Last Chances

by Jeanne Bannon

  Getting the dog indoors wasn’t as hard as Hayden had anticipated. In fact, Jasper led the way. His nose to the ground, he sniffed his way up the stairs, onto the porch and through the open door of the cottage.

  As soon as Jasper spotted the kennel, he made his way inside it just as Hayden expected. The kennel meant safety to Jasper — his instincts had kicked in. Hayden unclipped the leash through the bars and then did his best to undo the muzzle without getting bitten. The dog growled but let him do it. It was almost as if he realized what Hayden was trying to do and ridding himself of the uncomfortable thing wrapped around his head was welcomed.

  In the cage was a bowl of food and water as well as an old blanket, which would have to serve as a makeshift bed. Jasper didn’t seem to mind — he turned in a circle and settled onto the blanket.

  Hayden set his laptop on the kitchen table, a few feet away from the dog, and powered it up. He waited and once again prayed. Finally, a dialogue box popped up asking for a password. “Yes,” he whispered in triumph. There was indeed Wi-Fi. He typed in what he thought was the password and got an error message. “Damn it!” His luck was bound to run out at some point. He racked his brain trying to remember as many of Shaun’s passwords as he could, but time and again, they failed. He took a few deep, calming breaths. He’d figure this out if it killed him. He got up and pulled open drawers and cupboards looking for a notebook, or a scrap of paper — anything where a password could have been written down. Nothing!

  His cell phone rang, startling him. He saw that it was Janet and turned it off. He didn’t know how much time he had before someone figured out where he was. He needed to get on the Internet as soon as possible. He turned his eyes skyward and spoke. “Shaun, if you can hear me, I need your help. Please, help me figure this out.” It was stupid, of course. His dead girlfriend wasn’t about to whisper the password in his ear. Or was she? The words came out of the blue — ShaunlovesHayden22. He typed them in and got a signal.

  The subconscious mind remembers everything, he told himself. He just needed to clear his head and let the long-forgotten password make its way to the surface.

  * * * * *

  The signal wasn’t strong, and the Internet was slow, but it was good enough. For the next three hours, he read everything he could find online about training the untrainable and helping the “unhelpable” until finally, he was ready to confront his attacker. Anxiety still niggled at him and he tried to push the fear away.

  When he turned his attention to Jasper, the dog’s low growls echoed through the small space. The dog lunged, snapping his powerful jaws and sending Hayden back a step.

  “Whoa there, Jasper,” he said softly. “Be a good boy. I’m not going to hurt you. Besides, you’re the one with the big, sharp teeth, remember?” He lifted his injured arm to show the dog. Jasper growled his response.

  Hayden felt sorry for the animal. How many times had he escaped death? “And I thought only cats had nine lives.”

  He remembered how close the dog had come to being put down earlier that day. Dr. Graham had already given the dog a sedative. Next, he would have opened the door and injected Jasper with a dose of pentobarbital. The dog’s heart and brain functions would have shut down within a minute or two, and then he’d be gone. His body would be burned, and it would be as if he’d never existed.

  Shaun had been cremated. Was that how it was for her now? Like she’d never existed? Of course not, he thought. Shaun was loved, and she did many good things. She would be remembered, always. He wanted Jasper to have another chance. There had to be good in him somewhere. Dogs weren’t born bad, they were turned — made bad by abusive owners.

  Hayden looked at the scarred patches of skin on the dog, patches where fur no longer grew. There was a tear in his left ear, probably from a one of his many fights. He wanted to pet the dog, to tell him he didn’t have to be mean anymore and that if he would only behave, he’d have a good life with Pressley.

  “I’m going to sit down now,” he said and then sat on the floor in front of the cage. Jasper snarled and stared back narrow-eyed, looking as if he wanted nothing more than to tear Hayden apart.

  Hayden didn’t move from his spot in front of the cage for almost an hour, letting Jasper bark and growl, until finally, the dog grew tired and stopped his protests.

  He was also careful not to make direct eye contact. He stole glances and spoke softly. Another half an hour passed until Jasper finally sat; soon after, he lay down, still facing Hayden, nose twitching.

  Moving slowly, Hayden reached into his knapsack where he’d stored the dog treats. They were the crème de la crème — not just the run-of-the mill treats from the shelter. He had dried beef jerky, dried liver, chicken jerky, pigs’ ears, and minced chicken. With his good hand, he teased out a couple pieces of dried liver. Jasper sat up, and this time, he didn’t growl.

  Hayden put the treat in front of the dog’s cage, so he could sniff it. Jasper looked from the treat to Hayden and then pressed his nose against the bars.

  Hayden moved the pieces of dried liver closer so that they were touching the bars. Jasper’s tongue flicked at them, moving them away and out of his reach. The dog whined and pawed at the bars. “Easy, easy. I’ll get them for you,” Hayden whispered. This time he dropped them inside the cage. Jasper snapped them up and stared at Hayden expectantly.

  “Looks like you enjoyed that. You want more?” He took a different treat, a piece of chicken jerky, from his bag. Jasper salivated at the sight of it.

  With a deep breath to summon up courage, Hayden handed the jerky to the dog. Jasper drew back, then clapped one big paw down on it and pulled it to him. He growled a warning, as if to say, “Back off! This is mine.”

  For hours, Hayden fed the dog small treats until he finally gained confidence that Jasper wasn’t going to chomp off one of his fingers. Eventually, he was feeding him from two fingers he’d inserted through the bars.

  Hayden could see the sun beginning to set outside the large picture windows. An orangey-red glow filled the dimly lit room. The day had passed quickly, and Hayden wondered how many people knew about Jasper’s jailbreak by now. Janet must have known — why else all the phone calls? Did Pressley know?

  He stretched, and yawned as he rose. He needed a break and searched the kitchen cabinets for a kettle. He found an old battered aluminum one under the sink, rinsed it with tap water then poured a bottle of water into it and set it on a burner to boil. He’d brought instant coffee, a package of social tea cookies, a few granola bars, and a Thermos with him and not much else. While he waited for the water to boil, he turned on his phone. The screen told him he’d missed fifteen calls, all from Janet. He turned it off again not bothering to listen to the voice mails.

  He drank his coffee in front of the kennel, feeding the dog and speaking to him. He told him stories about his childhood, using a soothing tone. It didn’t matter what he said, he knew, just as long as he didn’t sound threatening. Jasper stayed quiet, no growling for the time being, and when Hayden finished his coffee, he slowly got to his feet.

  Jasper moved to the back of the cage, his eyes trained on Hayden’s every move. “Okay, buddy, it’s time for the real test. I’m opening the door now, Jasper. Please be a good boy.” He unlatched the door, swung it open, and stepped backwards until he was several feet away. Hayden held on to his knapsack of treats, but decided to kneel. He’d appear less threating than if he was standing.

  Jasper took his time in exiting the kennel — with one step forward, he’d pause, sniff the air, wait for what felt like an eternity to Hayden then finally take another step until he was all the way out of the kennel.

  Hayden cooed, “Good boy. You want another treat?” He kept an eye on the dog as he dug into his cache and, this time, he brought out the most coveted treat: minced chicken. He had no dish, so he emptied the plastic baggie onto the floor by his feet. Jasper moved quicker this time, making his way over to Hayden, the scent of the raw chicken an irresistible draw.
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  Hayden squirted a dollop of antibacterial lotion from the bottle hanging off the outside of his bag, hoping it would remove the lingering scent of chicken. Jasper looked up to see what was going on. Hayden tensed, readying for an attack that didn’t come. Instead, the dog nosed his knapsack, searching for more chicken.

  “Can’t believe you’re not full yet,” Hayden said and absently reached down to pet the dog. He didn’t realize his indiscretion until his hand was on Jasper’s head. The dog’s ears pricked up, but he let Hayden pet him. He even looked as if he was enjoying the attention. Hayden scratched behind the dog’s ears and then under his collar. Jasper turned his head this way and that to allow Hayden access to those hard to get to places, but soon slunk back to the safety of his kennel. Hayden didn’t close the door. Jasper curled into a ball on his blanket, facing Hayden.

  Feeding the dog was a big step. Hopefully, Jasper would trust him even if just a little because he was the dog’s only source of food. At the shelter, he had lots of people around who’d fill his bowl with kibble. Most made a hurried job of it because of Jasper’s fearsome reputation and so the dog had never bonded with anyone over food.

  He was also buoyed by Jasper allowing Hayden to pet him. There were no aggressive moves, no growls, no narrow-eyed sidelong glances — all great signs. Yet, he knew there was still a lot of work ahead if he was to fully win over Jasper. And, the dog not only had to trust Hayden, but Hayden had to trust the dog, too.

  When Hayden walked around to the other side of the cage, Jasper turned so he was still facing him. But soon, he slept, content and finally comfortable enough in Hayden’s presence to close his eyes. Hayden, for his part, was quiet as he scrolled through a few more articles about dog training. But after a while, the growling in his stomach was more than he could bear and the thought of quelling it with more coffee wasn’t good enough. He got up to grab a snack from his knapsack. Jasper’s eyes popped open and he jumped to his feet. His hackles rose, freezing Hayden to the spot. He dared not move, not yet — not until the dog settled. Minutes passed like hours until, finally, Jasper sat and no longer looked like he was going to eat Hayden for dinner.

  Hayden reached into his bag and instead of pulling out one of the handful of granola bars he’d thrown in, his hand found a tennis ball. His hunger would have to wait as an idea formed in his mind. He bounced the ball as he walked to Jasper’s kennel.

  “You wanna play?” He showed the ball to the dog. Hayden knew the dog hadn’t had much playtime in his short life.

  Jasper tilted his head, as if trying to understand the question.

  He bounced the ball again. This time, Jasper got to his feet and took a step forward. Hayden’s heart beat hard against his rib cage. The dog seemed to want to play, but how could he be sure? He knelt and tossed the ball into the air, just high enough for Jasper to easily make the catch. The dog chomped down on it with powerful jaws and then walked over to Hayden and deposited it at his feet, putting a relieved smile on Hayden’s face.

  “You like this, don’t you, boy?” Hayden took in his surroundings. The cottage was small with an open-concept living and kitchen area. There was nowhere to throw the ball to make it a real game of fetch.

  The dog yipped, and his tail motored back and forth, his eyes trained on the ball in Hayden’s hand. A good game of catch would do wonders, Hayden thought. It would not only tire Jasper but also bond them further.

  Hayden rolled the ball to the dog. Jasper scooped it up gladly. The distraction gave Hayden time to clip on the long lead he’d brought with him for trips outdoors. When Jasper realized he was tethered, he dropped the ball and strained against the lead.

  “It’s okay, buddy. Let’s go outside. You probably have to do your business anyway.” Hayden picked up the ball and gave Jasper some slack as he headed toward the door. He flicked on the outside lights. It was dark, but the lights were bright enough to illuminate the front yard. Surprisingly, the dog followed and soon, they were outside. In the distance, Hayden caught a glimpse of the lake. Memories flooded back — so many summers were spent on that dock with Shaun, so many dips in the lake and then lying in the sun to dry off. They’d enjoyed a beer or two in the Muskoka chairs he’d built for them. He remembered that too and the lovemaking. Somehow, it was sweeter in the summer when all cares seemed to fade away.

  A tug on the lead pulled him from his thoughts. Jasper was sniffing for a place to do his business and once he was done, he trotted back to Hayden and planted himself at his feet. Hayden threw the ball in the air and caught it — he had the dog’s attention. Jasper’s head followed the tennis ball into its launch and back down to Hayden’s hand. He barked excitedly and jumped up on Hayden, sending him back a step.

  “Looks like I found your weak spot,” Hayden said with a smile. He threw the ball fifteen feet or so, just far enough for the dog to be able to get to it while still on his tether.

  Jasper was back in a flash. He was a natural. Some dogs didn’t bother to come back with the ball, not wanting to give it up once they’d retrieved it, but Jasper was smart enough to realize that the game would go on if he gave the ball back to Hayden.

  “Good boy!” He tried to pet the dog, but Jasper wanted to play and moved out of reach. “Okay, we’ll just play, then.” Again and again, Hayden threw the ball. Again and again, Jasper brought it back.

  Hayden had a thought. Though he’d be taking a risk, he thought the odds were in his favor. He unclipped the lead and launched the ball as far as he could across the yard and onto the gravel driveway. He saw its orange neon glow as it bounced and finally came to a stop on the other side of the driveway. Jasper saw it too. He was off in a flash.

  Hayden said a silent prayer that the dog would return. What if Jasper, sensing his freedom, just kept on going? The sound of his own heart pounding grew loud in his ears and it was only when he saw the dog running back with the ball in his mouth that he began to relax.

  They played a while longer until Jasper, with tongue lolling, looked as if he was about to drop. “Better get back inside, buddy. Looks like you need some water,” he told the panting dog. But when he picked up the ball, Jasper gave a high-pitched bark, urging Hayden to throw it again.

  “Okay.” He laughed. “But this is it. One last time.”

  His last launch was the farthest yet. The dog took off after it, his eyes trained on the ball, but when it touched down, it hit rock and bounced down the hill toward the lake. Hayden walked as quickly as possible — running was difficult with his sore leg — to the top of the hill. He hoped Jasper would still be able to find the ball in the dark. The porch lights didn’t reach past the crest of the hill. Thankfully, the moon was full, and the sky dotted with stars, so Hayden easily spotted Jasper. His heart took off in a sprint when he saw the dog running onto the dock. And then, he heard the distant sound of water splashing as Jasper ran out of dock and fell into the lake.

  Hayden took off down the hill, his calf muscles aching as the strain pulled at his torn flesh. The night was chilly, and the water would be freezing. He had to get to Jasper as quickly as possible. He could hear the dog splashing, but saw nothing in the darkness. He knelt on the dock and pulled his phone from his back pocket, activating the flashlight. He spotted him, flailing, confused, not knowing which way to swim to shore. Did he need to jump into the lake to save the dog, or would the light be enough to help Jasper find his way out of trouble?

  “Ah, hell,” he said as he laid his phone on the dock and jumped in. The stabbing cold of the water stole his breath, but he was able to grab he dog, wrapping an arm under one of Jasper’s legs and around his chest as he swam to shore with only the moonlight to show the way.

  The dog was heavy, at least eighty pounds, Hayden figured, yet despite his stitched-up forearm and aching leg, he managed to carry him back up the hill to the warmth and safety of the cottage.

  Sixteen

  Pressley could think of no other place to go. So, here she was in the antiseptic room where her father li
ved, at the Patrick M. Mitchell Long-Term Health Facility. It was a twenty-minute drive from her house but despite the proximity, she rarely visited. There was little point — her dad no longer knew her. And every time he called her Joanie, her mother’s name, it broke her heart just a little bit more.

  She’d signed in at the front desk, asked how her dad was doing, got the usual answer: “He’s not in any pain. He’s happy just watching television and listening to books on CD.” That, or a variation of it, was what she heard each time she called or visited.

  She was in the armchair opposite her dad, who was in his pajamas and wearing only one slipper but otherwise looked comfortable enough sitting in the love seat in the small living area. His bed was a few feet away and other than a dresser and a bookshelf, the furnishings were sparse.

  “Hi, Daddy,” Pressley had said when she first arrived, but he waved her quiet and then said, “Shhh, Joanie, that show where people are on an island is on.”

  She knew it was Survivor, his favorite, even before dementia had hijacked him.

  Pressley decided to watch the show with him. There would be no talking to him until it was over anyway. Every so often, she looked at her dad. The strong man who’d raised her was gone. Robert James was a shadow of his former self. When she was a child, he seemed to Pressley to be indomitable, tall and broad, a pillar of strength, both physically and emotionally. She’d go to him when she had a problem and he’d fix it. He’d sit her down, ask her what was wrong, take a moment to think, and then come up with three different ways to help. He left the ultimate decision to her, saying the choice should always be hers. But now, without her guiding light, she was lost.

  Finally, with Survivor over, he turned his attention to her.

  “Hi, Joanie!” he said perkily as if suddenly noticing her.

  “It me, Dad, Pressley,” she replied.

  His smile faltered, but only for a second. “Joanie, honey, would you mind pouring me a drink?”