My leg was still in the air when Senora came out on her porch, stopping when she saw me.
“Why, Toby, how did you get out?”
If I wanted to get away I needed to run now, which was, of course, not what I did. Instead I wagged my tail and jumped up on Senora’s legs, trying to lick her face. Her flowery smell was enlivened with a wonderfully greasy chicken odor. She smoothed my ears back, and I followed her, addicted to her touch, as she strode rapidly around to the still-open gate, the dog pack slumbering inertly inside the Yard. She gave me a gentle nudge and followed me in.
The moment the gate shut, the other dogs were on their feet, racing over to us, and Senora petted them and talked soothingly while I seethed a little over the divided attention.
It seemed more than a little unfair; I’d given up Mother to be with Senora, and here she was acting as if I were no more special than anybody else!
When Senora left, the gate clanked into place with a solid metallic sound, but I would never again regard it as an impassible barrier.
I was wrestling with Coco when Mother returned a few days later. At least, I thought it was my mother—I was distracted by a new wrinkle in our continuous wrestling match, one where I would circle behind Coco and climb up on her back, gripping her with my forelimbs. It was a wonderful game, and I couldn’t understand why Coco was so surly about it, twisting and snarling at me. It felt so right, how could she be so unreceptive?
I looked up when Bobby opened the gate, and there was Mother, standing uncertainly. Joyously I tore across the yard, leading a charge of dogs, but I slowed down when I got closer.
This female dog was marked the same as Mother, with a splotch of black over one eye, and had the stubby snout and short coat, but it wasn’t Mother. She squatted and urinated submissively at our approach. I circled the new dog with the others, though Fast marched right up to her to sniff at her rear end.
Bobby had the same defeated sag to his shoulders as when he’d loaded us all into the truck the first time, but he stood close to the dog, protecting her with his body.
“You’ll be okay, girl,” he said.
It was Sister. I had nearly forgotten all about her, and now, inspecting her, I realized how different life must be on the other side of the fence. She was thin, her ribs plainly visible, and a white, oozing scar tracked down her side. Her mouth smelled of rotten food, and when she squatted a sickly odor came from her bladder.
Fast was overjoyed, but Sister was too cowed by the rest of the pack to accept his offer of play. She groveled in front of Top Dog and let all of the canines sniff her without making a single move to establish any boundaries. When they contemptuously dismissed her, Sister furtively inspected the empty feeding trough and drank some water as if she were stealing.
This was what happened to dogs who tried to live in the world without people—they became beaten down, defeated, starved. Sister was what we all would have become if we’d stayed in the culvert.
Fast clung to her side the whole time. It occurred to me that Sister had always been his favorite, more important to him than even Mother. I watched him kiss Sister and bow toward her without jealousy—I had Coco.
What did make me jealous was the attention Coco was getting from some of the other males, who seemed to think they could wander over and play with her as if I weren’t there, which I suppose they could. I knew my position in the pack and was happy for the sense of order and security it provided me, but I wanted Coco for myself and didn’t appreciate it when I was rudely shouldered out of the way.
The males all seemed to want to play the game I’d invented, circling behind Coco and trying to jump on her, but I noted with cold satisfaction that she had no interest in playing this game with them, either.
The morning after Sister arrived, Bobby came into the yard and took Fast, Sister, Coco, and one other young male, a frisky spotted hound the men called Down, and put them all with me in a cage in the back of the truck. It was crowded and noisy, but I loved the high-velocity airstream and the expression on Fast’s face when I sneezed on him. Astoundingly, a long-haired female dog from the pack rode in the cab with Carlos and Bobby. Why did she get to be a front-seat dog? I wondered. And why, when her scent flowed from the open windows, did a shiver pass through me, making me feel an urgent wildness?
We parked next to an old, gnarly tree that provided the only visible shade in a hot parking lot. Bobby went inside the building with the female from the cab while Carlos came around to the cage door. All of us except Sister surged forward.
“Come on, Coco. Coco,” Carlos said. I could smell peanuts and berries on his fingers, plus something sweet I couldn’t identify.
We all barked jealously as Coco was led into the building, and then we barked because we were barking. A large black bird landed in the tree above us and stared down at us as if we were idiots, so we barked at it for a while.
Bobby came back out to the truck. “Toby!” he called.
Proudly I stepped forward, accepting a loop of leather around my neck before jumping down onto the pavement, which was so hot it hurt my feet. I didn’t even glance back at the losers in the cage as I entered the building, which was astoundingly cool and redolent with the smells of dogs and other animals.
Bobby led me down a hallway and then picked me up and dropped me on a shiny table. A woman entered and I thumped my tail as she put her soft, gentle fingers in my ears and probed under my throat. Her hands smelled of a strong chemical, though her clothes smelled of other animals, including Coco.
“What’s this one?” she asked.
“Toby,” Bobby said. I wagged harder when I heard my name.
“How many did you say, today?” While she and Bobby spoke, she lifted back my gums to admire my teeth.
“Three males, three bitches.”
“Bobby,” the woman said. I wagged my tail because I recognized his name.
“I know; I know.”
“She’s going to get into trouble,” the woman said. She was feeling me up and down, and I wondered if it would be okay if I groaned with pleasure.
“There are no neighbors to complain.”
“Still, there are laws. She can’t just keep taking on more dogs. There are already too many. It’s not sanitary.”
“She says otherwise, the dogs all die. There are not enough people to take them on.”
“It is against the law.”
“Please don’t tell, Doctor.”
“You put me in a bad position, Bobby. I have to be concerned with their welfare.”
“We bring them to you if they are sick.”
“Someone is going to file a complaint, Bobby.”
“Please, don’t.”
“Oh, not me. I’m not going to say anything without telling you first, give you a chance to find a solution. Okay, Toby?”
I gave her a lick on the hand.
“Good boy. We’re going to get you into surgery now, fix you right up.”
Bobby chuckled.
Soon I was in another room, brightly lit but deliciously cool, full of the strong chemical smell that came off the nice lady. Bobby held me tightly and I lay still, somehow sensing this was what he wanted. It felt good to be held like that, and I thumped my tail. I felt a brief, sharp pain, behind my neck, but I didn’t complain, wagging vigorously to show that I didn’t mind.
The next thing I knew, I was back in the Yard! I opened my eyes and tried to stand up, but my back legs weren’t working. I was thirsty but too tired to go get water. I put my head down and went back to sleep.
When I awoke, I was instantly aware that there was something around my neck, a white cone of some kind, so stupid looking I worried I might be dismissed from the pack. I had an aching, itchy feeling between my back legs, though I couldn’t get at it with my teeth because of the silly collar. I stumbled over to the faucet and drank a little, my stomach queasy and my underside very, very sore. I could tell by the smells in the Yard that I had missed supper, but I couldn’t have cared
less, at that point. I found a cool patch of earth and flopped down with a groan. Fast was lying there, and he looked over at me—he, too, was wearing the ridiculous collar.
What had Bobby done to us?
The three females who had gone with us to the building with the nice lady were nowhere to be seen. The next day I limped around the Yard, sniffing for signs of Coco, but there was no evidence that she had come back with us.
Aside from the humiliation of the stupid collar, I also had to suffer the indignity of an inspection of the sore area by every male in the pack. Top Dog flipped me over on my back with a not-so-gentle shove, and I lay there in misery as first he and then the other males sniffed me with undisguised contempt.
They didn’t try the same thing with the females, who bounded into the yard a few days later. I was overjoyed to see Coco, who also wore the strange collar, and Fast did his best to comfort Sister, who plainly felt the entire process had been traumatizing.
Carlos eventually removed the collars, and from that point on I found myself somehow less interested in the game where I climbed on Coco’s back. Instead, I had a new game, where I would strut up to Coco with a rubber bone and chew it right in front of her, tossing it up in the air and dropping it. She would pretend she didn’t want it, looking away, but her eyes always came back to the bone when I nudged it toward her with my nose. Finally she would lose control and lunge, but I knew her so well I could snatch the bone away before she closed her jaws on it. I would dance back, wagging joyfully, and sometimes she would chase me and we’d run in big circles, which was my favorite part of the game. Other times she would yawn in fake boredom, so I’d come close again, tantalizing her with the rubber bone until she simply couldn’t take it anymore and made another grab for it. I loved this game so much that when I slept I dreamed about it.
Sometimes there were real bones, though, and these were handled differently. Carlos would come into the yard with a greasy bag, handing out charred treats and calling our names as he did so. Carlos didn’t understand that he should always give one to Top Dog first, which was okay by me. I didn’t always get a bone, but when I did, Carlos would say, “Toby, Toby,” and hand it to me right past some other dog’s nose. There were different rules when humans were involved.
Once when Fast got a bone and I didn’t, I saw something extraordinary. Fast was hunkered down across the yard, chewing frantically, intoxicating odors wafting up from his prize. I’d slid over to watch enviously, so I was standing right there when Top Dog walked up.
Fast tensed, spreading his legs a little as if getting ready to stand, and as Top Dog came forward Fast stopped chewing and loosened a deep growl. No one ever growled at Top Dog. I sensed, though, that Fast was right—this was his bone, given to him by Carlos, and not even Top Dog could take it.
But the bone was so delicious, Top Dog couldn’t seem to help himself. He shoved his nose forward, and that’s when Fast struck, a sharp click of his teeth right in Top Dog’s face! Fast’s lips were drawn back and his eyes were slits. Top Dog stared at him as if dumbfounded at this open rebellion, and then, with his head raised regally, he turned and lifted his leg on the fence, paying Fast no further attention.
I knew that if Top Dog wanted to, he could have taken Fast’s prize. Top Dog had that power, and he’d exerted it before. I’d seen what happened when, right around the time we took the truck ride to visit the nice lady in the cool building, the male dogs had assembled around one of the females, sniffing at her and lifting their legs with a certain frantic purpose. I was in the group, I’m sorry to say; there was just something so compelling about her, I can’t even describe it.
Every time a male tried to smell her from behind, the female sat in the dirt. Her ears were back in humility, but she also growled a few times, and when she did the males backed off as if she had just been elected Top Dog.
We were all gathered so close together, it was impossible not to bump into one another, and that’s when a fight erupted between Top Dog and the largest male in the pack, a huge black and brown dog whom Bobby called Rottie.
Top Dog fought with expert efficiency, seizing Rottie by the back of the neck and dragging the dog’s shoulders down to the ground. The rest of us gave the fight a wide berth, and it was over in seconds, really, Rottie flipping over on his back subserviently. The noise had drawn Carlos, though, who called, “Hey! Hey! That’s enough.” Carlos stood in the yard, ignored by the males, while Coco trooped over to him to be petted. After watching us a few minutes, Carlos called for the female who had been getting all the attention and took her outside the gate.
I didn’t see her again until we were all in the truck the next morning, headed out to see the nice lady in the cool room, and she was a front-seat dog with the men.
After Fast was finished with his bone, he seemed to have second thoughts about nipping at Top Dog. My brother hung his head, tail wagging low, and shambled over to where Top Dog was standing. Fast made several play bows, which Top Dog ignored, and then Fast licked Top Dog in the mouth. This seemed to be sufficient apology, so, with that, Top Dog played with Fast a little, rolling my brother over and letting Fast chew at his neck before he abruptly walked away.
This was how Top Dog maintained order, by keeping us all in our places but not taking advantage of his position to steal food that was given to us by the men. We had a happy pack, right up until the day that Spike arrived.
After that, nothing was the same.
{ FOUR }
It was starting to seem to me that just when I had life all figured out it changed. When we were running with Mother, I learned to fear humans, I learned to scavenge for food, I learned how to placate Fast so he would be in what, for him, was a good mood. And then the men came and took us to the Yard and everything was different.
In the Yard I adjusted quickly to life in the pack, I learned to love Senora and Carlos and Bobby, and just when my play with Coco was starting to assume a different, more complex character we were taken to visit the nice lady in the cool room and the urgency I’d been feeling went completely away. I still spent most of my day chewing on, and being chewed by, Coco, but without the odd compulsions that had occasionally seized me.
In between the two worlds—the one outside and the Yard—stood the gate Mother had opened. I thought about the night of her escape so many times I could practically feel the metal knob in my mouth. Mother had shown me a way to freedom, if I wanted it. But I was a different dog than Mother. I loved the Yard. I wanted to belong to Senora. My name was Toby.
Mother, however, was so anti-social that no one seemed to notice she was gone. Senora had never even given Mother a name. Fast and Sister sniffed every so often at the depression behind the railroad ties where Mother had lain but never showed any outward concern about her disappearance beyond that. Life went on, just as before.
And then, with everyone’s status in the pack settled, with me feeding at the adult trough, with Carlos sneaking us bones and Senora handing out treats and kisses, in came a new dog.
His name was Spike.
We’d heard the doors on Bobby’s truck slam, so we were all barking, though it was so hot that day that some of us who were lying in the shade didn’t even get off our bellies. The gate opened and Bobby entered, leading a large, muscular male on the end of his pole.
Having the entire pack rush you at the gate was intimidating, but the new dog didn’t budge. He was as dark and broad as Rottie and as tall as Top Dog. Most of his tail was missing, but what little stub he possessed wasn’t wagging, and he stood with his weight balanced on all four legs. A low rumble emitted from his chest.
“Easy, Spike. Okay there,” Bobby said.
The way Bobby said “Spike,” I knew that was his name. I decided to let everyone else have a turn at inspecting him before I did anything.
Top Dog had, as usual, hung back, but now he emerged from the cool shadows near the waterspout and trotted forward to meet the new arrival. Bobby slipped the loop off Spike’s neck. “Ea
sy, now,” Bobby said.
Bobby’s tension rippled through the pack, and I could feel the fur on my back rising up, though I wasn’t sure why. Top Dog and Spike were stiffly examining each other, neither one backing down, the pack in a tight circle. Spike’s face was covered with scars—teardrop-shaped pits and lumps colored a pale gray against his dark fur.
Something about the way Spike seemed to take us all in, every single one of us arrayed against him, made me afraid, though the result was as it should be. Spike allowed Top Dog to put his head over his back, though he didn’t bow or lower his stomach to the ground. Instead, Spike went over to the fence, carefully sniffed at it, and then lifted his leg. The males immediately lined up after Top Dog to do the same thing on the same spot.
Senora’s face appeared over the top of the gate, then, and a lot of the anxiety I’d been feeling went away. Several of us broke from the circle and ran over to her, putting our legs on the fence so she could reach our heads.
“See? He’ll be okay,” Senora said.
“A dog like him’s been bred to fight, senora. He is not like the rest of ’em, no ma’am.”
“You be a good dog, Spike!” Senora called over to him. I looked jealously in the new dog’s direction, but his reaction to having his name spoken was to glance over as if it were nothing at all.
Toby, I wanted her to say. Good dog, Toby. Instead she said, “There are no bad dogs, Bobby, just bad people. They just need love.”
“Sometimes they’re broke inside, senora. And nuthin’ will help ’em.”
Senora’s hand absently reached down and scratched behind Coco’s ears. I frantically shoved my nose underneath Senora’s fingers, but she didn’t even seem to know I was there.
Later Coco sat down in front of me with a rubber bone, gnawing on it industriously. I ignored her, still hurt that I, Senora’s favorite, had been treated so dismissively. Coco flipped on her back and played with the bone with her paws, lifting it out of her mouth and dropping it, holding it so lightly that I knew I could take it, so I lunged! But Coco was rolling away from me, and then I was chasing her in the yard, furious that she had gotten the game all backward.
A Dog's Purpose Page 3