But now, as we drove, that background smell seemed to gather itself together on the wind, like a scattering of dogs coming together to form a pack. I could no longer smell Lucas or Mom or our apartment, but I could still smell everything that surrounded them. That smell was important. It was the smell of Go Home.
When Audrey stopped and let me out of the crate so that I could pee, I lifted my head once I had finished. The wind rushed passed my nose, and I could pick out that familiar smell among all the others.
That way, I thought, pointing my nose. That way lies Go Home.
That way lies Lucas.
But we were not going that way!
Now that I knew to locate the gathering of odors on the wind, I could track other, different gatherings. Audrey and Olivia kept saying the word town, and that’s eventually how I thought of the combination of people smells and animal smells and smoke and cars—towns, each one similar to, but different from, where I lived with Lucas.
There were so many!
Audrey and Olivia took me to a house. Inside the house was a man named Uncle José and a woman named Aunt Loretta and a big dog and a little dog and two cats and a big white bird.
Audrey and Olivia talked to me and petted me, but it was hard to even pick up my head to look at them. Every part of my body felt heavy with sorrow.
“Oh, look, she misses Lucas so much already,” Olivia said. “Poor Bella.”
Audrey and Olivia spent the night. The next day, they got back in the car and drove away. I was left behind.
That first day, I was too miserable to eat. The next day was the same. Mostly I lay on my Lucas blanket, breathing in his smell and missing him so much it hurt.
Then I thought about Lucas. Thought about who he was, how much he loved me, how he would praise me when I was a good dog. I lifted my head as if he were right there, reaching his hand out.
He would come for me here. I was sure of it. If I was the very best dog I could be, Lucas would come and get me. The thought made me feel better, so I got off of my Lucas blanket and began to explore.
The little white dog was named Rascal, and he had never been taught No Barks. The big brown one was named Grump, and he was very old and slow and liked to sleep most of the day. The bird lived in a cage and had a high voice. “Sit!” it told me when I sniffed its cage.
I had never met a bird that could talk before! Bewildered, I did Sit. The bird did not give me a treat. It also did not seem to notice that I was a good dog doing exactly what it told me to do, because it kept saying “Sit!” at me. After a while I gave up and moved on.
What kind of place was this, where the birds were in charge?
The cats ignored me unless I approached them too closely, and then they snarled. What sort of place had cats who didn’t want to play with me?
I did not feel that I belonged here.
Uncle José mostly sat in a big, soft chair. He liked to eat food out of a bowl and would slip me a piece of salty treat when Loretta wasn’t nearby.
I spent a lot of time doing Sit by Uncle José’s chair. I knew that if he gave me treats I was being a good dog, the way I knew I was being a good dog when Lucas and I did T-i-i-ny Piece of Cheese. If I was a good dog, Lucas would come to get me.
Aunt Loretta smelled of soap and food and was very nice. She told me I was a good dog and let me out into a big yard in the back of their house, with a high fence all around it made of wood. I could go into this yard without my leash on, which was different from when I lived with Lucas and Mom.
Near the fence there was a structure like the ones I used to see at the park—a slide plus a swing that dangled down from a bar overhead. The slide made me think of Lucas, so I went over to it and sniffed it. But it did not smell of him.
I looked at Aunt Loretta, in case she had a ball to throw up the slide for me. But she did not know how to play.
“That’s a swing set. Do you smell something interesting on it, Bella? Our grandkids sometimes use it,” Loretta told me. “But they’re in school now. Want a treat, Bella?”
Treats were nice. But I wanted Lucas more.
Trips to the backyard gave me a chance to explore with my nose what I had learned during my car trip with Audrey. Out in the world, beyond the fence, there were many homes and dogs and cars. Some were bunched together into towns. I could tell the difference between them—they each had their own unique set of odors.
Only one town was the right one. Only one town smelled like Go Home. In the backyard, when I lifted my nose, I thought I could find the scent of it. It was far away and faint, but it was there.
That was where I needed to go. That was where Lucas was.
Sometimes Aunt Loretta and Uncle José would put me on a leash and take me for walks along a path near the backyard. “I love living right up against the state forest, Bella. Isn’t it fantastic?” Loretta asked me once. I could sense that she was very happy, but she didn’t let me off the leash. So whatever was going on, it couldn’t be that wonderful.
I wagged a bit to show her that I was listening, but my nose was very busy. On the wind, from both near and far, I could smell plants and trees and water and many, many animals. Not just dogs and cats—animals I had never met.
“Audrey called,” José said from behind us.
“Oh?”
“They said Bella’s owner found a new apartment in a pit-friendly town. So they can come and get her.”
I wagged a little for my name, but they didn’t seem to be talking to me. Nobody petted me.
“Oh, that’s such good news.”
Uncle José caught up to us and bent down to rub my ears. “Hear that, Bella? Your people are coming tomorrow. I’ll miss you. You’ve been good company. But I bet you’ll be glad to go home.”
My ears perked up. My tail grew still.
Uncle José had just told me to Go Home.
But Aunt Loretta still had hold of my leash!
I pulled against the leash. I whined. I wanted nothing more than to run and run and run until I was Go Home with Lucas. But even though Uncle José had told me to do Go Home, Aunt Loretta did not let me go.
“Bella, come on!” she said, tugging on the leash.
Once we got back, I lay on my Lucas blanket in the living room. Rascal came and flopped down next to me. I closed my eyes. I thought of Lucas.
I thought of all the games we played—like T-i-i-ny Piece of Cheese and Ball and Go Home.
Go Home.
I was trying to be a good dog, but Lucas had not come to get me.
I remembered when Lucas placed my Lucas blanket in the crate in Audrey’s car. He said Go Home. Maybe I wasn’t a good dog because I was still here, because I hadn’t done what he said. And today, Uncle José said Go Home.
So that’s what I would do.
* * *
Later that day, Uncle José went out in the backyard to push a strange-smelling, noisy metal machine back and forth across the grass. I went with him to watch, even though I didn’t like the sound the machine made. He sure loved taking that thing for a walk in the yard!
He tugged the slide across the yard so that he could push his loud machine over the ground where it had been. Then the machine went silent and he dragged it into the garage.
A rough wind brushed at my face and ruffled my fur and made the swing move gently back and forth. I could smell so many things out there, but I could not smell Lucas.
Still, I knew where he was. I could sense him. It was like a pull on a leash, a leash I could not see but could feel all the same.
Uncle José came out of the garage and went to the house. He opened the door.
I could not climb the fence. It was too high to jump over.
I wanted Lucas. If Lucas was here, he would throw a ball for me and it would bounce up the slide and I would chase it.
Since Uncle José had moved the slide, it was up against the fence. If Lucas threw a ball right now, it would go up the ramp and over the wooden fence. I would chase it and then I’d jump. W
hen I caught the ball I would be on the other side of the fence.
“You coming, Bella?” Uncle José called to me.
Then I realized that I did not need a ball. I could run up the slide all by myself!
“Bella?”
I didn’t wait for a moment. I raced across the yard and up the slide and sailed over the top of the fence!
On the other side, I landed lightly on some soft dirt.
“Bella! No!” Uncle José yelled.
I left the house and the yard and Aunt Loretta and Uncle José and Rascal and Grump and the cats and the talking bird behind me. Lucas! I went toward the path that led to the trees and the dirt and the smell of water and animals and space. I felt strong and good and alive with a purpose.
I was a good dog. I was doing Go Home.
I walked along the path until the light went away and darkness came. Then I curled up under a bush, but I could not sleep. I had never been alone outside before. The night was full of sounds and odors and loneliness.
I wanted my Lucas blanket. Lying in a pile of leaves was not the same.
When light came, I continued to follow the trail. It led to another that smelled as if many people and some dogs had walked on it. Whenever I heard anyone coming near, I turned and trotted away from the path and lay down until they had passed.
Somehow I knew that I should not let people who were not Lucas find me.
There was a stream near the path, and I drank from it several times. But after a little while I began to feel hungry. It was a new kind of hunger, one I had not felt before.
My stomach was empty and it ached a little. I wanted Lucas or Uncle José or Aunt Loretta to fill up my bowl with food. I wanted Lucas to do T-i-i-ny Piece of Cheese with me. I licked my lips, thinking about it.
When the day began cooling and turning dark, I was exhausted. I knew I needed to sleep even though I had not found Lucas yet, so I dug a hollow by a rock and curled up.
I was cold and sad and alone. Doing Go Home had never taken this long before.
10
A shocking scream jolted me awake. I jumped to my feet. It was still dark, and whatever had made the noise was close by.
The scream came again, and I twitched and turned in a circle. There was no pain or no fear in the cry—I could tell that—but I did not know what kind of animal might make a noise like that.
Another sound came, hard and loud, like a dog letting out a single bark. But this was no dog. I needed to learn what was making this sound, so I shook myself and padded off into the dark to find out.
I slowed as my ears told me I was close. But the breeze was flowing away from me and I couldn’t smell what I was approaching.
Then I saw it in the moonlight—something that looked like a large dog sitting on a boulder. Its mouth yawned open and a shrieking call filled the night.
But this animal was not a dog, not quite. It did not smell exactly like a dog, and its ears were odd and pointed, and its tail was heavy and bushy.
The not-quite-a-dog whirled and stared at me.
I felt the fur rise on the back of my neck. This animal reminded me of squirrels. Squirrels did not live in homes or wear collars or go on walks. They were wild.
This animal was wild, too. What did it think of me—a good dog who lived with people? It must be jealous of me, I decided.
The strange creature leaped silently to the ground and dashed off into the trees. I watched it go.
What other creatures were waiting out there in the dark forest?
I went back to my rock and slept some more. In the morning, when I woke, I was worried, hungry, and a little afraid. I knew I was being a good dog to do Go Home, but the path I had been following did not lead directly there.
If I stayed on the path, I would not go straight to Lucas. If I left it, I would have to walk over rocks or push my way through plants and bushes. It just seemed easier to stay on the trail. But I felt anxious about it. I hoped Lucas would not think I was a bad dog.
After a time, the trail began to slant downhill, and the smell of people drifted to my nose. These people were not Lucas or Mom, but I wanted to be nearer to them. I was lonely out here, with no people of any kind.
Now I heard the voices of two boys. I turned in their direction.
When I came over the top of a small rise, I saw the boys standing by a wide, shallow stream. One of them bent and skimmed a rock over the water. It hit the surface and bounced several times.
“That’s five!” the second boy called out. He was wearing a sort of sack on his back. Lucas sometimes wore a sack like that when he said school and left the house, and I had to do No Barks.
Sack Boy threw a stone, too, and then he straightened up and saw me.
“Hey! A dog!” He slapped his legs. Sometimes people did that when they want a dog to move closer to them. I was happy to oblige.
I sniffed at the hand Sack Boy held out to me. He was not Lucas—he was older, and taller, and his voice was deeper. But he was friendly. Soon both boys were patting me and talking to me.
“How are you, girl, huh?” Sack Boy asked. “What are you doing way out here? Are you lost?” I sniffed his hands carefully. He did not have any food in his pockets, but his fingers smelled as if they had been holding some kind of meat recently. I licked them to make sure. Yes! This boy had been holding dog treats not long ago!
“So what now?” asked the other boy.
“I’ve still got some beef jerky back at the car.”
“So?”
“So I bet I can get her to come with us. Hey, girl, come on! Come this way!”
I went for a walk with the boys. I didn’t have my leash on, so I ran ahead while they strode along the trail. I understood that now I was with these boys, just as I’d been with Uncle José and Aunt Loretta for a little while. Maybe that’s how it would be from now on. I’d be with other people for a few days at a time, until I was back with Lucas at last.
I could hear the boys talking to each other, and I learned that the Sack Boy was Warren and his friend was Dude. We strolled through warm green grass to a car, and when Warren opened the car door a delicious smell wafted out.
The dog treats were in the car! We’d found the treats! I was so excited that I started spinning in circles.
“Want some beef jerky, girl?” Warren asked. I could tell he was talking to me, so I sat down to show that I could be a good dog. Warren handed me a chewy, smoky piece of meat. I gulped it down.
“She’s really hungry,” Dude said, watching me.
“Me, too,” Warren answered him.
Both of the boys ate some of the dog treats. That was odd. With all the wonderful food that humans can pick from, why would they take treats away from a deserving dog?
“So, what, you have a dog now?” Dude asked, chewing.
Warren gave me more treats. “Dude, no way. My mom wouldn’t let me have a dog.”
“So what are you going to do with her?”
“Well, we can’t just leave her out here,” Warren said. “She probably belongs to someone. I mean, she’s got a collar. We could call somebody.”
“My phone doesn’t work out here.”
“Yeah, mine doesn’t, either. Look, I know. We’ll get her in the car and drive to the sheriff’s office. They can call her owners or whatever.”
“Yeah, sure.”
All my attention was on the crinkly package in Warren’s hand. There was still a little piece of dog treat in there. I wondered if he knew it. I was doing Sit, and now I shuffled my weight from one front paw to the other, to signal that such excellent behavior deserved that last tiny treat.
Warren opened the door of the car.
“Come on, girl!” he called to me.
I hesitated.
I usually liked car rides. But this felt strange. Where would Warren and Dude take me? When Audrey had put me into her car, we’d gone far away from Lucas. Would that happen again?
But then Warren rustled the bag and tossed the last dog treat i
nto the back seat of the car, and I knew what to do. I bounded in after it. Warren and Dude got into the front seat, and that was it: we were off on a car ride.
I lifted my nose to the crack in the window, pulling in the clear, clean smells from outside. I could tell we were heading toward a town because there were more and more scents in the air, packed closer together.
But it wasn’t the right town. It wasn’t Go Home.
After a while we slowed, making a few turns, and then the car stopped. I went from one window to the other in the back seat, wagging, wondering what would happen next.
“So do we just go in with her?” Dude asked.
“I dunno. No, let’s leave her in the car and go in and tell them we found a dog. See what they say.”
Suddenly the window next to me slid down. I could get my entire head out now!
“Why’d you do that?” Dude asked.
“Because it’s sunny. You never leave a dog in a closed-up car in the sun. It heats up to, like, a thousand degrees.” Warren leaned over the back of his seat and rubbed my head. “Okay, girl. You stay here, okay? You’ll be okay.”
I did not understand most of the words, but the tone was familiar. And so was that word okay. People said that word a lot when they were about to leave their dogs. “Okay, Bella,” Lucas would say, “I have to go to school now.”
And that’s what Warren and Dude did. They got out of the car and shut the doors behind them. “We’ll be back, I promise,” Warren told me.
They walked into a nearby building. They were gone.
11
As I sat in the car that belonged to Warren and Dude, I began to understand something. Many people were very nice and they might even take me on a car ride or give me treats, but they would not take me to Lucas. In fact, some of them might take me away from Lucas.
That was not right. I needed to do Go Home.
I stuck my head out of the window and then my front paws. I wiggled my rear end, pushing myself forward, until my front paws were nearly touching the sidewalk.
My chest and my stomach scraped against the window and it hurt, but I did not stop. I pushed and pushed, and then my back paws were scrabbling in the air and I was falling nose first toward the ground.
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