The first dog shelter we checked was the one I’d seen at 15th and Grand Boulevard. They had dozens of dogs but Oliver wasn’t one of them. I slumped against the window as Michael drove across town to SeyLynn Park.
A woman sat outside a tent, on a folding camping chair, with her back turned to the rest of the world. When she saw the bag of dog food we’d brought she laughed and her short blond braids bounced like exclamation marks. “I’ve been sitting here wondering how we were going to feed the pack tonight. You must have heard my prayers.”
“I hope you heard mine,” I said and showed her the picture of Oliver.
“He may be in there but I’ve lost track. We get one dog back to its owners and five more strays take its place.”
“Do you want this here? Or would that be bear bait?” Jake asked as he set the bag of food on the ground. “Is there somewhere safe to keep it?”
The woman dug into the pocket of her shorts and brought out a key with a VW logo. “See the Jetta at the edge of the parking lot? The one with the tree across it? That’s our car. We stopped to walk our dogs and we’ve been stuck here ever since. The trunk is still accessible. Could you put it in there?”
I glanced toward the dogs.
“Go check.” Her fingers were soft on my elbow as she nudged me toward the tennis court.
Michael and Jake hauled the dog food over to the crushed car and I walked toward the makeshift kennel. A couple of baby baths were set up as drinking bowls. A beagle stood in the middle of one, drinking and cooling down at the same time. When it saw me approaching, it bayed mournfully but no other dog stirred. Most were crowded in the only available shade, a shadow cast by blankets tied over the corner of the court. The dogs all seemed a bit thin and a few lay lethargically in the full sun. I strained to see a certain white terrier mix but it was impossible to pick out a single dog in that sea of fur and dust. A few animals lifted their heads as I neared their chain-link walls but most seemed indifferent to the parade of humans outside their jail.
I stood for a few minutes, not wanting to go any farther. What if Oliver wasn’t inside? What if he was dead and all my searching was pointless? I let worry rattle me one more time before I folded the black blanket and put it into the wooden box.
Jake looked over at me from beside the VW. He gave me a thumbs’ up and smiled. That gesture was the push I needed. I flicked my bangs off my face and moved to the entrance of the court. I squinted at the mess of dogs in there. Then I cleared my throat and called, in a high-pitched voice, “Oliver! Olly-Olly-Olly-Oliver! I’ve got treats.”
In the farthest corner a small white head popped up. Wiry brown hair circled the left eye. I called again, not trusting my eyes. In a single leap Oliver cleared the pile of sleeping dogs. He flew toward me, his feet a blur.