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We had a happy pack, right up until the day that Spike arrived. After that, nothing was the same.
Of all the things I’d ever done, making Senora laugh seemed the most important. It was, I reflected, the only thing that gave my life any purpose.
When the boy picked me up, the flow of love between us was so strong it gave me a hollow feeling in my tummy, almost like hunger.
I was angry enough to want to go outside and bite that horse, but I didn’t, of course, because the thing was huge.
Some dogs just want to be free to wander, because they don’t have a boy who loves them.
Bailey the front-seat dog.
I was a front-seat dog; anyone could tell that!
As I lay in a patch of sun, pondering this, I realized that I had spent my life as a good dog.
Maya was crying, whispering, “You’re a good dog,” over and over, and it was her words, and the sense of her love, that I took with me when I felt the tiny prick by my neck and then was washed away by the wonderfully warm ocean waters.
