Bailey's Story (15 page)

My ears pricked up a bit when I heard Mom's car drive up outside. I jumped to my feet. Felix blinked at me in bewilderment and yawned as I trotted to the window and put my paws on the sill.

My heart thumped and started racing, as if I'd been running around the yard. It wasn't just Mom getting out of the car. The boy! Ethan was with her!

I couldn't help myself. I was barking and spinning, racing to the door so I could get out to Ethan, racing back to the window so I could watch. Felix panicked and dove under the couch.

When keys jangled in the lock, I was right back at the door, quivering. Mom opened the door a crack. Ethan's smell wafted in. I barked eagerly. My boy! Finally!

“Now, Bailey, get back. Down, Bailey, stay down. Sit.”

Well, I couldn't do
that.
I briefly touched my rear end to the floor and then jumped up again, my tail thrashing at the air. Mom put her hand inside the room and snagged my collar, pushing me back as the door swung wide.

“Hey, Bailey. Hey, boy,” Ethan said.

Mom held me away from the boy as he limped in. He was leaning on two long sticks—later I learned that they were called crutches. He stumped awkwardly over to the couch while I danced and twisted and pulled at my collar, whimpering. Why wasn't Mom letting me go? Why was she keeping me back from my boy? Didn't she know how long I'd been waiting?

At last she released my collar, and I threw myself across the room in one bound, landing in the boy's lap, kissing his face.

“Bailey!” Mom said sternly.

“No, it's okay. Bailey, you are such a doodle dog,” the boy said, a smile easing the lines of exhaustion and pain in his face. “How are you, huh? I missed you, too, Bailey.”

Every time he spoke my name, I wriggled with happiness. The feel of his hands rubbing through my fur was heaven.

The boy was back!

But over the next few days, I began to understand that even though Ethan had come to live with us again, everything still wasn't right. I could tell from the way he stood and walked and the way his voice sounded that he was in pain. It wasn't just his leg that hurt. A mournful sadness drifted off of him, and sometimes a gloomy anger flared when all he was doing was sitting still, looking out the window.

A few days after Ethan came home, there was a knock on the door, and when Mom opened it, the apartment filled up with boys. “Hi, Bailey! Hey, Bailey!” they called out. I recognized their smells. They were the boys who used to run up and down on the big field with Ethan, throwing the football back and forth between them.

The boys laughed and talked and shouted and stood around half the day. Mom brought food from the kitchen, and I got a lot of bites, which made me happy. Ethan seemed happy, too. But as soon as the boys had gone, the good feelings inside him drained away.

Ethan got up, using his crutches, and limped into the room where our new bed was. He sat on it, looking out the window. I followed him and jumped up to look, too. I could see the group of boys leaving the apartment building. They jostled and pushed each other, and one pulled a ball out of his pocket. Another one raced down the sidewalk and caught the ball easily after the first one threw it as hard as he could.

I could feel grief and anger and helplessness thud into Ethan like a rock. I shoved my head under his arm, but he didn't even lift a hand to pet me.

For some reason, it felt as if we were lost again, out in the woods with nobody near. Then I had known what to do. I'd kept the boy warm, made sure he kept moving. I hadn't let him give up.

How could I do that now?

There was only one thing I could think of. I jumped down from the bed and nosed about in the corners of all the rooms until I found what I was looking for. I hurried back to Ethan and laid the flip in his lap.

He looked down at it and shook his head. I jumped up on the bed beside him and flopped down, a little whine in my throat. This time he lifted his hand to rub behind my ears, but I could tell that he was no happier.

“My whole life's dream is gone, Bailey. Because of Todd,” Ethan told me.

I didn't understand what he was saying, but there was no mistaking the despair in his voice.

“It's not just football,” he told me. I stirred the tip of my tail in a tiny wag. I recognized that word. Were we going to go back to the big field? It didn't seem as if we were. Ethan didn't budge.

“I can't do anything now,” he said. “Can't play sports. Can't ride a bike. Can't even run. I can walk. Barely.” His hand tightened for a minute in my fur. “Because of Todd,” he said again. “I've got nothing left. Because of Todd.”

*   *   *

The days slowly grew warmer, and tiny leaves came out on the trees. Ethan didn't use his crutches anymore. Now he walked with the help of a polished stick called a cane. The cane was very special, and I understood without anyone telling me that I wasn't supposed to chew on it, not even a little.

There came a day with a lot of packing and carrying things out to the car, and then we all got to take a ride back to our old home. Everything looked the same but it smelled different, of fresh wood and paint and wallpaper. I carefully investigated every room, my nose busily working, and then burst through the dog door and into the backyard to let out a bark of joy. Duchess answered from down the street. Home!

Ethan left every morning for school, just as he used to do, but I knew that he was no happier. He was tired when he came home, and his leg ached; I could tell by how heavily he leaned on the cane. He'd go into his room and lie down on the bed. Sometimes he didn't even come out for dinner.

Mom and Dad would sit at the table and talk in low voices. “Ethan” would be in every other sentence.

Not long after we'd come back to the house, Mom woke Ethan up early one morning, and we all piled into the car for another ride. This time, when we got out, we were at the farm!

I raced around to smell all the familiar smells—Flare in the barn, Grandma's cooking in the kitchen, the wonderful woodsy tang of dirt and leaves and mushrooms and squirrel and rabbit and, off in the distance, skunk.

I ran back out of the woods, waving my tail happily, to find the family all gathered on the porch. “Don't you want to let Hannah know you're here?” Grandma asked.

My ears pricked up. Hannah? The girl?

“She doesn't want to see me like this,” Ethan answered, not looking at anybody.

“Ethan!” Grandma looked shocked, and I saw her and Mom exchange a glance.

“Don't tell her I'm here,” Ethan said. “I don't want anybody to know.”

“Honey, just think about it,” Mom said in a coaxing voice.

“Mom, I said don't tell her!” Leaning on his cane, Ethan stumped out toward the sleeping porch. “My leg hurts. I'm going to lie down for a while.”

I lay next to the boy for a while, since I knew that was my job, but it was hard. All the fantastic farm smells were drifting in through the screened windows of the porch. Both my feet and my tail were twitching. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. I bounced up and over to the door of the porch, looking back at the boy to see if he would come with me.

“Fine, Bailey.” The boy heaved himself up and opened the door for me. “You go run,” he said. “At least one of us can.”

I tore happily around the pasture, sampling one of the brown piles Flare had left there—it still didn't taste like anything much—and then dashing into the woods for an excellent stick and flopping down by the fence for a good chew. When I'd bitten the stick to pieces, I started to head back to the house, but something stopped me. I remembered the walks Ethan and I used to take, and I ducked under the rails of the fence and took off down the road.

We used to go this way, together, before Ethan started taking his own car rides, before we went to the football field so often, before Todd and the fire. I trotted along, my nose to the wind, and when I reached a mailbox that sat at the end of a winding driveway, I smelled a familiar smell.

I carefully inspected the post that the mailbox was sitting on, in case other dogs had been there before me. A few had. I lifted my leg and let them know that I'd been there, too.

While I was doing that, a figure came out onto the porch. “Bailey?” a voice called. “Bailey, is that you?”

It was her! The girl! I dashed up the driveway and arrived for a good ear scratch. “You're here?” she asked. “Then is Ethan…?”

She stood still and looked up the road toward the farm. I nudged her hand with my nose to get her scratching again. Then I gave her a lick and started back home. I'd been away from the boy too long.

“Bailey, wait!” Hannah called, and she came running down the driveway behind me.

It's always good to have company for a walk. Hannah stayed by my side until we reached the farm. I was about to run back to the house when I spotted Ethan on the dock of the pond, sitting by himself. His cane lay by his side.

I ran to him and licked the back of his neck. He jumped, startled. “What took you so long, huh, Bailey?” he asked. “Where did you go?”

Hannah stepped onto the dock.

Ethan must have heard her footsteps and felt the old wooden planks shift under her weight. He got up, painfully, awkwardly, clutching his cane.

Hannah stopped.

I was kind of surprised that the two of them didn't do any of that hugging they seemed to like so much. They didn't do any talking, either. They just looked at each other.

I sat down to see what would happen next. There was always the possibility of a dog biscuit somewhere.

“Well,” Hannah said. “Are you going to kiss me or what?”

Ethan dropped his cane.

I thumped my tail on the dock as they hugged and hugged. So they still liked that game after all.

“I can't believe you didn't even tell me you'd gotten here,” Hannah said, with her face against Ethan's shoulder. “Bailey had to come get me!”

Ethan looked down at me. Slowly, he grinned. It had been months since I'd seen a grin like that on his face.

He jumped into the water.

Hannah shrieked with surprise. I raced to the end of the dock and looked down. The water was sloshing. Bubbles were rising. At last—at last!—I knew just what to do.

I leaped into the water after my boy.

In no time at all, I had the collar of his shirt in my mouth. I tugged him up to the surface, and we broke into the air. Hannah was sitting down on the dock, laughing.

“I can swim!” Ethan shouted, laughing, too, shaking the water out of his hair. “I can still swim!”

I was so happy I paddled hard for the little sandy beach by the dock, climbed out, and chased the ducks around the pond.

That night, Ethan and I went to bed out on the porch, the way we always did at the farm. I lay with my head on my boy's chest, and his hand, heavy and sleepy, came up to stroke my head.

“Good dog, Bailey,” he murmured.

For the first time in a long, long time, I could tell my boy was happy.

 

 

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Reading and Activity Guide to

Bailey's Story

A Dog's Purpose Novel

By
W. Bruce Cameron

Ages 8–12; Grades 3–7

Bailey's Story: A Dog's Purpose Novel
describes the life of a beloved pet from the canine's own point of view. From rough beginnings in a puppy mill to life as the devoted friend of “his boy,” Ethan, Bailey's story will warm readers' hearts and deepen their empathy with the life of mankind's best friend.

Reading
Bailey's Story: A Dog's Purpose Novel
with Your Children

Pre-Reading Discussion Questions

Help your young reader get excited about this book by exploring key words and ideas from the story. This will help strengthen the connections children make as they begin to read.

1.
   This book is subtitled
A Dog's Purpose Novel.
What is a “purpose”? What types of roles do dogs play in your community? What do you think is a dog's most important role?

2.
   Have you ever had a pet? Describe how the pet came into your family and what you know (or wonder) about your pet's life before he arrived in your home. If you do not have a pet, what kind of pet might you like to have, why, and how might you find such an animal?

3.
   How many examples can you list of ways dogs help their human friends? Consider how your pet helps you in your home, how service dogs help people with special needs, and how dogs are part of military, police, and other service organizations. If desired, keep your list on a home bulletin board, white board, or a sheet of paper, and add to it as your read this book—and afterward!

Post-Reading Discussion Questions

Some or all of the questions below may help launch family or classroom conversations or be useful preparation for the activities that follow.