The shelter is really run-down and smells like pee. The dogs are barking from behind a solid, locked door. It’s a cacophony. I strain to hear Shadow’s bark among them, but if he’s there, he must not be barking.
The woman at the front desk asks all sorts of questions: Why doesn’t my dog have a collar? Where did I lose him? How long have I owned him? What vet do I take him to? Do I have his health records? Is he registered?
I answer the best I can—a mixture of lies and some truth, but I have no proof that Shadow is my dog. I have no records. I don’t even have a photo of him.
“If you can’t prove he’s yours, you can’t have him,” the woman says. “You can adopt him if no one claims him in twenty-four hours. There’s a seventy-five-dollar adoption fee.”
“But I don’t have seventy-five dollars!” I blurt, my voice rising.
Snake leans over to the woman and smiles politely. “Can’t you just take us to him and see if the dog recognizes her? Don’t most dogs know their owner from a stranger?”
The woman glares first at Snake, then at me, and shakes her head. “Rules is rules. You prove the dog is yours, you can have him, or you can pay to adopt him, that is, if you qualify.” She taps a pen on the desk. “There are forms to fill out. You need a permanent address.”
I glare back at her.
“And just so you know,” she says, “this is a kill shelter. We keep the dogs for one week. He’s been here three days already.”
The dogs are still barking off and on. This time I recognize a single, sharp bark.
“That’s him! That’s his bark!” I give the woman a pleading face. “He wants out.”
The woman shakes her head. “Not unless you prove it or pay for it.”
I am about to freak out. I want to jump over the counter, through the little Plexiglas window, and choke her until she agrees to let Shadow out. Before I can, though, Snake takes me by the shoulders and leads me out the door.
“What are you doing!” I yell when we get outside. “Shadow is in there. I have to get him!” I am bursting in all directions.
Snake holds me tighter and shushes me. “Don’t worry, we’ll get him,” he whispers. “I have an idea, but we have to come back after dark.”
BEFORE
The For Sale sign went up the day after Jake’s party, and the move became more and more real. The thought of strangers traipsing through our house, examining things, turning knobs and opening doors, stepping around our furniture, circling the yard and pointing at the roof, all while trying to decide if our house was good enough for them, was excruciating.
We were supposed to get twenty-four hours’ notice and be out when potential buyers came. But that afternoon I must not have gotten the message. My parents were gone and I was watching TV in my room, hoping Jake would call, when a car drove up.
I looked out the window. Three people piled out of a white SUV, a young couple and a Realtor. It was obvious who the Realtor was—she wore a sunflower-yellow pantsuit and carried a clipboard.
A girl about four or five in a purple tutu burst out of the car after them and ran around the maple tree. The mother called her, and the girl ran back and wrapped herself around her father’s leg.
I could hear the Realtor giving an annoying sales pitch, like our house was a used car. “It’s old, needs some fixing up, but it could be a pristine Victorian, and it’s the best zip code in the state. You know what they say—location, location, location.”
The woman had a large cloth slung over her shoulder. A whining cry came from it, and I realized she was carrying a baby. They all entered the front hallway. I turned down the TV and strained to hear.
“There’s plenty of room for additions,” the Realtor said. “You could tear down the back, add a couple of decks. Take out this wall to expand the kitchen. And of course you’d cover these floors with carpet.” She wasn’t trying to sell this house—she was trying to create another house.
She went on about making the attic into a playroom when the woman’s voice interrupted her: “Do you mind if we look around by ourselves? We like to get a feel for a place without any outside interference.”
In spite of my fixed scowl, I laughed. I bet that totally pissed off the Realtor. I sat back on the bed, grabbed a candy bar from my nightstand. Small feet ran up the stairs and blasted into my room like a full-speed tornado. It was the little girl.
“Oh,” she said when she saw me. “I’m Sophie.” She twirled in a circle and made her way over to the window. Her purple tutu stuck out around her. “I love this room!” she blurted. “If we move here, this is going to be my room.”
I glowered. This room would never be hers. But she kept twirling and dancing and smiling. Finally she plopped onto the bed next to me. She looked at the candy bar still in my hand, then gave me a giant grin. I got another one from the drawer and gave it to her.
“It’s like a magic forest in here,” she said, taking a big bite of chocolate.
“It’s haunted,” I said. I thought maybe I could scare her out.
“Really?” she asked, her eyes growing wide. She didn’t look scared at all, more delighted.
“Yup. Super scary, mean ghosts.”
“I’m not afraid.” She pointed to the mural of trees. Three on each side of the window. “Do they live in the forest?”
I nodded. “They come out at night and fly all over the house rattling things.”
The girl got up and studied the mural. She crouched down and peered at the mushroom-shaped house. “They must be very small. I think they are good ghosts. They just need a friend, somebody who’s not scared of them,” she said with authority. She stood back up. “I will live in this room with them, and I won’t share it with my baby brother. There are enough rooms for him to have his very own.”
As if on cue the cries of a baby started up. The man and woman stood in the doorway. The woman shushed the baby in her pouch. It reminded me of a kangaroo.
“Sophie,” the man said, “you need to stick with us.” He turned to me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know anyone was here. Is she bothering you?”
“I’m not a bother!” Sophie declared. “This is going to be my room. It’s perfect!” She started her twirly dance again.
The woman rocked the baby. She put her hand on the man’s shoulder and whispered, “This is a good house.” She looked at me. “Do you like it here?” she asked. She looked so kind and genuine.
I opened my mouth. I had planned to tell them all sorts of stuff about snakes in the basement, diseased rats in the attic, termites eating through the walls. I was even going to make up a story about a murder years ago, but I didn’t. Instead I nodded.
“It’s a lovely house,” the woman said, smiling. “If we buy it, we promise to take very good care of it. We wouldn’t change a thing.”
The man nodded in agreement.
Before they left, Sophie ran back to me and whispered, “I won’t tell anyone about the ghosts. I promise.”
I imagined her living here, twirling around in her tutu in my bedroom, looking for the ghosts at night. She was an okay kid, but it didn’t make me feel any better about anything.
NOW
Snake’s idea is to break Shadow free.
We wait until dark, then bike back to the pound. Of course the doors are locked. The dogs bark from inside. This time Shadow is using his more serious bark. Three short barks in a row, a pause, then three more. Poor pup, locked in a smelly prison where innocent creatures are meaninglessly murdered.
“Hang on, I’m coming!” I yell to let him know help is on the way.
“Shh,” Snake says. “I don’t think anyone lives near here, but we shouldn’t take any chances.”
“What would they do if they caught us?”
“I don’t know. Call the police or something. We’d get in trouble for breaking in, but once we get Shadow, I doubt anyone will ever know we were here. You met that woman—she won’t even notice if Shadow is gone.”
“I hope not,” I
whisper. “One cop near this town already saw me. I can’t risk being seen again. We can’t get caught.”
We go around to the back. There’s a high chainlink fence surrounding a small gravel yard where they let the dogs out to poop.
“I’ll climb over, find a loose window or something, and unlock the front for you,” Snake says.
I nod, glad I don’t have to attempt climbing the fence. It’s taller than I am.
Snake shimmies up one side and down the other like Spider-Man, and all of a sudden he’s in the yard. He starts fiddling with the windows to see if he can get one to open. No luck. He goes around to the other side of the building. I wait and am just about to go around to the front when he comes back frowning.
“There’s no open window.”
“Oh,” I say, deflated.
“There is one other way, though.” He points to the back door by the yard. “There’s a dog door. I can’t fit through, but you might be able to.”
I squint to see what he’s talking about. A small flap of plastic covers a rectangular cutout at the bottom of the door. “It looks pretty small,” I say.
“It’s our only chance. You’ll have to jump the fence first, though. Can you do that?”
“I don’t know,” I say. I jam my fingers and toes in between the metal spaces and attempt to hoist myself up. My foot slips out.
“Lift one hand, then a leg, then hand, then leg,” Snake directs. “Use your legs.”
I squeeze my calves and it’s a little easier.
“That’s it,” Snake says.
Slowly, I move one foot at a time. Eventually I manage to get to the top. I put my left leg over the metal bar. I try to pull the other leg over, and I’m horizontal. I clutch the thin bar for dear life. I’m sure that if I move, I will fall. It’s a good eight feet. It could hurt.
“Just take it slow,” Snake says encouragingly. “Try to lower one leg and find a grip.”
I can’t find a foothold at first and wave my leg around, but then I manage to get my toes into the space and from there it’s suddenly much easier to lower myself down. I jump the last bit and wipe my hands together. I smile triumphantly.
“Not bad,” Snake says. “Now through there.” He points to the dog door.
Is he serious? It looks even smaller up close. It may be big enough for a medium-size dog, but for a grown human, and a chubby one like me?
“It’s really small,” I say.
“You can fit easily,” Snake says.
“I … I’m not …” I start. “Have you seen me?”
“Have you seen you?”
I look down, embarrassed. No, I have not seen me, I think. I run my hands down my sides. Has my body changed? Have I actually become stronger? Smaller? Can that happen without even noticing?
I squat in front of the dog door. The dogs are barking up a storm inside. They know something is happening. I put one arm through the flap, twist my shoulder, and get the other arm in. I slide on my arms and legs and manage to crawl the rest of the way through.
I lie there on the floor for a second. There is no way I could have done this before. There’s no way I would have even tried. I listen to the barking pups. Once again I hear Shadow. Over here, he is saying.
I stand. I’m in a long hallway with barred cells on each side. In each cell is a dog. The two dogs closest to me, a big shepherd and a shaggy Lab mix, jump up with their front paws on the bars, stare at me with their sad eyes, and whimper.
I hear knocking from outside and realize Snake is still in the yard. I unlock the door and let him in.
“Is he here?” he asks.
I follow Shadow’s bark to one of the middle cells. When he sees me, he wags and wiggles like he’s on supercharge. He pushes his paws though the bars and tries to fit his nose through as well.
I open the cage and he flies into my arms and covers me with kisses. I sink my face into his neck, smelling his good doggy smell.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “Can you ever forgive me?”
He rests his head on my shoulder. It’s okay, he says. You’re here. We stay like that, just hugging, and I realize something. I love this dog with all my heart. Maybe more than I’ve ever loved anything.
“We should go, before someone hears something,” Snake says.
The three of us start walking toward the front. It gets strangely quiet. The other dogs have all stopped barking. They watch in silence as we pass each cell. Shadow stops and sits. I stop, too.
“We can’t just leave them,” I say to Snake. “We have to let them out.”
“You want to set them all free?” Snake asks. “What if an owner comes in tomorrow to pick up his dog and it’s not here? Or what if someone wants to adopt one?”
“Yeah, but if not, they’ll kill them. All of them. The woman said this is a kill shelter.”
“They could die out there on their own, too. Stray dogs don’t have much of a chance,” Snake says.
“But at least they’ll have a chance.” I am adamant. “Instead of being locked up with no chance. I bet the ones with homes will know how to get back, and the others—they can always find someone.” I look down at Shadow.
Snake shakes his head, but he walks to one of the cages and pulls up the latch. “All right,” he says to the dog. “Go free.” A little bull-doggish puppy stumbles out. It waddles like a football on legs.
We release them one by one. Short legs, long legs, curly fur, straight fur, floppy ears, pointy ears, solid colors and spotted. They fly in all directions, tumbling over each other, wagging tails and sniffing butts. Snake and I laugh, it’s such a crazy scene, and their joy is contagious.
We head toward the hall that leads to the front door. The dogs are still scattered all over the place and not paying attention. Snake and I exchange glances—how will we get them to actually leave?
Snake yells at them to listen, but it’s no good—it’s mayhem.
Then Shadow circles around, trying to herd them toward the middle. A couple of them gather, but then they get distracted and run somewhere else. Shadow gives one loud listen-to-me bark, but the dogs don’t pay any mind. He looks at me, and says, You try.
I stand still, clap my hands, and whistle through my teeth. A few dogs stop and sit. “Come!” I yell. Surprisingly, some more dogs sit. I clap again. “This is your chance for freedom,” I tell them. “It may be your only chance.”
One by one all of the dogs go quiet. Then, when Shadow goes to herd them, they line up in rows of two and wait, giving me their full attention.
“Wow,” Snake says. “Impressive. You’re like a dog whisperer.”
Snake holds the front door open, and Shadow and I march the herd outside.
Immediately the dogs raise their noses and smell the wind. They jump around in a chaotic, happy dance. And then they disperse in all directions, running into the woods or down the road, some together, some on their own. Before we know it, Shadow is the only one left.
“That was fast,” Snake says. “It’s like they all knew where to go.”
“I hope so,” I say.
Snake picks up his bike and we are about to head back to the motel when we hear a grunt followed by a faint yip. The little bulldog puppy runs after us, as fast as it can on its stumpy legs. It’s got a nasty overbite and wheezes heavily. Snake picks it up, belly front.
“Hello, girl,” he says. The puppy licks Snake all over the face, and Snake pretends to be disgusted, but he’s grinning like mad. “She’s kind of pitiful, but I suppose someone has to take care of her,” he says. “I’ll call you Pity.” He puts the puppy into the bike basket.
I don’t see any of the other dogs on the ride back. I don’t know if they’ll survive or not. Maybe some will, maybe some won’t. But isn’t this the chance we all take in life? Survival isn’t always up to us, but all we can do is try.
Shadow runs beside us as we bike. He looks up at me and smiles. You did a good thing.
Now that I have Shadow I have to g
o. The cops wouldn’t be called in for one missing dog—but an entire empty shelter? The woman at the desk would surely remember Snake and me and assume we did it. The police will come, and then who knows what they’ll find out about me. And that cop who found me in the car might not give me another chance.
“They don’t have any proof it was us,” Snake says when I explain I have to go.
We are outside in the field behind the motel watching Pity and Shadow get to know each other. Shadow is on his back with his legs in the air, and Pity is jumping over him.
I point to them. “I think they are pretty obvious proof,” I say.
“But there’s no way they know where we live. The shelter never got our names or an address. You don’t have to leave, do you?” Snake says. “I’m getting used to you.”
I know I have to keep going—my feet have begun to heal and my muscles are finally calm. “I don’t know,” I say. On the other hand, I am not exactly looking forward to dumpster diving again, cold nights outside, and endless days of more walking.
Snake whispers: “Stay. Please. You could work here. You could help Constance with the cleaning—she sure needs it.”
No one has ever wanted me to stay. There is a part of me that wants to stay here with Snake, maybe a part of me that doesn’t even want to go home at all. But it’s only because I’m afraid of what I might find.
“I’ll stay one more night and go tomorrow,” I say.
Snake nods and gazes at the sky. “All right. I understand. I wasn’t entirely serious about the job, but if you do ever need one …”
I follow his gaze. The sky is dotted with brilliant white, lumpy clouds. The air has a crispness to it that makes the rest of the sky extra blue and the grass extra green.
Snake breaks into his big-toothed grin. “When was the last time you lay on the grass and looked up at the clouds?” he asks.
I think back to how I met Jake. Didn’t we lie side by side? But then I remember I am remembering it wrong. I was the one who got up; Jake didn’t lie next to me at all. “I don’t know,” I say.
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