We walk the streets together, watching as people rush to work and cars honk as they fight through traffic.
“I figured we’d walk around a little, and maybe you’d recognize something,” Chance says. “It might help lead us to your home.”
I sniff my way down the sidewalk, following the scent of neighborhood dogs. The scent grows stronger as I move forward.
“Hey, where are you going?” Chance asks, but I don’t stop, racing past him and turning the corner onto a busy street. The dog scents merge together into a busy canine highway, and I hurry on, excited to follow the trail.
“Slow down, Wild! I only have two legs!”
The scents burst to life, I turn into a large parking lot filled with cars, and stop.
“What do you—” Chance stops next to me.
We’re standing in front of a bright white store that runs the length of the block. A sign reads PETSTAR SM. Images of dogs, cats, birds, and fish appear on screens across the front of the store, one shifting into another in a digital montage.
“You found a pet store,” Chance says, surprised. “Have you been here before?”
I’m seized by déjà vu as I look at the store. It feels like I know this place, but I can’t be sure.
I watch as animals of all kinds enter the store, each of them accompanied by a human who cares about it. I whimper and sniff the air, wondering if there’s a person who cared about me. If I find that person, I’ll find out who I am.
The thought gets my heart racing excitedly, and I trot toward the front entrance of the store.
“Geez, wait up!” Chance says.
The door slides open, and I’m hit by a wave of ice-cold air-conditioning.
“She needs to be on a leash,” the guard says, stepping in front of me.
“Um, that’s why we’re here,” Chance says. “I’m buying her one.”
“New dog?” the guard asks.
“Second day together,” Chance says.
“A rescue, I hope?”
“Yep, she rescued me,” Chance says.
The guard grins and motions us through. “I’ll make an exception just this once. Leashes in aisle seventeen.”
We walk into a massive store with pet products as far as the eye can see.
“This place is ridiculous,” Chance says.
There’s a bright green stuffed turtle on a shelf in front of me, and I dart forward, grabbing it and giving it a playful squeeze.
“What are you doing?” Chance asks.
“I don’t know,” I say through gritted teeth.
I snap my head back and forth, feeling the foam in the turtle squishing between my jaws.
“We haven’t paid for that,” he says, and he pulls it away from me and puts it back on the shelf.
“Sorry,” I say. “It just felt really good.”
I hear footsteps behind us, and I turn to find a smiling young employee. His face is dotted with acne, and he smells like orange soda and pepperoni sticks.
I don’t care much for the orange soda, but the pepperoni sticks smell delicious.
“Welcome to PetStar, where your pet is the star of the show,” he says. “My name’s Myron.”
He looks down at me, and his energy changes. He seems nervous as he stares at me.
“Do I know you?” he asks.
I look at his name tag.
Myron, Groomer
It doesn’t ring any bells for me.
“I don’t think so,” I say.
“She’s brand-new,” Chance says, covering for me.
Myron glances at me again. His breathing quickens, and he nervously taps his foot on the ground.
Myron gulps and pulls himself together. “If this is your first time, you’re entitled to a free grooming.”
“We don’t need a grooming,” Chance says.
“Sure looks like she could use one.”
I snort, offended by his comment. Then I look down at my coat and see my fur is matted and dirty. I shake myself and dust particles fly into the air.
Maybe I could use a little shampoo after all.
“You happen to be talking to Magic Myron, the fastest groomer in the store. I’ll wash her and have her back to you in no time.”
I look up at Myron, and he winks at me.
Okay. Weird.
“She doesn’t like to be touched,” Chance says.
“We see that all the time,” Myron says. “It’s not a problem. Give me twenty minutes, then you can pick her up at Mar del Mutt.”
He points to a small pen of dogs running back and forth in a fake beach scene complete with a plastic palm tree.
Chance looks nervous. “Is that okay with you, Wild?”
Something is definitely going on with this Myron guy, and I want to know what it is.
I wag my tail to signal Chance.
Myron smiles. “Looks like she’s fine with it.”
“I guess,” Chance says.
“Her name’s Wild?”
Chance nods.
“Wild and I will see you soon!” Myron says.
Chance heads down the aisle, looking back twice to make sure I’m okay.
The moment he’s out of earshot, Myron leans down.
“Is it really you, Honey?”
Honey?
He looks at me like he recognizes me. I feel excitement bursting in my chest. “Do you know me?”
“You missed your last grooming, and I thought you were—”
Sweat breaks out on Myron’s forehead, and he doesn’t finish the sentence.
“You thought I was what?” I say, anxious to hear what he knows, but I can tell from his expression that he can’t understand me. Just like everyone else.
“We shouldn’t be out here where they can see us.”
He motions for me to hurry, and then he heads down the aisle, disappearing behind a door marked THE GROOMING GROTTO.
Does Myron know who I am?
I run after him, thrilled by the possibility that I’ll finally get some answers.