“Look at her ribs, though. She hasn’t been eating much.”
“Her brother is well-fed. He needs to be on a diet.”
“Okay, that’s what we’ll do then.”
“What we will do,” the tall-man repeated. “We. Will put this dog, who we don’t own, on a diet.”
“Avalanche-dude gives all the food to the brother but not the sister. Here, take the male, you’re a better skier and he pulls like a speedboat.”
Dutch and I soon learned that the bread-man was named Gavin and the tall-man with the dark skin was Taylor. Well, I learned it—Dutch didn’t seem to care about anything but getting back with his person. The two men walked us back to a very small house that had a hole in the wall with a fire burning in it, filling the place with the pungent tang of smoke. Gavin poured dry food into two bowls, which I ate and Dutch didn’t, so I ate his.
I was grateful for the food, but I knew something that the humans apparently didn’t understand: they had two dogs in their house, and neither one of us wanted to be there. I knew that at the first opportunity, I would be leaving.
Dutch sat at the door and looked at it expectantly, clearly hoping it would open and his person would walk in. I knew, though, that life was never that easy, that instead of doors being opened for you, to get anywhere, you have to jump over fences.
Seventeen
The next afternoon Taylor took the rest of us on a long, long car ride. I recognized the word “home” but could tell we were not going in the right direction, that home was actually behind us.
I could not smell Big Kitten. Had I known that investigating Dutch’s scent would mean being taken from her I would have let the opportunity to see another dog pass, no matter how tempting. I missed Big Kitten and worried for her without me to take care of her.
“You two okay back there?” Gavin asked over his shoulder. Dutch and I were awkwardly sharing the backseat, which wasn’t really big enough to accommodate both of us. “God, Taylor, look at her. I can count every rib. How could someone do that? Dutch is obese and she’s starving.”
“Maybe he just likes boys better. I can certainly identify with that.” Taylor laughed.
“I’m serious. This is animal abuse.”
Dutch and I eventually settled on a system where one of us would sit and one of us would lie down, then when that became uncomfortable we would switch places. After a long drive we arrived at a big house with hard floors and several rooms. In one of them, a yawning hole in the wall was filled with burned wood pieces that I sniffed carefully, but which Dutch ignored. There was a big backyard with a metal fence, where I found no snow and no slides, just grasses and plants. I smelled dogs and a faraway cat on the arid wind, but no other animals.
Taylor put pillows and blankets on the floor and I understood: Dutch and I were supposed to sleep there. We were supposed to stay with Taylor and Gavin, the way I once stayed with Jose and Loretta.
I did not know why people would not just let me find my way home.
When we first arrived at the big house, Taylor and Gavin sat with me and played a game I did not understand.
“Molly? Carly? Missy?” they asked me. I did not know what I was supposed to do. I wagged my tail, thinking that with all this attention there might be a treat at the end of it.
“Daisy? Chloe? Bailey? Blanche?” Gavin asked.
“Blanche! Oh my God!” Taylor fell back on the couch and held a pillow to his face.
“What?” Both men were laughing.
“Who would name a dog Blanche?” Taylor demanded.
“My mom’s dog was named Blanche,” Gavin replied defensively.
“Well, that explains everything.”
“Hey!” The two men wrestled with each other. I caught Dutch’s glance and looked away. Apparently any treats for us were forgotten.
Later, though, they were back at it. “Here’s the list of most popular dog names,” Taylor said. He was sitting at a table making clicking noises with his fingers on a toy but not accomplishing anything. Lucas and Mom would often do the same thing, and it made me long to be back home with them.
“Is Dutch on it?” Gavin wanted to know.
“Uh … doesn’t look like it,” Taylor replied.
“So the guy maybe didn’t consult the list when he named his dogs,” Gavin observed. “This could be a waste of effort.”
“These are the most popular names. That means when people think of names, they most often come up with these. They didn’t have to read from a list, necessarily. People come up with popular names at random,” Taylor said.
“Okay, hit it.”
“Okay.” Taylor looked down at me intently. “Number one. Lucy?”
I stared back. Was Lucy some sort of treat?
“Next,” Gavin said.
“Max?”
“Max is not a female name.”
“What about Maxine?”
“Oh, please.” Gavin sniffed. “That makes no sense.”
“Says the man whose mother named a dog Blanche,” Taylor responded dryly.
“You’re the one who likes random names.”
“Bailey?”
“We tried Bailey.”
“Bella?”
I cocked my head. It was the first time either one of them had said my name.
“Maggie?”
“Wait,” Gavin said. “Go back. There was something.”
“Bella?”
Why was he saying my name? I yawned.
“Bella?” Gavin called.
I turned and looked at him.
“Yes!” He jumped up. “Wahoo! It’s Bella! Bella!”
I couldn’t help myself, I leaped up, too, and when Gavin ran around the table yelling my name I followed him, barking. Dutch watched us from his dog bed, completely disgusted.
The next day Taylor played with my collar, and when I moved I made a jingling sound. “Now you both have name tags,” he told us.
From that moment on, we were Bella and Dutch, two dogs living with Gavin and Taylor, both of us anxious to get back to our real people.
Every night when I curled up to sleep, I thought of Big Kitten. I wondered what she was doing, and if she missed me. I hoped no coyotes were hunting her. I hoped she wasn’t cold.
I waited patiently for the opportunity to do Go Home, thinking I might see Big Kitten on the trail. I was taken for many walks, usually at night, and always on leash. I would start off sniffing politely whenever Dutch marked, but he would do it so often I eventually would concentrate on other smells. We were on one such walk, Gavin holding Dutch’s leash and Taylor holding mine, when Gavin said my name. “Bella has gained a little weight. Looks good.”
I glanced over at him, hearing approval.
“So how is the new editor working out?” Taylor asked.
“I think pretty well. She likes the manuscript. But that doesn’t mean I won’t get a lot of notes,” Gavin responded.
“I can’t believe you don’t get pissed off. I know I do whenever they want you to change things. You’re a successful author!”
They were silent for a time. I could smell that there had recently been a squirrel in the area, and remained alert to its appearance.
“So how long?” Gavin finally asked quietly.