Four

The problem with clicks is that nothing fun ever made them happen. Over the next few days I shredded a pillow and squatted in the closet and yanked down a curtain and jumped up on a low table to tip over a bowl of nuts, all to no clicks, no treats.

“Ripley, focus,” Ben told me.

He said a lot of other things to me as well. “Not the shoes! Stop!” “No, don’t chew the books!” “Come back here!” “Oofda, Ripley! What a mess! Your breed is supposed to be all about order, for Pete’s sake. People’s lives are at stake!”

None of it made any sense.

I did figure out that squatting in the grass would conjure up a treat, while squatting on the floor did not. Fine. I preferred to go outside anyway. The smells out there were more exciting.

One morning Ben said something I did recognize: “Samantha.”

“You ready to go to see Samantha and Lizzy?” he asked me.

I heard the question in his voice and ran around the house in excitement, skidding on a rug and crashing into a low table that had no business being in my way.

“You crazy dog!”

We enjoyed a car ride and then walked up to the front door of a small house surrounded by trees. Flowers bobbed in greeting. Ben thumbed a button. I heard some chimes and the door was opened by Mom.

“Ah, Ripley, I swear you’ve gotten bigger in just a couple of weeks,” Mom exclaimed. I wriggled excitedly. She looked up at Ben, smiling. “So how’s the training going?”

“On a scale of one to ten with ten being best and one being worst, I’d say we’re at zero,” Ben replied ruefully. “He needs a ghostwriter.”

Mom laughed.

I dashed over to a flowerpot and jumped up to chew on the plants.

“I’m hopeful you can do something with him, but honestly, if all that happens is that Sammie does some dog sitting, that works for me. Oh, and if your daughter could maybe have some friends over? What Ripley also needs at this age is socialization.”

A shadow crossed Mom’s face. She glanced over her shoulder into the house. “Samantha doesn’t really have friends at the moment,” she confided quietly.

“Okay. Ripley can be her friend,” Ben said simply. He looked at his wrist. “Shift starts promptly at nine a.m., so I’d better get going. See you tomorrow morning!”

I knew that Ben was walking away without me, and I didn’t like that too much. I was tempted to run after him and block his way, to make him stay close with Mom and me.

But the smells coming out of the new house were also very interesting, so instead I followed Mom inside, excited at all the boxes on the floor. I immediately ran to one and tried to climb inside. Then I heard and smelled Samantha as she came around the corner.

“Is he gone?” Samantha asked in a timid voice as I barreled over to her.

Mom sighed. “Yes. I don’t know why you couldn’t come out and say hello.”

Samantha gathered me in her arms, clutching me to her chest. She kissed me between the eyes and I tried to bite her nose.

“Oh, Ripley,” she murmured. “I’m so happy to see you!”

I spent the day with Samantha, exploring and chewing. Sometimes we ran and ran in the house, and I chased her, crying with excitement. Not all humans understand what a great game Chase is, but Samantha did!

I was surprised when night came and she built a pile of pillows at the foot of her bed and hoisted me up. At Ben’s, I slept in a dog bed on the floor, so this was a wonderful change!

After a long time, Samantha fell asleep. I got a bit bored, so I chewed up those pillows and pushed the stuffing onto the floor. It was so nice of Samantha to make sure I had something to do while she was resting.

“Oh, Ripley,” Mom said the next morning when she came in.

“Oh, Ripley” was a way people said my name sometimes.

I wagged, but I was too comfortable, cuddled in Samantha’s arms, to move. Mom leaned over me. “You know you’re not her dog, right, Ripley? You know you belong to Ben.”

I wagged again, because I had found my true person: Samantha.

That same morning I heard the now familiar chimes and followed Mom to the front door. I wagged because Ben was there. “Hi, Ripley!” he greeted me.

I danced around Ben’s feet, happy to see him and to sniff all the new smells he’d brought back with him. Ben laughed and lifted me up in his arms. I struggled because I wanted to return to Samantha.

“How’d it go?” he asked Mom.

“Good,” she replied cautiously.

Ben cocked his head at her. “Your voice is saying ‘good’ but your tone implies something else.”

Mom smiled uneasily. “I have to be honest, Ben. We didn’t do any training. Mostly Samantha and Ripley just played together.”

“That’s okay,” Ben assured her with his easy smile.

“Right, except I’m afraid my daughter is completely smitten with your little dog.”

“Ah. Yah, well … I’m sure we’ll figure things out.”

Mom nodded pensively.

I went back with Ben to his home. Where was my girl? Why would Ben give me a car ride but not take Samantha? Didn’t he understand that, now that I’d found my girl, we were always supposed to be together?

We played a game with the clicker, something called Sit. The word sounded familiar, as if I’d heard it before somewhere, but it wasn’t all that interesting. I didn’t understand what Ben wanted and I trotted off to try to find something to play with. Ben called my name, but I was too busy to respond.

Later, Ben held the toy he called a phone to his face.

“Sure, Sammie. Of course. Just a minute,” he said out loud. He came over to me and crouched, so I jumped up to nibble on his face. “Ripley, would you like to say good night to Samantha?” My ears perked up at the name Samantha. Was she here?

But I couldn’t see or smell her. Then I rolled on my back and spotted something under the couch, so I dove under there and came out with a cloth that I shook hard.

Ben grabbed at the cloth and I pulled back, wagging. We were playing Tug! I loved Tug!

It seemed that Ben didn’t. “Let go of the sock!” he told me sharply. He yanked at the cloth and it pulled out of my mouth, so I chewed on a chair leg instead. “Oofda. Ripley’s too distracted to talk right now, Sammie,” Ben told the phone.

Ben eventually wrestled me into my dog bed, which was soft but not as nice as Samantha’s bed. “Sammie really loves you, Ripley. But you’re going to be a fire station dog, okay?” he told me as he sat down on his bed with a sigh. “You’re a dog with a purpose.”

The next day I was relieved and excited to be back with Samantha and Mom, and this set the pattern for my life. Sometimes Ben would wake up very early, while it was still dark outside, and we would drive to Samantha’s house. On Samantha days, I spent the night in Samantha’s bed, playing with her wonderful toys. After breakfast she put bright objects called cones in the yard and I chased her in and out and around them. I loved cones!

Other nights I would sleep in Ben’s room, chewing on my dog bed, and then either pass the day with him or drive to Samantha’s house a little later in the morning. I loved Ben too. And one of the things I loved about him was that he always brought me back to Samantha.

“The first command,” Mom told Samantha after Ben had left one day, “is Touch. We need to get Ripley accustomed to touching our hands with his nose. At the command Touch, hold out your hand for him to sniff, and then when his nose is close, bring it up and let his nose make contact with your palm,” Mom instructed.

“Seems easy. You ready, Ripley?” Samantha asked me.

I figured we were about to play some sort of game and glanced around for a toy we could add to the fun.

“Ripley, Touch.”

Samantha lowered her hand. I sniffed it and then she tapped me gently on the nose. I heard a click and Samantha handed me a treat. “Touch! Good dog!”

Well, if we were going to randomly hand out treats to a wonderful puppy, I guess I could do this as long as they could.

We played Touch for a while and then Mom announced, “This is going pretty well. Let’s try some body handling.”

“What’s that?” Samantha asked.

Mom smiled. “All we do is get Ripley to lie down. Then we put our hands on him. He just needs to become comfortable with the idea that we’re allowed to touch him. We’ll give him treats to keep him motivated.”

Samantha gently rolled me onto my side and placed her fingers on me. There were no treats, so I struggled to get up. Maybe I could get Samantha to play Chase again.

“Just relax. Relax,” Samantha soothed me.

Well, I couldn’t stand this. I jumped to my feet and raced around the room, trying to get her to do anything more active than just lying around on the floor, but that was all that Samantha wanted to do.

The next day was much the same. We played Touch, which I liked, as there were treats so easily offered. Then we played Focus, a game Ben must have told them about but which I still didn’t understand. Then we did nap time but I wasn’t tired.

“This is not going well,” Mom observed. “It’s a lot easier to write about dog training than to do it, I guess.”

“I’ll keep trying,” Samantha vowed.

“I bought some puppy pads. I thought you could take them with you when I drive you to see Mrs. Middleton. Just in case he forgets his house-training in the new surroundings.”

I froze because Samantha inhaled sharply and stared at her mother. “What? No,” she protested.

“Samantha.”

“No, no, Mom.” Samantha shook her head wildly. “Why can’t she come here? She comes here.”

My girl was unhappy! I looked around sharply to see what was threatening her.

“Honey,” Mom replied patiently, “we talked about this. It’s time for you to see Mrs. Middleton in her office. It’s asking too much for her to come here. She has other patients, you know.”

“Then I won’t go. I don’t want to go,” Samantha pleaded.

I couldn’t see anything dangerous. Maybe Samantha just needed to play. I hunted around the room for a toy to bring her.

Mom pursed her lips. “I’ve noticed that with the exception of taking Ripley out into the backyard, you’ve not left the house since we moved here. It’s summer—you should be outside.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“Why not, Samantha?” Mom asked softly.

I could feel distress pouring off Samantha. I didn’t understand what was happening. There were toys and treats and clicks and many wonderful items to chew, but none of it seemed important in face of the strong emotions in the room.

“I’m scared,” Samantha confessed in a small voice.

I hurried to her side and sat down on her feet. Everything felt uncomfortable and I just wanted all of us to be together—Samantha, Mom, and me.

“Scared?” Mom prompted. “What are you frightened of, honey?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, Mom! I just don’t want to go. I’ll stay here. I’ll get better.”

Mom was quiet for a while. “No,” she finally pronounced softly. “Tomorrow I’m driving you to see Mrs. Middleton. You can take Ripley with you. You can put down the puppy pads in case he has an accident, but this is not up for debate. Mrs. Middleton is helping you.”

Samantha snatched me up off the floor and, to my surprise, ran down the hall to our room. She flung herself on the bed and I bounced out of her arms and then crawled to her in alarm. Her face was wet and her hands shook as she reached for me.

Something was very, very wrong.

It was one of those days where Ben didn’t come to pick me up after dinnertime. Instead, I was able to sleep with Samantha, but we didn’t sleep very much. She jerked and shifted and rolled in her bed, sighing sadly, making small sounds. I lay against her and willed her to be happy.

At one point, Mom came in the room and sat on the bed and they talked and talked until I became drowsy. I was aware of Mom leaving, but it was a long time later.

The next morning, we were up early, so I expected to see Ben, but the pattern had changed and he didn’t arrive. Instead, I was taken to a car. Mom had a car too! We climbed in. I was in the backseat in a crate with holes in it, seated next to Samantha.

Samantha shoved her fingers through the holes so I could lick them, but I didn’t chew on her because the tension was so thick in the air. I was afraid something awful was about to happen to my girl.

When we stopped, Samantha let me out of the crate and carried me into a building, following Mom, who kept turning and smiling at us encouragingly. Doors led to a long hallway.

We found a tiny living room and I sat in Samantha’s lap, ignoring all the enticing objects on a table because she needed her dog to be still. She was trembling and her eyes kept squeezing shut.

Finally, a large, smiling woman opened a small door and announced, “This must be Ripley!”

I wagged a tiny bit. The woman’s appearance was doing nothing to soothe Samantha’s anxiety. I pressed against my girl—it was all I could think to do.

“Come on in, Samantha,” the beaming woman invited her.

“I’ll be right here waiting for you, honey,” Mom called to us, as we left her and entered a warm, comfortable room with soft furniture. Samantha sat down and I sat next to her.

I stared at my girl, sensing a terrible danger.