Gem Read online

  “Do you want to come home with me?” Richard asked, looking into Gem’s brown eyes. Gem wagged “yes,” and Edna was so sure of the match she neglected to point out to Darlene that the letter from Richard’s landlord said “small pets only.” Gem was small, she told herself, for a golden retriever. A large golden could easily weigh seventy-five pounds. Gem was much closer to fifty.

  Richard’s one-bedroom house was as warm and welcoming and worn around the edges as he was. Gem felt comfortable in it immediately. He brought her two bowls and food and a bed and opened the back door to show her the fenced yard where she could relieve herself. When the sun went down, Richard plopped onto a sagging couch. Gem looked at him for a moment. She heard the mom’s voice in her head—“No dogs on the furniture”—and pictured her angrily brushing dog fur off the family’s leather sofa. She started to circle, ready to curl onto the floor, but Richard patted the cushion beside him.

  “Right here, Gemma!” he said. “I can’t pet you if you’re so far away!”

  Gem hopped up beside him and laid her head in his lap. That night she slept curled beside him in his bed. And for almost a week Gem didn’t even think about digging.

  The nights at Richard’s were Gem’s favorite. Most of the time Richard would bring her home a leftover hamburger. After they ate they liked to watch TV, and Gem sprawled beside Richard on the couch. Richard told her what was going on in his favorite shows. Gem didn’t really understand, but she liked Richard’s rumbly voice and the way he laughed at the glowing screen. Every once in a while the shows made him sad and Gem was there to lick his face until he laughed again.

  The days at Richard’s were harder. Richard had to go to work, and he was gone for a long time. As the days went on, each seemed emptier and sadder than the one before … an endless stream of lonely. Before long, the lonely and the sad got the better of Gem. She wanted to claw it away. She wanted to bury it. Without even thinking she started to paw at the lumpy couch cushion. She scratched and clawed and dug, wanting to be somewhere different. Wanting to feel something different. The fabric split beneath her paws, revealing the fluffy insides. Gem tried to stop when she saw the stuffing, but couldn’t. She kept digging paw over paw until the whole living room was covered with bits of foam and fuzz. The empty cushion sagged just like Gem’s head when she looked around at what she had done.

  Richard’s jaw dropped when he got home. Gem, who usually greeted him at the door with wags and happy yips, hid under the table. She cowered, afraid to look at him, waiting to hear the words. Bad dog. Richard didn’t yell, though. Or use the words. He laughed. He laughed so hard and so long that Gem finally crawled out.

  “Crazy pup!” Richard chuckled. He threw a blanket over the mess on the couch and patted the spot beside him. The next day, he cut a hole in the back door and put in a dog door—a flap that Gem could push open herself.

  “Do your digging out here,” Richard said, “okay?” The backyard was small. There weren’t any rosebushes or flower beds, just hard-packed dirt and weeds. Gem gave a tentative scratch at the dried clay. Richard cheered her on. “That’s it! Good dog!” Gem dug more … and more. Digging in the dried-up earth wasn’t as fun as pawing through soft, freshly turned soil or damp sod, but hearing Richard tell her she was a good dog made the digging wonderful.

  Gem loved Richard and their nights together, the leftover burgers and the walks after dark, sniffing the air for raccoons and possums. She liked sleeping in with Richard in the mornings. And she loved the belly rubs.

  The days were still long and lonely, but when it was too much, she’d head outside and dig and dig and dig. It made her tired even when it didn’t make her feel better.

  One day—on one of Richard’s days off—the two were flopped together on the couch when the doorbell rang. Gem barked—they didn’t get many visitors—and Richard opened the door. A man who smelled like strong soap and a whiff of mildew was standing on the porch holding a metal box with a handle. Gem was surprised to see him. He looked surprised to see her, too.

  “Thanks for coming!” Richard took the man’s hand and smiled widely. The man did not smile back. He was staring at Gem. Richard kept talking. “The drip has been keeping us up at night, hasn’t it, Gem?”

  The man’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Are you dog-sitting?” he asked.

  Gem recognized a couple of his words and sat.

  Richard kept smiling, but Gem could smell that it was a nervous smile and not a friendly one. “Oh, no. This is my dog, Gemma,” he said, showing lots of teeth.

  “Dog’s not in the lease,” the man growled. He pushed past them both and walked into the kitchen, where the tap was dripping. He set his metal box on the counter and stared at the back door. He walked over and pushed the dog door flap with his foot. “That’s coming out of your deposit,” he groused.

  Richard let out a fake half laugh. “But it’s an improvement! Now Gem can get out when I’m not home!”

  The man opened the door. His face was so squished up, Gem wondered if he could see. She bounded out to her digging grounds to show him what a great place it was and looked back as if to say, “See?” But the man’s expression did not change. He shut the door, and Gem heard his angry growl through the flap. It sounded like the mom’s voice when she’d told her she was a bad dog. Gem curled up beside the prickly bush at the far end of the tiny yard and didn’t go back inside until the angry man was gone and Richard was in the doorway calling her.

  Gem walked slowly over to Richard. Something had changed. She could feel it. His ever-ready smile was gone, and not just from his lips. It was gone from his eyes, too.

  That night and for the days that followed, Richard didn’t take Gem on walks. He spent all his time on his phone and computer looking for a new home. His landlord had given him one week to get out or “get rid of the dog.” The words echoed in his head and made it hard for him to look at Gem. He loved her. She’d made his life so much happier! And she hadn’t done anything wrong.

  Most of the places Richard found to rent were too expensive. The rest didn’t allow dogs. On Friday, the last day he had to search, he brought Gem three hamburgers and slept on the couch with the TV on. In the morning, he led Gem out to the car.

  This time, Gem knew the big parking lot. She knew the sound of barking dogs. She knew the director’s astringent smell and disappointed look. She knew she wasn’t going to see Richard again. His cheeks were salty when he leaned down to say goodbye. She licked them and walked into a hard kennel like the one she’d been in when Richard found her. She lay down, not bothering to howl.

  In the morning, Gem heard a familiar voice and let her tail thump. But only once. Edna.

  The volunteer did a double take as Gem got slowly to her feet. “Gem?” Edna asked. The rosy golden retriever responded with two more slow wags. Edna wasn’t sure what was more surprising: seeing the young dog back at the shelter, or seeing how much weight she had gained in such a short time. The once-slim pup had put on at least fifteen pounds. Her rounder body made her legs look short, and she moved without the spring she used to have in her step. But when Edna looked into those deep brown eyes, there was no denying this was the same sensitive dog she had befriended weeks before. “Oh, Gem,” Edna said softly. “What are we going to do with you?”

  Gem nosed the food in her bowl before burying her muzzle and eating the lot in a few bites. She licked her lips and looked at Edna, who had placed the bowl in her kennel only a minute before. “I know you want more,” Edna said sympathetically. “Dieting is tough.”

  The dog’s stomach complained loudly as Edna moved on to feed the next dog in the line of cages. Gem missed her hamburgers and her late-night walks and sleeping on a big comfy human bed. She also missed Richard. And the digging yard!

  Though she’d been back at the shelter at least a week, Gem had been out with Edna only twice. She’d gotten excited when Edna opened the door to the outside dog area, but both times Edna seemed more interested in keeping Gem walking than
taking her to their digging spot. Gem didn’t sleep as much with a grumbling belly and without the relief brought by an afternoon of digging. Her heart felt as heavy and as low as her tail. She didn’t dare to hope that the people looking for dogs at the shelter might be looking for her.

  Once, Edna brought a family around. They talked sweetly to Gem and were happy to read that she was good with kids. They asked Edna if they could take her out for a walk, but while Edna was getting a leash, the director came by. “You know she digs, right? Did Edna tell you about the digging?” The couple looked at each other, then back at Gem. They shook their heads slowly. Their faces dropped and so did Gem’s tail. When Edna returned, they were looking at a Labradoodle two kennels down.

  Edna pressed her lips together and looked at Gem’s stats; there was more information on her clipboard now, including a glowing review from Richard about what a nice dog she was and her excellent companionship. But being returned after being adopted was a second strike against her. She’d been surrendered twice. And she was a digger, which fell under the category of “destructive behaviors.” There weren’t going to be many more chances for a dog like Gem.

  If it had been up to Edna, she would have changed Gem’s record to show just the first return. She felt guilty for having hidden the detail about Richard’s landlord only wanting small pets. She knew “small pets” meant a cat or a gerbil or something. She thought she’d been doing the right thing.

  “Someone will come,” Edna whispered to Gem at the end of her shift. It was all she could do … all either of them could do. Just wait and hope.

  Juniper Sterling never really liked the term “lucky dog.” It seemed to imply that all dogs were lucky. After spending her whole life on her family’s ranch, the Sterling Center, where they trained dogs and people to do search and rescue, she’d seen plenty of unlucky dogs—dogs who’d been neglected or abandoned or deemed terrible pets. If these dogs made it to Sterling, their luck changed. Once they were Sterling dogs, even if they failed training, they wouldn’t be put down. The team would find them a happy home. Somewhere. It was a promise they made. But a lot of dogs didn’t make it to Sterling. A lot of dogs were put down. Juniper sniffed and eyed the row of cages and the hopeful dogs inside. They didn’t look like “lucky dogs” to her.

  Juniper preferred cats. Cats were the reason she’d come to the shelter in the first place. It had been a hard week, and she needed a powerful dose of kittens to make herself feel better. When she heard that Roxanne, the head trainer, was headed out for one of her regular shelter visits, Juniper surprised them both by asking if she could ride along. She already had the best cats in the world at home: a giant orange tabby named Twig and a gray furball named Bud. But there was nothing like getting some kitten fuzz up your nose.

  So what was she doing in the canine kennels, when the kitty cages were just a doorway away? She wasn’t sure exactly. She had followed Roxanne without thinking. And now here she was, standing outside a kennel reading a clipboard hanging on a young golden retriever’s cage. “You’re a digger, huh?” The highlighted behavior was hard to miss.

  Lying on her bed, which was just a flattened pad in her kennel, Gem looked up. She heard the curiosity in the girl’s voice. Her tail thumped, but she kept her head and her hopes down. So many people had peered at her through the fencing. And as soon as they read whatever was written on the hanging board, they moved on.

  “Gem?” Juniper read the name. “Here, Gem.” She patted her leg, calling the dog.

  Gem wondered if the girl would taste like Lexa—she smelled a little bit like her. Part of her wanted to walk over to the fence and lick her hand to find out. A bigger part was too afraid. She did not get up.

  Juniper was used to this—her cats never came when she called, either. She half rolled her eyes and called again. Nothing. “Fine, then. I’ll go see the kittens.” Juniper turned, laughing, and Gem got up.

  It was the laugh that got her—just like Lexa’s. Gem stood and walked up to the gate.

  Juniper turned back and grinned when she saw the dog wagging and walking to the fence. She looked into the pup’s eyes—they were the color of dark caramel, warm with golden flecks. And there was something else about them—like if they were an actual pool of caramel that you could dive into, you wouldn’t be able to touch the bottom. “So now you want to say hi?” She put her fingers through the cage.

  Gem ducked her head and gave Juniper a lick. She tasted different from Lexa. More … animal. And a little salty and a little like gummy bears. Her giggle, though, was almost the same.

  “Rough day?” Juniper asked. She couldn’t stop staring at Gem’s eyes. They weren’t green, like Twig’s, but they were nearly as expressive. She suddenly, desperately, wanted to get this dog out of her kennel. The urge was so strong it shocked her. After all, she was not a dog person.

  “Who’s this?” Roxanne came up behind Juniper and crouched down to look through the fencing at the reddish-gold retriever.

  “This is Gem,” Juniper introduced them. “Gem, this is Roxanne.”

  Roxanne gave the nine-year-old an amused and confused look. “I thought you didn’t like dogs. I thought you were here for the cats.”

  Juniper shrugged. “Some dogs are special, I guess.”

  “Tell me about it.” Roxanne flashed her a knowing smile.

  Gem watched the people on the other side of the gate, one tall with a speckled face and the other smaller, like Lexa, and darker. They both had two braids, like tails by their ears, and they were both smiling—the human version of a wag. Gem’s tail moved slowly at first and then faster the longer they stayed. She was curious about both of them. For one thing, they smelled like … dogs … and cats!

  “Is it bad?” Juniper asked. “Being a digger?” She held the clipboard out to Roxanne, and pointed at the behavior listing on Gem’s description card.

  Roxanne pursed her lips. She looked at Gem thoughtfully. The dog was about the right age for search and rescue training. She was a bit overweight—though only a bit—and that was usually remedied easily with a diet. She had intelligent eyes. Plus, golden retrievers were a breed known for scenting skills and human bonding. “Digging isn’t necessarily bad,” Roxanne answered finally. “Sometimes it’s a sign that a dog needs a job.” She hesitated for a mere second, glanced at Juniper, and let her instincts take over. “Do you want to take Gem for a walk?”

  “Yes!” Juniper replied, bouncing a little on her feet. “Yes, yes, yes!” She wanted to get that dog out of her kennel. She wanted to run her hands over Gem’s rosy-gold fur. She wanted to get her away from all the unlucky dogs locked up around her.

  Roxanne raised an eyebrow and chuckled at the youngest Sterling. She never knew what to expect from Juniper.

  Edna, who had been pretending she wasn’t watching the two visitors, approached with a leash and a smile. She’d liked them from the moment they came in. “You have excellent taste, ladies!” she said. “Gem is a wonderful dog. Very loving, and very smart.”

  “Does she ever show aggression?” Roxanne asked. “With people, other dogs … or around food?”

  Edna shook her head as she opened the kennel. “None of the above,” she said. “She’s a real sweetheart … a sensitive soul.”

  Edna focused on Gem. “Sit,” she said. The young retriever lowered herself onto her haunches obediently and let Edna clip on the leash. The volunteer held it out to Roxanne, who gestured to the little girl with her chin. “I think Juniper can handle this one,” she said. Juniper bit back a grin and took the leash.

  Edna pointed to the door at the end of the row of kennels. “The dog run is through that door, and there are benches and places to sit and relax at the far end. Take your time out there. You can’t rush getting to know one another!”

  Juniper was already moving toward the door, and Edna crossed her fingers. Gem was running out of options. She had a good feeling about these two visitors but knew it was just that—a feeling. It would take more than a few m
oments of warm, fuzzy emotions for Gem to find the right home. As Edna went back to caring for the other dogs, she said a silent prayer to the universe.

  Roxanne watched the golden retriever carefully as she walked with Juniper. She’d been training dogs for nearly two decades and had a good sense of all kinds of breeds, personalities, and possible issues. Gem seemed like she needed reassurance, as many abused and rejected dogs did. She seemed to like Juniper, and perked up a bit with every step she took toward the door. Her tail, too, was on the rise, along with one of her golden ears. The other, it appeared, was permanently flopped.

  Outside, Gem trotted along next to Juniper, who was talking a mile a minute. “I’m a cat person,” Juniper confessed. “To be honest, I’m not even sure why I’m hanging out with you!”

  Roxanne spotted a tug toy—a coiled rope with a loop at one end and a tennis ball at the other—lying in the dirt and bent to pick it up. One of the very first tests of SAR potential was seeing how curious and driven to play a dog was. It sounded a bit odd, but for most dogs, work and play were the same thing.

  By the time Roxanne had straightened, Gem was right in front of her, eyeing the toy. She let out a little bark. “Can you unclip her, June?” the trainer asked. Juniper complied, and Roxanne waved the toy back and forth quickly. Gem followed it with her eyes for several seconds, getting more and more excited. Finally she lunged for the dingy ball.

  “Off!” Roxanne said in a stern voice. A verbal correction needed to be clear—especially with a dog you didn’t know well. It established that Roxanne was in charge, and gave the dog boundaries, assuming the dog had had enough training to know what boundaries were, or in this case what “off” meant. Roxanne didn’t know whether Gem had completed any obedience training or whether she knew any commands—though she’d sat well for the shelter volunteer. Dogs who’d been moved around a lot and had unstable puppyhoods often didn’t. But Roxanne’s tone alone seemed to be enough to make Gem stop and sit. The dog shifted her gaze from the toy to Roxanne and back, trying to figure out what the woman wanted.