Molly's Story

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  For Sadie.

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  1

  At first, everything was dark.

  I felt warmth all around me, and I could smell other puppies cuddled up close. I could smell my mother, too. Her scent was safety, and comfort, and milk.

  When I was hungry, I would squirm toward that smell, and find milk to drink. When I was cold, I would press close to her fur, or burrow under a brother or a sister. And then I’d sleep until I was hungry again.

  When I opened my eyes after a few days, things began to get more interesting.

  I could see now that my mother’s fur was short and curly and dark. Most of my brothers and sisters looked like that, too. Only one had fur like mine, as dark as my mother’s, but straight and soft, with no curl to it at all.

  One day, after my stomach was full, I didn’t fall asleep right away. Instead, I stood up and braced myself on wobbly legs. I took a few steps, and my nose bumped into something smooth, with a funny, dry smell. I licked it. It tasted dry, too, and not nearly as interesting as licking my mother or the other puppies nearby.

  I was pretty worn out by all this excitement, so I pushed my way underneath the sleeping body of a sister and took a nap. Later on, I ventured a little farther. On every side was more of that cardboard. It was under my feet, too. We were in a box.

  Sometimes a woman came to lean over the box and talk to us. I’d blink up at her sleepily. Her voice was kind, and her hands, when they came down to pet us, were gentle. My mother would thump her tail, letting me know that this woman was a friend.

  One day she slid her hands right under my belly and hoisted me up into the air.

  “You need a name,” she told me, holding me close to her nose. I tasted it with my tongue, and she giggled. “You’re sweet, that’s for sure. How about Molly? You look like a Molly to me. Want to explore? Those legs are getting strong.” She plopped me down on a new surface, wrinkly and soft. I put my nose down to it eagerly. I could smell soap, and soft cotton fuzz, and other dogs. I nibbled it. The woman laughed.

  “It’s not to eat, silly girl. Here, maybe you need some company. I think I’ll call this one Rocky.” Another puppy, one of my brothers, landed on the blanket next to me. He was the only one who looked like me, with short hair. He tilted his head to one side, studied me, sneezed, and chewed on my ear.

  I shook him off and headed off to find out more about this new space.

  It was shockingly huge. I could take many, many steps at a time. I was astounded at how much room there was in the world! By the time my nose bumped into a new pair of shoes, I was worn out. I barely had energy to get my teeth around a shoelace and tug.

  The owner of the shoes bent down to pull the shoelace out of my mouth. I growled, to show her it was mine.

  “So adorable!” the person with the shoelace said. “Is she a poodle, Jennifer?”

  “Half,” said the woman who’d taken me out of the box. Jennifer, I guessed, must be her name. “Mom’s a standard poodle, definitely. But the dad—who knows? Spaniel, maybe? Terrier?”

  “How many did she have?”

  “Seven,” said Jennifer. “She was pregnant when I found her. After the pups are weaned, I’ll see about taking her in to get her spayed. Then I’ll find her a home.”

  “And homes for all of these puppies, too?” asked the owner of the shoelace. “We’ll take that one over there, but we can’t have more than that.” She scooped me up in soft hands and returned me to the box, where I nestled close to my mother and had a little snack.

  “Of course. I understand,” Jennifer said. “Not to worry. I’ve been fostering dogs a long time. The right home usually comes along at the right time.”

  She stroked my head as I curled up for a nap, right next to my mother where I belonged.

  After that, Jennifer came to take us out of the box more and more often. I got a chance to explore the living room, pounce on a couch cushion to teach it who was boss, and even peek out into a hallway where the floor was so slippery and slick that my feet went out from under me. A sister tried to climb on me when I was down, but she couldn’t get any traction with her back feet on the slick floor, so that didn’t work. All I had to do was roll over and shake her off.

  That’s when I caught the scent of another dog in the air.

  My head went up. My ears went up, too. I got to my feet, staring and sniffing hard. At the far end of the hallway, a big dog was standing, watching me.

  “Barney? Be nice to the new pups,” Jennifer said.

  Barney was very tall, much taller than my mother, and I could smell that he was male. He had astonishingly long ears that hung down beside his face and swung back and forth when he put his head down closer to the ground.

  I was fascinated. I didn’t have ears like that, and my mother didn’t, either. Neither did my brothers and sisters. I set off to investigate. My sister stayed behind me and whimpered a little for our mother to come and save her. But I was ready to find out more.

  With each step, my feet tried to skid away from me. My claws were no help at all; they couldn’t get any kind of grip on the polished wood. But I pressed on, and soon I was right up close to the new dog.

  Barney put his giant muzzle down to the ground. It was as big as my whole body! He sniffed at my face. Then he sniffed along my whole body, nudging me so hard with his nose that I lost my balance and sat down. But I held still. He was bigger and older, and I knew that it was my job to stay quiet and let him do what he liked.

  “Good dog, Barney,” Jennifer said.

  His nose came back to my head. He let out a snuffly sigh and turned to walk away.

  His long, droopy, silky ears swung back and forth, back and forth. And I just couldn’t resist.

  I jumped forward and snatched at one of those ears with my teeth.

  Barney snorted and pulled his head away. I held on. It was tug-of-war! I couldn’t bite very hard yet, with my weak jaws, but already I loved playing this game. I’d do it with my brothers and sisters in the box whenever we found anything we could chew. I’d never played it with anything as wonderful as a long, soft, dangling ear.

  “Molly, no!” called Jennifer, trying to sound stern. But she was laughing. Barney backed away, looking confused. He towed me with him, my teeth still in his ear. Then he shook his big head, and I tumbled over in a somersault, ending up flat on the floor with all four of my legs splayed out in different directions.

  Barney snorted again and began to walk away. I charged up, ready to chase him and get that ear again. But Jennifer scooped me up before I could manage it and settled me back in the box with my littermates.

  It wasn’t fair because I knew that if I se
t my feet I could really give that ear a good tug, but a big meal and some sleep took my mind off the injustice.

  As my siblings and I grew bigger, our box seemed to become smaller and smaller, and our mother wanted more time away from us. Jennifer started taking us outside more and more often to play.

  I loved outside. It was wonderful.

  There was grass to chew, with a fascinating juicy taste that was not like anything inside the house. There were sticks that tasted even better. Birds flitted overhead. Once I scratched in the dirt and found a worm twisting and coiling between my claws. I nosed it with delight until a brother knocked me away and the worm squirmed back into the earth again while I dealt with my littermate.

  Barney did not come outside much. He liked to spend most of his days asleep on a soft bed in a corner of one of the inside rooms. But there was another dog, named Che, who barely came inside at all, except to eat. Che was big and gray, and he loved to run. And it was even better if he were being chased.

  The very first time I went outside, he dashed over to where I was sitting next to Rocky. Che bowed down low on his front paws, his back legs high in the air, his tail beating back and forth. Then he jumped up again and ran away, looking at us to see if we’d figured it out.

  Rocky and I sat staring at him. What did he want?

  Che seemed to decide that we didn’t understand. He came back and bowed again. Then he dashed off once more.

  Rocky seemed fascinated by Che’s plumy tail. He set off after it, and I set off after Rocky. It would not be right if he had fun without me.

  Che raced in a big circle around the yard so fast he came up behind us. I jumped around to stare at him. Rocky yipped.

  Che bowed again and tore off. We followed, running as fast as we could on our short, clumsy legs. It seemed the right thing to do. Every time we came outside after that, Che was there, begging us to chase him. We always obliged.

  But Che did not stay long at Jennifer’s. One day a woman came to visit, and she took Che home with her. “It’s wonderful, what you do,” she said to Jennifer as she stood by the gate to the yard, with Che on a leash beside her. “I think if I tried to foster dogs I’d wind up keeping all of them.”

  Jennifer laughed. “That’s called ‘foster failure,’ Mrs. Kutner. It’s how I ended up with Barney. He was my first foster. I realized, though, that if I didn’t get control of myself I’d adopt a few dogs and then that’d be it, and I wouldn’t be able to help any others.”

  “Come, Che!” the new woman said, and she tugged at the leash. Tail wagging, Che bounded after her. They went through the gate, and it shut behind them.

  Che was gone.

  2

  I dashed over to the gate and put my paws up against it. I yipped as loudly as I could. Where was Che? Wasn’t he coming back? Who would we chase now?

  Jennifer came over and stroked my head. “It’s okay, Molly,” she said softly. “Dogs find the right people and go to live with them. It’s what’s supposed to happen.”

  I didn’t understand her words, but her touch felt comforting. I let her stroke me for a while, and then I hurried over to my mother and burrowed into her soft warmth. She licked me, and I felt better.

  Still, it was hard to understand what had happened to Che. I was glad I wasn’t going anywhere. That I’d always stay in this yard with Jennifer and Rocky and my other brothers and sisters and my mother.

  A few days later, a new dog arrived. Rocky and I were playing in the backyard when Jennifer brought her in through the gate.

  I sat up, with Rocky’s paw still in my mouth, to look at her. She was very thin and had light brown eyes, nearly the same color as her fur.

  “Pups, this is Daisy,” Jennifer said. She put down a hand to unclip Daisy’s leash from her collar. Daisy shied away from her hand. As soon as she was free, Daisy dashed to hide under a picnic table. She seemed to feel safer there.

  My mother came over to give the new dog a good sniff. Daisy held still and then did the same back. She wasn’t shy with Rocky or me, either. When we came over, Daisy stuck her nose down to be sniffed, and even flopped down so we could wrestle with her. I liked Daisy, I decided. Wrestling was even more fun than chasing.

  But when Jennifer came outside with bowls of food and water, Daisy waited until Jennifer was far away before she bolted over to the food and devoured it in three gulps.

  “Good girl,” Jennifer said softly from the steps to the house, where she had sat down to watch Daisy eat. “You’ll get used to nice people, sweetie. It won’t take long. Want to go hide some more now?”

  Daisy licked her bowl clean and dashed back under the picnic table, just as the gate to the street clicked open and two new people came in. Neither one was as tall as Jennifer. One was male and one was female—I could smell that. Both were laughing.

  They were young, I realized. Sort of like human puppies. A boy and a girl.

  This was interesting.

  “So cute!” the girl exclaimed. She dropped to her knees and spread her arms wide. I knew just what that meant. My mother stayed near the picnic table with Daisy, but I raced right over to the girl, with Rocky at my side.

  There was something about this girl—about the warm smell of her skin and her hair, about the sound of her laughter as she lifted me up and held me close to her face, about the taste of toast and butter and honey that lingered on her mouth where I licked her. This girl was special.

  This girl, I decided, was mine.

  Excitement spread through me, and I couldn’t hold still. I wiggled until the girl put me down, and then I danced and spun on the grass, my little tail beating the air. I raced away from the girl, turning in a circle, and ran back to lick her hands and listen to her laugh some more.

  The boy who stood next to her was laughing, too. “Come on, come on!” he called, and he ran a few steps. Even without the play bow that Che used, it was pretty clear what he wanted. Rocky raced after him and jumped on his tennis shoes.

  “What do you think, Trent?” the girl asked.

  “He’s great!” the boy replied.

  Normally, I loved to chase, too, but I stayed close to the girl this time, squirming to get close to her face, licking her under the chin.

  “Molly seems pretty smitten with you,” Jennifer said to the girl. “I’ll be right back. You get to know the pups a little.”

  Jennifer went inside, but the girl stayed close to me. That was right. That was just what she should do. “Oh, you are so cute,” the girl said, smoothing my ears back. I kissed her fingers. “But my mom would never let me have a dog,” she told me. “I just came with Trent.”

  The boy scooped up Rocky and came back with him. “Look, CJ, see his paws? He’s going to be bigger than that one. What’s her name?”

  “Molly,” CJ said. I wiggled with pleasure to hear her say my name. She got to her feet, and I stood on my back legs and stretched my forepaws up as high as I could against her jeans until she picked me up.

  She had warm brown eyes and a scattering of freckles across her face. I leaned into her arms, looking into those eyes.

  And I understood something new. I was supposed to take care of this girl. That was my job.

  Maybe that was why Che had left the yard! Maybe the woman he’d gone with was his person, and he was meant to take care of her, just the way I would take care of this girl. CJ, that was her name. CJ was my girl, and I was going to look after her the best that I possibly could.

  I felt a pang at my heart to think of going away from the yard, and my mother, and everything I’d known, but as long as I could snuggle close to CJ, it would be okay.

  “I want him,” the boy said. “Rocky, you want to come home with me?” Rocky squirmed to get out of his arms, and Trent gently dropped him to the grass. Rocky jumped on a rubber bone and shook it.

  “This is so exciting!” CJ said. She let me down gently, too. “You’re so lucky, Trent.” She tried to pet Rocky, but I wiggled between them and thrust my head under her hand. She
laughed.

  “Molly likes you,” Trent said.

  “I know.” Somehow there was a little sadness in the girl’s voice. How funny that she was sad when we were together! I got my teeth into her sock and tugged at it.

  “But Gloria,” the girl went on. “I can practically hear her. She hates dogs. ‘They’re so filthy. They lick.’ She’d never let me have one.”

  “It would be fun, though,” Trent said. He sounded a little sad, too. “We’d have a brother and a sister.”

  “Yeah.” CJ dropped to her knees, tugged her sock out from between my teeth, and held my face in her hands. “Yeah, it would be fun. Oh, Molly, I’m sorry, girl.”

  I licked her nose.

  Jennifer came back out, smiling to see Trent with Rocky, and me with CJ. “Are there papers or anything to fill out?” Trent asked.

  “Nope. I’m not an official shelter or anything. I’m just the neighborhood lady who everybody knows will take in strays and find them homes.”

  “So it’s okay for me to take Rocky?” Trent picked up my brother and tucked him under his chin.

  “More than okay. Just, please, if for any reason it’s not working out, bring him back.”

  “Oh, it’s going to work out great. Rocky? Ready to go to your new home?” the boy asked, grinning.

  CJ set me down on the grass. I sat and scratched my ear and waited for her to pick me back up.

  “Oh, look at her,” CJ said. “It’s like she knows I’m leaving without her.”

  “Come on, CJ,” Trent said. “We’d better go.”

  The four of us—the boy and his dog, my girl and me—headed over toward the gate.

  I paused to glance back at my mother, still sitting by the picnic table. And I hesitated. She lay down, setting her head on her paws, and steadily looked at the two of us. I felt as if she were telling me it was all right. That I was doing what I was meant to do. Dogs had to leave their mothers, and sometimes their first homes, to do their jobs. To take care of their people.