gunner’s kennel. He wagged his tail when he saw it was just me. I opened his kennel door and took his muzzle in both hands. “We’re gonna do this. You and me, boy. You’re gonna become a narcotics dog and help catch bad guys. You wanna do that, Gunner? I am, you know? I’m helping to catch …”

  But m
y own words brought me up short and made my face tingle. Who was I trying to fool? I wasn’t helping to catch a bad guy; I was helping to keep one out on the street. I shook my head as the sickening reality surged through me. How could I have made a decision like that? When had I gotten so selfish?

  Gunner’s eyes bored into me like he could read my thoughts. “Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll fix it. I’ll talk to Trey. I’ll do it tonight, promise.”

  Lizzie ambled over a few minutes later, and I handed her my phone before I led Gunner out. She backed off a few steps. “You’re sure he won’t bite me?”

  I bent down and looked into Gunner’s eyes. “See this girl right here? She saved your life yesterday, so I don’t wanna hear so much as a snarl directed her way, ever, got it?”

  Lizzie laughed. “Wow, thanks. I feel so much better now.” She retreated under the big oak tree while I took Gunner into the enclosure. It took me less than a minute to learn two things about him. He already knew how to sit, and he couldn’t have cared less about playing with a tennis ball. We jogged several laps to burn off energy, and then I placed him in a sit and put my hand up. “Stay,” I commanded, and backed off two steps. “Stay.”

  He let me get about five feet away before he bounded toward me. I put him back in a sit and tried again. But each time he did the same thing. After about ten failed attempts I started to get a little scared. When I was nine years old, I’d taught my Lab, Lucy, to sit and to shake hands — that was about the limit of my dog-training experience. What if I couldn’t do it? What if Gunner couldn’t learn? But then I looked into his dark eyes, and I knew he could. “Okay, come on,” I said, “let’s just walk some more.”

  “Hey,” Lizzie called, “you’ve got pictures of the cactus house at Manito Park.”

  I glanced over, surprised. My first thought was to ask what she was doing looking through my pictures. But there was a happy sound to her voice that stopped me from being mad. “Yeah, my grandma and I go there a lot. Have you been there?”

  “Yeah, my dad used to take me sometimes, before … well, you know.”

  I thought about our conversation from yesterday and nodded. “So if you don’t go over on weekends, have you been seeing him at all?”

  She shrugged. “He calls me, but I haven’t actually seen him in a month.”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Yeah. But I don’t wanna see Kimberly, or wonderful, awesome Jake.”

  “Do he and your dad get along good?”

  Lizzie snorted. “Oh yeah. He finally got the son he always wanted.”

  “He didn’t tell you that?”

  “No. But it’s kinda obvious.”

  I tried hard to think of something nice to say, but I wasn’t very impulsive when it came to stuff like that. “Well … sorry.”

  She dropped my phone in her lap. “Poppy, why won’t you talk about your parents?” She asked the question so softly, like maybe that’d make it easier for me to answer.

  My shoulders slumped. Talking about it stunk, but I realized she was truly interested and not just being nosy. “They died.”

  “Like in a car accident or something?”

  “No, like in a bomb blast.”

  Her mouth turned up in a half smile, and I knew she thought I was kidding. But as the seconds ticked past, Lizzie lost her smile. “You’re joking, right?”

  I dug my toe into the hard-packed ground. “The short story is that my parents picked their careers over me. They left me to go teach botany in Africa for a semester, and they ended up getting killed over there. It was a terrorist type of thing.”

  Lizzie stared at me. Several heartbeats passed. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  She shook her head, like she couldn’t quite convince herself I meant it. “How old were you when they left?”

  “Almost one.”

  “So you never really knew them.”

  I swallowed. “I have lots of pictures.” But the words sounded hollow even to me.

  “But you don’t actually remember them, right?”

  “No,” I said, sounding more irritated than I meant to. “I just know what Grandma Beth’s told me.”

  “Wow,” she said.

  I put a hand over my stomach to try and push back the pain. Gunner was busy sniffing a dandelion. “Come on,” I said to him, “back to work.” I put him in a sit and tried the stay command again. This time he lay down. Tears filled my eyes, but I knew it had more to do with Lizzie than with Gunner. I took his muzzle in my hands and looked deep into his dark eyes. “Listen up. I’m trying to help you here. You need to cooperate a little more.”

  “I know what might help,” Lizzie said.

  I blinked fast to make the tears go away. “What?”

  She hopped up. “Be right back.”

  I watched as she trotted off toward the shelter and disappeared inside. She returned a moment later with a sandwich baggie full of dog biscuits. “I’m pretty sure he likes these,” she said. “I’ve seen Mom toss them in his kennel.”

  “Hey, thanks.”

  Gunner seemed to understand. He pricked up his ears, and his nose started twitching. “Dream on,” I told him, “you’re not getting a single bite until you do what you’re supposed to.”

  Using the biscuits as bait, I dropped the idea of teaching stay and concentrated on come instead. It worked much better. Put him in a sit, quickly back up, call him to me, and reward him with a cookie. In less than half an hour, he was coming from about twenty feet away.

  Lizzie went back to the tree and didn’t talk anymore, but every time I glanced her way she was watching. I thought of her interest in the cactus house, and what she’d said about her parents, and about spray-painting the federal building, and I knew there was so much more to Lizzie than just a rebellious girl with pink highlights. I felt sorry I’d been short with her. “Thanks for getting the dog biscuits,” I said as I put Gunner away in his kennel. “They helped a lot.”

  “Sure. Are you coming tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, if Marti does.”

  “She could always drop you off.”

  I shook my head. “Trey won’t let me come alone. He already took my bike away for taking off by myself.”

  “No way. How sucky.”

  I laughed, because I’d never heard anybody say that before.

  “So when do you get it back?”

  “Good question.”

  “Too scared to ask, huh?”

  I gave her a sheepish grin. “Pretty much, yeah.” I looked through the kennel at Gunner. He met my gaze and wagged his tail. I reached a finger through the wire and touched his nose. “See you later, boy. Gotta go walk some other dogs now.” I glanced at Lizzie. “Wanna come?”

  She put a finger on her nose and flattened it like a pig. “Hmm. Let me consider my options. Cleaning kennels, picking up dog poop, scrubbing out water bowls … Sure, walking sounds okay.”

  That evening after supper, Marti worked on a grant application for the shelter, while I huddled on the couch, staring at a blank page on my art pad. It was warm in the house, but only my face felt warm, the rest of me was chilled. Trey would be home soon, and I had to make good on my promise to tell him the truth. But now that it was nearly time, I couldn’t think of how to go about it. I was a liar. It was one of those cold, hard truths, and there was no good way to admit it. More than anything, I wanted to keep Marti from finding out I’d lied. It would be bad enough telling Trey, but I couldn’t stand the idea of Marti thinking bad of me.

  I toyed with the idea of going to Trey’s apartment to wait for him, but I was sure he locked his door, and not so sure he’d want me there when he wasn’t home anyway. I couldn’t get the sour taste of fear out of my mouth no matter how many times I swallowed. Finally I set my art pad aside and stood. “Think I’ll go sit outside and look at the stars for a while.”

  Marti glanced over with a concerned look. “Okay, honey, but stay right out there on the porch. And you might want a jacket.”


  “Okay,” I said. I grabbed my flannel blanket off the bed and wrapped it around my shoulders. Then I slipped out the back door and dropped into one of Marti’s lounge chairs. There was only a quarter moon, and the clouds played peekaboo with the stars, but the cool air felt good against my hot face. The gentle tapping of Marti’s keyboard made me think about Lizzie using my phone, and I pulled it out. I thought about texting her, but I was too scared to think of what to say.

  I was scrolling through my pictures of Manito Park when I heard the low rumble of Trey’s Pontiac pulling up alongside the curb. My whole body filled with pins and needles. I shoved the phone back in my pocket and drew in a long, slow breath until my lungs couldn’t hold anymore.

  “TJ,” Marti said a minute later. “I didn’t know if you were going to make it home tonight.”

  “Yeah,” Trey said, “I got roped into an incident inquiry. Man, it smells great in here. What did you girls have for dinner?”

  “Turkey potpie. There’s still some left if you’d like me to warm it up for you.”

  “No, don’t get up, Mom. I’ll do it. Where’s Poppy?”

  I was still holding my breath and starting to feel dizzy. I let it out in a controlled rush.

  “Out back,” Marti said, “looking at the stars, I think. She and her grandma enjoy doing that.”

  “Yeah? Did you two have a good day?”

  “We had a lovely day,” Marti said, and I could tell she was smiling. “I only wish there was some way to help her grandma. She doesn’t seem to be doing very well.”

  “She’s not,” Trey said.

  And their conversation made me feel like crying, because it didn’t sound like either of them expected Grandma Beth to get better.

  I listened to the opening and closing of the refrigerator and the clank of a plate sliding into the microwave. “Has Poppy been keeping up with her homework?” Trey asked.

  “She did some a few days ago, but I don’t think she has since then. The poor little thing has had an awful lot to deal with lately.”

  “Yeah, I know. But getting behind won’t help her any.”

  Marti let out a heavy sigh. “That’s true. I’ll mention it to her again.”

  “It’s okay,” Trey said. “I’ll take care of it.”