Together

T
homas
N
elson

Since 1798

NASHVILLE DALLAS
MEXICO CITY RIO DE JANEIRO

chapter
one

It was noon—when the sun was at its
highest point and the dog was at his lowest moments. There was an aching in the
black Labrador retriever's heart as he circled the area where his people had
left him. If he could, he would be asking the question why.
Why did you drive into
this park, open the door, bring me out, hug me, pat me, and then leave me?
But dogs never ask questions like that, and they never question if they should
love us forever, because love is an absolute. And they don't operate in real
time, so for the big animal, returning to the spot where he had been left was
something he did as part of his daily routine. And since the ache in his heart
wouldn't go away, he would continue to return to that very spot, with the sun
sitting high in the sky, and walk in a circle, with his nose down to the
ground, hoping to pick up the scent of the humans he loved.

Actually, the young Lab had never
met a human being he

didn't like, and as he adapted to
his surroundings in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park, he naturally began to
befriend everyone with whom he came in contact, with the exception of the ducks
who inhabited Stow Lake. These quacking creatures just didn't understand the
game. He was supposed to chase them, on land or swimming in the water, wasn't
he? That quacking sound they made—it was wonderful. He loved it when they
flapped their wings and flew out of the way of his charging enthusiasm.
Because, naturally, they were supposed to run away. That was how the game was
played, but a few of them just wouldn't budge. And a couple of them even chased
him, hissing and drooling as they scooted after him. Still, he could play this
game for hours until he was completely exhausted, lying on the grass with his
tongue hanging out, panting hard in blissful doggy contentment.

At the far end of the park, he found
another activity he couldn't resist. In warmer weather, humans hit little hard
balls with a stick, and as soon as the ball was struck, he would run after it,
pick it up, and bring it back. Off he would gallop with the humans yelling,
"No, dog, no. Leave it alone. Leave the golf ball alone." Okay, okay,
he got it. He understood. He didn't have to pick the thing up. The fun was in
chasing it. Occasionally, he'd come across a human who would appreciate it when
he brought the ball back, so he would follow that person for a while and wait
politely for another ball to be hit. After the game he would wander over to
where the people were eating food, and often if he wagged his tail enough, one
of them would share a delicious hamburger.

He drank from the lake whenever he
was thirsty, and he'd found another ready source of food just outside the San
Francisco

Botanical Gardens. The big dog had
wagged his way into the heart of a street vendor selling hot dogs, and this
very good man usually saved six or seven especially for the dog's arrival just
after the lunch crowed.

It was at the National AIDS
Memorial Grove that he met the human who slept outside like him. This man would
cuddle with the big dog on cold nights, and his hugs reminded the animal of how
very good it had felt when he was just a few weeks old and slept snuggled
against his brothers and sisters.

During the day, the man would stand
at an entrance to the park and make a very pleasant sound with his voice and
something that he held in his hands. The dog really liked the . . . what was
the word he had heard? . . .
musk.
It made him feel happy, but at noon he knew it was
time to go back to the place where he had been left. Maybe his people would be
there. His animal clock would always tell him he needed to be waiting in just
the right spot with the sun straight up in the sky, and he would hope—a
constant feeling in his doggy heart.

Enrique Ramirez was
troubled
by his job. Growing up in
Chihuahua, Mexico, on a farm and working the fields, there had always been lots
of dogs around, and from the time he was a little boy he had always loved them.
His mother used to say that Enrique could never pass up helping a lost stray
dog, and so their small house was always full of animals that the family
couldn't afford to feed or take care of.

Enrique didn't know why he loved
dogs so much, but he thought it was because of their honesty—and the fact that,
in his mind, all they wanted was to be loved by people, and that seemed to him
to be the right way to live. Working for the SPCA over the last five years, he
had never, ever been bitten by an animal. In fact, he couldn't even remember
when any of the dogs he had picked up had growled at him or been really upset
when he enticed them into his van.

He knew he had a way with animals,
and he was sure that they knew he cared about them. He tried not to think about
the dogs he brought in when he considered that many of them would never find
good homes and would have to be—what was that gringo word they used?—yes,
euthanized. That seemed to be a big word for something he believed to be cruel
and unnecessary. So, sometimes he asked himself why he did the job, and his
answer was always the same. The animals he took off the street could never make
it on their own. The best chance they had, he knew, was that the SPCA would
find people to love them, so he continued to try and do his job in the best way
possible.

Right now he was studying a young
black Lab—probably not even one year old—that seemed to have a very specific
purpose. He watched as the dog circled in a small area with his nose down to
the ground, as if he must be looking for something. Enrique had seen this
behavior before, and he knew that this animal was one of those who must have
been abandoned and was now waiting for his master to return.
How could people do
that,
he thought,
just leave these beautiful creatures to suffer or
even starve?

"All right," he told
himself, "that's why I do this job. I can save some of them, and that is
the right thing to do."

Climbing out of his truck and
taking a couple of doggy treats from his pocket, he moved slowly in the
direction of the dog and began to gain the animal's attention by talking softly
and shaking the treats in his hand. The dog's head came up from what he had
been doing, and Enrique believed he could almost see the animal smile with
pleasure.

This is one of
the ones who really likes people,
he thought.
This one won't be hard at all.

"Come on, boy," he said
persuasively. "Come on over and have a treat."

The handsome dog trotted over and
took a biscuit from the man's hand as if he had known him forever.

"That's a good boy," the
man said soothingly, and the sound of his voice made the Lab wag his tail.
"That's a good boy," he said again. "Now just stand still and
let me put a leash on you."

Enrique took a heavy nylon lead
from his pocket, and the Lab didn't object at all as the lead went over his
neck.

Very good
,
the man thought.
Very good.

"Come on, boy," he said.
"Come on. Come with me."

Enrique took two steps, and in that
moment the big dog understood that the man wanted to move him away from his
place, away from his mission to wait for his masters to come back.

No,
the Lab
registered.
No!
And he dug all four feet into the ground, whining as if he was hurt.

"It's all right," the man
said. "It's okay, boy. I'm not going to hurt you. Come on, boy, let's go.
Come on now, boy."

The animal was even more determined
not to leave his place, not to give up. He pulled hard in the other direction,
tightening the sliding lead around his neck, nearly choking himself with the
effort.

The man was quick to respond.
Stepping forward he snapped a muzzle around the black Lab's nose and placed his
hands under the dog's chest, lifting him into the air, making him helpless.

Now the big animal found himself
tossed into the back of the van, unhurt but visibly upset. Everything in his
doggy head was crying,
No, no! My people will be back. I know they'll come back. I can't leave
this place. I can't ever leave this place.

Enrique looped the handle of the
leash around a tie-down and closed the van doors.

"I'm sorry, boy," he
said. "I'm very sorry. I hope you find a good home. I really hope you'll
find a home."

Thirty minutes later,
the young
Lab was being registered
and going through the intake process of vet checks and shots. The muzzle had
been removed because the animal clearly wasn't interested in biting anyone or
hurting the people. All that he was feeling was a deep, deep sadness because
now there would be no master coming to get him. He was not in the right place.
He was not where he should be.

He was in a four-by-eight-foot area
surrounded by concrete, except for the wire mesh fencing that allowed him to
look out and people to look in. He was given water and food by some humans who
spoke in very soft, soothing tones, but it was hard to hear them over the noise
of all the other dogs. None of the animals were happy, including the big Lab,
and no one slept very much, as day and night didn't matter at all because there
wasn't any sun.

Sometimes new people came and spoke
to the dogs, and sometimes dogs were taken out of the cages and not brought
back. People spoke to him too, but they were not his people. Even though he had
been taken from his place, he knew his people would come—he just knew they
would come.

He watched the man and
the excited little boy move down the line of cages
and dogs. He watched because something about the man said
kind
—said
good.
He
watched as they talked to other dogs up and down the line, and he waited for
them to come and see him.