Dear Diary:

  Made drowsy by the steady hum in our new car, the fragrance of the other dogs filling my nose, I reflect on one of my favorite memories, made especially notable because it begins with a bath.

  I do not understand why humans believe a dog loves a bath. I have had several baths in my life and have been miserable through every single one of them.

  I recognize the word, though, especially since it’s pronounced with such a phony joy. “Clancy? Want a bath? Time for a bath? Want to take a bath?” This fooled me at first, because it sounded so fun, but now I know that “bath” means a wretched time spent standing inside a big bowl with water running all over me, and a hideous-smelling liquid being run though my fur until all the wonderful odors I’ve developed since the last bath are rinsed away.

  After a bath, I try to rub the essence of my smell back into my fur by rolling on the rugs where I nap, but it’s never of much use.

  After one such incident, I was trotting around, trying to become accustomed to the horrific smell that was now mine, and wound up wandering into the bathroom, where I was outraged to see Kelsey standing on the edge of the tub where I’d just been, her tiny nose sniffing at the remains of my torment. She was no doubt delighting in my misery.

  I didn’t even pause to think. I lunged forward and butted her with my head. With a yowl, she plunged into the water!

  Instantly she was back out, bedraggled and soaked, and I watched with joy as she fled from the bathroom.

  There was a reckoning, of course—JayB discovered Kelsey, her fur in odd, hilarious tufts, and I knew I was in for some bad dog conversation. But instead, JayB directed all his questions toward the cat. “Kelsey, what happened? Did you fall in? You silly cat, let me get a towel. What were you thinking?”

  Not a cross word directed at me.

  Kelsey, of course, knew exactly what I had done. She regarded me with eyes so malevolent, I wanted to squirm with joy.

  In the war between cat and dog, I was clearly winning.

  Love,

  Clancy

  Twenty-one

  “I think Clancy’s dreaming,” Walter observed. “He’s been twitching and moaning.”

  I opened my eyes but didn’t raise my head.

  “Are you dreaming, Clancy?” Alana asked.

  “Anyway, leaving Celeste out of it for the moment,” Walter continued, “I have a real breadth of professional experience on my resumé. I maintained laundromat machines for a while. When I got bored with that, you know, all those quarters, I worked in a liquor store. That was fun. Met a lot of really nice people after midnight, coming in and wanting to talk or lie on the floor. Then, of course, I got that job at the DMV.”

  JayB frowned in the rearview mirror. “The DMV? I didn’t know you worked for the DMV.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s why I lived in Omaha.”

  “I didn’t know you lived in Omaha.”

  “Well, where did you think I was all that time?” Walter challenged.

  “Honestly, Dad,” JayB snapped, some anger creeping into his voice, “I just thought you were gone. I didn’t know where you were.”

  “It’s called parenting,” Maddy retorted.

  Alana silently regarded JayB, moving her hand slightly, as if to touch him.

  Walter looked down for a moment. “Yeah. So, anyway, I got fired from that job.”

  Alana pulled on a lever and rotated her seat around so that she was facing us. “You got fired from the DMV? I never heard of anybody getting fired from the DMV.”

  “I just hate working for other people,” Walter explained.

  “Oh, man. Me, too,” Rodney interjected. “Taking orders, not my thing.”

  “I hear you,” Maddy agreed. “It’s even worse in food service because you not only have the managers always being dictator on you for being late or getting the orders wrong, you have customers complaining, too. I’m like, ‘If you don’t want to eat it, why don’t you stay home and cook for yourself for once?’ I swear, they should give every waitress in this country the Pulitzer Prize.”

  “You gotta let every day take care of itself,” Walter persisted seamlessly. “Like one time, we went to Mexico. I just told Celeste, ‘Grab your bag, honey,’ and we didn’t even do the dishes. We drove straight to the airport and got on the next flight. Man, we had a blast until they cut off my credit card. And here’s the irony—to raise the money to fly back home, we took jobs washing dishes.”

  “Wow—proof that God exists,” Rodney observed reverently.

  “Well, I wish you’d given some of your DNA to your son, because he wouldn’t take a surprise trip if he were kidnapped by pirates,” Maddy fumed. “His idea of a fun time is to plan everything out. Like this trip—he’s probably got it all figured, no surprises.”

  “We’re driving I-70 across the flattest state in the union, Maddy,” JayB responded. “Surprise!”

  Alana laughed.

  “Seriously learning at the knee of the master here,” mused Rodney. “The Mexico trip sounds brilliant.”

  Walter nodded in satisfaction. “And now here’s where I’ll let you all in on a little secret. A few days ago, I bought Celeste a diamond necklace. From Tiffany’s.”

  Maddy gasped.

  Rodney frowned, “Tiffany’s? The breakfast place?”

  Maddy leaned toward JayB. “Are you listening to your father?”

  “It shows her I’m a man of means,” Walter explained. “I’ll never have another car repossessed again as long as I live.”

  “Right,” JayB agreed, “because no one will give you financing. Speaking of which, this vehicle is rented, I hope?”

  “It’s a conversion van,” Maddy corrected.

  Walter laughed. “Renting is for chumps. This is an investment.”

  “An investment,” JayB repeated. He and Alana exchanged dark glances.

  “So, I should probably tell you, Jago,” Walter continued, “that with that necklace, I included a message from both of us.”

  “Huh.”

  “I said she should come to Kansas City for a family reunion. I’ll buy the ticket, first-class. And once she gets here, she’s going to see my Ferrari and this van and my house in Mission Hills, and all her objections will melt away.”

  “That’s so romantic,” Maddy sighed. “Women love to have their objections melted by expensive stuff.”

  “Great strategy, Dad.”

  “Did she say she’s coming?” Alana asked.

  “Well, not yet,” Walter admitted. “I’m sure she’s got to straighten it out with Wolfman Twain or whatever his name is.”

  “Maddy,” Rodney put in, “you want to do your bio now, or should I keep going with mine?”

  Maddy shook her head. “I need to hear what everyone else says before I decide my story.”

  Alana frowned. “So your life history changes, depending upon what other people say?”

  “It changed when I met JayB, didn’t it?”

  “Hey,” Rodney suddenly asked. “Don’t you think it’s interesting that no one has asked me why I named my dog Spartan?”

  All the dogs looked at Spartan and Spartan looked back at all the dogs.

  “Michigan State?” JayB guessed.

  “What? How would that make sense? No, it was because of that movie, the one with ripped abs.” He glanced at Alana. “I texted you that pool picture.”

  “Can I see it?” Maddy requested.

  Nodding, Rodney pulled out his phone.

  “Would you be willing to tell us about yourself before we get another dose of Rodney?” JayB asked Alana.

  She gazed at him, then nodded. “Okay, sure. So, not everybody knows this, but I was the youngest child growing up.”

  “I was the middle child,” Rodney interjected.

  “My brother and sister were so much older than I was, it was like they weren’t even in the same family.”

  Rodney nodded. “Oh, I can relate to that. There were lots of times when I felt like my family was trying to get rid of me.”

  “My parents longed to be empty-nesters. They had their whole life planned around my dad’s retirement. They just wanted to travel, but then I came along.” Alana shrugged. “So I had a lot of babysitters.”

  Rodney huffed, “Me, too.”

  “Don’t get me started on babysitters,” Maddy warned.

  I turned my gaze to Alana, feeling a strong gust of sadness coming off her. “And I guess as a result,” she continued, “without really feeling like I belonged to my own family, I’ve always had trouble unlocking the secret to relationships with other people. It’s as if there’s a bunch of rules that no one told me.”

  Rodney opened his mouth.

  “Rodney,” JayB warned sharply.

  Rodney blinked.

  “Do not say a word.”

  “Well,” Rodney began.

  “Rodney,” JayB admonished even more loudly, “stop talking.”

  “I was just…”

  “Rodney!”

  Rodney sighed and shook his head. “Somebody’s gone a little crazy here,” he muttered.

  Alana focused on JayB. “My mom wasn’t a saint, you know.”

  JayB regarded her with curiosity, and I sensed anger in Alana.

  She bit her lip. “Did she ever talk about me?”

  “Well…” JayB replied uncomfortably.

  Alana shook her head. “No, I didn’t think so. My mom always bragged about my sister the doctor and my brother the teacher, but she told me I shouldn’t ‘settle for being a shopkeeper.’”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” JayB murmured.

  “When we came out to Kansas City, Guy and I, she hated him, but not because he wasn’t good enough for her daughter. Because he looked down on her. And I have to confess, part of me liked that he did that. I couldn’t defend myself to my mother, but Guy had no problem.”

  There was a long silence. “Can I talk now?” Rodney asked impatiently.

  “No,” JayB said curtly. He was glancing occasionally at Alana while watching the road. “So, I hear you about the family,” he told her. “It was a little disorienting for me when my parents got divorced.”

  Walter nodded. “I’ll say.”

  “And Howard, that’s my stepfather—”

  “He’s not your real father,” Walter interrupted sternly.

  “I said stepfather. Dad, are you going to let me tell this?”

  Walter and Rodney exchanged “what’re you gonna do?” glances.

  “Howard was the opposite of Walter. He did tax preparation. He’d go to the office every day at the same time and return home at the same time, five days a week.”

  “Like that’s a life,” Walter snorted.

  “Amen,” Rodney agreed.

  “Howard was steady. It’s what Mom wanted,” JayB pointed out.

  “Yeah, and look what it did to you,” Walter challenged. “You’ve gone from being his happy-go-lucky kid to being a dog walker.”

  I heard the word “dog” and glanced around. People seemed a little uneasy.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Maddy boasted. “I’m totally making him into a waiter.”

  “I think I understand what you’re saying,” Alana encouraged quietly.

  “So I kind of think we skipped some of my story, if you want to know the truth,” Rodney complained.

  “We got sidetracked by the jewelry,” Maddy agreed. “Diamonds do that. I hope the men were paying attention.”

  “Okay, so I’m not sure where I left off,” Rodney apologized.

  I closed my eyes, listening to the pleasant drone of Rodney’s voice.

  A long time later (Rodney was still talking), we pulled into a big flat parking lot. The air was much warmer when I jumped out than it had been when we left our house. JayB took all the dogs off-leash to smell some bushes and to make sure we marked them.

  “Good dogs,” he told us. Odin and Phoebe seemed to appreciate the words, but Spartan didn’t react. Rodney took Spartan’s leash.

  “I’m going to go into the mini-mart,” Walter announced, “get some snacks, maybe iced tea. Anybody want anything in particular?”

  Everyone shook their head.

  I concentrated on hanging near Phoebe as Walter walked up to a small, squat building and passed between glass doors.

  Rodney announced, “Well, I need to use the facilities,” and, dropping Spartan’s leash, walked around the side of the building.

  Spartan followed his person and sniffed along the bottom edge of the door that had closed behind him, then glanced at me. Maddy trailed after Spartan.

  Another car pulled into the parking lot, near the front doors of the building. Alana and JayB were standing together, watching us.

  A man jumped out of the new car, leaving his front door wide open.

  JayB recoiled. “Oh my God.”

  “What is it?” Alana asked.

  JayB gave her a grim look. “He’s got a gun.”

  “What? Did you say a gun?”

  The man who had left his car door open moved briskly from it to the glass front of the building, stepping inside. JayB was afraid of this man, and I felt the fur rising along my back. Odin was alert as well, coming quickly to join me. Phoebe was unsure but she responded by following my lead, her eyes wide.

  Whatever was making people afraid, a pack of loyal dogs was there to protect them.

  JayB turned to Alana. “Stay here. Call 911. Tell them a guy with a pistol just went into the gas station.”

  “Wait! Where are you going?”

  “Just make the call,” JayB said tersely as he walked toward the building. “My dad’s in there.”

  Dear Diary:

  Of all the emotions that leap from human skin, fear is the strongest and most primitive. It has a taint to it, designed to grab a dog’s attention. When our people are afraid, dogs know we might be required to do something, though we rarely know what. We perceive that there’s a threat and we stand ready to do whatever our people need in order to protect them.

  No matter the sacrifice.

  Love,

  Clancy

  Twenty-two

  JayB moved briskly across the parking lot, so Phoebe, Odin, and I followed. Spartan, sensing something, trotted quickly to intercept. Maddy was standing outside the door through which Rodney had entered, her arms crossed.

  “JayB!” Alana cried. She held her phone to her ear but was running after us. “Stop!”

  My person halted, and we did too—except Spartan, who was closer to the building and was sniffing frantically for something.

  “What do you think you’re doing? He’s got a gun,” Alana pleaded. “Let’s wait for the police.”

  I think we all smelled it at once, though only we dogs reacted, turning our heads toward that open car door, through which floated a delicious scent that I recognized from many late nights at our house. I pictured the object before I saw it in the car: a big, flat box with bread and cheese and meat inside, sitting on the front seat.

  “Alana…”

  “JayB. Please don’t go in there,” she urged. “Please.”

  Spartan didn’t hesitate; he leaped inside that car.

  “Spartan!” JayB called. “Get out of there!”

  He and Alana began striding rapidly toward the car.

  I could see what Spartan was doing. He had used his collapsed nose to nudge open the lid on the flat box and was eagerly chewing the contents, bolting down cheese and bread as fast as he could. As I advanced, Spartan raised his head, glared at me, and growled. I stopped in my tracks, and so did the other two dogs. There was nothing friendly about Spartan at that moment. This was his meal and he had no intention of sharing.

  “Spartan!” JayB commanded. “Come.”

  “We’re at the food and gas station, I-70, Hedville Road exit,” Alana told her phone shrilly. “We think there’s a holdup—a man went into the building with a gun in his hand. Yes!”

  Alana’s tone sounded like nothing I’d ever heard from her before. Was she upset about Spartan? I knew I was.

  “Spartan!” JayB called again, his voice so stern it caused Spartan to wolf the food down even more quickly.

  The glass doors of the building slid open and the same man came running out. He was holding something under one arm and something in his other hand. He ran to the open door of the car. Spartan reacted predictably. As the man approached, the dog growled and snapped, showing teeth.

  Spartan wasn’t done eating yet.

  The guy pulled up short. “What the…” He turned and glanced at us wildly. “Whose dog is that?”

  “Not mine,” JayB informed him.

  The man waved the thing in his hand. “Well, get him out of my car. Now!”

  “I don’t think he wants to get out,” JayB replied.

  The man turned and looked frantically at the building from which he had just emerged. Spartan kept choking down the food but kept his eyes on this new threat. The man tried a second time to get in the car and Spartan growled again.

  “Jesus!” the man cried. He looked at us. None of us wagged.

  “You should maybe get going,” JayB observed casually. “Cops are on their way.”

  The man stared for a moment and then spun on his heel and ran, his footsteps loud on the cement as he sprinted toward the road.

  “Maybe next time don’t leave your door open!” JayB called after him. He turned to Alana. “I think this was his first robbery.”

  Alana stared at him, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “Hey!” Maddy called, running up to us. “What happened?”

  I could tell all the food was gone because Spartan leaped out of the car. To my dismay, Phoebe trotted to greet him, wagging.

  “There was a guy with a gun. He just robbed the place,” Alana informed Maddy.

  “What?” Maddy’s eyes were huge.

  “I’m shaking,” Alana admitted.

  “I’m going to throw up,” Maddy replied. “You’d think after living with my cousin Gregg I’d be used to this kind of thing, but I’m not.” She sat abruptly on the pavement.

  JayB bent over her. “Okay, just breathe easy. I’ll get some water from the van.”

  Far in the distance, we heard a loud, thin wail coming toward us. “Police,” JayB observed.