A Dog’s Journey (28 page)

“Nothing. I’m just happy you’re here, that’s all.”

One afternoon it rained and the roar on the roof was as loud as the cars I could hear from my special carpet on the balcony, only without the honking. The windows were open and the wet, earthy smells came flooding into the room. I lay lazily at CJ’s feet as she and Hannah sat and ate cookies without giving me one.

“I feel guilty that I didn’t try harder,” Hannah told CJ.

“No, Grandma, no. If Gloria sent you that lawyer letter…”

“It wasn’t just that. Your mother moved so many times after Henry … after the plane crash. And life has a way of getting so busy you don’t notice how quickly time is passing. Still, I should have done something, maybe hired my own lawyer.”

“Are you kidding? I know Gloria. I grew up with her. If she said she’d sue you, she meant it.”

My girl went to Hannah and they hugged. I sighed, smelling the cookie crumbs still on the plate. Sometimes people will set a plate down for a dog to lick, but most of the time they forget.

“I have something for you, though,” Hannah said. “See that box on the shelf, the one with the pink flowers? Look inside.”

CJ crossed the room and I sprang to my feet, but she merely picked up a box and brought it back. It didn’t smell very interesting.

CJ held the box in her lap. “What are these?” she asked. Whatever was inside smelled like papers.

“Birthday cards. Every year I bought you a card and wrote you what had happened since your previous birthday. Marriages, births … they’re all in there. I didn’t realize when I started how many cards I’d wind up writing. At one point I had to find a bigger box. No one expects to live into her nineties.” Hannah chuckled.

CJ was playing with the papers in the box, completely oblivious to the obvious connection between the cookie crumbs and her deserving dog, Max.

“Oh, Grandma, this is the most wonderful gift I’ve ever received.”

At dinner I would lie under the table and Rachel and Cindy and other people would sit with CJ and talk and laugh and everyone was very happy. So I was surprised the day when Trent began moving suitcases out of the house and into the car, because I knew it meant that despite how happy CJ was, we were leaving.

Humans do that: though it might be more fun at the Farm, or a dog park, they will decide to leave and then that’s it; they leave. It’s the job of the dog to go with them once he’s marked the area with his scent.

I was in my crate in the car. My girl had completely forgotten I was a front-seat dog. “It’s like Grandma gave me all the memories of my life, the life I missed. All my memories in a box,” CJ said as we drove. She was crying and I whimpered, wanting to comfort her even though I couldn’t see her.

“It’s okay, Max,” CJ told me. I wagged at my name. “I’m not crying because I’m sad. It’s just, I’m so happy to have seen them, and yet to know I missed so much, and that I could have missed so much more…”

“It’s overwhelming,” Trent said quietly.

“God, yes.” She sighed.

I curled up in a ball. Clearly, whatever was going on, they were not going to invite me out to be a part of it.

After driving for many hours, I sat up in my cage, because for the second time on the car ride the smells were familiar. Eventually the car stopped and I waited patiently in my crate to be let out, but CJ and Trent just sat in their seats.

“Okay?” Trent said.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to see her.”

“Okay.”

“No,” CJ said. “I mean, whenever I see her I just wind up feeling bad about myself. Is that terrible? She’s my mother.”

“You get to feel however you feel.”

“I don’t think I can do it.”

“Okay then,” Trent said.

Well, I’d had as much of this as I could stand. I yipped in frustration.

“Be a good dog, Max,” CJ said. I wagged at being a good dog.

“So, you’re sure? You want us to leave?” Trent asked.

“Yes. No! No, I should go in; I mean, we’re right here,” CJ said. “You wait, okay? I’ll run up and see which kind of mood she’s in.”

“Sure. Max and I will sit tight.”

I wagged. The car door opened and I could hear CJ getting out. I waited expectantly when the door shut, but she didn’t come around to let me out.

“It’s okay, Max,” Trent said. I whimpered. Where was my girl? Trent leaned over and stuck his fingers through the bars and I licked them.

The door opened and the car rocked as CJ jumped back in. I wagged, hoping she would let me out and pet me to celebrate her return, but she just shut her door. “You won’t believe this.”

“What?”

“She moved. The woman who answered the door has lived there for a year, and she bought it from some old man.”

“You’re kidding. I thought that boyfriend of hers, the one whose father was a senator, paid off the mortgage so she’d always have a home,” Trent said.

“That’s right, but she apparently sold it anyway.”

“Well … you want to call her? Her cell phone is probably the same.”

“No, you know what? I’m going to take this as a sign. It’s like the joke where your parents move and don’t tell you their forwarding address—well, that’s what Gloria has done to me. Let’s just go.”

We started driving again. With a sigh, I settled down.

“Do you want to drive past your old place?” CJ asked.

“No, that’s okay. This trip was for you. I have a lot of good memories about that house, but after my parents retired and sold it—I’d rather keep it as it was in my memory than see all the changes, you know?”

We drove for a long time without anyone making any sounds. I was sleepy, but I woke up when I heard CJ’s voice, because there was a little bit of fear in it.

“Trent?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s true, isn’t it. This trip was all for me. Everything you’ve done since I went into the hospital has been for me.”

“No, I had fun, too.”

“The whole thing. Tracking down my relatives. Making the detour so I could see Gloria even though we both knew that at the last minute I’d probably turn chicken.”

I cocked my head. Chicken?

“Ever since we were kids growing up, you’ve been there for me. You know that? You’re my rock.”

I turned around in my box and lay down.

“But that’s not why I love you, Trent. I love you because you’re the best man in the world.”

Trent was quiet for a moment. “I love you, too, CJ,” he said. Then I felt the car turn and slow to a stop. I stood up in my crate and shook myself.

“I think maybe I need to stop driving for a minute,” Trent said.

I waited patiently to be let out, but all I could hear was rustling around in the front seat, plus what sounded like eating noises. Could they be having chicken? I didn’t smell any, but the thought made me agitated anyway. I finally barked.

CJ laughed. “Max! We forgot all about you.”

I wagged.

As it would turn out, that was not the last time we saw Hannah and her whole family. Not long after we returned home, I was taken to a big room full of people sitting in rows of chairs, as if we were going to play the game that Andi had taught me when I was Molly. Trent held me tightly, but I squirmed out of his arms when I smelled Cindy and Rachel and Hannah. Rachel laughed and scooped me up and held me to Hannah and I licked her face. I was careful and gentle in my behavior, though, not at all like Duke would have been, because Hannah seemed frail and there was always someone holding her by the arm. Trent’s sister, Carolina, and his mother and father were there, too, which was a surprise to me because I never smelled them on Trent and so had assumed they were no longer alive.

I was so happy to see all of them! CJ was happy, too, as happy as I could ever remember her being. There was so much joy and love in the air, flowing through the people in the chairs and between CJ and Trent, that I couldn’t help but bark. CJ picked me up and cuddled me. “Shhh, Max,” she whispered, kissing my nose.

I wore something soft on my back and walked with CJ between the people to where Trent was standing, and I sat there with them while they talked and then they kissed and everyone in the room yelled and I barked again.

It was such a wonderful day. Every table was draped with cloth so that there were little rooms under each one, rooms with people’s legs and morsels of meat and fish. Flowers and plants everywhere made the whole place smell as wonderful as a dog park. I played with laughing children who chased me, and when Trent picked me up to take me outside to do my business I couldn’t wait to get back in.

CJ wore large folds of cloth so that there was a little room under there, too, though no food—just her legs. When I crawled under there my girl always giggled and reached in to pull me out. “Oh, Max, are you having fun?” CJ asked me after one such incident. She scooped me up and kissed me on the top of my head.

“He’s been running around like a maniac the whole time,” Trent said. “He’ll sleep like a log tonight.”

“Well … that’s good,” CJ said, and they both laughed.

“It’s a perfect day. I love you, CJ.”

“I love you, too, Trent.”

“You’re the most beautiful bride in the history of weddings.”

“You’re not so bad yourself. I can’t believe I get to be married to you.”

“For as long as you want. Forever. You’re my wife forever.”

They kissed, which they had been doing a lot, lately. I wagged.

“I got a message from Gloria,” CJ said finally, setting me down.

“Oh? Did she unleash the curse of the seven demons upon us and our lands?”

CJ laughed. “No, actually, for her it was pretty nice. She said she was sorry she had to boycott the wedding, but she knew I’d understand why.”

“I
don’t
understand,” Trent replied.

“It’s okay. She told me she was proud of me and that you’re a good catch and to have a wonderful wedding even though she’s not here. She also said her biggest regret was that she’d always thought she’d sing at my wedding.”

“Well, that’s not my biggest regret,” Trent said.

By the end of the day I was so full and so exhausted it was all I could do to wag my tail as people bent to kiss me and talk to me. I was held up to Hannah and I kissed her face, licking something sweet off her lips, my heart full of love for her.

“Good-bye, Max, you are such a sweet doggy,” Hannah said to me. “Such a good, good dog.”

I loved hearing those words come from Hannah’s mouth.

That winter CJ was able to take longer, quicker walks. Trent would still play with his rubber ball every day, sitting next to her and making hissing noises with it. How it never once occurred to him to throw it for me I will never understand.

“BP good,” Trent would usually say. In this instance “good” had nothing to do with “dog.” “You take your amino acids?”

“I’m so sick of this low-protein diet. I want a hamburger with a steak on top of it,” CJ told him.

We didn’t have Happy Thanksgiving that year, though one day it
smelled
like it throughout the whole building. Trent and CJ left me alone for several hours and when they came home the wonderful scents of Happy Thanksgiving were all over their clothes and hands. I sniffed them suspiciously. Could people even have Happy Thanksgiving without a dog? Seemed unlikely.

We did have Merry Christmas, though. Trent built a thing in the living room that smelled like my outside carpet and hung cat toys from it. When we tore open packages, mine had a delicious chew toy in it.

After Merry Christmas CJ started leaving me alone most of the day several days a week, but she never smelled like any of the other dogs, so I knew she wasn’t walking them without me.

“How were your classes today?” Trent would often ask on these days. She seemed happy to have left me alone, which made no sense. In my opinion, being without a dog should just make people sad.

I could tell, though, that sometimes she was feeling very weak and tired. “Look how puffy my face is!” she wailed to Trent.

“Maybe we should talk to the doctor about increasing your diuretics.”

“I spend all my time in the bathroom as it is,” she replied bitterly. I nuzzled her hand, but she didn’t take as much pleasure in the contact as I did. I so wanted her to feel the happiness that I felt whenever we touched each other, but people are more complicated creatures than dogs. We always love them joyfully, but sometimes they’re mad at us, like when I chewed the sad shoes.

One day my girl was very sad and when Trent came home she was sitting in the living room, looking out the window, with me in her lap. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

She started crying again. “It’s my kidneys,” she told him. “They said it’s just too dangerous for us to have children.”

Trent put his arms around her and they hugged. I pushed my nose in between them so that they both petted me. Trent was sad, too. “We could adopt. We adopted Max, didn’t we? Look how well that turned out.”

I wagged at my name, but CJ pushed him away.

“You can’t fix everything, Trent! I screwed up. This is the price we all have to pay because of it, okay? I don’t need you telling me everything is okay.” CJ stood up, dumping me on the floor, and stomped away. I trotted right at her heels, but when she got to the end of the hall she shut the door in my face. After a minute I turned and went back to Trent and jumped into his lap, because I needed comfort from
him.

Sometimes people were angry at each other and it would have nothing to do with shoes. It was beyond a dog’s comprehension, but the love between my girl and her mate, Trent, I did understand. They spent many days holding each other on the couch and in bed and often sat with their heads nearly touching.

“You are the love of my life, CJ,” Trent would often say.

“I love you, too, Trent,” CJ would reply. The adoration between the two of them at moments like these made me wiggle with delight.

As much as I liked wearing my sweater, I was happiest when the air turned hot and moist. That year, though, CJ would sit on the balcony with blankets on and I could tell she was cold by the way she hugged me to her. I could feel her fading, losing strength, becoming more and more tired.

The woman named Mrs. Warren often came out onto her balcony next to ours to play with plants. “Hi, Mrs. Warren,” CJ would say.