Jakob didn’t notice the odor, but he did register alarm at all the dogs lifting their legs on the bushes around the apartment, dogs I knew instinctively were milling around because of me.
Jacob’s reaction was most curious: he put me into a pair of shorts like the ones he wore under his pants, my tail sticking out of a hole in the back. I’d always felt sorry for dogs who wore sweaters and other clothes, and here I was, playing dress up in front of all those male dogs. It was more than a little embarrassing, especially given that there was something compelling about the attention I was being shown by the motley pack of males who were so busy wetting the shrubbery outside my home.
Jakob said, “Time to see the vet,” and took me for a car ride to a place that was very familiar, a cool room with bright lights and a metal table. I feel asleep and, predictably, was wearing a stupid cone-shaped collar when I awoke back home.
As soon as the cone came off, Jakob and I were back at the park almost every day for the next several months. The days grew shorter, though it never got cold or came close to snowing, and finding Wally became harder and harder because they kept changing the rules on me. Sometimes Wally wouldn’t even be there when we arrived and I’d have to go find him where he’d wandered off to. He’d be lying around like Grandpa doing chores, and I learned another command, “Show Me!” which meant leading Jakob back to where I’d come across Wally’s lazy body sprawled under a tree. Somehow, Jakob could tell when I had Found something, even when it was just one of Wally’s socks left on the ground—the man was a disaster, always dropping his clothing for us to Find and pick up. Jakob would read my look when I came running back to him. “Show me!” he’d say, but only when I had something to Show.
We did other work, too. Jakob taught me how to climb up a slide and to ease myself down the ladder on the other side, making me do it a step at a time instead of just jumping from the top as I preferred. He taught me to crawl into tight tubes and to leap up on a stack of logs, and one day he had me sit while he removed the gun from his side and shot off some explosions that made me flinch the first couple of times.
“Good girl, Ellie. This is a gun. See? No reason to be afraid. It makes a loud noise, but you’re not afraid, are you, girl?”
I sniffed at it when he held it out to me and was very glad when he didn’t try to make me fetch it. The thing smelled bad and looked like it would fly worse than the flip.
Sometimes Jakob would sit at an outside table with other people with guns and drink from bottles. It was at times like these that his internal turmoil was most evident to me: the people at the table would laugh, and sometimes Jakob would join in, and other times he’d turn inward, dark and sad and alone.
“Isn’t that right, Jakob,” one of the men said one time. I heard the name, but Jakob was staring off into space, not paying attention. I sat up and nuzzled his hand, but when he petted me I sensed he didn’t really register that I was there.
“I said isn’t that right, Jakob.”
Jakob turned and looked at everyone watching him, and I sensed he felt embarrassed. “What?”
“If Y2K is as bad as they say it’s going to be, we’re going to need every K-9 unit we can get. Be like Rodney King all over again.”
“Ellie’s not that kind of dog,” Jakob said coldly. I straightened at the sound of my name, conscious as I did so that all the men at the table were looking at me. I felt uneasy for some reason, just as some of the men seemed uncomfortable with Jakob’s stare. When they started talking again, it was to each other, ignoring Jakob. I nuzzled his hand once more, and this time he responded by scratching my ears.
“Good dog, Ellie,” he said.
Find Wally evolved into just Find. Jakob and I would go somewhere and sometimes I’d be given something to sniff, an old coat or a shoe or a glove, and I’d have to Find the person who belonged to the item. Other times there’d be nothing to sniff and I’d course back and forth over a huge area, alerting any time I picked up the scent of something interesting. I Found a lot of people who weren’t Wally, and sometimes they were obviously not informed of the game and would call, “Here, boy!” or otherwise react to me when they saw me. I’d always Show Jakob these people, and he always praised me, even if the people I’d Found weren’t bright enough to know what was going on. The point, I realized, was to Find people and to take Jakob to them and let Jakob decide if they were the right people or not. That was my job.
I had been with Jakob for about a year when he started taking me to his work every day. A lot of people dressed like Jakob milled around and were mostly friendly to me, though they drew back respectfully when Jakob told me to heel. He took me to a kennel in back with two other dogs, Cammie and Gypsy. Cammie was jet-black, and Gypsy was brown.
Despite the fact that we were all caged together, my relationship with Cammie and Gypsy was different than I’d ever had with other canines. We were working dogs and didn’t feel free to play much because we always needed to be ready to serve our masters—most of the time we just alertly sat at the fence.
Gypsy worked with a policeman named Paul and was gone a lot, and sometimes I watched Paul and Gypsy work in the yard. They did it all wrong: Gypsy would just smell in between boxes and piles of clothing and would alert for no reason, though Paul always praised her anyway, pulling out a package from the items and telling Gypsy she was a good dog.
Cammie was older and didn’t bother to watch Gypsy, probably feeling embarrassed for the poor dog. Cammie worked with a policewoman named Amy and didn’t go out much. When he did, though, he went out fast—Amy would come get him and they’d leave at a run. I never knew what Cammie’s work was, but I suspected it wasn’t as important as Find.
“Where you working this week?” Amy asked Paul once.
“Back out at the airport until Garcia comes off sick leave,” Paul told her. “How’s life on the bomb squad?”
“Quiet. I’m worried about Cammie, though. His scores have been a little off; I’m wondering if his nose is going.”
At the sound of his name Cammie raised his head, and I looked over at him.
“He’s what, ten years old, now?” Paul asked.
“About that,” Amy said.
I stood up and shook myself off because I could sense Jakob coming, and a few seconds later he walked around the corner. He and his friends stood and talked while we dogs watched them, wondering why they didn’t let us out
