A Dog's Purpose

Ethan, who then came over and opened the car door. “Bailey? Do you want to go with Mom, or stay here with me?”

There was nothing in the question that I understood, so I just looked at him.

“Come on, doodle dog. Bailey! Come!”

I reluctantly jumped out into the driveway. No car ride?

Mom drove off in the car, with Ethan and Grandma and Grandpa waving. Though it made no sense, the boy and I were staying on the Farm!

That suited me just fine. Almost every day started with a long car ride in the dark, driving from house to house to drop off papers. By the time we got home, Grandma would be cooking breakfast, and Grandpa always slipped me something under the table—bacon, ham, a piece of toast. I learned to chew silently so that Grandma wouldn’t say, “Are you feeding the dog again?” The tone in her voice when I picked up the word “dog” suggested to me that Grandpa and I needed to keep the whole operation quiet.

The word “school” was back in play, but there was no bus, just Ethan driving off—though sometimes the girl came over and they took a car ride in her car. I understood that there was no reason for alarm, that Ethan would be back by the end of the day and Hannah would eat dinner with us as often as not.

Mom came to visit a lot, and Mom and Dad were there during Merry Christmas. Mom’s hands smelled like Felix the kitty when she reached down to pet me, but I didn’t mind.

I thought the boy and I had decided to stay at the Farm forever, but toward the end of that summer I sensed we were headed for yet another change. The boy started putting things in boxes, a sure signal that we were soon going to be on our way home. Hannah was around nearly all the time, and she felt a little sad and fearful. When she hugged the boy, there was so much love between them I couldn’t help but try to squirm in between their bodies, which always made them laugh.

One morning, I knew it was time. Grandpa loaded the boxes into the car, Grandma and Mom talked, and Ethan and Hannah hugged. I paced, looking for an opening, but Grandpa had gotten pretty good at blocking me and I hadn’t yet managed to get inside the car.

The boy came over to me and knelt beside me. I could feel some sadness coming from him. “You be a good dog, Bailey,” he said.

I wagged to show him that I understood that I was a good dog and that it was time to go on the big car ride home.

“I’ll be home at Thanksgiving break, okay? I’m going to miss you, doodle dog.” He gave me a big, loving hug. I half-closed my eyes—there simply was no better feeling in the world than to be hugged by my boy.

“You’d better hold him; he’s not going to understand,” Ethan said. The girl stepped forward and grabbed my collar. The sadness was coming off of her in waves, and she was crying. I was torn between wanting to comfort her and needing to get in the car. Reluctantly I sat at her feet, waiting for this strange drama to end so I could sit in the seat with my nose out the car window.

“Write me every day!” Hannah said.

“I will!” Ethan called back.

I stared in disbelief as he and Mom got into the car and slammed the doors. I pulled away from Hannah, who didn’t understand that I was supposed to go with them! She held tight. “No, Bailey, it’s okay. You Stay.”

Stay? Stay? The car honked and drove off down the driveway. Grandpa and Grandma were waving—couldn’t anybody see that I was still here?

“He’ll do just fine. Ferris is a good school,” Grandpa said. “Big Rapids is a nice town.”

They all turned from the driveway, Hannah loosening her grip just enough for me to break free.

“Bailey!” she shouted.

Though the car was out of sight, the dust trail was still in the air, easy to follow as I chased after my boy.

{ SEVENTEEN }

Cars are fast.

I never really knew this. Back home, before Marshmallow went away, she used to run down into the street, barking at cars, and they usually stopped, or at least slowed down enough that she could catch them, though all she ever did at that point was veer off and pretend she never wanted to attack them in the first place.

As I ran after the boy’s car, I had the sense that it was pulling farther and farther away from me. The scent of dust and exhaust grew thin and tenuous, but I picked up a clear sign of a right turn where the road became pavement, though after that I wasn’t sure I could smell him at all. But I couldn’t give up; I turned myself over to the mindless panic and continued my pursuit.

Ahead of me I heard the loud rumble of a train, clanking and shaking, and when I topped a rise and saw it I finally caught a whiff of the boy. His car, windows down, was parked on the road at the train crossing.

I was exhausted. I had never run so far or so fast in my life, but I ran harder still when the side door opened and the boy stood up.

“Oh, Bailey,” he said.

While every part of me wanted to tackle him and be loved, I wasn’t going to miss my chance, and I veered from him at the last second and bounded into the car.

“Bailey!” Mom laughed.

I licked them both, forgiving them for forgetting me. After the train passed, Mom started the car and turned it around, then stopped because Grandpa showed up in his truck—maybe he was coming home with us this time!