The Rescue

20

On a cool October Saturday, Teddy Delgado sat in a small aluminum grandstand alongside grass arena 2 at Excalibur K-9 Training Center. Joe was among those dogs taking their final Class I certification tests — a formality, really — before being officially placed with their new handlers. With Teddy were his adoptive parents, Art and Nancy, and his siblings Jorge, Angela, and Beatrice.

Teddy sat apart from them, up on the empty top row for a better view of Joe and his soon-to-be handler, Aaron. Teddy looked out at the training center grounds, where other K-9 dogs were testing, before being paired with their new handlers. There was a sense of celebration in the air; even the dogs sensed that good things were happening here today.

Teddy felt none of it. He had not had a haircut for the last six months, and now his mother’s shiny black hair dangled from under his Padres cap. His jeans were worn at the knees and his Excalibur windbreaker was big on him. He was eleven when they died. He was eleven now. He hated eleven and thought he might be stuck there forever.

Teddy knew that Joe would go home with Aaron today and begin his Class II training at a DEA facility. No visits allowed at the Class II — guns, controlled substances, dangerous drugs such as fentanyl, heroin, and cocaine — all of which would become target scents for Joe to learn. Which meant that, after the graduation today, this was the last time that he would see Joe until his tour of duty was over, and Aaron’s DEA could retire him back to Teddy.

He also knew that between now and then, a lot can happen.

Things could go well for a working detection dog. There could be success, heroics, even awards.

But also, there could be injuries, accidents, fearfulness, over-aggression, and burnout. Even handler problems. Wade told him that it can be as hard for some working dogs to live with a demanding law enforcement professional as it can be for some handlers to live with a dog. They were “in each other’s snout twenty-four seven, three sixty-five.” It was all about limits, discipline, and unconditional obedience, as Wade had told him again and again.

Despite all of that — everything that had happened and could happen — Teddy did not regret handing Joe over to be fine-tuned for actual K-9 work. Teddy’s heart was broken by this, but it was already broken, and he in fact had broken it himself, knowing that he was doing the right thing for Joe, and for the people that the DEA and Joe would save from addictions and deaths.

So you have no regrets, he told himself.

No regrets.

No regrets.

He was still numb over Mom and Dad. Less sadness since that night, but more numbness. And this pending loss of Joe felt like an even heavier layer on top of it all, a cast iron lid, unmovable.

The pills were helping. They kept his emotions in boxes that Dr. Reyes urged him to “take off the shelf and open” anytime he wanted. Anytime he felt ready.

He liked his cousins/siblings okay.

Art and Nancy too.

There was a girl at school who smiled and sometimes touched his hand when no one was looking. Anastasia.

Teddy drank a soda and watched Joe doing his off-leash obedience. He was great. No mistakes, no anticipated cheats. Crisp timing, perfect body language. Joe was always so great at this, unless he ran across a lizard or a bird or a low-flying butterfly, even a distant rabbit. Teddy could always feel Joe’s happiness, and he felt it now.

He knew that Aaron was a strong, firm handler and he tolerated no errors, no variation. Aaron rewarded Joe very sparingly — words only — never food. Unlike Teddy, who gave Joe endless kibble treats for practically anything he did, and sometimes just to feel Joe’s whiskers and tongue on his hand.

Really, thought Teddy, Joe’s the one thing that hasn’t changed since Mom and Dad. Joe was still his dog and he was still Joe’s boy. Joe was the only thing in his world not numb and flattened by antidepressants.

Which was why — when Teddy suddenly remembered that today was the last day he’d see Joe for up to five years — he felt his heart sink, all the way to the center of the earth. Then he felt his medication rushing in to cushion its fall. DEA rules: no visitation between past owners, handlers, or breeders and deployed dogs.

But Teddy had gotten his uncle and aunt to okay Joe’s return to La Jolla when his tour of duty was over. When Teddy would be old enough to really take care of him properly, they suggested. Art was going to install a special HEPA HVAC system that would remove 99 percent of the allergens released by Joe in the La Jolla mansion. This, dependent on Teddy getting his grades up. They’d been going down since his mom and dad.

Down in the ring, Aaron waited for Wade Johnson to enter something on his tablet, looked up at Teddy, and nodded.

Teddy nodded back. That was about as much positive emotion as Aaron showed him. Aaron was one serious guy. Teddy knew that Aaron hated criminals, especially drug sellers. Hated what they did to innocent people. Loved his job. Loved a perfect dog. When he wasn’t at work, he was in his home gym. Not married.

Teddy watched as a well-padded man strode into the arena and faced off Joe and Aaron from fifty feet away. Teddy could see the man’s eyes, alert behind the protective bars of his helmet. The man would have been big even without the pads but now he looked like some upholstered mega-villain. He spread feet for balance.

Teddy had seen a lot of this in the last six months, out here several times a week, eating up his allowance money for bus fares back and from La Jolla. Joe tried hard but he didn’t have the weight to match his bite, and the two-hundred-pound men usually battled him to a draw. Joe didn’t have a mean bone in his body — except for small animals, which was different from aggression — until he came here for good six months ago. They’d tried to mean him up, but Teddy had seen little improvement in Joe’s protection and apprehension skills. Although Joe would do anything to make his master happy. His master’s command was his Bible. Teddy hated the thought that Joe’s new master might not be able to be happy, and that Joe could only fail.

Joe sat and watched the man, his quirky ears erect.

Then Aaron yelled, “Fass!”

Joe’s lithe body and long legs gave him acceleration that none of the other Excalibur dogs could match. He was across the grass like a cream-and-tan spear, teeth bared, hackles high, silent, as trained. He launched himself from ten feet away and latched on to the thick arm of the backpedaling man. Then his snarl erupted, and his head shook and his body curved and snapped back and forth sharply in midair and the padded man managed to throw him to the ground. Joe rolled and charged and got thrown down again. It hurt Teddy to see Joe so overmatched.

Aaron ran into the fray, calling Joe off, making him sit while the padded villain ran off, lumbering slowly.

“Fass!”

And off again went Joe, a pale blur across the green. The man threw him down again and Joe charged again and this time the big enemy went down and Joe got a foot and thrashed it for all he was worth.

Aaron got there a moment later.

“Aus!”

Teddy saw Wade Johnson make an entry on his tablet. His face had a neutral expression. These apprehension drills were always Joe’s worst scores. Teddy had long thought that a small detection genius like Joe shouldn’t have to attack and apprehend. But who knew? Maybe he’ll have to defend his handler someday. Or an innocent bystander.

When all the trials were over and Joe and Aaron stood amid the small crowd of attendees, Teddy went to the front and knelt down in front of Joe.

Jorge, Angela, and Beatrice were with him, and they knelt, too, and Joe went from face to face licking them, then back to Teddy, at whom he smiled pantingly and lay down then rolled over at Teddy’s command.

They all rubbed his belly, which he’d always loved, and his right rear paw scratched the air around their small hands.

Teddy was going to tell Joe he loved him and would see him soon, but his throat clenched in a painful knot and his eyes burned and he said nothing.

Sitting alone in the far back seat of the big Sequoia, he stared out the window but saw nothing. Thought thoughts but felt nothing. Wondered again what it would be like to be dead, and how you could do it quickly. Thought of Anastasia but felt nothing. Thought there was a lot of nothing in this world.

Jorge reached back and swiped his hand through Teddy’s burning vision.

“Cheer up, little brother.”

“Okay,” said Teddy. “I will.”

“We got Hawaii tomorrow, you know.”

Yes, he thought: the vacation. A week of nothing on an island in the middle of nothing, without his dog.