CHAPTER 2
A NEW LIFE
Location: Washington, DC, United States
Date: 25JUN20
Time: 0900 hours
It’s been almost two years since the bomb went off. The explosion was so loud that for two weeks all I could hear was a ringing in my ears.
The last thing I remember was being pulled out of the rubble. Then it was four long weeks recovering in the hospital. The blast took away my front left leg and my sense of purpose. And worst of all, it took Kris away from me.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this place, this world, a world without Kris, a world without the Army. I’m not upset with the Army. I had served my time, and served it honorably, but I just couldn’t put the uniform back on. I felt ashamed about the mission. They tried to help me, but I wouldn’t listen. They had no choice but to discharge me.
And that’s the truth: The Army’s got no need for a three-legged pooch. They patted me on the head, sent me packing, and the next thing you know, I found myself living on the streets of Washington, DC, our nation’s capital.
Still, every morning when I wake up from a dream, I open my eyes and can’t believe I ended up here, all because I lost my military bearing and let my guard down . . . chasing what I thought was a piece of bacon. I don’t even care for bacon anymore.
They call it the “Sanctuary,” whatever that’s supposed to mean. All I know is it’s an animal shelter for rejects like me, without a mission. I used to be special. I used to have a job. But now? I’m just like everyone else here.
There’s an English bulldog around here named Brick, who is just about the laziest dog you will ever meet. Story goes he overslept one morning and missed his flight back to England, where he’s from. He’s so lazy he decided to just stay here. He speaks with this funny Cockney accent. That’s a British accent. He’s always saying “Oi!” which sounds like boy without the b.
I’m not the only Army dog here, either. There’s a rottweiler named Truman who served overseas with the Missouri National Guard. He lost his vision in a training accident four or five years back and doesn’t talk much.
And then there’s Penny: I’m not sure what’s wrong with her, but she’s way too happy and cheerful for a place like this. She’s a black lab who was born here, so she doesn’t know anything better than this place. Penny runs the Sanctuary with Ms. Becca, the lady who owns it.
Penny loves the Sanctuary—maybe a little too much. She thinks that everyone here is just “perfect.” But I always say, “If we’re so perfect, then why are we here?” She usually just laughs and says, “Rico, stop being so silly.”
But I know she knows I’m not being silly. She knows I’m serious. And she knows why I’m always sad.
And no, it’s not because I lost my leg. I’m sad because that day was the last day I ever saw Kris. That was the last day I ever felt happiness in my heart. And that was the last day I felt a sense of purpose. I still don’t know what happened to Kris. I just hope she’s okay. I think about her every day in this no-good, stinking place.
There’s not much else to do here, except for sit around. Penny says if you look close enough you can see the White House. Beats me, though, I’ve never tried. What’s the point?
I’ve been at the Sanctuary for a little over a year now. The only reason I know this is because Penny wanted to throw me a one-year anniversary party, but I told her I didn’t want one.
I was just fine on my own, sleeping outside and eating scraps wherever I could find them. You’d be surprised at how much food people throw away and how good it still tastes. Most of it’s better than the MREs we ate in the Army. MRE stands for “meal ready to eat.”
Or as Kris used to say, “Meal, rarely edible.” She always knew how to make me smile. I miss her laugh.
The streets of DC can be fun and I got to know them like the back of my paw. I actually liked living outside. We did it all the time in the Army. Then one day, I was minding my own business, trying to get some shut-eye in the alley behind this place when Penny and Ms. Becca came up to me.
“You’re not sleeping outside, not one more night, you’re coming with us to the Sanctuary,” Penny said.
I told them to scram, leave me alone, but Penny wouldn’t listen.
“Come on inside. We’ll fix you up and get you a nice meal and a bed,” Penny said.
Fix.
I really can’t stand that word. It suggests I’m broken. Well, maybe my spirit was broken. Maybe it still is. But just ’cause something’s broken don’t mean it needs fixing, now does it?
I knew the two of them wouldn’t leave me alone. So I figured: What have I got to lose?
So, that was that. And here we are. This is my life now. I’m surrounded by a bunch of dogs, cats, snakes, and birds that have only one thing in common: No one wants them.
There’s even a skunk here. His name is Jean Claude, but everyone calls him Stripes, on account of that big white stripe across his back. Real original.
Brick is Penny’s assistant. Penny, of course, thinks he’s just “perfect.” He’s a perfect lazybones—that’s what he is. For the last month, all Penny talks about is the Fourth of July parade coming up.
Every year she has everyone gather by the fence to watch the parade go by. She even makes a seating chart to make sure the little ones can see. Penny says she loves the different displays of patriotism. Or as she calls it, “paw-triotism.” Again, real original.
I didn’t watch last year, and I definitely won’t watch this year.
Time: 0905hours
Oh, great. Here they come now.
“Hiya, Rico! How’s your fantastic morning going?” Penny asks me, bubbly as her usual self. Behind her is a trail of young puppies who just arrived from the puppy mill. Penny protects them like they’re her own children.
“I didn’t know it was fantastic,” I say.
Penny looks at me like I’m crazy. Brick is half asleep, holding a clipboard with a list on it.
“Oh, stop it! This is the best place in the world. What more could you want?”
I don’t seriously entertain her question, so I let her continue.
“So, no biggie, but Brick and I are working on the seating chart for the Fourth of July parade and were wondering if you might want—”
“Negative,” I say. That’s Army-talk for “no.”
“But—” Penny pleads with me.
“I just want to be left alone,” I tell her.
Penny starts to give me the “tilt”—it’s her signature move. She turns her head so much it looks like it’s about to fall off. She “tilts” when she doesn’t like your answer or suspects something is out of the ordinary.
“Oh, come on! The more the merrier.”
“You can barely even see the parade through the alley,” I tell her.
“Some of us actually prefer the narrow view. And besides, where’s your paw-triotism? You’re a soldier, Rico!”
I shake my head side to side and look down at my missing leg. “Not anymore.”
I watch as Brick puts a big “X” next to my name.
“Well, everyone wants you to watch with us,” Penny says.
“Nobody cares if I watch,” I say.
“Oi! Penny, are we finished here?” asks Brick, his Cockney accent extra thick this morning.
Penny just sighs.
“I’m starving and I need a nap. And then I’ll need a post-nap snack. I’m useless if I’m tired and hungry,” Brick says.
“Fine. Just go,” Penny says. This is the first time I’ve seen Penny even slightly less cheery than her usual self.
I watch as Brick moseys away and finds a shady spot to sleep in. I figure this is the end of our chat, but instead, Penny leans in close to me and whispers, “Listen, Rico. I know the view of the parade stinks, but it’s the best we’ve got. Everyone watches . . . and I mean everyone.”
“Well, not me.”
Penny shakes her head, defeated, and starts walking away. Then she stops and turns back around to me.
“Oh, and by the way, I care. I care if you watch. If you’re living here at the Sanctuary under my roof, you’re family. You always talk about your old unit, right? Well, you’re a part of this one now. And this unit sticks together. This unit doesn’t leave anyone behind. I’m not quitting on you.”
I stood there, shaky on my three legs, and all I could think about was Kris. She loved fireworks on the Fourth. And then I thought about the Soldier’s Creed she taught me: I will never quit.
Maybe Penny had a point: Am I quitting on myself?
Then again, I wasn’t a soldier anymore.