He shrugged. “The strangest part to me is that we’ve had no reported sightings of Greg. We’ve had missing posters up around here and in Rochester for over six months now and nothing. Not one person has called to say they’ve seen him. It makes no sense. It’s part of the reason I think he has to be dead. Men cannot change their appearance that easily.”
Matt stood and put his cup in the sink. “I should head back to the station. I have another meeting in a bit. Are you going to be okay?”
“Thanks, Matt. Yes, I’ll be fine. It’s just something to think about. That’s all.” I walked him to the door, then went back to clean up and throw away the temptation of the two remaining doughnuts. The girls didn’t need the sugar any more than I needed the extra calories.
I called Mom to fill her in on the monthly meeting. She offered to take the girls for a few hours so I could do some of the yardwork. The week before, we’d had a storm that brought down part of a tree. I needed to break up the tree limbs as much as I could, then Dad planned to take a chainsaw to the rest. In addition, the physical exercise would help me clear my head.
Mom came to pick up the kids, and I got dressed in an old T-shirt and jeans. I put on my iPod and was a quarter way through the mess when I caught a flash of movement. When I looked up, I nearly fainted. Bounding toward me, as if no time at all had passed, was Cody. His coat looked different, longer than we’d ever let it get, and he had a blue bandana around his neck.
“Oh, my God.” I pulled off my headphones and knelt on the ground. Cody tackled me, licking my face. He smelled like dog shampoo and potpourri.
I grabbed him by the collar. “Seriously, you’ve been gone for eight months! Are you trying to kill me?” I wrapped my arms around his neck, something I had always done before. I rubbed his belly and began to think.
After a minute, I realized that I had grabbed him by the collar. We were terrible at keeping a collar on him. His head and neck were close enough in size to make a collar virtually impossible to keep on him. Instead of fighting it, I would typically leave his collar lying on the counter or on top of the fridge until we wanted to walk him, which was almost never because he had the run of the yard. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought it likely the collar was still on top of the fridge. Then, what was this collar? I checked the tag. Cody’s name was “Walter,” and he apparently lived at an address about ten miles from our house. What a completely terrible name for a dog, was all I could think. And then it occurred to me. Cody had a new home, a new family.
Cody had been ours first, and I had to fight the instinct to take him into the house and keep him. But what if his new family had kids?
I inspected him. His fur hung a bit long, but I grudgingly admitted that was more personal taste than hygiene. I pulled open his mouth. His teeth were white and clean. That was definitely above and beyond. I’d never had his teeth cleaned. His ears were clear, too.
I went to the barn, and Cody followed me. I dug out one of his old tennis balls and threw it as hard as I could—about halfway to the driveway. Pathetic. I need to work out. He picked it up, brought it back, and then did something he had rarely done when living with us. He dropped it. And sat. Like a real dog. Someone had taught him in less than a year what we’d been unable to in five years.
“Well, this is new!” I ruffled his ears. We played catch for about twenty minutes.
I checked my watch and saw that I had only an hour before the girls would be back. Sighing, I loaded Cody into the van. The house that matched the address on “Walter’s” collar was a new construction home in a development about ten miles away. The houses were on acre lots with large fenced-in yards. I wondered how he had gotten out and managed to run ten miles home. Not home anymore. He was a canine Houdini when he wanted to be.
I kissed his head and knocked on the door.
A boy about eleven years old answered. “Walter!” He bent to hug Cody-Walter. “Mom! Some lady brought Walter back!”
A woman came rushing out on the porch. “Oh, my God, we were so worried! Thank you, thank you. We have no idea how he got out. We were visiting friends in Clinton, and one minute he was in their yard, and the next, poof! He was gone. Ben! Come look. Walter’s back!”
A man and another young boy, around thirteen or fourteen, came out on the porch.
“Can we offer you anything?” the man asked. “I’m Ben Fields. And this is my wife, Amanda, and two boys, Jimmy and Leo. We were so worried about Walter. Amanda and Jimmy drove around all morning looking for him. We were about to call the ASPCA, but we were hoping someone would just find him and bring him back.”