A Dog's Purpose (34 page)

When I jumped back on the bed and dropped the thing in his hand, Ethan started as if I had just awakened him. “Wow! Bailey, you found the flip; where did you get this, boy?”

I licked his face.

“Well now. Let’s just see.”

What he did next was the last thing I wanted. His body trembling with the effort, he hauled himself over to the window, which had been cranked open to admit the fresh air. “Okay, Bailey. Get the flip!” he called. With an awkward motion he managed to fumble the flip onto the windowsill and push it outside.

I didn’t want to leave his side, not even for a second, but I couldn’t disobey him when he repeated his command. My toenails scrabbling on the carpet, I bounded across the living room floor and out the dog door, peeling around the side of the house and scooping the flip up from the bushes where it had fallen. I spun and raced back to the house, resenting every second the stupid flip was keeping me apart from my boy.

When I returned to the bedroom, I saw that things had taken a turn for the worse. Ethan had sat on the floor where he had been standing, and his eyes were unfocused, his breathing labored. I spat out the object I’d brought him—the time for that had passed. Carefully, so as not to hurt him, I crept forward, putting my head in his lap.

He would be leaving me soon; I could hear it in the slowing of his raspy breathing. My boy was dying.

I could not join him on his journey and did not know where it would lead him. People are vastly more complicated than dogs and served a much more important purpose. The job of a good dog was ultimately to be with them, remaining by their sides no matter what course their lives might take. All I could do now was offer him comfort, the assurance that as he left this life he was not alone but rather was tended by the dog who loved him more than anything in the whole world.

His hand, weak and trembling, touched the fur above my neck. “I will miss you, doodle dog,” Ethan said to me.

I put my face to his, I felt his breath and tenderly licked his face while he struggled to focus his gaze on me. Eventually, he gave up, his eyes sliding away. I didn’t know if he saw me now as Bailey or Buddy, but it didn’t matter. I was his dog, and he was my boy.

I felt the consciousness ebb from him as gradually as daylight leaves the sky after sunset. There was no pain, no fear, nothing but the sense that my brave boy was going where he was supposed to go. Through it all, I could feel him aware of me lying in his lap until, with one last, shuddering breath, he was aware of nothing at all.

I lay there quietly with my boy in the stillness of that spring afternoon, the house silent and empty. Soon the girl would be home, and, remembering how hard it had been for everyone to say good-bye to Bailey and Ellie and even the cats, I knew she would need my help to face life without the boy.

As for me: I loyally remained right where I was, remembering the very first time I had ever seen the boy and then just now, the very last time—and all the times in between. The deep
aching grief I knew I would feel would come soon enough, but at that moment mostly what I felt was peace, secure in the knowledge that by living my life the way I had, everything had come down to this moment.

I had fulfilled my purpose.

A Dog’s Journey
is the much-anticipated sequel to the beloved
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestseller
A Dog’s Purpose
, which is soon to be a major motion picture!

Buddy is a good dog.

After searching for his purpose through several eventful lives, Buddy is sure that he has found and fulfilled it. Yet as he watches curious baby Clarity get into dangerous mischief on his family’s farm, he is certain that this little girl is very much in need of a dog of her own.

When Buddy is reborn, he realizes that he has a new destiny. He’s overjoyed when he is adopted by Clarity, now a vibrant but troubled teenager. As Clarity navigates the ups and downs of adolescence, Buddy is there to protect, cheer, rescue, and love her unconditionally. When they are suddenly separated, Buddy despairs—who will take care of his girl?

A charming and heartwarming story of hope, love, and unending devotion,
A Dog’s Journey
asks the question: Do we really take care of our pets, or do they take care of us? More than just another endearing dog tale,
A Dog’s Journey
is the moving story of unwavering loyalty and a love that crosses all barriers.

“Readers will devour this wonderful story and cry from beginning to end. Sweet and heartfelt, Cameron likely has another bestseller on his hands.”—
Publishers Weekly

Read on for an excerpt from
A Dog’s Journey
, available now!

As I sat in the sun on the wooden dock that jutted out into the pond, I knew this to be true: my name was Buddy, and I was a good dog.

The fur on my legs was as black as the rest of me, but down at my paws it had, over time, become tinged with white. I had lived a long and full life with a boy named Ethan, spending many lazy afternoons on this very dock, here on the Farm, enjoying a swim or barking at the ducks.

This was the second summer without Ethan. When he died I felt a pain inside me much sharper than any other I’d ever felt. Now the pain was less, more like a stomach ache, but I still felt it all the time. Only sleep soothed it away—in my sleep, Ethan ran with me through my dreams.

I was an old dog and knew that someday soon a much deeper sleep would come, as it had always come for me before. It came for me when I was named Toby, in my silly first life, when I had no real purpose but to play with other dogs. It came for me when I was named Bailey, when I first met my boy and loving him became my whole focus. It came for me when I was Ellie, when my job was to Work, to Find people, and Save them. So when the deeper sleep came for me next, at the end of this life, as Buddy, I felt sure that I would not live again, that I had fulfilled my purpose and there was no reason for me to be a dog anymore. So whether it happened this summer or the next didn’t matter. Ethan, loving Ethan was my ultimate purpose, and I had done it as well as I could. I was a good dog.

And yet…

And yet as I sat there I was watching one of the many children from Ethan’s family striding unsteadily toward the end of the dock. She hadn’t been walking very long in her life, so every step was a wobble. She wore white puffy pants and a thin shirt. I pictured jumping in the water and pulling her to the surface by that shirt, and I let out a soft whimper.

The child’s mother’s name was Gloria. She was on the dock too, lying motionless on a reclined chair with bits of vegetables placed in both of her eyes. Her hand had been holding a leash that went to the little girl’s waist, but the leash had gone slack in Gloria’s hand and was now trailing behind the child as she headed for the end of the dock and the pond beyond.

As a puppy my reaction to a limp leash was always to explore and this little girl’s response was just the same.

This was Gloria’s second visit to the Farm. The previous time was in the wintertime. Ethan had still been alive, and Gloria had handed the baby to him and called him “Grandpa.” After Gloria left, Ethan and his mate, Hannah, said the name Gloria out loud many times over many nights, with sad emotions underlying their conversations.

They also said the name Clarity. The baby’s name was Clarity, though often Gloria called her Clarity June.

I felt certain that Ethan would want me to watch over Clarity, who always seemed to be getting into trouble. Just the other day I had sat by miserably while the baby crawled under the bird feeder and stuffed handfuls of fallen seeds into her mouth. It was one of my main jobs to terrorize the squirrels when they did this, but I wasn’t sure what to do when I caught Clarity at it, even though I knew that for a child to eat birdseed was probably against a rule. And I was right about that—when I finally barked a few times, Gloria sat up from where she had been lying face down on a towel and she was very angry.

I glanced at Gloria now. Should I bark? Children often jumped into the pond but never when they were as young as this little girl, though the way she was going it seemed inevitable she was going to get wet. Babies were only allowed in the water with adults holding them. I looked back toward the house. Hannah was outside, kneeling and playing with flowers up by the driveway, too far away to do anything if Clarity fell in the pond. I was pretty sure Hannah would want me to watch over Clarity too. It was my new purpose.

Clarity was getting closer to the edge. I let out another whimper, a louder one.

“Hush,” Gloria said without opening her eyes. I didn’t understand the word, but the sharp tone was unmistakable.

Clarity didn’t even look back. When she got to the edge of the dock, she teetered briefly and then fell straight off the front.

My nails dug into the wood as I lunged off the side of the dock and into the warm water. Clarity bobbed up a little, her little limbs working frantically, but her head was mostly below the pond’s surface. I reached her in seconds, my teeth gently snagging the shirt. I pulled her head out of the water and turned for the shore.

Gloria started screaming. “Oh my God! Clarity!” She ran around and waded into the water just as my feet found purchase on the mucky bottom of the pond.

“Bad dog!” she shouted as she snatched Clarity from me. “You are a bad, bad dog!”

I hung my head in shame.

“Gloria! What happened?” Hannah shouted as she came running up.

“Your dog just knocked the baby into the water. Clarity could have drowned! I had to jump in to save her and now I’m all wet!”

The distress in everyone’s voices was very plain.

“Buddy?” Hannah said.

I didn’t dare look at her. I wagged my tail a little and it splashed the surface of the pond. I didn’t know what I had done wrong but clearly I had upset everyone.

Everyone, that is, except Clarity. I risked a glance at her because I could sense her straining in her mother’s arms, her little hands reaching out toward me.

“Bubby,” Clarity gurgled. Her pants were streaming water down her legs. I dropped my eyes again.

Gloria blew out some air. “Hannah, would you mind taking the baby? Her diaper’s all wet and I want to lie on my stomach so I’ll be the same color on both sides.”

“Sure,” Hannah said. “Come on, Buddy.”

Thankful we had
that
over with, I leaped out of the water, wagging my tail.

“Don’t shake!” Gloria said, dancing away from me on the dock. I heard the warning in her voice, though I wasn’t sure what she was trying to tell me. I shook myself from head to tail, ridding my fur of the pond water.

“Yuck, no!” Gloria shrieked. She sternly lectured me, pointing her finger and using a whole string of words I didn’t understand, though she did say “bad dog” a few times. I lowered my head, blinking.

“Buddy, come,” Hannah said. Her tone was gentle. I followed obediently as we went up to the house.

“Bubby,” Clarity kept saying. “Bubby.”

Read on for a sneak peek at W. Bruce Cameron’s next novel

The Midnight Plan of the Repo Man

Available Fall 2014

chapter

ONE

COMPUTERS and insurance companies call me Ruddick McCann—to everyone else I’m just Ruddy. I work for a collateral recovery agency run by a guy named Milton Kramer. When people can’t make their car payments, I help them get back on their feet.

I’m a Repo Man. Get it? “Back on their feet.” That was repo humor, there.

I’ve been relieving people of the burdens of automobile ownership for more than six years and I still don’t understand why it is necessary. If you can’t afford to make your car payments, why not just drive it back to the dealership and hand over the keys, instead of making Ruddy McCann come after you?

Today I was looking for a twenty-five-year-old man named, of all things, Albert Einstein. Albert Einstein Croft was his full name, though I suspected everyone called him Einstein—how could you resist? He worked on the assembly line at a place called PlasMerc manufacturing—something told me he wasn’t exactly living up to his parents’ expectations as far as his intelligence.

The PlasMerc factory had only been open a few years and I’d never been there before. I was surprised, when I located the place, that the employee parking lot was fenced and paved, with a guard in a booth, no less. Most companies in Northern Michigan were more considerate, leaving their workers’ cars out in the open where the Repo Man could easily get to them. I pulled up in Milt’s tow truck and nodded at the guard, hoping he’d figure I was from AAA and punch the button for the gate to swing open. Instead, he gave me a stony stare, so I sighed and rolled down my window.

“Hey, how’s it going?” I asked in what sounded to my ears like a falsely cheerful voice. I’m not really known for doing “cheerful.”

“Help you?”

I had to make a quick decision on how to play it. I decided to shrug and look dumb. “Got a call, guy named Croft, an employee here? I’m supposed to pick up his truck, haul it in.”

He didn’t move to open the gate. “Yeah?”

We looked at one another. The guard was my age, around thirty, and had my build—solid and big. It was obvious we didn’t care much for each other’s attitudes.

“I know who you are,” he said finally.

It was my turn to say “yeah?” So I did.

“You’re Ruddy McCann. Everybody used to look up to you, and then you let us down.”

“Well, sometimes that’s how these things go.”

“Now you steal cars for a living.”

I had to admit, it sounded less glamorous when he said it.

“You had everything anybody could ever want, and you pissed it away,” he continued. His eyes were cold and pitiless.

I sighed. “So could you let me in?”

“Get out of here. This is private property. You show up here again, I’ll have you arrested.”

We looked at each other for a little bit more. I thought about getting out of the truck and reaching into that booth and pulling him out by his shirt, and he could see me thinking about it and his gaze never faltered—that’s how much he hated me. So I threw the truck in reverse and backed away, my face burning.