Summer was almost over. In two short weeks, I’d be back at high school to begin my senior year. Instead of concentrating intensively on one class as I had this summer, I’d be bogged down with five classes, including organic chemistry (another AP science course) and calculus. Not to mention history, English 4, and Spanish 4.
I handed in my final paper with pride. I’d concluded it by asking readers to reimagine Little Red Riding Hood through the lens of Wolf-Alice. What would have happened if Red had taken the time to get to know the wolf? What had made him so vicious? Why was he a loner? How could understanding someone’s history make one a more compassionate person?
I understood that we were all victims of circumstance, but, like Wolf-Alice, I didn’t want to sit by and watch things happen to me. I wanted to be in charge of my own life.
With summer school completed, I tried my best to enjoy the only two weeks of freedom I’d have this summer. The lights were back on; I stayed in my pajamas until dog training on most days, sipped green tea from the teabags Oak had given me, and made a follow-up phone call to a woman who was interested in having me train her dog. She called back to say she was now away on vacation but would call me when she got back to set up a regular schedule.
On Saturday morning, the day of our Ruff Rehabilitation graduation ceremony, I slept through my alarm clock and received a jolt of adrenaline when I awoke and realized I had fifteen minutes to get down to Cliff Street. I threw on a black tank top and flowing skirt, knowing I’d have to hike it up above my knees when pedaling.
All the hard work over the last eight weeks culminated in today’s graduation ceremony. I was so excited to see Roman, who had been “recovering” at Kevin’s place from the trauma of being at the pound. He wasn’t sure if Roman would be up for the graduation ceremony.
I pulled in to the Natural Bridges parking lot. Kevin was standing on the grass with everyone in our group in a circle. The dogs all sat in the center. We had spent the day before giving them baths and making them look perfect for the day they’d get to meet their new owners. Each day at dog rehab, I had done my best, but the whole time I wished the dalmatian were Roman. The night before, Kevin had let me know that freshly bathed Sid wouldn’t even be at graduation, as his new owner had already adopted him and he was starting his new life in San Francisco. I was here to show my support for the other dogs.
After locking my bike, I made my way to the circle of dogs and their trainers. Oak moved aside, opening up the circle to reveal Roman in the center. Without hesitation, I bounded toward him, shouting his name. “Roman!”
He reacted to my voice right away and came sprinting toward me, his gait uninhibited by his missing appendage.
I slowly lowered my body down to his, not wanting to spook him, and let him lick the sweat off my face as I affixed the collar I had purchased around his neck. There was a certain look he was giving me, mouth agape, eyes glistening. If I believed animals could emote like humans, I could have sworn Roman was actually smiling at me.
Kevin gathered us together with our dogs and made the greatest announcement of all time.
“Every dog has been adopted out!”
“Even Roman?” I asked, concerned that he didn’t count.
“Especially Roman,” clarified Kevin.
We erupted in cheers and high fives as all the dogs’ tails began wagging, our excitement contagious.
“We have about ten minutes until the ceremony starts, so just take some time to hang out with each other and your dogs for the last time. I’m gonna go make sure everything is okay with the graduation setup,” said Kevin.
Oak came up to me and kissed me on my shoulder.
“Not here?” I asked, pointing to my face.
“I think your shoulder is the only spot Roman didn’t lick,” he said.
Before I could focus on Oak, I had to connect with Talbot. “Just a sec, okay?” I told him.
Oak held on to my hand. I could tell he didn’t want to let me go. But if this was going to work, then he’d have to be the kind of guy who understood that having a best friend was equally as important as having a boyfriend.
“He hates me,” Talbot said, after I let go of Oak’s hand and went over to her.
“Not possible,” I said. “Give it time. Guys can be like dogs sometimes—you just need to earn his trust.”
“Well, I won’t give up on being his friend then,” Talbot said. It made me happy. I waved Oak over.
“You excited about today?” Talbot asked Oak.
I was relieved they were talking to each other.
“It’s a great day. With some really good company,” he said.
Oak leaned in and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. The butterflies in my stomach grew, but they were the good kind—the kind that helped me get out of bed every morning and face each day, instead of staying home and punishing myself, because I now believed that something good could happen.
Kevin came back to us. “It’s a full house out there!” he said.
I wondered if my dad was in the audience—if he even bothered to come at all. I tried to tell myself that I didn’t care whether or not he made it here on time, but the truth was, I wanted him to be there so badly. I wanted to show him what I had been doing all summer. I wanted to believe that he really cared about me as much as he’d said when we had our talk. And, mostly, I wanted to make him proud.
Kevin addressed the group. “Before we all get up onstage, I just want to tell you how blown away I am by the five of you for sticking this out, for being so successful in training your dogs. You inspired me, time and time again, over the summer.”
I looked over, and Talbot was crying, which made me tear up. Even Randy was bowing his head so the bill of his baseball cap was covering his eyes; God forbid anyone see he had a soft spot.
Kevin continued, “Thank you for all of your hard work and dedication. I know these dogs can’t talk, but if they could, I’m sure they’d say…”
“‘I can’t believe they let Talbot paint my toenails,’” interrupted Randy, pretending to speak as Garrett, who looked absolutely ridiculous sporting the pink glittery nail polish that Talbot had purchased. She had somehow convinced Kevin that the non-toxic nail polish would be the perfect and only way to send Garrett off to his new life.
When it was time, we made our official move to the makeshift stage (a large piece of plywood under a madrone tree). The audience was much fuller than I’d expected for a dog graduation, and I could see Talbot’s parents in the front row.
It was noon and the hottest time of day. The sun’s glare made it difficult to make out faces in the crowd. I sat with a program across my forehead, like a visor. As I scanned the audience for my father, who was not in attendance, I thought I saw Ashley sitting toward the back.
Had Dad even remembered that today was graduation day? I had been so hopeful after our big conversation together, probably too hopeful. I thought that he finally “got it” for once, but here he was letting me down once again. Maybe some people just weren’t capable of changing.
Kevin welcomed the audience and began speaking about how we’d had a symbiotic relationship with the dogs; they helped us, and we helped them right back. Next, we did a short demonstration of everything we had taught the dogs over the summer, which included sitting, staying, rolling over, waiting to eat the food out of a bowl until we gave the command, not jumping up on people, barking on command (only about half the dogs could do that, and Roman certainly wasn’t one of them), and fetching and retrieving. As I ran through these exercises, I thought back to the first time I tried simply to walk Roman on a leash. He’d pulled so hard, and I’d been timid; I truly had thought he was going to kill me. But as I looked down at him on our last day together, it hit me again how similar we both were.
We’d both been through so much in our short lives. Both of us were quick to anger, although Roman lashed out, and I kept mine inside. In truth, I needed to be a bit more like him, acknowledging and releasing my feelings as I felt them, and he needed to learn to be a bit more like me, not attacking everyone he perceived as a threat.
And this summer, we had both met our goals.
As Roman and I approached Kevin at the podium to receive my certificate of completion, my eyes locked on my father’s face; he was sitting in the back. He hadn’t forgotten about today. And what was more, his face was filled with pride, an expression that I hadn’t seen on him in ages.
I took my certificate of completion and had a seat with the others.
Kevin was back at the podium. “And now, a bittersweet time for both myself and my fearless participants in Ruff Rehabilitation. We say good-bye to the dogs we’ve come to know and love as they say hello to a whole new future.”
It was time to let go of our dogs.
Oak reached over and held my free hand. I was so happy to have him by my side.
Kevin called each dog and trainer pair up to meet their new owners, who emerged from the audience with great exuberance. First went Talbot, then Shelley. I watched as they each passed their dog along to their new owner.
Garrett went to a family of four.
Bruce went to an older gentleman who walked with a cane.
We were all shocked to see Sebastian, the Kite Boy, and his dad come up to collect Persia from Oak.
“What?” Oak said as he handed the leash to the little boy.
Sebastian’s father stepped forward. “Ever since he met you guys, he’s been bugging me about getting a dog. He wanted me to prove I like animals. This will be good for us. Thank you,” he said, giving Oak a hug.
Tinkerbelle was next. Randy walked her to the front of the stage, and I watched the crowd to see who would emerge to claim her.
“Perry?” I shrieked when I saw my teacher take the stage. She didn’t take the leash from Randy, who was holding it out to her, but instead picked up the dog and cradled her in her arms.
“We are going to have so much fun!” she said. She looked over at me and gave me a huge thumbs-up.
“You know her?” asked Talbot.
“Yeah, she’s amazing!”
I was so happy for Tinkerbelle but secretly wished Perry had taken Roman home instead. Kevin had assured us that every dog had a new home, but what if the new owners backed out? Never showed up? Or worse—what if they were sitting there and were totally unimpressed with the way I had trained Roman? What if they felt the same trepidation that I’d felt on that first day of working with him?
My stomach tossed and turned with the returning fear that Roman would be put to death and it would be all my fault.
“And last but not least,” Kevin began, “a dog with a long and complicated history, Roman.”
Oak gave my hand one last squeeze before I stood up, with Roman heeling by my side, and headed toward the front of the stage. I looked out into the crowd. No one was walking toward the stage to gather Roman. The new owner wasn’t coming. Roman would die.
I looked at Kevin, who read the panic on my face and pointed out into the crowd, where a man in his thirties was assisting a very pregnant woman up out of her seat. They walked slowly to the stage, and he held her hand, helping her up the stairs.
“This is Rashida and Jacob. This is Iris,” said Kevin, introducing us. I went to shake their hands, but they brought me into a three-way embrace.
“I hope he likes babies,” said Rashida, rubbing her bulging belly.
“He’ll be great with kids,” I said.
I leaned down to Roman. He looked at me with his big brown eyes. His eyebrows turned up and his head cocked to the side as if to question what was going on.
I petted him on the head and leaned down close to his ear.
“I love you,” I said. “I always will. Be a good boy. These people are going to love you, too.”
When I leaned in to give him one last hug, I felt him rest his head on my shoulder. I could tell he knew what was happening in that moment. He was telling me that he loved me, too. And the whole time I was thinking what a luxury it was to get the chance to say good-bye to somebody you love.
*
After the ceremony, Perry found me in the crowd.
“These are for you,” she said, handing me a bouquet of wildflowers.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the flowers.
“That was a pretty special ceremony,” said Perry.
“I’m so glad you’re taking Tinkerbelle home.”
“You know, I’m not supposed to be sharing this information with you until we officially file grades next week, but you wrote a knockout final paper. You got an A-minus in the class, Iris!”
“Are you serious?” I asked, completely relieved.
Perry nodded, her new dog at her feet begging to be picked up. Perry obliged.
“It’s good to have a dog again,” she said, kissing Tinkerbelle on the nose. “I have to run. We’re headed straight for the pet store for another doggie bed—I want one in every room! Congratulations again, Iris. You’ve worked so hard.”
“Thanks, Perry.”
She turned to leave with her new dog. In the distance I could see Roman jumping into the backseat of the Volvo with his new owners. His tail wagging, he was excited for the adventure ahead.
“Hey, Perry!” I shouted out to her. “Are you teaching at SC High next year?” It would be amazing to have her as my English teacher senior year.
“No can do, I’m afraid. I’m strictly a summer hire. It’s back to substitute teaching for me during the year. But hey, if your English teacher ever gets sick, I’m the girl to call.”
Well, at least I knew there was no way they were ever going to give me Mrs. Schneider again.
Ashley ran up to me and gave me a huge bear hug.
“I’m so glad I came!” she said.
“Me, too.” It was so good to see her.
“I can’t believe I wasted my whole summer inside a coffee shop and you got to do this incredible thing!”
Ashley was right. What had started out as a punishment had turned out to be a gift.
I wanted more time with her. “Hey, want to join us at Lighthouse? We’re all going for a swim.”
“Sure! I’d love to. Just have to run home and get my suit. Should I invite Sierra? She leaves for college in three days.”
I hesitated for a moment, wondering if we could go back to being who we were as a group, but I wanted to give them a chance to get to know the real me.
“Yeah, I’d like that,” I said.
Dad sat back and waited for me to say my good-byes to my friends and to Kevin before approaching me. Dad was wearing board shorts, and his hair was slicked back, wet.
“You did great up there,” he said.
“Thanks.”
We looked at each other for a while—two people not knowing what to say.
“You smell like fish,” I said, recognizing the saltwater smell on his body.
He nodded with a big grin across his face.
“You were in the ocean?” I asked.
“I needed to think. It’s where she always did her best thinking. I thought I’d try it out.”
“And? How did it go?”
“I found her today. In the water,” he said.
I thought about how I had felt swimming in the ocean with Talbot. Mom had been everywhere then, and Dad had just experienced the exact same feeling.
“She’s not gone,” he said, trying to convince me.
“I know.” I didn’t know why it always took him longer to get things.
“I haven’t been very good to you.”
“Dad,” I interrupted.
“No, hear me out. I acted like I knew everything, like my way was the only way. Like I was perfect. I’m far from it, Iris. I’m just slogging through who to be without your mother around. I was so focused on that loss that I took for granted the fact that you were still right here. I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry.”
And then my father did something I’d only seen him do once, on the day of my mother’s funeral. He cried. And I did the only thing I could think of; I leaned in toward him and wrapped my arms around him and held him tight.
It was good to see him acting like a human rather than a working robot.
“I got a job,” he said, when he finally calmed down enough to talk.
“You did? Where?”
“It’s no big deal. I’ll be shelving inventory at a bulk sale store on Ocean. The pay isn’t great, but the hours aren’t as crazy, which means I’ll have a lot more time to spend with you, if you want to.”
“I would like that,” I said.
“And I’m paying you back, for everything. Every time I get a paycheck, a quarter of it is going to go to you. It may take some time, but I promise to have it all back to you.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said.
“It looks like someone’s waiting for you.”
I turned to see where he was pointing. Oak was leaning against a cypress tree, watching us.
“Yeah, I should go.”
“He looks like a nice dude.”
“Dad, no one says ‘dude’ anymore, but yeah, he is nice. You’ll like him.”
“I’m real proud of you, Iris. Your mom would be, too.”
I nodded and wondered if Mom would have gotten over her fear of dogs if she had seen me go through a program like this.
“I’m making dinner tonight. Cheeseburgers on the grill. You can invite your friend if you want.”
“Can you make it veggie burgers?” I asked. I hadn’t realized until that moment that since I started working with the dogs I had been avoiding consuming any sort of animal, and I wanted to keep it that way.
“Are you going vegetarian on me?” he asked.
“You should try it,” I said.
“I just might do that,” said my dad.
I couldn’t believe that my choice might actually have an influence on the way he ate.
“See you later?”
“Yup,” I said, giving Dad one last hug before joining Oak.
“That looked intense,” Oak said.
“Beyond intense.”
“You okay?”
“I will be.” I put my hand in his. “Oh, by the way, are you good with spackle and a paintbrush?”
“I guess.”
“Good, then you’re coming over for dinner tonight,” I told him. After we ate, I would ask Oak to help me patch up all of the gashes on my closet wall. These were my scars. It was time to let them heal.
“Oh, am I?” He pressed his body against mine and kissed me on the lips. A wonderful zing flew through my body. It was a feeling the opposite of rage, equally electric and overpowering.
“Ready for a swim?” I asked as he opened the passenger door for me.
“To the ocean, Ms. Moody.”
I hopped in his car, and as we wound south along the cliffs, I looked out over the glistening Pacific, the endless ocean that made my world seem vast and unpredictable and full of possibility.