I decided that no matter how many times they said my name, this conversation wasn’t going to result in anything edible. I sprawled out in the sunshine with a sigh, wondering how much longer it would be before Jakob came back.
{ TWENTY-ONE }
Maya was happy and excited the day she took me for a car ride.
“We’re going to work together; isn’t that great, Ellie? You won’t have to sleep in the kennel anymore. I bought a bed for you; you can sleep in my room.”
I sifted through her statement: “Ellie,” “kennel,” “bed,” “room.” There was nothing there that made any sense to me whatsoever, but I was glad to stick my nose out the window and breathe the scent of something besides Cammie and Gypsy.
Maya parked in the driveway of a small house that I knew, as soon as we crossed the threshold, was where she lived—painted everywhere was her smell, plus the distinctly disappointing odor of cats. I inspected the dwelling, which was tinier than Jakob’s apartment, and immediately encountered an orange feline, sitting on a chair at the table. She regarded me with cold eyes, and when I approached her, wagging, she opened her mouth and gave an almost silent hiss.
“Stella, be nice. That’s Stella. Stella, this is Ellie; she lives here now.”
Stella yawned, unimpressed. A flash of gray and white motion out of the corner of my eye drew my attention.
“Tinker? That’s Tinkerbell; she’s shy.”
Another cat? I followed her into the bedroom, where a third feline, a heavy black and brown male, sauntered out and sniffed at me with fish breath. “And that’s Emmet.”
Stella, Tinkerbell, and Emmet. Why on earth would a woman want three cats?
Tinkerbell was hiding under the bed, thinking I couldn’t smell her there. Emmet followed me into the kitchen and looked curiously into the bowl Maya filled with food, then lifted his head and walked away as if he didn’t care that I was eating and he was not. Stella watched me unwinkingly from her perch on the chair.
After eating, Maya let me out into her tiny yard, which was unmarked by dogs. I did my business with dignity, aware that at least some of the cat population were observing me. “Good girl, Ellie,” Maya enthused. Apparently she was of the “excited to see you peeing in the yard” persuasion.
Maya made her own dinner, which smelled pretty good and drew the attention of Stella, who jumped right up on the table and waltzed around like a bad cat! Maya didn’t say anything to her, apparently feeling that cats were worthless, untrainable animals.
We went for a walk on the leash after dinner. There were a lot of people out in the yards, many of them children, which made me feel restless. I had not done any work in several weeks and there was a tension in my muscles; I wanted to run, to Find, to save people.
As if picking up on my mood, Maya began to trot. “Want to run a little, girl?” she asked. I increased my pace, sticking right to her side as Jakob had taught me. Before long she was huffing, and I could smell her sweat break out from her pores. The heat was coming off the pavement and into my paws, and as we passed houses dogs barked enviously.
And then Maya abruptly stopped. “Whew!” she panted. “Okay, we’re going to need to spend more time on the treadmill, that’s for sure.”
I didn’t really get what was happening until that night. I was lying on the rug while Maya took a bath and dressed in different clothing, and then she called me into her bedroom. “Okay, lie down here, Ellie. Good girl,” she said, patting a dog bed. I obediently curled up in it, but I was mystified. Apparently I would be staying here for a while. Was this where I lived, now? What about Jakob? What about my work?
The next morning Maya and I did do work, though it was a little strange. Wally was there and greeted me like an old friend, along with a woman who sometimes came along to play Find with us. Her name was Belinda, and Wally’s smell was always all over her, so I suspected that when we weren’t there Belinda and Wally played Find with each other.
Wally stayed with Maya while Belinda went off into the woods. He talked with Maya, teaching her the hand signals and commands we used during work. Then Maya said, “Ellie, Find!” and I raced off while Wally and Maya followed. Belinda was sitting inside a car, which fooled me not at all, and I returned to Maya.
“See now; see how she looks?” Wally said. “She Found Belinda; you can tell by her expression.”
I waited impatiently for Maya to tell me to Show, but she and Wally were too busy talking.
“I’m not sure; she doesn’t look much different than the other times she came back,” Maya said.
“Look at her eyes, the way her mouth is tightened. Her tongue’s not out. See? She’s on alert; she has something to show us.”
At the word “show” I trembled, caught in half lunge. It hadn’t really been a command.
“So now I tell her to Show?” Maya asked.
“Show!” Maya finally called.
Belinda came out of the car laughing when we Found her. “Such a good dog, Ellie,” she told me.
“Now you play with Ellie. It’s important; it’s her reward for such hard work.”
When Maya played with me, it was different from Jakob’s play. Maya seemed to actually enjoy it; it wasn’t just something she did at the end of Show. She had the rubber bone from the kennel, and I dug in my feet and clenched it in my jaws while she tried to take it away.
