After eating, Maya let me out into her tiny yard, which was unmarked by dogs. I did my business with dignity, aware that at least some of the cat population were observing me. “Good girl, Ellie,” Maya enthused. Apparently she was of the “excited to see you peeing in the yard” persuasion.
Maya made her own dinner, which smelled pretty good and drew the attention of Stella, who jumped right up on the table and waltzed around like a bad cat! Maya didn’t say anything to her, apparently feeling that cats were worthless, untrainable animals.
We went for a walk on the leash after dinner. There were a lot of people out in the yards, many of them children, which made me feel restless. I had not done any work in several weeks and there was a tension in my muscles; I wanted to run, to Find, to save people.
As if picking up on my mood, Maya began to trot. “Want to run a little, girl?” she asked. I increased my pace, sticking right to her side as Jakob had taught me. Before long she was huffing, and I could smell her sweat break out from her pores. The heat was coming off the pavement and into my paws, and as we passed houses dogs barked enviously.
And then Maya abruptly stopped. “Whew!” she panted. “Okay, we’re going to need to spend more time on the treadmill, that’s for sure.”
I didn’t really get what was happening until that night. I was lying on the rug while Maya took a bath and dressed in different clothing, and then she called me into her bedroom. “Okay, lie down here, Ellie. Good girl,” she said, patting a dog bed. I obediently curled up in it, but I was mystified. Apparently I would be staying here for a while. Was this where I lived, now? What about Jakob? What about my work?
The next morning Maya and I did do work, though it was a little strange. Wally was there and greeted me like an old friend, along with a woman who sometimes came along to play Find with us. Her name was Belinda, and Wally’s smell was always all over her, so I suspected that when we weren’t there Belinda and Wally played Find with each other.
Wally stayed with Maya while Belinda went off into the woods. He talked with Maya, teaching her the hand signals and commands we used during work. Then Maya said, “Ellie, Find!” and I raced off while Wally and Maya followed. Belinda was sitting inside a car, which fooled me not at all, and I returned to Maya.
“See now; see how she looks?” Wally said. “She Found Belinda; you can tell by her expression.”
I waited impatiently for Maya to tell me to Show, but she and Wally were too busy talking.
“I’m not sure; she doesn’t look much different than the other times she came back,” Maya said.
“Look at her eyes, the way her mouth is tightened. Her tongue’s not out. See? She’s on alert; she has something to show us.”
At the word “show” I trembled, caught in half lunge. It hadn’t really been a command.
“So now I tell her to Show?” Maya asked.
Quit teasing me! Were we working, or not?
“Show!” Maya finally called.
Belinda came out of the car laughing when we Found her. “Such a good dog, Ellie,” she told me.
“Now you play with Ellie. It’s important; it’s her reward for such hard work.”
When Maya played with me, it was different from Jakob’s play. Maya seemed to actually enjoy it; it wasn’t just something she did at the end of Show. She had the rubber bone from the kennel, and I dug in my feet and clenched it in my jaws while she tried to take it away.
Maya had a life different from anyone else I had ever encountered. Not only was she burdened with too many cats, but most nights she went to a larger home with lots of people and a wonderful-smelling woman named Mama. Mama was like Grandma, always cooking, and there were little children running around playing with each other every time we went for a visit. The children climbed on me until Maya asked them to stop, and the boys played ball with me, which I loved, and the girls put hats on me, which I tolerated.
Maya had a neighbor named Al who liked to come over and ask Maya about “help.” “Do you need help carrying those boxes, Maya?” he would ask. “No, no,” she would say. “Do you need help fixing your door?” “No, no,” Maya would say. Maya always seemed anxious, her skin warming and her palms sweating, when Al came over, but she wasn’t frightened of him. When Al walked away, Maya’s feelings changed to sadness.
“Did you get a new dog?” Al asked. He reached down and scratched me behind the ears in a way that made me instantly love him. He smelled of papers and inks and coffee.
“Yes, she’s the department search-and-rescue dog.”
I knew they were talking about me, and wagged my tail in friendship.
“Do you need help training your new dog?” Al asked.
“No, no,” Maya said. “Ellie has already been trained. We need to learn to work together as a team.”
I wagged over the words “Ellie” and “work.”
Al stood up from his scratching. “Maya, you . . . ,” he started to say. He felt nervous.
“I probably should go,” Maya said.
“Your hair is very pretty today,” Al blurted.
The two of them stared at each other, both so anxious it felt as if we were under danger of imminent attack. I glanced around but could see nothing more threatening than Emmet, watching us through the window.
“Thank you, Al,” Maya said. “Would you like . . .”
“I’ll let you go,” Al said.
“Oh,” Maya said.
“Unless . . . ,” Al stammered.
“Unless . . . ?” Maya repeated.
“You . . . do you need help with anything?”
“No, no,” Maya said.
Maya and I worked almost every day. Maya would tell me to Find and we would plunge off into the woods, sometimes chasing Wally or Belinda and sometimes chasing one of the older boys from Mama’s house.
Maya was much slower than Jakob, panting and sweating from the moment we started. Often real pain would come off of her, and I learned not to be impatient when I returned to her and all she could do was put her hands on her knees for a few minutes. Sometimes a burst of helplessness and frustration would overtake her and she would cry, but she always cleaned up her face before we came to Wally.
One afternoon she and Wally sat at a picnic table and drank cool beverages while I lay in the shade of a tree. Maya’s worry was clear to me, but I had learned to live with it and not to let it interfere with the work.
“We’re not good enough to get certified, are we?” Maya said.
“Ellie’s about the best dog I’ve ever seen,” Wally replied. I sensed some alarm and caution in his voice and looked at him curiously.
“No, I know it’s me. I’ve always been heavy.”
“What? No, I mean . . . ,” Wally said, his alarm increasing. I sat up, wondering what the danger was.
“It’s okay. I’ve actually lost some weight, like four pounds.”
“Really? That’s great! I mean, but you weren’t fat or anything,” Wally stammered. I smelled the sweat pop on his forehead. “You, I don’t know, maybe go to the track, that would help, or something?”
“I do go to the track!”
“Right! Yes!” Wally radiated pure fear, and I yawned anxiously. “Well, okay, I should go now.”
“I don’t know, I didn’t realize there would be so much running. It’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. Maybe I should resign, let somebody take over who is in better shape.”
“Hey, why don’t you talk to Belinda about this?” Wally said desperately.
Maya sighed and Wally, full of relief, got up and left. I lay back down. Whatever horrible danger had been lurking was now apparently no longer a threat.
The next day, Maya and I didn’t work. She put on some soft new shoes, grabbed my leash, and took me to a long road that ran along the sand next to the big pond, the ocean. Dogs were everywhere, but though we weren’t doing work I sensed a grim determination in Maya and ignored them as we ran and ran down that road, the sun rising steadily in the sky.
It was the longest run we’d ever taken together, it went on and on, and it wasn’t until I could feel her body fill with pain and exhaustion that Maya turned around to head back. She stopped a few times for me to drink water out of faucets set into the concrete next to very smelly buildings, but for the most part the return trip was as determined, just slower. By the time we got to the truck, she was limping. “Oh my,” Maya said.
We were both panting pretty hard. She drank water and hung her head between her legs, and I watched in sadness as she vomited in the parking lot.
“You okay?” a young woman asked sympathetically. Maya waved a hand without even looking up.
The next day we did Find Belinda for work. Maya’s gait was so stiff and painful I deliberately did Find at half speed, slowing down as soon as I was out of sight. I returned for direction far more than was necessary, just to check on her, and when I finally found Belinda sitting under a tree she had fallen asleep.
“Good dog, you are such a good dog, Ellie,” Maya whispered to me. We woke up Belinda, who checked her wrist and emanated a quick shock of surprise.
“Just . . . had an off day,” Maya said. Belinda didn’t reply.
That night Maya called me while she was in the bathtub. I sniffed curiously at the bubbles in the tub and lapped up a little of the water, wondering why anyone would want to swim in such a small enclosure. Certainly the cats weren’t interested. Tinkerbell was, as usual, hiding from the world, Stella was conducting an unauthorized examination of my bed (I could tell by the smell of it that she’d even tried sleeping there!), and Emmet was in the bathroom with me, licking himself and waiting for something to happen that he could ignore.
Maya was sad. She reached a wet hand out and stroked my head. “I’m sorry, Ellie; I’m just not good enough. I just can’t keep up with you in the field. You’re such a good dog, you need someone who can handle you.”
I wondered if she would be happier if I got into the tub with her. I put my paws up on the edge of the tub, testing the theory a little. Emmet stopped licking himself and looked at me without any of the proper respect, then lifted his tail and waltzed out of there as if daring me to chase him down and reduce the cat population in the house.
“Tomorrow, I have a surprise for you, Ellie,” Maya said, still sad.
Well, okay, I’d gone this far . . . I climbed into the tub, sinking through the insubstantial bubbles.
“Ellie!” Maya laughed, her delight blowing out the sadness like a candle.
{ TWENTY-TWO }
The next morning I was excited to go for a car ride because, well, it was a car ride! I also picked up some happy anticipation from Maya, so I knew we weren’t going to work, because lately there hadn’t been much happiness associated with that. But it wasn’t until she stopped and opened the door that I realized where I was.
Jakob’s apartment.
I ran ahead of Maya, bounding up the stairs and barking at the door, which I would never have done when I lived with him. I could smell Jakob inside and hear him moving to the door. He opened it and I barreled into him, leaping and twisting joyously.
“Ellie! How are you, girl? Sit,” he commanded.
I dropped my bottom onto the floor, but it didn’t want to stay there.
“Hi, Jakob,” Maya said from the doorway.
“Come on in, Maya,” Jakob said.
I was so thrilled to see Jakob I sat by his side as he eased into a chair. I wanted to climb into his lap and it if had been Ethan I probably would have, but with Jakob there was never any nonsense like that.
I sniffed around the apartment while the two of them talked. My bed was gone, I noticed, but my scent was still in the bedroom and I would have no problem sleeping on the carpet or in Jakob’s bed if he wanted.
Then I trotted back out to be with Jakob, passing by Maya, who reached a friendly hand out to stroke my back, and that’s when it hit me: going back to Jakob would mean leaving Maya.
Dogs are not allowed to choose where they live; my fate would be decided by people. But I nonetheless felt torn inside, conflicted.
Jakob was far better at work than Maya. But Maya didn’t carry that inner core of sadness with her all the time; she felt genuine joy at Mama’s house, where there were all the children to play with. Yet Jakob didn’t have any cats.
I had a clear purpose—to Find, Show, and save people. I was a good dog. Both Maya and Jakob were focused on work, and that meant neither one of them could ever love me with the utter abandon of Ethan. But Maya embraced me with an unguarded affection that Jakob never allowed himself to feel.
I began to pace anxiously.
“Do you need to go out?” Maya asked me. I heard “out,” but she didn’t say it with any enthusiasm, so I didn’t react.
“No, when she needs to do that, she sits by the door,” Jakob said.
“Oh. Right, I’ve seen her do that,” Maya said. “I just leave my back door open a lot of the time, so, you know. She can come and go.”
They were silent for a bit. I eased into the kitchen, but as usual the floor was antiseptically clean, free of anything edible.
“I heard you’re taking disability,” Maya said.
“Yeah, well, I’ve been shot twice in five years; that’d be enough for anybody,” Jakob replied with a gruff laugh.
“You’ll be missed,” Maya observed.
“I’m not leaving town, I’m enrolled at UCLA. Full-time, I only have a year and a half left for my law degree.”
There was another silence. A tiny signal of distress came off of Maya, something I’d noticed before when others tried to talk to Jakob and instead wound up sitting there without saying anything. Something about him made people uncomfortable.
“So when are you up for certification?” Jakob asked.
I picked a neutral spot on the floor between the two of them and lay down with a sigh, unable to figure out what was going to happen.
“Two weeks, but . . .” Maya trailed off.
“But?” Jakob prompted.
“I’m thinking of resigning from the program,” Maya confessed in a rush. “I just can’t keep up. I didn’t realize . . . well, someone else would probably be better.”
“You can’t do that,” Jakob said. I raised my head and looked at him curiously, wondering why he was feeling angry. “You can’t keep switching handlers on a dog. Ellie is the best dog anyone has ever seen. You dump her like that, you could ruin her. Wally says the two of you have a rapport.”
I thumped my tail a little at my name and Wally’s being mentioned by Jakob, but his tone was still very stern.
“I’m just not cut out for it physically, Jakob,” Maya said. I could feel anger stirring in her, too. “I’m not an ex-Marine; I’m just a beat cop who can barely pass the physical every year. I’ve been trying, but it is just too hard.”
“Too hard.” Jakob glared at her until Maya shrugged and looked away. Her anger turned to shame, and I went over to her to nuzzle her hand. “What about how hard it would be on Ellie? Doesn’t that matter?”
“Of course it matters.”
“You’re saying you’re not willing to work.”
“I’m saying I’m not cut out for this, Jakob! I don’t have what it takes inside.”
“What it takes. Inside.”
I could sense that Maya was grappling with the rising tide of emotion that sometimes led to a flood of tears. I wanted to comfort her and shoved my nose under her hand again. When Jakob spoke again, he wasn’t looking at Maya and his voice was quieter.
“When I was shot the first time, my shoulder was so messed up, I had to learn to use it all over again. I went to physical therapy every day, and there was this little two-pound weight on a pulley and that thing hurt . . . and my wife was in her final round of chemo. More than once, I wanted to give up. It was too hard.” Jakob turned his head and blinked at Maya. “But Susan was dying. And she never gave up, not until the very end. And if she could keep going, I knew I had to. Because it’s important. Because
failure isn’t an option if success is just a matter of more effort. I know it’s difficult, Maya. Try harder.”
The same old dark pain swirled around inside Jakob like a storm, and the anger left him as if blown away by a gust of wind. He sagged in his chair, suddenly exhausted.
Somehow I knew then that I wouldn’t be staying with Jakob. He just wasn’t interested in Find anymore.
Sadness was flowing through Maya, but through it I felt a rising resolve, a strength like what came over her the day she took me running along the ocean.
“Okay. You’re right,” she told Jakob.
Jakob petted my head when we left, saying good-bye without regret. The last glimpse I had of him was as he shut the door, and he wasn’t looking at me. He and Maya had decided my fate, and it was up to me to do what they wanted.
Later Maya and I drove up into the hills. She ran until she was so tired she stumbled, and the next day, after work, we ran some more. It was gloriously fun, except that Maya often felt full of despair and pain by the end of the course.
A few evenings later, we pulled into the driveway and Maya was literally too tired to get out of the car. We sat there, sweat running from her face, with the windows open. “I’m going to fail, Ellie. I’m so sorry,” Maya said mournfully.
I could see Emmet and Stella both watching from the window—they probably didn’t even know what a car was. Tinkerbell, I assumed, had become alarmed at the sound of our approach and was cowering under something.
“Are you okay, Maya?” Al asked softly. The wind was working against me, so I hadn’t smelled his approach. I put my head out the window for him to pet.
“Oh, hi, Al.” She stood up out of the car. “Yes, I was just . . . thinking.”
“Oh. I saw you pull up in your car.”
“Yes.”
“So I came over to see if you needed any help.”
“No, no. I was just running with the dog.”
I slid out of the front seat and squatted in the yard, staring pointedly at Emmet and Stella, who looked away in disgust.