Cody had been ours first, and I had to fight the instinct to take him into the house and keep him. But what if his new family had kids?
I inspected him. His fur hung a bit long, but I grudgingly admitted that was more personal taste than hygiene. I pulled open his mouth. His teeth were white and clean. That was definitely above and beyond. I’d never had his teeth cleaned. His ears were clear, too.
I went to the barn, and Cody followed me. I dug out one of his old tennis balls and threw it as hard as I could—about halfway to the driveway. Pathetic. I need to work out. He picked it up, brought it back, and then did something he had rarely done when living with us. He dropped it. And sat. Like a real dog. Someone had taught him in less than a year what we’d been unable to in five years.
“Well, this is new!” I ruffled his ears. We played catch for about twenty minutes.
I checked my watch and saw that I had only an hour before the girls would be back. Sighing, I loaded Cody into the van. The house that matched the address on “Walter’s” collar was a new construction home in a development about ten miles away. The houses were on acre lots with large fenced-in yards. I wondered how he had gotten out and managed to run ten miles home. Not home anymore. He was a canine Houdini when he wanted to be.
I kissed his head and knocked on the door.
A boy about eleven years old answered. “Walter!” He bent to hug Cody-Walter. “Mom! Some lady brought Walter back!”
A woman came rushing out on the porch. “Oh, my God, we were so worried! Thank you, thank you. We have no idea how he got out. We were visiting friends in Clinton, and one minute he was in their yard, and the next, poof! He was gone. Ben! Come look. Walter’s back!”
A man and another young boy, around thirteen or fourteen, came out on the porch.
“Can we offer you anything?” the man asked. “I’m Ben Fields. And this is my wife, Amanda, and two boys, Jimmy and Leo. We were so worried about Walter. Amanda and Jimmy drove around all morning looking for him. We were about to call the ASPCA, but we were hoping someone would just find him and bring him back.”
My eyes started to water. “No, thank you. I understand. Our dog ran away once. I’m glad I could help.”
I gave a little wave and began to walk down the steps, off the porch. I knew I’d made the right decision. Our family had moved on. I couldn’t see doing to Jimmy and Leo what had been done to Hannah and Leah.
I stopped and turned, wanting to know the answer to a question, but not sure how to ask. “How old is he?”
“We aren’t sure,” Ben said. “We found him about, oh, maybe a year ago now? We put up signs and called the ASPCA, but no one ever claimed him. He’s such a great dog; we couldn’t figure out why someone wouldn’t want him back. He’s an escape artist, though, as you can tell.”
I almost laughed, wondering what they would say if I told them the truth. I felt a little sad that I never thought to call the ASPCA. Would I have even seen the signs? My memory of that time was of drowning. I had been reclusive, barely leaving the house, certainly not driving all around New Jersey. I doubted Dad had driven ten miles out to put up our posters.
I had chosen saving myself over saving Cody. Watching him with his new family, I realized Cody hadn’t needed saving.
One of the boys—Jimmy or Leo, I wasn’t sure—bounded off the steps with Walter behind him and ran toward the backyard. They shut the gate, and I could no longer see them.
Goodbye, Cody.
I climbed in the van and drove home.
Chapter 23
The summer arrived with ferocity, setting more than one high-temperature record in the month of June alone. In July, we spent our days in the yard between a sprinkler and a baby pool. I achieved a nice summer tan, but the kids became restless. By midday, we had to seek refuge in the air-conditioned house, where we rambled around, irritated and snapping at each other.
I enrolled Hannah in day camp while preschool was out of session, and that helped break up the days. I still had not gone back to work, but the end of my sabbatical was looming. I had yet to make any firm decisions about my future. At the end of summer, I promised myself. In the meantime, we were bored.
“Why don’t you take the girls to the Arnolds’ summer home in Brigantine?” Mom suggested one day.
The Arnolds were my parents’ closest friends and owned several homes all over the country. Mom and Dad rarely paid for a vacation, but the drawback was they always had to vacation with the Arnolds. Deb and Don were nice people, but Deb talked more than anyone I’d ever met, including my mother, which was a feat. Don hardly ever said a word, probably because he was so used to not being able to get one in edgewise.