Mountain Dog (10 page)

So many emotions churn

through my head that I feel

like a baby elephant

trying to learn how to use

its long

clumsy nose.

On my birthday, I never

would have guessed that twelve

could feel so young

and small

and complicated.

Anger. At myself. At Mom.

Terror. Of being lost forever.

Or getting found, and then

punished. Sent far away

to live with strangers.

Shame too.

How could I be so selfish?

Searchers who should be focused

on finding the hunter and his hound

will have to waste time

looking for me.

Or will they? Has anyone

even noticed

that I'm gone?

Sitting still with these thoughts

becomes impossible, so I lurch

to my feet, and stumble back

the way I came. Or at least I hope

it's the way. Panic makes the world

shaky. Things seen from a distance

change shape as I move closer—

a loping coyote turns out to be

a motionless slab of granite.

That soaring pterodactyl

is just a crow.

Tall

skinny

ancient

people

wearing

flowing

robes

are

only

brown

tree

trunks.

I race, then trudge, knowing I can't

even trust my own eyesight …

but at least the night is over.

Daytime strikes like lightning.

I've been lost for hours and hours.…

I run, walk, run again

until I'm so exhausted

that all I can do

is stop and rest,

wish, hope, pray,

and think of Gabe's

smart nose

warm fur

happy grin

loyalty

courage.

But the weather is turning.

Blue sky goes cloudy.

A cold wind shrieks

like the spirits

in one of Tío's spooky

campfire stories.

I close my eyes, hoping that when

I open them, I'll discover that I've been

dreaming.

Is that musky scent

a bear's?

Am I touching

fur?

When I open my eyes, instead of dreams,

I discover a reddish dog who whines

as he greets me, nuzzles my arm,

and shows me his trusting eyes,

filled with joy and hope, because now

that he's found a human, he assumes

everything will be fine.

It's not Gabe or another SAR dog,

so it must be the hunter's hound.

He's lean and bony.

How long has he been out here?

Two days? Three? I've lost

track of time. I'm hungry,

so the poor dog must be

starving.

I can't believe that while I was

searching for him, he's the one

who ended up finding me.

I feel like a cave boy.

This is how it must have been.

Tío has told me about coevolution,

like when hummingbird beaks

gradually changed shape, just to fit

certain flowers. Dogs and man

learned to need each other

thousands of years ago.

No wonder I suddenly feel

like I'm home,

even though I'm still

out in the woods,

lost and cold.

Scared.

The hound is weak, but he talks

to me in his dog-language

of movement and touch.

B.B. has told me that wild animals

don't make eye contact, because

they don't need to understand

human faces, but dogs do need

to know us. They can't live

alone.

This hound is so friendly,

and he must have a name.

I try out a few, but he wiggles

happily, no matter what I say.

Angel, Magic, Wizard.

I make my voice high

and squeaky

so it sounds excited.

My approval is the dog's

reward.

Suddenly, I feel hopeful. Ever since

I learned about trail names,

I've wondered what I'd call myself

if I'm ever brave enough

to be a thru-hiker.

Rescue Beast. No—Trail Beast!

That's what I'd be, part Trail Angel

and part mysterious,

ferociously dedicated,

educated, scientific,

magical.…

 

34

GABE THE DOG

SEARCH!

I'm tired, but we have a place where Tony was last seen, and we have a scent object—his backpack—so I plunge my nose in, sniffing his boy-life of games, paper, ink, and sweet treat snacks.…

Then I tug the long leash to keep my Leo close behind me as I inhale shoe prints, nose to the ground, following tracks, so I can

find

find

find

our Tony.

Nothing else matters.

 

35

TONY THE BOY

RESCUED!

The hound is too weak

to walk, and too heavy to carry,

so I stay still, hugging him,

even though I desperately

want to run and search for berries and a stream.

Hunger.

Thirst.

Fear.

Now I know how Tío felt

when his raft

was drifting.

How long can a dog live

without any food and water?

If it gets colder, my fingers

and toes will be numb.

If only Tío or B.B. would find us.

They both know all sorts

of human and canine first aid.

Sounds in the forest grow

eerily loud

when you're lost.

The wing beat of a raven

is like thunder

or a monstrous roar

so when I hear a collar bell

that tinkles like Christmas

and I see the orange flash

of a SAR dog's happy vest,

and I feel the familiar warmth

of Gabe's panting breath,

I feel so relieved

and so safe

that I finally crumple up

and cry.

Gabe licks me, Tío hugs me,

and the hunter's hound rolls over

to show Gabe that he's

not a fighter. The two dogs

sniff each other curiously.

It's some sort of diplomacy,

like when the presidents of countries

shake hands on TV.

If I'm going to be a veterinarian,

I'll have to learn as much as I can

about the sign language dogs use

to talk to each other—this joyful

dance of wagging tails,

lolling tongues, thrashing legs,

and wiggly bellies.

After that, my mind is a blur.

Base camp, then the truck, a clinic,

good news: the bear hound

will survive, and the hunter

was found by one of the dogs

that has practiced finding me

over and over, when I was just

a volunteer victim

pretending

to be lost.

The rest of that first day at home

is so peaceful and cozy

that I can't imagine

ever going outdoors again.

All I want is soup

cookies

hot cocoa

and sleep.

The next day, I feel strong enough

to accept Tío's after-breakfast lecture

without any arguments. He's right.

I should have stayed at base camp.

I should have listened

and cooperated.

We spend the rest of the morning

relaxing, and then, after lunch,

we go online together, and we order

a fancy new satellite phone

so that I'll never again be stranded

in any rugged, remote area

where old-style cell phones

can't get a signal.

But the biggest gift

my uncle gives me

is the calm, patient feeling

that I still have plenty of time

to learn

common sense.

It's just like math, he promises.

Just learn one formula at a time.

The first is such a simple rule

that you'll never forget:

DON'T HIKE ALONE.

My lost-and-found mood

of grateful relief

lasts until Halloween.

That's when everything

suddenly

turns mean and scary.

One final prison visit.

Mom is a no-show.

The nightmares come back

with such hurricane force

that I know I'm facing

a decision.

This is my life.

My chance.

My only hope.

I'm at a crossroads, a place

where two paths meet.

There aren't any road signs

telling me which trail

will lead toward a future

and which could carry me back

into my past.

I can choose to continue

feeling like one of Mom's

doomed puppies

or I can let my mind

take that first step

toward safety.

So I tell the social worker

to stop scheduling me for prison visits.,

and I tell Tío that I'm tired of waiting

for Mom

to grow up.

I'm ready for my own turn to grow.

I'm tired of feeling tired, and worried,

and secretly

scarily

furious.

That night, as I paint my face

in a snarling bear design, it feels natural

to be someone else for a change.

Gabe wears my magician's hat

with a stuffed toy rabbit

hidden inside.

Even though he can't see the toy,

Gabe knows it's there, because

his genius-nose always shows him

invisible secrets.

Gracie wears a red and gold sari

from India, and the spotted horse

is dressed as a funny elephant,

with a floppy trunk

made of braided hay

that keeps vanishing

into a horse-mouth.

I'm too shy to say it out loud

but Gracie looks pretty

and she's starting to act

as if she likes me

in a teenage way

that makes me

feel dizzy.

The cabins are too far apart

for trick-or-treating, so we play

all sorts of hilarious games

at a Cowboy Church Carnival

where Gabe and I ride perched

on top of a giant pumpkin

in a decorated wagon

pulled by Gracie's

elephant-horse.

I imagine it's the last time I'll feel

young enough to enjoy acting silly,

but it's also the first time I've ever

been old enough to laugh

at people

in monster suits.

In my other life, Halloween

meant guarding the pit bulls

from drunk, costumed thieves.

In my other life

all the monstrous nightmares

were real.

But everything isn't always

easy now. Instead, the hours flip

back and forth between hopeful

and sad.

There's an ugly surprise waiting for me

at the end of my life's first happy

Halloween. It comes in the form

of a call that makes Mom's

phone voice

sound as poisonous

as deadly nightshade berries.

Mom's in trouble. She's been fighting.

A guard was hurt. Time will be added

to her sentence. Years will be added

to my foster care.

Tío doesn't make me wonder

what will happen next.

He tells me right away

that he wants to raise me,

one way or another, either

as my foster dad—or if Mom

and the family court judge

can agree—as my really, truly

adopted dad

forever!

But it's not just him, B.B. wants me too.

When they talk about OUR family,

Tío calls her Beatrice, or Bee,

and suddenly, I realize that she

has a name of her own.

She's not just Gracie's grandma

or a bear biologist. She's herself,

helping me figure out how

to be myself.

Best of all, she'll soon be

my foster mom, or maybe even

my adopted mom,

because beautifully brave

Beatrice and my hero-uncle

are getting married!

With Gracie's parents due

to come home soon,

I won't even have to worry

about becoming anything weird

like my best friend's stepbrother.

Being part of the family seems

so complicated and exciting

that I feel like a dog

in a pack of strays,

trying to understand

glances and gestures

because I don't have

enough words

to express

my wildly

wondrously

mixed-up

feelings.

 

36

GABE THE DOG

WINNERS

I don't know what all

his fast human words

mean

but I love the sound of Tony's

happiest voice

so I listen

and I sniff his hands

until I'm sure his mood rhymes

with winning a shared

hide-and-seek

game.

 

37

TONY THE BOY

PUPPY TESTING

Gracie's parents are back just in time

for an engagement party.

Gabe and I will both be the best men

at a wedding in the spring,

but for now, I don't have to dress up.

I just wear regular clothes,

and watch grown-ups dancing

half-festive island salsa,

and half-calm, cool, old-folks

American.

Everything's changing

so fast

that I feel

like I'm sliding

down

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