Henry had never known that dogs could live a life like the one he was living with Mr. Duffy.
Ever since the day that Roger had gotten into the Wonderland van and driven away from the little gatehouse without him, Henry’s life had been full of firsts.
He had ridden in a truck with his head out the window, letting the wind blow his flapping ears, and watching a whole world of stores and houses and fields and barns whiz by.
He had walked beside Mr. Duffy around a lake, the water glistening in the late-afternoon sun.
He had gone inside Mr. Duffy’s trailer, which smelled like he imagined a home would smell. Like old shoes, biscuits, and bacon.
Mr. Duffy made hot dogs and baked beans for supper and shared them with him, even letting him up on the couch to eat from a paper plate beside him.
Sometimes Mr. Duffy was quiet, but sometimes he talked to Henry. He grumbled about his arthritis and remarked about the evening air getting a little cooler and apologized for his lousy cooking.
The scent of another dog lingered on the sofa and the rugs and even on Mr. Duffy’s slippers under the bed. Henry wondered where that dog was now.
When the sun went down on that first night, Mr. Duffy turned out the lights in the trailer and motioned for Henry to sleep on the rug beside his bed. In the middle of the night Henry jumped onto the bed and nestled down among the cool, thin sheets. When Mr. Duffy woke the next morning to find him there, he mumbled something under his breath, but he didn’t make him get down. Henry slept on the bed every night after that.
In the mornings, they ate scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast and went for a walk down by the lake. Then they got in the truck and drove to the little gatehouse where Rose and Mavis came to visit every day.
But today Rose had come alone.
Henry was glad to see her and thumped his tail to let her know.
Then Mr. Duffy had gotten a serious look on his face and told Rose something that made her cry.