“Well, I’ll tell you what,” Helen decided. “You take Odin with you now, and we’ll discuss it when you bring him back.”

  I wasn’t sure what to think when, moments later, my person clutched Odin’s leash in the same hand as mine and walked us up the sidewalk. This had never happened before, and Odin and I were both a little uneasy with each other, not sure what this new arrangement meant.

  Odin didn’t realize we were most likely headed to the dog park, so his steps weren’t as lively as mine. There was no quickening in anticipation of the off-leash fun we were about to have. In fact, Odin kept stopping and looking back over his shoulder for Helen, who’d gone back into her house.

  Odin, I knew, adored his person. This is as it should be—dogs are meant to take care of the people we’re with. For Odin, though, the love was somehow deeper, his dedication more complete, than with many other dogs I knew. I sensed it in the way he kept his eyes on her, and I felt it now in his increasing distrust of JayB, who was leading us away from Helen. Odin did not like that we were leaving her behind. He seemed to be waiting for the leash to loosen so he could run back.

  The street was quiet and a light breeze moved the tree limbs. We passed house after house, grass still brown and matted from the snow that had so recently pressed it down.

  Resigned to our journey, Odin began to match my pace.

  Then something completely unexpected happened. JayB pulled us up short, our leashes yanking without warning. “Oh no!” he blurted, staring down the street.

  Odin and I both glanced in that direction. We saw and smelled nothing remarkable, only a man with light-colored hair walking a strange-looking dog toward us. The wind was at our tails, so I wasn’t sure about this new dog, but I could tell from its gait it was about my age and, when it paused to lift its leg at a fire hydrant, that it was male.

  JayB turned and began moving briskly in the direction from which we had come. Perplexed, Odin and I increased our speed, trying to keep up. Odin glanced at me for an explanation, but all I could do was give him a vacant gaze.

  “Hurry! Come on!” JayB urged. We reached a corner and darted around it, still trotting ridiculously fast. Fences and signs and yard decorations called out to us for examination, pleading with us to over-paint the enticing smell of other male dogs with our own urine. But we couldn’t stop because JayB was pulling us so forcefully. We were nearly at a gallop and my person was starting to pant. I could tell from Odin’s reluctant jog that he thought whatever we were doing was absolutely foolish.

  “Come on, dogs!” JayB gasped at us. “Don’t let him see me!”

  I still had no idea what was going on.

  Eventually, JayB slowed and we turned more corners, finally arriving at the dog park, albeit from an odd direction.

  Whatever was pursuing us had apparently lost our scent. I wondered briefly if it had anything to do with the man and his weird-looking dog.

  In the dog park, our leashes were released from our collars with a snick and Odin and I were free to run.

  Odin made a big, nose-down circle around the fence, raising alternate rear legs. Meanwhile, I homed in on two smaller dogs—both females, one white and one brown and mottled, who had been playing with each other. They froze as I approached—I hoped it was because they recognized how smart I was. All dogs are intelligent, but I thought it was pretty apparent that I was a standout. I know how to do Sit, Stay (sometimes), Bark (not an actual command, but something that I can do without being told), and Shake. With the exception of Bark, I often received rewards for performing these astounding tricks. In fact, I knew that JayB had a pocketful of treats on his person at that very moment. The tantalizing odor of chicken filtered through his pocket and out into the world.

  The two female dogs were playful and we chased each other, kicking up wood chips.

  “Odin!” I heard JayB call.

  Odin snapped his head around and trotted affably to my person. I raced ahead so that I arrived first, because of those chicken treats.

  “Odin,” JayB said more quietly. “Can you do Down? Down?”

  Neither Odin nor I knew what he was saying, but he was using the same intonations as when he said “Sit.” I figured something was up.

  “Odin, Down.” JayB crouched and patted the ground in front of him. We both looked. There was nothing there. He was just patting the grass. “Down,” he repeated.

  I was beginning to think there was something about the word “Down” that we were supposed to know.

  “Tell you what,” JayB decided. “Odin, can you Sit? Sit?”

  Oh, I knew that one. I immediately put my butt on the ground, drooling at the thought of the chicken to come. Odin sat too, but his expression remained puzzled. Perhaps he didn’t realize that JayB had a reputation of being generous with his treats.

  “Good dogs,” JayB praised both of us.

  I loved hearing that, though it made me suspect that JayB wasn’t planning to produce chicken.

  We spent a lot of time with this whole Down thing. When JayB put a treat between his fingers and patted the ground with that same hand, I shoved Odin out of the way and plunged my nose forward.

  JayB shook his head. “No, Clancy.”

  There are many words I do not like. I would put “no” in the same category as “cat.” I felt bewildered and a little hurt. He had a treat in his hand, I’d been doing Sit. How could “no” possibly apply to this situation?

  JayB was still patting the ground with those delicious smells coming from his fingers. I saw the treat, right there, but JayB’s other hand kept pushing my chest, keeping me away. “Down, Odin,” he reiterated patiently.

  Odin had had enough and pounced. Both of his front paws hit the ground and he dropped his nose to JayB’s hand and, to my shock, began crunching.

  JayB had given Odin my treat!

  I stared at JayB, wounded. Something very wrong had just happened.

  “Okay, pay attention now,” JayB lectured. “This is your new and most important command, Odin. Down.”

  Odin was still lying with his belly on the ground but willingly took the treat anyway. For doing nothing!

  JayB clapped his hands and we both jumped to our feet, shaking ourselves off, glad that foolishness was over.

  “Odin, Down.”

  This was how we spent a good portion of what should have been our free, fun time in the dog park. That strange command, “Down,” repeated over and over. I became distressed when I noticed that whenever Odin put his belly to the dirt, he received a treat. How was that in any way related to what we were doing? For that matter, why was Odin even here? This was my person, my dog park, and now Odin was eating my treats.

  My opinion of Odin, which until now had been high, was beginning to change. Did he think he was part of my pack now? Did he think he was going to come and live with us and eat my food and sleep in my place on the bed?

  I watched in befuddlement as Odin responded to the word “Down” by getting a treat for doing nothing, just sprawling in the grass like he was going to take a nap. Odin was well-known as a lazy dog, so I hardly thought this was behavior to be rewarded. The high energy I brought to every situation was, in my opinion, vastly preferable.

  “Don’t you know what we’re doing, Clancy?” JayB asked me.

  Something in the way he said my name caused me to pause. “Down.” Odin went to his belly and got a treat. I was beginning to associate the word “Down” with Odin flopping in the grass and getting chicken. I puzzled it through. Did “Down” mean “lie in the grass”? That seemed awfully complicated. But there was no denying the fact that Odin was happily scarfing down treats and I was getting nothing, even though I was JayB’s favorite dog!

  I couldn’t stand it any longer. The next time JayB uttered “Down,” I tried lying down in the grass.

  JayB fed me a treat!

  I was excited and triumphant, but still confused. When my person clapped his hands, I ran a little bit in the dog park, shaking off my bewilderment. When he called me back, I did Sit next to Odin without being asked. Surely, more chicken was due for that.

  Alas, not.

  “Down,” my person commanded.

  Odin went to his stomach and I did too, and we got treats, and then I understood. I was getting a treat for doing what Odin was doing, even though Odin was doing nothing. This is how people are, and there’s little we dogs can do about it because humans have the treats in their pockets.

  Dogs don’t even have pockets.

  My person seemed happy, though, so I felt happy, too. Happy went with dog park the way Down went with chicken.

  We all turned and looked when we heard the familiar sound of the dog-park gate rattling.

  I wagged at a new dog coming in. She was a female, large and light-colored with white markings.

  “Oh,” JayB whispered.

  Odin was still sprawled on his stomach, expecting more treats, but I heard something in JayB’s voice that focused my attention on him. He seemed distressed.

  “Okay, dogs,” he murmured. “That woman’s walking straight toward us. Do me proud; don’t jump up on her, Odin. Don’t get on the bench with her, Clancy. Okay? Be down dogs. Good down dogs.”

  I heard some words I recognized but had no idea what was being asked of me. I saw a tall woman with long, black hair smiling and striding toward us, but my attention was mostly on her female dog, who was sniffing where I had previously left my mark. Obviously, she found me attractive.

  “Stay,” JayB told me.

  Stay meant we weren’t going to have whatever fun I thought we were going to have. It meant “remain right where you are until you forget why.”

  The woman approached and JayB stood up from the bench, something that smelled like fear releasing into the air with his movement.

  “Hi.” She greeted shyly. “My name’s Dominique.”

  “Hi. I’m JayB.”

  The woman extended a calm hand and my person seized it briefly. “Very nice to meet you,” she said. “Are these your dogs?”

  “Oh, no, Clancy here, the yellow Lab, he’s mine. But Odin belongs to my neighbor. I’m just walking him.”

  The woman smiled. “Great. This is Phoebe.”

  JayB turned to us. “Okay, dogs!” he said with a clap. This was the signal that whatever had been going on was no longer going on and that we were allowed to go back to being dog-park dogs. I stepped up to the new female while Odin remained at the bench. He probably figured JayB was good for a few more chicken treats.

  Up close, I inhaled the fragrance of this new, magnificent animal. She stood still for my examination of the area beneath her legs. Then I turned so that she could admire the same parts on me. When I play-bowed, she wagged and did a little turn.

  This new dog, whose name I would come to learn was Phoebe, was possibly the most captivating beauty I had ever sniffed. I breathed in her fragrance and, in that moment, knew I had found my true mate.

  Dear Diary:

  A dog can always tell what a person is feeling. The strong emotions—anger, fear, love—pop off the skin with an unmistakable scent that is unique to each individual but full of subtle characteristics common to all people. Happiness and sadness appear on the face and in the tone of voice, while surprise ripples through the whole body.

  What a person is thinking, though, is almost never evident. I know if I were a human, I’d be thinking about all the bacon in the refrigerator. I’d be planning the next car ride, or plotting how best to throw a floating toy into a big pond.

  If dogs and humans traded places for even one day, people would realize how much more wonderful life can be, because the best emotion of all is happiness.

  Love,

  Clancy

  Three

  Whenever the wonderful new dog and I dashed past the bench where JayB sat with the woman with long hair, she called out “Phoebe! Hi, Phoebe!” and that was how I learned her name: Phoebe. Such a magical, lovely sound.

  I escorted Phoebe to where a large pan was constantly replenished with fresh water by a trickle from a metal faucet. I felt that by guiding her to the water, I was communicating that I was willing to show her all the wonders of my world.

  Eventually Phoebe and I sprawled in front of the bench with Odin. I was delighted to see that, though a male, Odin wasn’t particularly interested in her. Perhaps he had gotten to an age where he was no longer captivated by such a rapturous scent.

  “I moved out from California,” JayB was saying, “but this is where I grew up. Prairie Village, I mean. It’s nice: quiet, low crime, good schools. Besides, my dad lives here.”

  “Is he infirm?” the woman asked delicately.

  JayB shook his head. “No, he’s in good health. He looks younger than he is, and he’s only sixty. No, it’s more that my dad’s just kind of a dreamer, you know? He’ll have a job, but then he’ll get bored and move on to something else. How about you, Dominique? How long have you lived here?”

  The woman’s name was Dominique.

  “Kansas City? Less than a year. I moved from Boston. I accepted a position as an art director at Hallmark.”

  JayB raised his eyebrows. “That’s supposed to be a great company.”

  “Oh, it is. I love it. But life’s been so busy, it’s been hard to meet people. I’ve felt so guilty about not taking Phoebe for walks. I’m glad I decided to bring her here today.”

  “Me, too.”

  I could tell that JayB and Dominique were growing comfortable with each other. As I sniffed at Phoebe to see if she sensed the same thing, she suddenly lunged to her feet to greet a long, low dog coming into the park. I chased after her, and we wrestled until Dominique called, “Phoebe!”

  I watched Phoebe being led out of the gate of the dog park, trying not to be overcome with disappointment that she hadn’t glanced back at me once. Wasn’t our time together as special for her as it was for me? Didn’t she realize we were meant to be together?”

  “Come on, dogs,” JayB said to us. With a snick, my leash was back on my collar. He grinned down at me. “Okay, Clancy. This is like maybe the best day of my life.”

  I was a little disappointed when we didn’t follow Phoebe’s scent, though I had learned long ago that people don’t smell things as well as dogs do. Instead, he led us in the unmistakable direction of home. “Even her name is beautiful. Dominique. I haven’t asked a woman for her phone number in maybe ten years, Clancy, but I just did it without thinking. I don’t know … there was just this connection.”

  He was saying my name, but he showed no signs of reaching in his pocket for chicken.

  “I haven’t been on a real date in forever. You know, if this thing goes anywhere, we’ll probably spend time together in the dog park. That means you get to play with Phoebe some more, Clancy. Bet you’d like that—you’re covered in her spit.”

  There it was, something I did recognize: my name and my Phoebe’s name spoken at the same time. JayB understood that I’d met my dog. That’s how I thought of her, anyway: Phoebe was my dog, and I was hers.

  “I need to come up with a way to explain why I’m not working now, that I’ve got enough money that I can take my time deciding on a new direction. Luckily she didn’t ask me what I do for a living. What do you think, should I call her as soon as I get home? Would that be lame? I don’t know, I don’t want to play games, be the kind of guy who deliberately holds off calling a woman so she’ll think he’s aloof and cool. That’s not me. No one has ever seen me as cool. I’m enthusiastic. Some people might say it’s charming. Well, I hope somebody would say that. I’d say that. If I were Dominique’s best friend, I’d say, ‘You’ve got to meet charming JayB Danville. He’s got a charming house on a nice street. He’s got a dog and a cat. He’s got a kind heart. He’s working through some things professionally, but he’s financially secure. No, no, this dog-walking thing is just a favor for an elderly neighbor.’ See? Charming.”

  I had heard the word “cat” and assumed it was a mistake. We were on a walk. Two dogs, two leashes, a wonderful day filled with exotic odors wafting up from the grass. Even thinking about a cat at such a moment could spoil the mood.

  JayB was nodding to himself. “Okay, that’s it, Clancy. I’m going to call her the second I walk in the door.”

  I had a thought, then. I pictured Phoebe coming to live with us at our house, spending the days wrestling with me and helping me terrorize Kelsey. Right now, though, Phoebe obviously lived with Dominique. But what if I could get Dominique to move in with us?

  Could a dog possibly make that happen?

  At Odin’s house, we turned up the driveway, as I expected. Odin, who never seemed to get excited about much of anything, strained to get back to his person. He was quivering with joy.

  Being separated for any time at all from JayB made me anxious, and I was always ecstatic to be back with him. That’s just how dogs are. But Odin seemed particularly frantic. I realized, watching his desperation, that he didn’t only crave being with his person. He was acting like he’d been worried about her the whole time we’d been gone.

  We mounted the steps to the front door. “Now, Odin,” JayB warned, “You’re going to have to do a better job. No jumping up. You understand?”

  Odin heard his name, but didn’t react, except to keep wagging energetically. His nose pressed against the crack between the door and the house, huffing in the scent of his person. After JayB pushed a button, we heard some sounds, then the door opened, though we were still separated by a screen.

  “Hey, Helen,” JayB greeted.

  “Hi!”

  Odin jumped up, putting his paws on the screen.

  “Do me a favor,” JayB requested. “Back up a few steps. I want you to see something.”

  With a curious smile on her face, Helen backed down the hallway.

  “Okay, I’m going to open the door and I want you to say the word D-O-W-N real firmly, okay? Keep repeating it.”

  She nodded. When JayB popped the door open, Odin surged forward.

  “Odin,” Helen commanded sharply, “Down.”