A Dog's Way Home (A Dog's Way Home, #1)

by W. Bruce Cameron

When she sat on the couch I jumped up to be with her and I put my head in her lap. I could feel some of the tension and sadness leave her. I was giving Mom comfort. This was more important than going for walks, more important than helping feed the cats—it was the most important job I had. I knew I should sit with Mom for as long as she needed me.

The man was quiet for a moment. “So you do know having a dog in the VA is against the rules, right?” he finally asked. “I know I will do what it takes to help the men and women I care about. Men and women who served this country. People who are having a tough time for a lot of reasons. And if this dog can make a difference I am damn well going to see to it she gets to come here!” Ty responded hotly.

At first, I was confused. A good dog, I had decided, learned from doing things over and over. That’s how I knew No Barks meant to remain silent no matter what the provocation, and Tiny Piece of Cheese meant Lucas loved me and had a very special treat in his fingers. When he told me I was a good dog it was as good as any treat, even chicken, except of course it was always better if there was a treat as well. But humans can change without warning, and I just accepted this as part of being with my person. So if our pattern of leaving the house was different, I couldn’t begin to guess why.

And did you know that since the ban, pit bulls are more popular than ever in Denver? Got to love Americans. Tell them they can’t have something and they immediately want it so they can stick it to the man.

I was grateful for the food, but I knew something that the humans apparently didn’t understand: they had two dogs in their house, and neither one of us wanted to be there.

I had learned that people are not as reliable as a dog would like.

When I first heard the vocal tones I did not understand what they were doing, but then I realized it was singing, just like Mom used to do when she was at the sink pouring water on the plates. Just a few people, and then more and more until it seemed all of the people were joined in chorus. I did not understand the words, of course, but I felt the pain and the regret and the sorrow in the voices. We fight our country’s battles In the air, on land, and sea; First to fight for right and freedom And to keep our honor clean; We are proud to claim the title Of United States Marine When they were done singing the people had their heads bent and their arms on each other. The truck with Axel in it drove slowly away, and as it passed some would extend their hands and touch its sides.

“We don’t want any trouble here, sir,” one of them stated cautiously. “But you’ll have to surrender the animal.” Ty didn’t say anything. “Understand?” Hat-man sneered. “We’re taking the dog.” “All right.” Ty nodded, drawing himself up tall and gesturing to a man standing near to him. “But to do that, you’ll have to get past the Fourth Infantry Division of the United States Army.” There was a long silence. “Eighty-second Airborne Division, United States Army,” Mom declared firmly. As she spoke she held herself stiffly, straightening her back and adopting a curiously erect posture. I wagged but did not understand. Drew wheeled his chair forward. “Second Marine Division.” He, too, went rigid. Kayla stepped up next to Ty. “Sixth Fleet, United States Navy.” “First Infantry. Army,” announced Jordan. “Air National Guard.” Several more of my friends spoke. There was a long, tense silence when they were done talking. I could hear a dog barking, far away. The police seemed afraid.