Maya had a life different from anyone else I had ever encountered. Not only was she burdened with too many cats, but most nights she went to a larger home with lots of people and a wonderful-smelling woman named Mama. Mama was like Grandma, always cooking, and there were little children running around playing with each other every time we went for a visit. The children climbed on me until Maya asked them to stop, and the boys played ball with me, which I loved, and the girls put hats on me, which I tolerated.
Maya had a neighbor named Al who liked to come over and ask Maya about “help.” “Do you need help carrying those boxes, Maya?” he would ask. “No, no,” she would say. “Do you need help fixing your door?” “No, no,” Maya would say. Maya always seemed anxious, her skin warming and her palms sweating, when Al came over, but she wasn’t frightened of him. When Al walked away, Maya’s feelings changed to sadness.
“Did you get a new dog?” Al asked. He reached down and scratched me behind the ears in a way that made me instantly love him. He smelled of papers and inks and coffee.
“Yes, she’s the department search-and-rescue dog.”
I knew they were talking about me, and wagged my tail in friendship.
“Do you need help training your new dog?” Al asked.
“No, no,” Maya said. “Ellie has already been trained. We need to learn to work together as a team.”
I wagged over the words “Ellie” and “work.”
Al stood up from his scratching. “Maya, you . . . ,” he started to say. He felt nervous.
“I probably should go,” Maya said.
“Your hair is very pretty today,” Al blurted.
The two of them stared at each other, both so anxious it felt as if we were under danger of imminent attack. I glanced around but could see nothing more threatening than Emmet, watching us through the window.
“Thank you, Al,” Maya said. “Would you like . . .”
“I’ll let you go,” Al said.
“Oh,” Maya said.
“Unless . . . ,” Al stammered.
“Unless . . . ?” Maya repeated.
“You . . . do you need help with anything?”
“No, no,” Maya said.
Maya and I worked almost every day. Maya would tell me to Find and we would plunge off into the woods, sometimes chasing Wally or Belinda and sometimes chasing one of the older boys from Mama’s house.
Maya was much slower than Jakob, panting and sweating from the moment we started. Often real pain would come off of her, and I learned not to be impatient when I returned to her and all she could do was put her hands on her knees for a few minutes. Sometimes a burst of helplessness and frustration would overtake her and she would cry, but she always cleaned up her face before we came to Wally.
One afternoon she and Wally sat at a picnic table and drank cool beverages while I lay in the shade of a tree. Maya’s worry was clear to me, but I had learned to live with it and not to let it interfere with the work.
“We’re not good enough to get certified, are we?” Maya said.
“Ellie’s about the best dog I’ve ever seen,” Wally replied. I sensed some alarm and caution in his voice and looked at him curiously.
“No, I know it’s me. I’ve always been heavy.”
“What? No, I mean . . . ,” Wally said, his alarm increasing. I sat up, wondering what the danger was.
“It’s okay. I’ve actually lost some weight, like four pounds.”
“Really? That’s great! I mean, but you weren’t fat or anything,” Wally stammered. I smelled the sweat pop on his forehead. “You, I don’t know, maybe go to the track, that would help, or something?”
“I do go to the track!”
“Right! Yes!” Wally radiated pure fear, and I yawned anxiously. “Well, okay, I should go now.”
“I don’t know, I didn’t realize there would be so much
“Hey, why don’t you talk to Belinda about this?” Wally said desperately.
Maya sighed and Wally, full of relief, got up and left. I lay back down. Whatever horrible danger had been lurking was now apparently no longer a threat.
The next day, Maya and I didn’t work. She put on some soft new shoes, grabbed my leash, and took me to a long road that ran along the sand next to the big pond, the ocean. Dogs were everywhere, but though we weren’t doing work I sensed a grim determination in Maya and ignored them as we ran and ran down that road, the sun rising steadily in the sky. It was the longest run we’d ever taken together, it went on and on, and it wasn’t until I could feel her body fill with pain and exhaustion that Maya turned around to head back. She stopped a few times for me to drink water out of faucets set into the concrete next to very smelly buildings, but for the most part the return trip was as determined, just slower. By the time we got to the truck, she was limping. “Oh my,” Maya said.
We were both panting pretty hard. She drank water and hung her head between her legs, and I watched in sadness as she vomited in the parking lot.
“You okay?” a young woman asked sympathetically. Maya waved a hand without even looking up.
The next day we did Find Belinda for work. Maya’s gait was so stiff and painful I deliberately did Find at half speed, slowing down as soon as I was out of sight. I returned for direction far more than was necessary, just to
