I’d always associated cars with car rides, which meant I liked them very much. But now the huge machine coming at me let loose with the loudest, scariest noise I’d ever heard. There was a screech and a blast of sound and I cringed, lowering my belly to the pavement. The thing rocked to a stop, so close I could almost lick it, and I heard a woman yelling angrily from within it.
The squirrel forgotten, I turned and scampered back to safety. Ben scooped me up.
“Naughty dog!” Mom told me.
Ben’s heart was pounding and so was mine. The fright pouring off both his and Mom’s skin reminded me of Samantha’s episodes of panic. I licked his face, frantic for him not to be mad at me.
I’d thought Samantha was the only person who could feel this scared. But now, with the same emotions pouring off Ben and Mom, I understood that all people might feel like this sometimes. A good dog, I realized, would be sensitive to this mood in every one of his humans.
The car drove away. I was glad to see it go.
“Why’d the leash break?” Ben inquired after a moment of just breathing.
Mom waved her hand. “Oh. Ripley chewed it almost all the way through. I meant to show it to you.”
“I can get him a new one, no worries. Lizzy … for a minute there I thought we were going to watch my dog get hit right in front of us.”
“Me too,” Mom confided with a weak laugh.
They were both petting me and growing slowly calmer, so I felt forgiven. I glanced across the street, but the squirrel had wisely retreated and was no doubt cowering in fear at the top of his tree.
Mom and Ben sat down together on the porch steps. Ben sighed heavily. “We’ve got to work harder on Ripley’s training—No, Lizzy, I’m not blaming you! Of course not. But Ripley just can’t run out into the street like that.”
“Oh, I know, I know.” Mom took a deep breath. “Let’s think about something else. Like—do fire departments typically use dogs like Ripley?”
He shook his head. “No, not really, and I think they’re missing the potential. Dogs have such amazing hearing and smell. My job on the rescue squad is to locate anyone in the building who might be trapped. Imagine having a dog’s nose to help me! My captain’s letting me try to see if I can train Ripley to assist. If it works, it might be the model for fire departments all over the country!”
“You’ll be famous!”
Ben grinned. “You betcha! Cover of People magazine, probably. I’ll be invited to dine with royalty. I’ll bring you and Sammie.” His expression changed. “What just happened? You came down with the frowns for some reason.”
“Nothing.” Mom sighed. “She’s doing better, I think.”
“You say that like you’re not sure.”
“Well, she’s still so anxious. She can barely stand to be left alone in the house, but she also won’t leave the house. It’s called agoraphobia. I’m able to get her to drive with me to Mrs. Middleton’s and that’s it. I asked her to return a plate to our neighbor, Astrid Larson, and she said she couldn’t. She won’t go to the store. She won’t come out into the front yard, even to play with her puppy.”
Ben pursed his lips.
“Sorry,” Mom corrected herself. “I meant your puppy. But you get what I’m saying.”
“Oh, for sure, Lizzy. Of course.”
“I’m happy the two of them have bonded.”
“Should we be doing more? How can I help?”
“Oh, Ben, you are helping. Having you come by has done so much for her self-confidence. Ever since the accident with her father, she’s been terrified of men. Do you notice, when you first started bringing your puppy, she wouldn’t come out of her room until you’d left? Now having a man around feels routine. She’s even started to talk back to you, sometimes.”
Ben laughed. “Sometimes I deserve talking back to, I imagine.”
“It’s also great that you’re sharing your puppy. Samantha’s really taken to helping with the training. I forgot how much work goes into something like that. Especially a dog like Ripley.”
“Oh yah, ’specially Ripley,” Ben agreed.
I wagged because my name was being spoken so fondly by both people.
“He is a handful. I don’t know what that means for the fire department,” Ben went on. “My captain agreed to let me do this with Ripley as an experiment, but, well, let’s just say, not everyone at the station is on board. If I can’t make it work with Ripley, I’m not sure he’ll think it’s worth another try.” Ben sighed. “Have to say, I pictured a border collie, especially one that was bred to be a guide dog, would be hyperintelligent, focused, and take very easily to complicated commands.”
“Well,” Mom replied, “Ripley has come to understand ‘Let’s go.’ He strains at his leash whenever I say it, and”—Mom laughed—“even when I don’t.”
“Good. As long as we come up with commands that Ripley is already doing, like ‘Don’t pay attention,’ he’ll do really well.”
They both smiled.
“Do the treatments seem to be helping Sammie? With Mrs. Middleton, I mean. You don’t have to tell me. It’s really none of my business, don’tcha know.”
“Oh, no, I think Samantha would be fine if you knew, Ben.” Mom paused, contemplating. “She doesn’t obsess over the fire anymore, but the underlying anxiety is still there, always. I don’t know what’s going to happen. She’s thirteen now and she’s not getting any socialization. It’s great that she’s homeschooled, but she’s not meeting anybody except online, and that’s hardly healthy.”
Ben nodded. “I agree with that. Speaking of socialization, you know who else needs it, don’t you?”
Mom nodded wearily. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been trapped at home with Samantha and she won’t let me invite people over. Anybody but you, anyway. I’m hoping that maybe in another month I can take Ripley other places. As long as I’m not gone too long.”
“Whatever’s right. My dad’s allergic to dogs, so I can’t bring Ripley with me to the car dealership, but if you need me to do the socialization, I can handle that part.”
Mom shook her head, smiling. “No, you’re paying for dog training and I don’t have any writing assignments that I’m working on at the moment, so I need to be the one to show Ripley the world.”
“Just whatever’s right,” Ben agreed. “Sammie’s mental health is very important to me, don’tcha know.”
They gazed at each other. “What is it? Why’re you smiling at me like that?” Ben probed quizzically.
“Oh!” Mom seemed happy again. “I was just thinking, you can sure tell you were raised in Minnesota. It’s the way you talk. You say things like ‘don’tcha know,’ ‘for sure,’ ‘oofda.’”
Ben nodded. “Grew up in ‘the cities,’ as we say about Minneapolis/St. Paul. Wait until I bring over a hot dish sometime.”
“That’s what Mrs. Larson said!”
“Right. What you would call a casserole. When it gets cold again, Minnesotans will bring over a hot dish to pass, don’tcha know. Yah, for sure.”
Mom laughed delightedly.
For some reason, Ben kept the leash very short and tight to his side as we returned home. I slept at his house, curled in my dog bed, but then the memories of the shockingly strong feelings I’d felt from him earlier, when the car had screamed at me, came back to me. I didn’t want to be so far away from him, so I had to jump up and snuggle next to him as he slept. “Ripley,” he muttered sleepily. I wagged, happy to be pressed against his side.
The next morning was one of those where Ben took me home to Samantha very early. He was dressed in the clothing that I had come to learn was called a uniform—solid-colored pants and a shirt that looked the same. Mom greeted him at the door, wearing a bathrobe and a smile and holding a large cup of coffee, which she offered to him.
“Here you go,” Mom said softly.
I watched as Ben handed over my leash, which was new and made of something far less tasty than my old one, though I figured I would chew it anyway. When Mom set me down and unclicked it from my collar, I was happy to go in and greet Samantha, who was sleeping solidly. She felt so warm, snuggly, and comfortable that when I climbed up into bed next to her I was instantly asleep.
When she and I both woke up, I squatted in the grass to do my business and received a treat. She was always so pleased to see me poop in the yard, but then she immediately shoveled up what I produced and shoved it into a bucket with a lid. It was very strange, but I never let it bother me.
Samantha and I played a lot of games together, mostly inside the house. Samantha would say, “Come. Come, Ripley.” Then she would take off running. When I caught her, she would make that clicking noise and give me a treat. At other times she’d call out odd terms like “Sit!” and then push on my butt and lift my face and give me a click and a treat.
I loved treats, and I came to love the clicking noise, and I loved running, so that part made sense. But I didn’t get why dull games like Sit or Lie Down should end up with clicks and treats too. And when I found a small plastic ball that I had forgotten about and brought it out triumphantly for Samantha to see, I felt I should have received a treat for that. What could be more important than finding a lost dog toy?
But I did not get a click, and I did not get a treat.
After a while, it occurred to me it would be more convenient to lift my leg than to squat, and I received a treat for that. But when I tried it inside on a houseplant, Mom picked me up and rushed outside, and no treat happened at all. Was there some sort of difference between plants in the house and plants in the yard?
There just was no understanding any of it. But anyway, I liked the chicken treats best. And I loved playing cones in the yard.
“I need to clean the gutters,” Mom announced one day during breakfast.
There are three words that can cause me to swoon: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Oh, and snack is also a good one.
That breakfast I was sitting loyally, watching Samantha put some butter on bread, her knife making a delicious scraping noise as it sent rich odors up into the air. That was called a piece of toast, and sometimes she would share a little bit with me. I concentrated on being very good until I noticed that there was a bird flying outside. I could see it through the big front window over the couch. I leaped up on the couch and barked. The bird pretended not to be terrified.
“Riley, you just about gave me a heart attack!” Mom sighed. “Samantha? Could you come out and hold the ladder for me?”
Samantha gave her a dark look.
“We would be right next to the house, honey. It’ll be fine.”
Samantha shook her head. I broke away from watching the bird. Something was happening inside Samantha, and it was times like these when I needed to pay full attention to her. I trotted over to my girl and put my paw on her leg.
“I can’t, Mom,” Samantha muttered. She stealthily handed down a small piece of toast for me, which I felt probably cheered her up.
Later I was astounded to see Mom out that same window where I’d been entertained by the bird. She hoisted what I’d earlier learned was called a ladder into the air. I wondered if this meant Ben’s friends would soon arrive with their own ladder.
Mom climbed the ladder with a rake and a small shovel in her hands. Soon, all I could see of her was her legs, then just her feet. I watched all this intently, uneasy that Mom was out there and I wasn’t. It was better when Mom, Samantha, and I were all in the same place.
I could hear Samantha clinking dishes together at the sink. Water was running, but I sensed that the food I’d been interested in had been cleared off the table. When that happened, I never got treats. I would have to wait for the clicker.
I was still watching out the window when I saw Mom do something very curious. The ladder on which she was standing suddenly began to slide sideways, moving slowly and then quickly and then vanishing from view. I saw Mom’s legs kicking and I heard a muffled yell and then she plummeted to the ground.
She shrieked in pain.
I turned shocked eyes to stare at Samantha. She was bent over a pan in the sink. Hard buttons jutted out from her ears and she didn’t turn to look at me.
Something bad was happening! Mom was hurt!