so. Twice a day Bobby came in and gave me a treat, and I pretended not to notice that there was something bitter inside the roll of meat, though sometimes instead of swallowing it I waited a bit and then spat it out: a small white thing the size of a pea.
I was still wearing the stupid collar the day all the men came. We heard several doors slamming in the driveway, so we took up our usual chorus of barking, though many of us went quiet when we heard Senora shriek.
“No! No! You can’t take my dogs!”
The grief in her voice was unmistakable, and Coco and I nuzzled each other in alarm. What was going on?
The gate swung open, and several men cautiously entered the Yard, carrying the familiar poles with them. Several held metal canisters out in front of them and were braced as if expecting an attack.
Well, whatever this game was, most of us were willing to play. Coco was one of the first to approach, and she was snagged and pulled without resistance out through the gate. Most of the rest of the pack followed, lining up willingly, though several hung back—Sister, Fast, Spike, Top Dog, and myself, because I just didn’t feel like limping over to them. If they wanted to play, let them play with Spike.
Sister broke into a run around the perimeter of the yard, as if expecting a hole to open. Fast went with her at first and then stopped in despair, watching her panicked, pointless flight. Two men closed in on her and captured her with a rope. Fast let them take him right away, so that he’d go with Sister, and Top Dog stepped forward with dignity when they called to him.
Spike, though, fought the loop, growling savagely and snapping at them. The men yelled, and one of them directed a thin stream of liquid from his canister at Spike’s face, the scent instantly burning my nose from all the way across the Yard. Spike stopped fighting and fell to the ground, his paws over his snout. They dragged him out and then came to me.
“Nice doggy. You hurt your leg, boy?” one of the men asked. I gave my tail a feeble wag and ducked my head a little to make it easier for him to slip the loop over my head, which took a bit of doing because of my stupid plastic collar.
Once outside the fence, I was upset to see Senora crying, struggling against Carlos and Bobby. Her sadness came off her and washed into me, and I pulled against the noose, wanting to go comfort her.
One of the men tried to hand Senora a paper, but she threw it on the ground.
“Why do you do this? We’re not hurting anyone!” Bobby shouted. His anger was clear and frightening.
“Too many animals. Poor conditions,” the man with the paper said. He, too, radiated anger, and everyone was very tense and stiff. I noticed that his clothes were dark and that he had metal flashing on his chest.
“I love my dogs,” Senora wailed. “Please don’t take them from me.” Senora was not angry; she was sad and afraid.
“Inhumane,” the man replied.
I was mystified. Seeing the entire pack outside the Yard, led one by one to cages on the trucks, was very disorienting. Most of us had our ears back and our tails submissively low. I was next to Rottie, whose deep, heavy woofing filled the air.
My comprehension did not improve when we arrived at our destination, which smelled a little like the place with the nice lady in the cool room but was hot and filled with loud, anxious dogs. I followed willingly and was somewhat disappointed to find myself shoved into a cage with Fast and Top Dog—I would have preferred Coco or even Sister, though my fellow males were as cowed as I was and regarded me without hostility.
The barking was deafening, yet above it all I heard the unmistakable snarl of Spike in full attack, followed by a sharp squeal of pain from some unfortunate canine. Men yelled, and then a few minutes later Spike was led past us at the end of a pole, disappearing down a hallway.
A man stopped in front of our cage. “What happened here?” he asked.
The other man, the one who had just led Spike away, stopped and regarded me without interest. “Dunno.”
From the first man I sensed a caring tinged with sadness, but from the second man there was nothing but disinterest. The first man opened the door and gently probed my leg, pushing Fast’s face away. “This is ruined,” he said.
I tried to communicate to him that I was a much better dog without the stupid collar on.
“Unadoptable,” the first man said.
“We got too many dogs,” the second man said.
The first man reached inside the cone and smoothed my ears back. Though I felt disloyal to Senora, I licked his hand. He mostly just smelled of other dogs.
“Okay,” the first man said.
The second man reached in and helped me jump to the ground. He slipped the loop of rope around me and led me back to a tiny, hot room. Spike was there, in a cage, while two other dogs I’d never met paced loose outside Spike’s cage, giving it a wide berth.
“Here. Wait.” The first man was at the door. He reached down and unsnapped the collar, and the air that rushed at my face was like a kiss. “They hate those things.”
“whatever,” the second man said.
They shut the door behind them. One of the new dogs was an old, old female, who sniffed my nose without much interest. Spike was barking, making the other dog, a younger male, nervous.
With a groan, I slid down to lie on the floor. A loud hiss filled my ears, and the young male began to whine.
Suddenly Spike toppled to the floor with a crash, his tongue sliding out of his mouth. I regarded him curiously, wondering what he was up to. The old female slumped nearby, her head coming to rest against Spike’s cage in a
