Whippoorwill (23 page)

I put my arm around Wally and I drove. We went out of that neighborhood and onto the open highway, and one after another of the Harley boys whizzed past, saying goodbye, and I blew them kisses and cried and told Wally someone in this stupid, stupid world cared after all.

I
ARRIVED AT
the Maine Academy for Dogs at first light. I was alone with Wally. My dad had dropped away after a conversation at a rest stop, and he had given me a hundred dollars and accepted my plan. I kissed him and said I'd be home later. I said it was something I had to do myself. Then I had driven through the night to Fryeburg, Maine.

It was pretty. And I don't know why, but it reminded me of my mom, of her statue, and I wondered what she had thought out on the road alone. Your mind could do crazy things when you were in a car alone, but I had Wally. If she had had Wally, a dog, a small second heart beating with hers, I wondered if the end would have come for her. I didn't think so.

I found a man walking a German shepherd beside the road. I slowed down and pulled over. Morning light turned the grass of the academy gray and white where the dew still covered it.

“Just up on your right,” the man said when I explained my situation. “Follow the signs for visitors. Look for a white building with a granite chimney.”

He looked like anyone else except for a sweatshirt that said
MAINE ACADEMY FOR DOGS
across his chest. His dog sat beside him without moving a whisker.

“See that?” I told Wally when we moved off. “You see what you can be?”

Wally's tongue hung out of his mouth, and he shifted his weight whenever we took a turn.

There was no one at the white house with the granite chimney. It was too early. I parked in the shade of a catalpa tree and took Wally out for a walk. He urinated in five or six places. When he finished, I bent down and examined his face. His eye probably required medical attention. I couldn't say for certain.

An older man approached as I stood up from examining Wally. I knew at a glance that it was Father Jasper. His beard, half grown in, was pure white. His eyes looked soft and hazy, but they held an inner light. He was old, profoundly old. He reminded me of a turtle, a quiet old creature making his way in the world without disturbing anyone else. He looked clean and happy, calm in a way that made me relax to see him. He smiled. He held out his hand knuckles-first to let Wally sniff him. He didn't seem to think it was odd to find a girl with a dog waiting for him in the early morning.

“What a nice dog,” he said, his voice quiet in the morning air. “What's happened to him? Looks like he had an accident.”

“Someone kicked him. Hit him, anyway.”

“Oh, that's horrible. You poor boy. Is he all right otherwise?”

“I think so.”

“Have you removed him from that situation?”

“Yes.”

“Good for you. It's always a terrible thing to see someone be unkind to a pet or any animal for that matter. There's a victim on each side of the beating. So sad.”

“Are you . . . ?” I asked, not sure what I wanted to say.

“Father Jasper?” he finished for me, and gently laughed. “Guilty. I'm the crazy dog lover. And this, as you can see, is the academy the dogs built for themselves.”

“I used your book to train him.”

“Did you? And how did that work? Did you find the book useful?”

I liked his voice. I liked it very much.

“It was extremely useful. He's a good boy now. He was wild when I first started with him. That book changed him.”

“Did you do it alone?”

“Mostly. A friend named Danny helped me.”

“I see.”

Then I told him the whole story. I don't know why. I don't know why he listened, but he seemed to expect that I wanted to tell him something and he was a priest when all was said and done. The story came out like a piece of tape uncurling from my mouth. At one point he lowered the tailgate on our pickup and sat. He listened carefully, his hand sometimes petting Wally. No one else was around. Morning was still just coming over the mountains.

“That's quite a story,” he said when I finished. “You've been through a lot and so has Wally here. Would you show me how he's done? I'd like to see his training.”

I bent down to Wally and kissed his head, then I put him through his obedience. My heart filled with pride. He may not have been at the top of his game because of his injuries, but he did his best and did it cheerfully, and Father Jasper smiled a great deal watching him. Wally was not a purebred dog, and he had spent most of his life as a piece of junk, but he did his best and I felt proud as anything, proud as I had ever been.

“Well, he's a good boy, isn't he?” Father Jasper said. “You've worked hard with him, haven't you? I can see that. He's well behaved. He's a good dog citizen.”

I nodded. My eyes filled. That was a high praise coming from Father Jasper. It meant everything to me.

“Is there a place,” I asked, when I thought I could control my voice, “where he could go to be safe?”

“You want to put him into our protection?”

I nodded. Father Jasper thought for a moment.

“He's an old dog, you understand. Probably past his mid years, but we could place him with a good family. I know of one that might be perfect for him. Is that what you want?”

I nodded. I looked down at Wally. His good eye looked back at me, and I felt my heart crumble.

“You're afraid to bring him back to where he was? Is that so?”

“Yes. That man I mentioned will keep trying to get him, to hurt him, and I'm not sure we can prevent that.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“You'll make sure it's a good home, won't you? With kids, maybe. He'd like someone to play with. He didn't have anyone to play with for a long time.”

I couldn't help it. I started to cry harder.

“It's a very good home with excellent dog owners. He couldn't do better, but do you want to think about this at all?” he asked. “Give it some time?”

I shook my head. I tried to talk but I couldn't.

“You have thought about it, haven't you?” he asked gently. “Why else would you show up here? This is a great act of mercy, Clair. Yes, we could take him if you're certain. That's part of our mission too.”

I handed the lead to Father Jasper. He accepted it. It meant a lot giving the lead to Father Jasper. To the author of
My Pack.
To a man who used dogs to keep him whole and to lead him to heaven.

I bent down and hugged Wally. I held him a long time. I whispered in his ear that he was the best boy, a good boy, my Gold Moon. I kissed his bad eye lightly, and I saw the sun reflecting off his coat. I told him he had come home at last, that he was free, that he was a dog even Father Jasper had to admire. Then I stood up.

“You've demonstrated great love,” Father Jasper said. “And I admire you for it. I will make Wally my own special project and keep him safe the rest of his days. You have my word.”

I nodded and went back to the truck. It was still early morning. I watched Father Jasper walk slowly away with Wally in a perfect heel, both of them in silhouette from the sunlight, Wally's head turned up to see what was expected, what was hoped, what might be.

J
OSEPH
M
ONNINGER
is an English professor and New Hampshire guide. He is the author of the young adult novels
Finding Somewhere, Wish, Hippie Chick,
and
Baby.
He also writes fiction and nonfiction for adults.