Say Good-bye (9 page)

“J.J.,” she says at last.

“Yes, Jane?”

Jane looks at Gran without speaking.

Gran looks back.

And I think,
Wow. Amazing.
Neither woman says a word, and yet a whole conversation passes between them. Even watching from the outside,
I know what they’re saying. So their next words don’t really surprise me—even though it hurts to hear them spoken aloud.

“I think if Yum-Yum could talk,” Jane almost whispers, “I think he’d say… it’s time.”

Gran nods.

“I love Yum-Yum so much—” Her voice breaks.

Tears well up in the corner of Gran’s eyes.

“Enough to let him go,” Jane finishes.

Gran hugs Jane, and the two women just hold each other for a moment.

Then Jane pulls away, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes.

“Oh, Jane…” I say. And I know. They’re going to put Yum-Yum to sleep.

“You don’t need me, do you, Gran?” I say as the tears stream down my face. I know there’s no way I can help with this.

“No, hon. We’ll be fine.”

“Can I go tell him good-bye?”

Gran nods. She and Jane let me go in alone.

I go over to the cage where Yum-Yum is dozing. I open the door and stroke his soft fur. I scratch behind his ears, just the way he likes it, and his eyes flutter open a little.

“Good-bye, Yum-Yum,” I whisper. “I’ll never forget you.” I kiss his little head.

Then I run from the room.

Gran catches me in her arms and holds me close. It helps.

Then she releases me, and she and Jane go in together. To tell Yum-Yum good-bye. And to take away his pain.

I don’t know how Gran can do it. She really is amazing.

I run outside and sit on the back deck.

I watch the first whisper of pink tint the sky.

Sneakers climbs into my lap, and I hold him tightly as he licks my tears away.

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •

B
y the time the rest of the world yawns awake, I’m out in the yard, hard at work. I can hardly bear to think about Yum-Yum—it’s too painful. It’s worse if I sit and do nothing. So I throw myself into a heavy training session to block the grief from my mind.

“Sit, Sneakers. Sit.”

When he doesn’t sit at first, I press down gently on his rump and pull up on the leash. Sneakers instantly sits.

“Good dog!” I praise him, rubbing his ears. Sneakers barks happily.

With Sneakers’ help, I’ve dried all my tears.
And I’ve decided there’s only one way to really deal with my sadness over Yum-Yum. That’s for me and Sneakers to continue Yum-Yum’s work at the hospital. It will be like a tribute to his memory. Maybe that will help.

We do “sit” a couple more times. Sneakers gets better, and each time, I reward him for doing it right.

Then I switch to “stay.” I stretch out my right hand, palm forward. I move my hand right in front of his face and say firmly, “Stay. Stay!” Slowly I take one step away.

Sneakers barks happily and lunges after me.

“No, no, no!” I say, pulling up on the leash. He looks so cute that I want to reach down and hug him.

But I don’t. I make myself resist the urge. I must be careful not to send him mixed signals and confuse him. And I must give him praise only when he does something right. “Let’s start again with ‘sit’ and then ‘stay.”’

I smile. It’s finally sinking into my thick head that part of training a dog is training yourself. “We’ll keep working on it, over and over, till we get it right—you and me, Sneakers. I promise.”

We begin again.

The sun is still low in the sky when I hear the screen door screech open.

Gran has taken Jane home, so I know it’s Maggie before I even turn around. I hear her bare feet on the deck.

“Whatcha doing?” she asks as she sits down on the top step. Her hair is still rumpled from sleep.

“What does it look like?”

“Kind of early.”

I shake my head. “Actually… it’s kind of late.”

“Huh?”

The sadness wells up in my throat again, but I try to keep it from spilling over. I don’t want to look like a wimp in front of Maggie. “Jane Young brought Yum-Yum in last night, around three o’clock—”

“Oh, no—”

“Yeah.” I sit down on the step beside my cousin to tell her what happened. “Gran had to—” My voice chokes. “You know…”

Incredibly, Maggie reads my mind. She’s silent, clears her throat… and the next thing I know, she’s giving me a hard hug.

Maybe my stubborn cousin and I do have something in common.

After a few seconds, we pull apart. I wipe my face with my sleeve.

“So how’s Jane?” Maggie asks.

“Not too well. Gran’s over there with her now.”

“How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay.”

Maggie stares out across the yard. “That’s part of being a vet volunteer. But you never get used to it. At least, I never do. Even though I know it stops the suffering.”

“Gran’s amazing,” I say.

Maggie nods. That’s one thing she agrees with me about. “She loves animals. And that’s why she’s strong enough to be there for them even during the hard parts.”

Sneakers trots up with a stick in his mouth.

“Oh, you want to play, huh?” I say. I pull on the stick, trying to take it away so that we can play fetch.

Sneakers won’t let go.

“Hey! I can’t throw it if you won’t let go!” I say, tugging on the stick.

Maggie clears her throat. “Do you mind if I make a suggestion?”

She says it so nicely—so unlike the way we’ve talked to each other in the past week—that I have to laugh. “Please,” I say.

Maggie grins and stands up. “Okay. Let go of the stick.”

I let go.

“Now stand up,” she orders me, and we walk down into the grass. “Think
firm.
Let him know you’re the boss and that you expect him to mind.”

“I’ll try,” I say. “But what
exactly
do I do?”

“Hold out your hand and say, ‘Give.”

I actually laugh out loud. “Yeah, right. No way that’ll work!”

“It’ll work,” Maggie insists. “If you say it the same way each time—and keep saying it till he understands what you mean. And praise him even if he just
thinks
about giving the stick up.”

“Okay.” I turn toward Sneakers. I think about a teacher I had in third grade, Mrs. Myerson. I hold out my hand the way she did when she knew a kid had gum in his mouth. “Give,” I say firmly.

Sneakers promptly runs off across the yard.

I glare at my cousin. “See? I told you.”

“Give the dog a break,” Maggie says. “It’s the first time you did it.”

I start to chase after Sneakers. “Come back here! Give me that—”

“Don’t,” Maggie says, grabbing my sleeve.

“But…”

Maggie grins and shakes her head. “Plant your feet. Make him come to you. Make him sit. Use your leash to keep him from running off. Insist—through your body language, the look in your eye. He’ll come around.”

“But—”

“Trust me,” Maggie says, laughing. “The most important thing to remember is this: Dogs want to please you. Got that?” She turns back toward the deck. “Keep trying while I go make us breakfast.”

“Uh, Maggie?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we maybe have something besides that fake food you call cereal?”

“Sure,” Maggie says with a grin. “How about some
microwave
French toast?”

I roll my eyes, but this morning I can’t argue.

My dog and I have work to do.

After breakfast, I decide to make a big chart to track my training time with Sneakers. Brenna gave me copies of the pictures she took the other day, and I pick out my favorite—the one of Sneakers licking my face—to tape to the chart. Then I write “Zoe and Sneakers’ Training Chart” across the top. After all, we’re both learning what to do.

I’ve noticed that when I work with Sneakers, he does pretty well for a while, but then he gets distracted. So I plan to work in short sessions, a couple of times a day.
Every
day.

I use a magnet to stick my chart to the refrigerator so that I won’t forget about it. I don’t know if it will work.

But I’m going to try.

•  •  •  •  •  •  •

Five days later, I’m stunned. Sneakers is doing better. Even Maggie is impressed.

“See?” Maggie says. “I knew you could do it.”

I smile at her praise.

“All you needed to do,” Maggie adds, “was do exactly what I told you!”

I pretend to growl. Then I grin. “Thanks so much,
Margaret
!”

“Don’t call me Margaret!” Maggie screeches. She hates that name.

Gran steps out on the deck, shaking her head. “Girls, girls. Not again. How many times—”

She stops when she sees Maggie and me laughing and throwing leaves at each other, and she smiles. “Never mind,” she says, and heads back inside.

So the training is going well. Getting Sneakers to stay in his crate at night is a bit harder. The first night, I gave up and let him sleep in the bed with me, but I closed my door so that he wouldn’t wander around the house. When I woke up in the morning, Sneakers was quiet—too quiet! I jumped out of bed and found him chewing on one of my shoes.

That definitely motivated me to work harder!

So that night, I put him in his crate. But the only way I could get him to stop whimpering and crying was to sleep right next to his crate with my hand where he could lick it.

I was pretty sore the next morning from sleeping on the floor.

The next night, I moved a little farther away.
The following night, I put a T-shirt I’d worn that day into Sneakers’ crate with him. I guess it smelled enough like me to make him happy. He was pretty quiet most of the night.

By the next night we both slept peacefully in our beds.

The one command that still doesn’t work with Sneakers is “roll over.” He just doesn’t seem to understand what I mean. I even act it out for him. I get grass stains all over my clothes, but he still doesn’t get it. I’ll keep trying, though, because the kids really like it.

•  •  •  •  •  •  •

Two days later, I’m walking Sneakers around the neighborhood. He’s doing pretty well with “heel.”

Then I realize we’re near the beauty salon.

Jane hasn’t come by Dr. Mac’s Place since the night they put Yum-Yum to sleep. And I haven’t gone to see her, either. I guess I stayed away because I don’t know what to say.

I look through the plate-glass window and see Jane blow-drying a customer’s short red hair. She’ll be finished soon.

“Maybe we should stop in and say hi, huh, Sneakers?”

Sneakers barks, so I lead him up the steps. A bell over the door tinkles as we enter the salon.

Still brushing and blowing, Jane looks over her shoulder. “Zoe!” she exclaims. “And Sneakers! How’re you doing!”

“Hi, Jane,” I say. “Are you busy?”

“Mrs. Martin here is my last customer till this evening Can you wait?”

“Sure.” I sit down next to Mrs. Martin’s twins, Heidi and Holly.

“Sit,” I say to Sneakers.

Sneakers sits just as prettily as a dog on TV.

“Wow,” Jane says over the hum of the blow-dryer. “When did he learn that?”

“I’ve been working with him all week,” I say.

Jane nods—it’s too noisy to keep talking. So I wait. I notice framed photos of Yum-Yum on the counter, and I feel a little pinch in my heart. I mean, I still have my dog, and he’s alive and well. I hope that won’t make Jane feel bad that hers is gone.

The twins start petting Sneakers and talking to him. Sneakers enjoys the attention but stays
where he is. If he starts to jump up on one of the kids, I will know to remind him, “Off!”

It feels great when Sneakers obeys perfectly.
What a smart dog!

Soon Jane turns off her blow-dryer, brushes Mrs. Martin’s hair a little, and holds up a mirror.

“Perfect!” Mrs. Martin says. “As always. Thanks, Jane.”

Jane whisks off the cape, then goes to the cash register by the door. While Mrs. Martin pays, I show the twins some of Sneakers’ tricks: “sit,” “stay,” and “shake.”

The twins are impressed. “Hey, Mom!” Heidi shouts. “Can we get a dog like this?”

Mrs. Martin smiles. “We’ll talk about it at home.”

Holly pouts. “That’s what she always says,” she mutters.

I grin. “Tell her that mutts are very lovable.”

Both kids’ eyes light up. “We will!” they say.

When the Martins leave, Jane comes over to pet Sneakers. “How my little buddy?” she coos, scratching him behind the ears, just like she always did with Yum-Yum.

Sneakers barks to say he’s fine.

“I’ve really worked hard at training him this week,” I say.

“It shows.”

I’m quiet for a moment, trying to say what I don’t know how to say. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you.”

Jane looks at me with a smile that seems happy and sad at the same time. “That’s okay, honey. I understand. I haven’t felt much like visiting this week anyway.”

I don’t know if this will make her feel worse, but I tell her, “I miss Yum-Yum.”

The funny thing is, it seems to make her happier. She gives me a hug. “Thanks, sweetheart. A lot of people don’t bother to say anything. I guess they think he was just a dog. But you know, Yum-Yum was my family.”

I nod.

“I haven’t been back to see the kids at the hospital,” she admits. “I called the nurses to let them know what happened. Did you see the cards the kids made for me?”

She points to a bulletin board behind the desk. It’s covered with dozens of handmade cards.

“Did Emma make a card?” I ask her.

Jane nods and points to a card in the middle.
It’s a red construction-paper heart that’s been cut into two jagged pieces. A broken heart.

So Emma is paying attention! She just keeps it all inside. Obviously Yum-Yum was starting to get through to her.

“I wish I was up to going in,” Jane says. “I miss going. I wonder how the kids are doing.”

“Do you think you’ll get another dog?” I ask. Instantly I wonder if it was the wrong thing to say.

But Jane just smiles kind of lopsidedly and shakes her head. “No. I just can’t stand the thought of replacing Yum-Yum. At least, not yet. Maybe one day.” She sighs. “I feel sorry about leaving the therapy program in need, though.”