The Rescue

16

Teddy spent the twenty-three hours waiting to be “placed” with Art and Nancy Delgado.

Most of those hours he was in a room in a cottage in San Diego’s Polinsky Children’s Center, attended by a doctor and several child Welfare Services workers.

He cried himself to sleep but woke up after a few hours, then did it again. He ate once and vomited. He agreed to a medication that would make him calm. Most of the time he stared at the TV screen, eyes closed, trying to will away what had happened, like he would sometimes will himself out of a bad dream. He wanted to be over all of this, or dead, but he didn’t want to kill himself. Wasn’t sure how.

The only shred of good news was Joe, who was at Art and Nancy’s home in La Jolla while Child Welfare Services made sure that Teddy would be well cared for and happy with his aunt and uncle. They sent pictures of Joe to one of Teddy’s caretakers’ cell phone.

Teddy didn’t know how much had died inside him but it felt like almost everything but Joe.

Uncle Art’s and Nancy’s home in La Jolla was up in the hills. From his room, Teddy could see the Pacific below, blue water and white foam on black rocks. Seals and sea lions lolled in the choppy cove. To Teddy, Joe was just as solemn and unhappy as Art and Nancy seemed to be. His uncle and aunt argued. Nancy blew her nose a lot. Doors slammed.

These Delgados were very different people from his father and mother. Their house was gigantic compared to Teddy’s former home in Otay Mesa — three stories of old-looking furniture and paintings. A white grand piano. There was a four-car garage with a gleaming concrete floor.

His uncle Art had sold his air conditioner factory and chain of dealerships, and retired early. Kensington Air. Now he managed his “modest fortune” from his home office, and by frequent travel.

Teddy’s dad and uncle Art hardly ever got together. Teddy had been only faintly aware that his father and uncle were in the same business. Kind of — his dad installing and servicing air conditioners and heaters, some of which were made by Uncle Art. Uncle Art was sharp faced and high voiced and always in a hurry. Joe didn’t like him. Nancy was blond-haired and beautiful and always dressed up.

Three days after arriving here, Teddy was out in the backyard with Joe, throwing the tennis ball. He saw the big white SUV with the Excalibur K-9 Training Center emblem pulling into the Delgado driveway. When Teddy saw Wade Johnson get out of the SUV, he felt a warm feeling in his heavy heart; but it was followed by a cold one when Uncle Art came striding across the rose-lined driveway toward Mr. Johnson with a smile on his face and his hand out for shaking.

A moment later, Uncle Art led Mr. Johnson from the house into the backyard. Joe bolted for Mr. Johnson and immediately dropped to the grass at his trainer’s command, rolled over once, twice, then hopped up into a sit and looked up at him with that expression that Teddy knew and loved. Joe didn’t look at Uncle Art at all.

They sat in the shade and drank iced teas that Nancy brought on a tray. She sat beside her husband at the round table, and through the glass Teddy saw them take each other’s hand. Joe sat between Teddy and Mr. Johnson.

Uncle Art and Mr. Johnson talked about the Padres and Nationals coming up that night from Washington, then Uncle Art looked at Teddy and said:

“Teddy, I’m sending Joe away to live with Mr. Johnson out at the training center.”

“No.”

“It’s totally my fault,” said Nancy. “My allergies are really doing a number on me, and the meds make me drowsy. I’ve always been that way with dogs. I’ve never even been able to have one. I am so very sorry, Teddy. I tried. I thought I could do it.”

Teddy didn’t know whether to grab Joe and run for it, or scream at his uncle and aunt, or just go to that quiet place inside and accept this horrible thing.

“I’ll keep him in my room.”

“The hair, dander, and bacteria won’t stay in your room,” said Uncle Art. “And I agree with Nancy, the dog will have a much better life out at the center. You can go visit him anytime you like. Heck, stay all day if you want. Mr. Johnson told me on the phone that he’s serious about continuing Joe’s training. Right, Wade?”

Mr. Johnson looked pale and solemn. “You know I’ll take good care of Joe,” he said. Joe’s tail thumped at the sound of his name. “You’re always welcome at Excalibur. You can help me with the dogs. I can use a good assistant. And I think I can put Joe to work someday. For real. As a detection dog. I know a handler who wants a small dog with a big nose. I hope that cheers you up.”

“I’d be happy for Joe but not for me.”

“You can still see him until he’s ready for work,” said gray-faced Wade Johnson.

“No,” said Teddy, rallying his will, tears running down his face. “He’s mine. Uncle Art, Aunt Nancy, I’ll buy one of those air filters and keep my door closed and run it all day. None of Joe’s germs will—”

“That’s an awful lot of electricity,” said Uncle Art. “And those filters really don’t do anything a good air conditioner can’t. A Kensington, of course.”

“Excuse me just a minute,” said Teddy. There was a lump in his throat so big it hurt, and his eyes were blurring and burning.

He called Joe to heel and headed up the stairs to his room, leashed the dog, made sure he had his wallet and the twenty-six dollars in it, grabbed Joe’s half bag of kibble, and went out the front door.

Bag under his right arm, dog leash in his left hand, Teddy ran down long, steep Avenida de La Jolla all the way to Girard, downtown, to a sandwich place that allowed dogs on the patio.

He sat there, heart pounding, wanting to cry but sucking it up, an eleven-year-old boy in mute agony. The waitress brought water for him and for Joe.

Ten minutes later Teddy saw his aunt and uncle patrolling down Girard in their Range Rover with the blackout windows and the DELGADO 100M plates. Turned away and stared at himself in the café window. A few minutes after that, the Excalibur SUV came by the other direction. Teddy turned away again.

He ate the cheapest sandwich and looked out at the crowded, bustling city. Everybody was beautiful and rich. Dogs all over, and cars so rare he didn’t even know what they were.

Teddy didn’t know squat about La Jolla except that he had to get out.

He didn’t know the best way to the freeways from here. He had another uncle, his mom’s brother Phil, in Yuma, which he remembered from last year’s visit was, like, three hours from here in a car.

So, take a bus, he thought. Right?

He waited half an hour for his aunt and uncle and Mr. Johnson to give up looking for him. It only took him twenty minutes to get to a bus stop.

He stood there looking up at the maps on the signs, Joe sitting at his feet. He didn’t know La Jolla and its surrounding cities at all, and wasn’t sure which bus would get him and Joe to Yuma. Didn’t think the buses took dogs anyway.

He was still looking up at the sign to divine when the next bus would stop here, when a La Jolla cop car pulled up fast, lights flashing, and stopped right in the street. A big man in uniform got out of the car and came toward him.

“Teddy Delgado?” he asked, stopping a few yards away.

“Yes, sir.”

“Is your dog friendly?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want you to come with me.”

“To where?”

“Get in the car, son. You’re going home.”

“They’re going to take my dog away.”

“They’ll do what’s best for you, Teddy. You’ve been through a lot. But don’t argue with me.”