The Lost Dogs Part 11

The bas.e.m.e.nt door remained open as was the door to Jasmine's room down the stairs and the door to her crate. Like the rest of the creatures in the house, she was free to come and go as she pleased, but she still spent most of her time within the confines of her little safe zone.

As the family ate, Catalina thought she heard a creak on the steps. The meal carried on. She heard another sound. She stayed put. Finally, a little pink nose appeared in the doorway. Slowly a snout emerged and finally, those familiar brown eyes came into view. Jasmine surveyed the situation. Her body was tense and she was ready to bolt at the slightest provocation, but there she was. Catalina was ready and as soon as Jasmine appeared she told the kids to throw Jasmine some food-she wanted to reward the dog for her courage. Jasmine picked up the offerings and as suddenly as she appeared, she retreated back downstairs to eat.

The visit lasted seconds but felt enormous to Catalina. It was the first time Jasmine had ever ventured out of her crate unaccompanied, the first time she'd come up the stairs, the first time she had become part of the household. It was part of an ongoing coming out for Jasmine.

Sometime earlier Catalina had taken on another foster dog through Recycled Love, a three-legged basenji mix named Desmond. Despite his disadvantage Desmond was a ball of fire who loved to play. He and Jasmine became great friends, and when Catalina let them loose in the yard they would have a wild time, running, tumbling, chasing, and rolling around in the gra.s.s. When they had worn themselves out, they'd climb the steps to the deck and lie in the sun. The time with Desmond not only brought Jasmine much joy, but it built up her confidence.

During this time Jasmine also started getting regular visits from Sweet Pea, the other troubled Vick dog that Recycled Love had taken in. The theory that Sweet Pea was Jasmine's mother had never been confirmed, but Catalina was more convinced than ever that it was true. Not only did the dogs look similar, but they had a clear bond. Whenever they saw each other they grew visibly excited, racing around, sniffing all over and rubbing up against each other. They loved to be together and Catalina and Sweet Pea's foster caretaker would take them for long walks together in a large park near her house.

Catalina had also begun including her two-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Anaise, into Jasmine's training sessions. When Jasmine performed her tasks properly, Catalina would give her a click, but Jasmine would have to go touch Anaise with her nose to get the treat. When Jasmine was out in the yard and Anaise came out, the dog would run up to the girl and nose her. Jasmine still wouldn't let the girl pet her, but she was the first person other than Catalina that Jasmine had really interacted with.

Catalina reveled in Jasmine's progress. When they were alone in the house, Jasmine would come and go, up and down, in and out of rooms. She would nap on the couch or stretch out on the floor. Sometimes Catalina thought, "If I were single, she would be a very happy dog." It was true, their bond was now so strong that Jasmine loved to be with Catalina. She would get excited when Catalina came into the room or spoke to her, wagging her tail and shaking her whole body. She would lick Catalina's face and hands and rub up against her legs.

Watching these things, feeling these feelings, sharing this time with Jasmine, Catalina knew that everything had been worth it. Worth the carrying and cleaning up after, the work and the heartache. She watched Jasmine in the yard with Desmond, lying in the sun, running with Sweet Pea, walking around the house, sleeping curled up in her open crate, and she never felt better about the dog or life or herself.

When they were alone on those quiet afternoons Catalina would sing to Jasmine, and no matter where Jasmine was she'd stare at Catalina during the song. Those same soft brown eyes that had stared out at Catalina in apprehension and mistrust now bore into her with what Catalina felt was pure, unfiltered love. And Catalina sang: On the day that Jasmine was born, The angels sang a beautiful song.

On the day that Jasmine was born, The angels danced, and they danced, And smiled and raised up their hands, On the day that Jasmine was born.

On a sunny spring day Catalina took a few of the dogs out for a walk. They were on extendable leads that allowed them thirty feet of leeway. The dogs had taken advantage of this freedom and moved well ahead of Catalina, who strolled along, lost in her own thoughts. Suddenly, Catalina saw one of the dogs bolt forward. In an instant all three of them were scrambling and jostling. She ran up the sidewalk, fearing the worst. Closing in on the dogs, she saw Jasmine's jaws clamping down and Catalina stopped in horror.

Rogue had been the dog who first took off, and Catalina realized that he had flushed a groundhog out of the bushes and begun chasing it. Desmond and Jasmine joined in and at the critical moment, Jasmine cut in front of him and snared the creature, which she now held in her mouth. Catalina did not know what to do or what to think. What did this mean?

She hurried home with the dogs, her mind racing. Who should she call, what should she do? But as she thought about it more she wondered if maybe this was actually a good thing. Rogue had sniffed out and gone after the creature, and if he'd caught it the end result would have been the same, and no one would have given it a second thought. This is, after all, what dogs do. They chase after little animals.

Jasmine had simply done what most dogs would in that situation. Not only that, but she'd done it faster. Six months ago, six weeks ago, she probably would have frozen and sunk to the ground, but now she had reacted the way a dog was expected to react. This, as grisly and unfortunate as it was for the groundhog, was a positive development.

Jasmine was changing. At the home she still encountered difficulties but they were new ones. As she became more comfortable exploring the house during the afternoons, Jasmine had taken to spending time in Catalina's son's room. For whatever reason, she felt comfortable there, but if anyone besides Catalina came up the stairs, Jasmine would panic and pee on the floor. Eventually, Catalina had the rug removed to make it easier to clean up after these accidents and she taught her children to let her know when they wanted to go upstairs, so that she could go first and bring Jasmine down.

Jasmine also remained afraid of strangers but this phobia now focused even more keenly on men. Catalina and her daughter were the only ones who made regular contact with her. Jasmine steered clear of Catalina's husband, Davor, and her son, Nino. If anyone approached Jasmine from behind, she skittered away to the side, looking back over her shoulder suspiciously.

Davor had started feeding Jasmine treats to try to build some sort of a relationship. Jasmine accepted the food, but she felt no more comfortable around Davor. One night when he was trying to offer her some treats Jasmine became agitated. She backed away from him, tail between legs. She seemed be torn between the desire to step forward and get the food and the fear that compelled her to stay away.

It was an internal battle Jasmine had fought numerous times, but Catalina had never seen her react quite this way. Her body language was different, her actions and profile somehow unfamiliar. Catalina did not know what to expect. Then Jasmine planted her feet, stood still, and opened her mouth. Her head nodded forward and a little sound came out.

Catalina and Davor looked at each other. Neither was quite sure at first but they soon realized that it must be true: Jasmine had just barked. It was a weak and high-pitched thing, like a puppy's bark, but it was undoubtedly a bark. Jasmine had finally spoken.

There was no anger in the; little noise, but for the first time Jasmine had put sound to her fear; she'd voiced her struggle.

By the spring of 2008, Jasmine had been with Catalina for more than a year, and the bond the two shared was stronger than ever. Catalina sang Jasmine her song every day, and each time she did she felt as though the dog would look right into her soul with those soft brown eyes. Catalina could see how insanely happy this would make Jasmine, but she knew it made her just as happy. In the afternoon she would watch Jasmine and Desmond play in the yard and sleep in the sun. In the evenings she would work with Jasmine and then sit with the soft music playing.

Jasmine had become so comfortable and appropriate with other dogs that when Recycled Love took in a new dog and they needed to test its behavior, Jasmine was the dog they would introduce it to. Catalina decided it was time to get down to basics. She enrolled Jasmine in a general obedience cla.s.s. She had no idea how the dog would react, but she wanted to try.

It wasn't a problem. Jasmine fit right into the cla.s.s and did reasonably well, although there were some things she would not do. For whatever reason she refused to lie down. She would sit, and walk on a loose leash, but she would not lie down. Likewise she would not come to anyone who called her except Catalina. In fact, if she was loose in the yard and anyone but Catalina tried to catch her-all they had to do was grab her leash, which she was almost always wearing-it was nearly impossible. Still, she did perform much better in cla.s.s than anyone would have predicted a year earlier, and soon Catalina introduced her to a few new friends.

Catalina and Davor decided to take their kids to Croatia, his home country, for three weeks in the late summer. Catalina was reluctant to leave Jasmine for that long, but her family sacrificed a lot for her work with the dogs and she wanted to make sure she devoted the necessary love and energy to them, too.

The question was, who would look after Jasmine? Catalina thought about this for some time, and eventually settled on her friend, Robert.4 He was great with dogs-he had adopted two pit bull mixes-and he was between jobs, so he would have the time. Robert and his dogs began joining Catalina and her dogs for long walks around the neighborhood and in a few local parks. He was great with dogs-he had adopted two pit bull mixes-and he was between jobs, so he would have the time. Robert and his dogs began joining Catalina and her dogs for long walks around the neighborhood and in a few local parks.

Jasmine quickly became comfortable with the other dogs and over the next few months she developed a working relationship with Robert. He was the first man to bond with Jasmine in any way, and that fact alone gave Catalina comfort that she had made the right choice.

The plan called for Catalina to put her other dogs in long-term boarding and for Robert and his dogs to move in with Jasmine. It would still be a huge and potentially terrifying adjustment for Jasmine, but at least this way she would be able to stay in her own crate and in her own home, with its familiar smells and routines, even if those who usually shared it with her were absent.

On the night before the trip, Catalina and Jasmine had the house to themselves. The other dogs had been boarded and Davor and the kids had gone to his parents' house for the night; she would meet them the next day after Robert came. Catalina gave Jasmine the run of the place and Jasmine loved it. She loved having Catalina's undivided attention and no one else around to worry about.

Shortly after Catalina went to sleep that night she heard the scratching of paws on the staircase. A moment later Jasmine jumped up on the bed. She circled once, plopped down and curled into a ball, and there the two of them slept.

The next day Robert and his dogs arrived. Catalina stuck around for a while to help them settle in. She stayed longer than necessary, certainly longer than Robert needed her to, but she was reluctant to go. At last there was no other excuse to stall and no more time for it. She grabbed the last few things she needed and turned to go.

Then Catalina and Jasmine said good-bye.

36.

THE TOUR GROUPS COME through Best Friends on a daily basis. They're packed with animal lovers, cross-country sojourners who've stopped off for a day or Grand Canyon refugees who've come to see the red cliffs and ancient cave drawings. They walk around the compound in tight groups, learning about what's happening there and getting to meet a few of the animals. through Best Friends on a daily basis. They're packed with animal lovers, cross-country sojourners who've stopped off for a day or Grand Canyon refugees who've come to see the red cliffs and ancient cave drawings. They walk around the compound in tight groups, learning about what's happening there and getting to meet a few of the animals.

One of the creatures most frequently brought out for the literal dog and pony show was Little Red. Although she was terrified when strangers approached her, it turned out that she was willing to perform for them when they kept their distance. Perhaps she was just channeling her anxiety into nervous outbursts, but as long as no one tried to pet her or get too close, she was okay.

Her personality had emerged over the months and it turned out she was a bit of a goofball. Like many of the Vick dogs, she was something of a puppy in a grown dog's body. They'd seen and experienced so little that the whole world was still very new and exciting to them and they acted accordingly. When Little Red was brought out to meet visitors she became very animated, jumping up and running around, zooming back and forth, and chasing her tail. She would run across the room and jump onto her bed, which would then slide across the floor.

This would have been amusing in and of itself, but like puppies, many of the Vick dogs seemed to lack a degree of body control. Or several degrees. Perhaps being chained up all day stunted the development of their motor skills, because they lurched, they stumbled, they fell, they ran into things. They were clumsy. This lack of coordination provided the staff with plenty of comic relief on the obstacle course and even when they were simply out walking. With Little Red in front of the tour groups it added an element of slapstick to her excitement. She bounced off walls, she skidded around corners, her front legs slid out from under so that she face-planted on the floor. She looked for all the world like a newborn colt on uppers and the people loved every minute of it.

Little Red had more to offer, though. Her trainers had taught her to wave, and she would raise a paw and greet the crowd like Queen Elizabeth. And the crowning touch was her smile. The staff had so enjoyed Little Red's nervous grin that they'd taught her to do it on request. This was not strictly for their entertainment.

By putting it to a command they changed it from an involuntary reaction to a learned behavior. It was no longer something that Little Red did reflexively when she felt threatened or scared, but something that she did intentionally when she wanted to connect through the praise and reward that followed. She owned it now, and when she flashed her canines to the crowd, she owned them too.

The best part about the smile was that it was now possible to make the argument that it reflected true happiness. With better care and feeding Little Red's thin and scraggly fur had improved so that it was now thick and shiny. Her scars had faded and were covered up a bit by her fuller coat. She looked like a new dog.

Even while she was a hit with people, Little Red had also made progress in her relationship with other dogs. When the staff introduced her to Cherry Garcia, the meeting had gone well. The two dogs got along and enjoyed playing together. So over the following days the staff introduced Little Red to a few other dogs. Most were positive experiences, but not all. Curly, for instance, was nervous and uneasy, and Little Red sensed that, which made her anxious too. She went stiff with fear, and although she didn't go after Curly, she showed signs that if something wasn't done to alleviate the tension, she might react defensively.

Little Red's caretakers understood that at least for the time being, she simply wasn't comfortable with all dogs. Anxious dogs seemed to make her anxious, and they knew the only way to alleviate that anxiety was to let her keep meeting new dogs. The more positive experiences she had, the more she'd be able to trust that nothing bad would happen.

Her caretakers brought her together with Handsome Dan, another of the Vick dogs. He was tall and tawny brown with a black snout. Little Red was drawn to him instantly. She went up and began licking his face as soon as she met him. She loved him, and he seemed to love her, too. Within a few weeks, Little Red and Handsome Dan were shacked up in a kennel for two. They had a full indoor-outdoor run all to themselves. It was a vision of bliss as they played together, ran together, and curled up at night together.

On her own, Little Red kept progressing as well. After about six months, the staff had introduced a new wrinkle: cars. Instead of just walks, they began taking the dogs for rides in the afternoon. Like many of the dogs, Little Red was somewhat suspicious and uncomfortable at first. She didn't like the sound of the engine starting and the movement. She refused to climb in and had to be placed inside.

But the car gave them greater options. They could visit other buildings and new people. And Little Red discovered the creek, a winding waterway that carved through the bottom of the canyon. The first time Carissa Hendrick took Little Red to the creek, she had the dog on a twenty-foot lead. Little Red got out of the car, saw the water, and charged across the bank and right into the drink.

It was the first time she'd been introduced to a new place and met it without fear or apprehension. Little Red loved the water, and her time at the creek helped boost her confidence even more. Her caretakers continued to take her to new places and to introduce her to new things. They knew that every time she went somewhere different or interacted with another person or animal and had a positive experience, it would help her grow. Her fear was really a fear of the unknown, and once she had the confidence that the unknown was not a bad thing, she would be able to relax and see the world for what it was.

Little Red's worldview began to change. Instead of greeting new adventures with a sense of "Uh oh, what are we doing," she brought more of a "Hey, what are we doing?" vibe to the day. Her world wasn't huge, but it was getting bigger.

At the same time, negative experiences could still cause setbacks. Taking Little Red out to sit by the road and watch cars, so she could get used to the sight and sound of them, required starting out well back from the blacktop. If the cars got too close, Little Red might become unnerved and the next time she saw a car she might be even more scared than she started out.

As with many of the other dogs, taking care of Little Red became a delicate balancing act. Her handlers needed to consistently push her into new places and experiences to help her overcome her anxiety, but they also needed to manage those excursions carefully and go at a deliberate pace.

Just like that, Handsome Dan was moving on. He and Little Red had been moved to Octagon #3. They were no longer sequestered among only Vick dogs but were living happily and easily among the general population at Best Friends. Little Red was progressing well, but Handsome Dan was doing even better. In the summer of 2009, he was moved to a foster home and that December, he became one of the first Vick dogs at Best Friends to be adopted.

Little Red still had work to do. She was much more open to new situations and people but her fears prevented her from pa.s.sing her Canine Good Citizen test, a must before she could move to a foster home. One part of the test required her to behave appropriately while first being approached by a stranger and then being handled by that stranger. Little Red couldn't get through that part of the test without showing her anxiety.

Now she had lost her buddy too. Hendrick worried that Handsome Dan's departure could cause another setback, but Little Red seemed to handle it well. She clearly missed him, but to help keep her from wondering too much about what had become of him, her handlers decided to make Little Red an "out dog." That meant that instead of spending her time confined to her kennel and run, she would be allowed to roam around the open areas of the octagon. She had the run of the place.

This would allow her to spend her day exploring and dealing with the people in the office on a constant basis. It would also expose her to changing situations and force her to deal with all the new people that came and went. It was a chance for her to continue getting comfortable with people she didn't know.

Those encounters could still be tough for Little Red, but her time among those she was comfortable with was a pleasure. She visited with everyone and among such friends she was playful and snuggly. She goofed around, she sat on laps, she liked nothing more than being picked up and cradled like a baby. When someone held her that way, she did everything but purr.

Before long, she could jump in and out of a car without hesitation, and she would come and go from one building to another without fear. She was no longer unsocialized; now she was simply shy. The process of drawing her out continued.

A while after Handsome Dan left she befriended another dog, a pit bull rescued from a fight ring in Missouri, and they were put together to share a kennel, playing and running during the afternoons like old buddies. The charts tracking her progress continued to trend in the right direction. Her fear, which jumped as high as an eight on a scale of one to ten at the beginning, dropped to an average of less than two. Her confidence inched above five; her happiness approached seven.

37.

WITH HECTOR IN THE house, Cris Cohen was back to square one. He was setting up the small plastic crate beneath the window in the dining room. He was walking two dogs separately every morning. He was getting tied up in the leash and he was retracing the same old route past the little school and on to Sunset Park. house, Cris Cohen was back to square one. He was setting up the small plastic crate beneath the window in the dining room. He was walking two dogs separately every morning. He was getting tied up in the leash and he was retracing the same old route past the little school and on to Sunset Park.

All these things reminded him of Jonny. He certainly missed the little guy, but he knew that would pa.s.s. It always did. Having Hector around helped. He demanded Cohen's full attention. Another big, fawn-colored dog with a black snout (he could have been Leo's twin), Hector had a series of deep brutal scars on his chest and front legs, and a few more on his snout and back legs. Unlike Jonny and many of the other remaining dogs, he'd definitely been fought. He'd also spent his time in one of the sparest shelters. And yet here he was, not perfect but in better shape than many others.

It became clear to Cohen very quickly that Hector was exceptionally smart. That meant he had great potential, but also that he would require more work. Like Jonny he could be a bit restless-remnants of the kennel stress-and downright mischievous. He stole socks from Cohen's room, hid shoes around the house, and dragged the area rug from the bedroom down the hall to the living room.

He was also very people-focused and warm. He loved to be petted and to sit with someone. As Hector settled into the routine and began to relax, he progressed quickly. Cohen was happy to see the results, but he was struggling. He couldn't stop thinking about Jonny.

Every time he took on a foster he gave a piece of himself away. It was impossible to do what he did without forming a close bond with the dog. The animal itself was less accepting of training if it didn't feel a certain closeness and eagerness to please the trainer. In the past, that bond had always faded over time for Cohen. He figured the same thing would happen with Jonny, but it wasn't. Just the opposite. He felt like he missed Jonny more and more as time went by. He had talked to Jen about his feelings a number of times, but now he became convinced he needed to do something about it.

Cris and Jen had a unique relationship. It was a partnership that extended not only to their work with dogs but their entire lives. They'd been engaged for three years and dreamed of marrying on a Spanish galleon that sailed up the coast of California. Planning it was a feat of coordination that had kept them at bay for many months, but neither of them particularly cared. They were together and staying that way, so they'd get to the wedding when they got to it.

The couple was lucky to share such a unique perspective on life and a sense that making each other happy came before all else. Cris knew how Jen would respond, and she did not disappoint. "If you feel strongly about it, you should do it," she said. "Call up and see if you can get Jonny back."

What she left unsaid was the part that gave Cris pause. He knew that taking in a second dog full-time meant the end of fostering. He liked working with the dogs and feeling like he was helping to solve the pit bull problem. When people asked him how he could possibly give up the dogs he'd fostered, after he spent so much time with them and put so much work into them, he would say, "Every one I keep is one more that ends up dying in the shelter." In other words, giving up one gave him the opportunity to save another. Giving up those opportunities to help was itself hard for him to accept.

Besides, by now Jonny might very well have been adopted by someone else. Cohen dropped the idea and focused on Hector, who was turning into something of a rock star. By early May he'd pa.s.sed the American Temperament Test Society's canine test, a demanding multipoint examination of a dog's disposition. If it pa.s.ses it pa.s.ses, if not, it can't try again. Less than a month later, Hector aced his Canine Good Citizen test.

For Cohen these milestones were bittersweet; they were great accomplishments, but they brought back the dreams he once had for Jonny. He couldn't get the little guy out of his mind. He continued to bring up the idea of getting Jonny back, and every time he did Jen encouraged him to go for it. Still, the foster question brought him to a halt, until one day a friend gave him a different perspective.

The friend pointed out that every time Cris went out with his dogs, to the school playground, the park, the corner store, people saw how well-behaved and friendly his pit bulls were. Simply by having these dogs and displaying the heights they were capable of reaching, he was helping the breed and contributing to the cause.

Cohen sat on that for a few days. He talked about it some more with Jen. Then one day he picked up the phone and called Donna Reynolds. "Can I have Jonny back?" he said.

All was quiet for moment, and Cohen knew what was coming. He'd waited too long. Someone else had adopted Jonny. Reynolds's voice came over the line, slow and mocking: "Suckerrrr."

Hector had moved out on Friday, June 13, 2008, off to a new permanent home in Minnesota, and Cris picked up Jonny the very next day. But the transition back was a little awkward.

Jonny acted like an adult visiting his old grammar school: everything seemed sort of familiar but it was different and strange at the same time. Jonny himself was different. When Cohen took him on his walks Jonny was no longer interested in the same things and didn't seem to recognize his old stomping grounds.

Cohen remained patient and fell back on the old routine. Within a short time, it all came back. Jonny once again roamed his half of the house during the day. He slept in the sun spot with Lilly and chased her around the backyard. He snored in the evening as he napped and he even, once or twice, ran up the steps at the little school.

Bond reestablished, Cohen got back to work. He and Jonny resumed their training and within a few months the former caveman pa.s.sed his American Temperament Test Society exam and then nailed the Canine Good Citizen certificate. It had taken many months, but Cohen was proven right. He'd seen that Jonny was a good dog with grand potential who simply needed direction. Now the little pooch had the paperwork to prove he was as good as any dog out there.

In the aftermath Cris sought a new goal for Jonny, but nothing came immediately to mind. Life went on. One late summer day, Cris and Jen took the dogs to the park along with Uba, another of the Vick dogs who lived in San Francisco. As Jonny walked down the sidewalk he watched Lilly and Jen in front of him. It was August and the heat bore down on them, so no one had much energy. They were headed for the park where they could at least take some refuge in the shade and possibly even go for a quick if illegal dip in the pond.

As always, there was a lot going on in the park, including some sort of event for kids. Jonny seemed curious and interested, so Cohen ventured closer. Jonny seemed intent on finding out more, so Cohen got closer and closer. Soon the children spotted Jonny and came over to check him out. Before Cohen knew what was happening a dozen kids were all around Jonny. They came at him from all sides, thrusting their little hands forward, petting him, rubbing him, b.u.mping up against him. Cohen didn't know what to do, but then he saw something he'd never seen before.

Jonny absolutely lit up. Cohen had read about pit bulls' affinity for children, but because he didn't have kids he'd never witnessed it. Now he had.

Jonny was at once very calm and happy but also totally excited. Cris showed the kids how to play with Jonny, how to pet him, and where he liked to be scratched. Jonny romped with them all afternoon. Suddenly the heat no longer had the best of him.

Cohen was inspired. He'd thought about doing therapy work before. He'd trained Lilly for it and even had her certified, but Lilly had physical limitations-arthritis and a back so bad that she'd undergone multiple surgeries-so it was painful for her make the rounds. After watching her struggle while completing the testing, Cris had never actually taken her out to do the work.

But Jonny was fine, and he seemed to love kids. There must be a way to harness that, Cohen thought. He did some research and found a program called Paws for Tales. It was a reading program for children run through Peninsula Humane Society and SPCA. It was designed to get kids into the library and reading, but also to allow kids who lacked confidence in their reading abilities to practice out loud in front of one of the most receptive and nonjudgmental audiences they'd ever find. Cris contacted the program's administrators and found out how Jonny could get involved.

They told him Jonny would need to pa.s.s the American Temperament Test and have a Canine Good Citizen certification. Well, check and check. Then he would need to be a certified therapy dog. Cohen and Jonny got to work on that immediately.

Part of the challenge was getting Jonny to react properly to a book. If a child was holding a book in the air while reading, Jonny was supposed to stare at the kid as if he were hanging on every word. If the child held the book on the floor, Jonny should stare at the pages, almost as if he was following along or checking out the pictures.

It took another three months of intense effort-hand-fed dinners, morning and evening training sessions, and a clever innovation, a pen stuffed with food that was laid in the book to teach Jonny to focus on the spot. But Jonny got there. Cris took him in for a demonstration and evaluation by the program administrators. Jonny pa.s.sed.

Finally, on November 18, 2008, less than two years after he was saved from an almost certain end at the hands of Bad Newz Kennels and slightly more than one year after he was spared from what seemed a second death sentence at the hands of the government, Jonny Justice walked into the San Mateo Public Library and lay down on a blanket in a cavernous conference room in the back of the building.

At 4:00 P.M. the doors swung open and a few kids came in, trailed by a parent. They sat in a little circle on the floor and one by one they moved onto Jonny's blanket and read a short book-Biscuit's New Trick or or The Heart of the Jungle The Heart of the Jungle-their cracking voices swallowed by the silence of the giant room.

Jonny sat and listened as if he'd never done anything else in his life, as if he'd been bred for the job.

38.

CATALINA RETURNED FROM HER trip to Croatia on August 23, 2008, a Thursday. The night before, she had been unable to sleep. She didn't know what was keeping her awake, but as she tossed in bed Jasmine's well-being was on her mind. Eventually, Catalina got up and walked across the hotel room to the window. Looking up into the sky she saw a star so huge and so bright that she woke her husband to come look at it. It was unlike anything she'd seen, and she wondered if it was a planet or if she was witnessing some sort of astrological event. She wondered if it was Jasmine lighting up the way home for her. trip to Croatia on August 23, 2008, a Thursday. The night before, she had been unable to sleep. She didn't know what was keeping her awake, but as she tossed in bed Jasmine's well-being was on her mind. Eventually, Catalina got up and walked across the hotel room to the window. Looking up into the sky she saw a star so huge and so bright that she woke her husband to come look at it. It was unlike anything she'd seen, and she wondered if it was a planet or if she was witnessing some sort of astrological event. She wondered if it was Jasmine lighting up the way home for her.

The next afternoon her family arrived safely at her in-laws' house, and she took a minute to check in with Karen Reese, the vice president of Recycled Love. "How is Jasmine?" she asked when she heard Karen's voice come on the line. There was a pause, a momentary hesitation, a shift in tone.

"Catalina," Karen said with unwavering calm, "Jasmine is gone."

Catalina didn't understand. It didn't register. "Gone?" she said. "Where did she go?"

Seconds ticked by. Catalina heard her children playing in the next room, her husband talking to his parents in Croatian. She waited. Karen's voice came through the receiver again. "Catalina, Jasmine is gone."