The Lost

After that, things went downhill.

The day after the party, Be

As for Sam’s job, he never mentioned it.

A day lasted a year. I know why dogs sleep so much-there’s nothing else to do. The highlight for me was when Mr. Horton, the next-door neighbor, came over at noon to let me out in the backyard for ten minutes. Sam had told him to be sure to change my water and leave me a raw-hide chewy, but more often than not Mr. Horton, who was ninety, forgot.

The only way I had ever found out anything important, meaning grown-up, was by listening to Sam’s side of telephone conversations, especially with my sister, Delia. Now that he worked every day in an office, those occasions had petered out. One night, though, Ro

He thought the offer was too low and wanted Sam to counter. I held my breath while they argued, Sam saying no, let’s take it, Ron trying to talk him out of it. Are you crazy? I wanted so badly to say to my husband. I never heard actual figures, but I didn’t need to. Even in this lousy market, only a putz would take the first offer. But that wasn’t even the point. Sam, hold out! Don’t sell! When would it end? How many dreams was he going to have to give up for my sake?

But the following Sunday afternoon: a miracle. It happened so fast-one minute I was sulking under the piano, preparing myself for the weekly Hope Springs abandonment; the next Sam was snapping my leash on and saying, “C’mon, girl, wa

Such a beautiful day. The last day of August but clear and blue for a change, not muggy, even a taste of fall in the air. It filled me with new hope, the kind I hadn’t felt in so long, it made me euphoric. Sam kept telling me to settle, settle, but it was impossible not to dash from one backseat window to the other, taking in deep gulps of air and watching the world fly past.

And yet, the closer we got, the calmer I grew. Or if not calmer, more thoughtful. I still had no plan, no real idea of what I would do once I saw myself-rejoined myself. It didn’t seem necessary; some strange faith told me it would just happen. Whatever needed to happen would happen. Whatever force or mutation or reality glitch that had changed me into Sonoma would, just as suddenly and inexplicably, turn me back into Laurie. Because, if nothing else, the universe was still an orderly place-so I had always believed-and it liked balance. Weird anomalies eventually got fixed. Yin and yang. Today was the day I got to do my part to set things right.

Poor Be

So this was Hope Springs from the outside. Pretty. A long, winding drive through woods to a sprawling complex of old, new, and middle-aged buildings. HOPE SPRINGS NURSING AND REHABILITATION CENTER one sign read; another, HOPE SPRINGS ASSISTED LIVING. A multipurpose place, then; something for everybody. Everybody who was infirm. But it was pretty, I had to admit, and clean and quiet, well tended, all you could ask for. It must be costing Sam a fortune.

He parked in a shady spot in one of the enormous parking lots.

“We don’t have to stay long,” Be

“You just ate.”

“My stomach hurts. I don’t feel good. I have a condition.”

“Ben.”

“I have a disease, Daddy. I’m not well.”

Sam scowled. Then sighed. Then ruffled Be

Well, wait, now.

“You can tell Mom all about your birthday party-how’s that? They’ll probably have her outside today. If you like, you can play around by the lily pond-”

“Okay!”

“After you talk to her and tell her you love her and everything.”

“Okay.” He slumped again. Not for much longer, sweetheart, I told him as he opened his door and slammed it. Sam got out and slammed his door. I waited by mine, tail up, shuddering with anticipation.

“Be good,” Sam said through the four-i nch crack in my window. “We’ll be back. Be a good girl.”

What? What was this? Incredulous, I watched Sam and Be

No. No. I howled it, but nobody heard. I raged until my throat hurt, but nobody cared. What had I been thinking? The universe was not an orderly place. Ghastly miscarriages of justice were allowed to persist, and no wise hand balanced horrible, u

I never thought things could get worse.

“Hi, yes, I’d like to make an appointment to have my dog spayed.”

Behind Sam’s chair, I choked on a piece of empty cottage cheese carton from the garbage.

“Tuesday? Is that as soon as you can do it? Right, the holiday weekend… Okay, next Tuesday, then. Eight a.m., that’s fine.”

I ran around the chair, put my paws on his knees. No! I shook my head so hard, I hit myself in the eye with an ear. He kept talking-I started barking. No! No!

He laughed. “Yeah, that’s Sonoma,” he said into the phone. “I know. It’s like she heard us.”

The days that followed were peculiar. I would lie at the top of the stairs at night, guarding the house, and think, Well, another day gone and I didn’t run away. I could have: the basement window was still unlocked. Home alone every day, there was nothing to stop me from making a break for it. But I didn’t go. The human world was falling apart around me. Ru

Why? The chances of actually making it were tiny-that was one thing. The time Sam let me go with them to Hope Springs had opened my eyes to what would really be involved, the distance, the danger, cars going sixty-fi ve miles an hour. It might take weeks, not days. I was scared.

Also, it’s hard to describe how seductive being a dog is. How tempting it was to give up. Forget who I used to be and sink into this new self, a self whose boundaries seemed to be nothing but love. To give love and get love-that was what my needs were narrowing down to. I could feel it intensifying every day. Friendship, sweetness, play, companionship-with the exception of evil Monica, that was all I cared about. Going, going, almost gone were any feelings about justice, fairness, tit for tat-and never mind anger, disappointment, umbrage, pride, ego, disapproval. Jealousy-I still had that. I wanted all the love my loved ones had. And that was a failing, but one I knew I’d never overcome. It came too naturally.

And it’s just so damn nice to be a dog. I can’t overstate the pleasures of sinking into a light doze about five times an hour. Drifting off… waking up… drifting off… dreaming… waking up… You fall into a pattern of sleeping and waking that, over time, averages out to almost constant half-asleepness (or half-awakeness) and it’s very… nice.