Chapter 4

Ancestor Detectives

A house, a family, a name—it was almost enough. Shannon pulled out an album of pictures and an old book. There he was, right on the first page of the album, sitting inside a wicker basket, staring out at whoever looked at the picture.

“This is you, Tramp. Pretty good picture, right?”

He licked her hand in agreement.

“Have you ever wondered where you came from?” she asked.

Of course Tramp knew that. Big Bob’s. “And I don’t mean the pet store,”

Shannon said. “I mean what kind of dog you are, your family.”

He twisted his head to the right, the universal sign for “What?”

They were on the screened-in back porch, sitting on the only piece of furniture he had permission to sit on, the family seat. It had lumpy cushions covered by pictures of big flowers, perfect for being read to. Nobody had ever told him anything about where he came from or talked about a “kind” of dog.

“This is a book about where dog ancestors came from.” Shannon opened the book and started flipping the pages. “You’re not a short-haired terrier, or a German shepherd, or an Afghan hound.”

Tramp reached out a paw and planted it on a picture that looked familiar.

“Way to go Tramp! You get it. This is a photo of your kind of dog. You’re a mixed breed. You’re one half Lhasa Apso. The other half is poodle. You’re half Tibetan and half French. You’re described here as a small dog with a big voice. You have an over-abundance of self-confidence, are curious and treat people with respect. You listen and then do exactly what you want. Boy, did they get you right. Now here’s the interesting part. Your Lhasa ancestors guarded temples in Tibet and that gives you all the tools to defend your house and family. It says you’re very smart and curious. If you were human, it says, you’d probably be a detective. Your poodle ancestors were water dogs in France, they hunted and brought food back for their families.”

That sure explained why Tramp loved the lake. But he didn’t know what a detective was.

Shannon had a big smile on her face and rubbed under his chin. “So, is this you? I think so. Tramp, you’re a guard dog that takes care of his family and, I think you fix problems for your family.”

Did detectives fix problems? Tramp liked that notion. Now he knew more about himself, maybe why he did things. He had a family, a name, and now a history. The best part of what Shannon was doing was being read to and cuddled. He liked that part as well.