“Now that is a particularly bad idea,” Taylor said gently. “What would we do with them when we go to China?”
Dutch let out the sort of groan only a very bored dog can make. It reminded me of how tired I was, and I curled up on my own dog bed.
“We could find a place to board them,” Gavin declared.
“For six months? You would really do that to them?”
“No, you’re right. I just … Dutch is finally starting to accept us, I can tell. You should see how he missed you when you were traveling.”
“You didn’t let the dog on the bed though, right?” Taylor asked.
“Of course not. I let the other dog on the bed.” Gavin sighed. “Well, okay. I guess it’s the only way. Next Tuesday?”
“Tuesday. Yes.”
“Tuesday, Bella,” Gavin said in a tone somehow both happy sounding and weighted with sadness, “we’re taking you back to your owner!”
Eighteen
Something was different. There was a change in the rules.
Taylor did not want dogs on the couch. Gavin liked it. We had learned that when Gavin was home alone we were welcome to lie on the cushions but when Taylor was there he would clap his hands and yell “Off!” I knew this meant to jump down immediately, but Dutch always seemed to believe Taylor didn’t really mean it and would lie there until Taylor pulled him onto the floor. Then Dutch would wander over to where I was already lying on the dog bed, mournfully sniffing me before deciding where to collapse with an exaggerated groan.
If we were on the couch when Taylor came home from wherever he had been, I always gave a guilty start, but could never seem to summon the energy to jump down until he commanded us to Off.
But then it was different. Taylor and Gavin were sitting together on the couch and Taylor called to Dutch, patting the cushion next to him. Not seeming to grasp that this was a colossal reversal in policy, Dutch padded over and jumped up without hesitation, lying down and putting his head in Gavin’s lap.
“Come on, Bella. You, too,” Gavin said. “Come! Bella, come!”
Really?
I managed to curl up on the couch next to Taylor, though the space was tight. I wondered what we were all doing now.
Both men were sad; I could feel it in the way they stroked my fur.
“This is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” Gavin murmured with a sigh.
“We knew it was temporary.”
“I guess I didn’t really allow myself to admit it.”
“They miss their master,” Taylor said gently. “You can tell. Especially Dutch. They just want to be with Kurch.”
Dutch’s eyes flickered at this statement, as if he understood something about it that I didn’t, which was impossible.
“I know,” Gavin said.
“I can put off my trip for a couple days.”
“That’s sweet but I know you need to get to Seattle. I’ll be fine.”
“Going to be strange, coming home and not being greeted by a pair of giant dogs,” Taylor observed.
“It’s almost as if part of me is dying. I’m glad we’re going to China soon, different environment, I won’t miss them as badly.”
Something else completely different: that night, Taylor called for us to get on the bed with the two of them. We tried to sleep, but we were too hot and jumped down shortly after being invited up.
People are difficult to comprehend: they make rules and then change them. I was happy we would be able to sleep on the couch now, but wished it didn’t make Gavin and Taylor so sad when we did so.
Taylor left the next morning with his suitcase. Gavin fed us a breakfast with bacon in it! Then he took us for a long, long walk on leashes. Dutch marked everywhere and Gavin waited without any impatience. It was the most leisurely stroll we had ever been on together.
Gavin was so sad, I thought he should lie down so I could cuddle next to him and do my job and provide comfort. Instead, he first went to Dutch on the couch and me in my dog bed, giving us both long, tight hugs. “I will miss you so, so much,” he whispered to me. I wagged and licked his face, which was wet and salty. I did not understand what all these changes in people behavior meant, and had the uneasy feeling something bad was about to happen.
“Okay, guys. Time to go.” Gavin sighed.
Car ride! Dutch sat up front and I was in the back. Gavin made room for us at the top of the windows to stick our noses out into the wind, and Dutch and I took turns sneezing. Gavin kept stroking Dutch’s fur with one hand.
Then suddenly Dutch went stiff. I glanced at him, feeling his excitement growing, though I wasn’t at all sure why. He yawned, panting a little, and when Gavin reached out Dutch licked his fingers. Dutch circled in his seat, staring out the window as if he could see a squirrel. I couldn’t see anything, though I became alert just because he was.
“That’s right, guys, we’re almost there,” Gavin told us wistfully.
When we stopped, Dutch pawed at the window and made a low, excited whining noise. Clearly he thought something was happening—what, I had no idea. When Gavin reached across to let him out Dutch ran straight up to the front door of a small house. Gavin came around to get me and I jumped out of the car, stretching and shaking myself.
An odd place. There were some machines in the yard, sitting on dried mud mixed with papers and some plastic containers I sniffed with interest, detecting something sweet in a few of them. Gavin stood for a moment while I squatted and watched Dutch, who was wagging and turning circles in front of the door.
“What a dump,” Gavin muttered quietly.
I followed him to where Dutch was waiting with such agitation. Where were we? What were we doing here? Gavin knocked on the wood, then waited. Dutch put a paw on Gavin’s knee. “It’s okay, Dutch,” Gavin said reassuringly. He knocked again. “Hello?” he called.
He pushed the door open slightly. “Kurch? Hello?”
“Back here!” a man yelled from somewhere in the house.
Dutch nosed the door and pushed past us, running inside the house. “You’re home, Bella,” Gavin told me.
“Ah, Jesus! Get down, Dutch!” a man shouted from down a hallway.
The place inside was dark. There were socks and shirts and papers and boxes with bits of food in them lying on the floor and furniture, and I examined them curiously. Gavin followed the direction Dutch had taken, so I did the same.
“Kurch? You back there?” Gavin asked.
“Can you get the damn dog off of me?”
In a back room a man lay in bed and Dutch was on top of him, wagging and licking. The man wore heavy, hard white pants, and one arm and half his chest was encased in the same rigid material. He had white cloth wrapped around one of his hands. He was sour with old sweat, but I felt sure he was someone I had met before.
“Dutch! Down!” Gavin commanded.
Dutch eased to the floor with great reluctance. Apparently he thought Taylor’s rule change applied to every bed we came across.
“God, stupid dog,” the man said. “Trying to put me back in the hospital?”