Just because he couldn't see color didn't mean he wasn't smart enough to tell the story as it had really happened. That giant hay eating dog, no, horse, that horse was forever going on about how dumb he was but she hadn't seen all of it. Boomer was not dumb. He could read three languages, though he could not speak them, so long as the font was black. The man often scribbled things in an ink that Boomer could not read, and it was quite limiting. Still, he did not need to be able to read something called blue ink to tell this story. He was smart. His mother had often said to him, "Liebling, you are so smart. Do not chew on your sister's tail."
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
He still remembered what his mother's licks had felt like, what she had smelled like when he'd cuddled up with her. Puppyhood had been full of nice meals and romping with his siblings. He wasn't the fastest. That was Daisy. He wasn't the strongest. That was Wolfgang. He wasn't even the kindest. That was Felicity, who was so sweet that she eventually became a therapy dog. He just liked normalcy. That was what Boomer was good at. He could tell when something wasn't right. That was it. He liked things the way he liked them, and he knew when something was off.
The people at the farm were kind, and life was good. Mutter said that people were strange creatures, but if you were very lucky, you would find your people that were the perfect kind of strange for you. Boomer knew that one day, he would find his own people, and things would never be off.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Then, one day, he was gone from her, and Lissy. Wolfgang had already gone, as had Daisy, though Mutter said they'd be back. Boomer never believed that he'd go, too. He was her Bärchen, and things would never change so much that he'd have to leave her. The people brought food at the same time every day, even though Boomer didn't always eat when they said he ought. The people, that's what she'd called them, people, had taken him to a new place. His nails clicked on tile, and Boomer felt strange. There was a man, and a lady. The lady smelled like flowers, but fake ones, and the man smelled like something Boomer had never smelled, except once in the training pen and the big-haired lady had yelled about cancer. Mutter said cancer was bad, but that he didn't need to worry, and please, to go to bed. Who would put him to bed now? Who would help him to hold down his food bowl? Who would love him, here? They spoke a funny language at this new place, but they let him keep his squeaky, and that smelled like Mutter. At the new place, there was a little girl. She came to the place with the clicky floors, after the big lady put him on a leash and walked him to the corner. She said that he would have a buddy. Boomer was excited. He'd never had a Buddy before, and he couldn't wait to go to the farm and tell Mutter that he had a buddy. None of his siblings had buddies. Were buddies his people?
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
There were no other puppies at the house with clicky floors, nor even a mutter. After a few weeks, Boomer knew that being a buddy was hard work. The girl was sometimes annoying because she left toys all over that he was scolded for trying to eat. She picked him up and tried to put strange things on him, saying he was a "Pretty Princess Puppy!" She had made up for that, though, by feeding him meats from a yellow package that she snuck out of the fridge, whispering at him "Not to tell Daddy." He didn't know what a Daddy was, exactly. He had an idea. She called the big man her Daddy, and he read her books, and cut up her sandwiches with a cutter that made the meat shaped like others animals, dogs with big tails and short front paws. Boomer didn't know why it had to be cut up. It still tasted the same, when she passed it to him under the table. Daddies, Boomer decided, were like a mother, except not, exactly, somehow. Boomer was a puppy, like the girl was a girl, but he didn't have a daddy.
He had a mutter, though, and he wouldn't change her for a million daddies. He just wanted to go home to Mutter, and tell her all about his playgroup, and something called socialization. He'd liked the little girl. She always talked to him, until the big lady would call, "Angela, time for your bath!" He didn't like baths, so he would leave her be, then. He was still learning English, but he knew what baths were. The big man was teaching him English, and the big man liked him, too. Sometimes, the big man would say, "Braver Hund!" and that made Boomer feel good indeed. He had found his people.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
The big man and the big lady were kind. They taught him to play games, and took him all kinds of places. Once, they went for ice cream, and Boomer got his own dish. The big lady put a part of his mother in his bed, wrapped in a bath towel, when he cried for Mutter and his brothers and sisters. They big lady patted his fur, and the big man took him on walks, and told him what a duck was. Boomer liked ducks, especially his squeaky one. That would come later, though. The little girl played chase, and said he was fun. She wasn't a brother or a sister, or even Mutter, but she was his friend. She smelled like crayons. They didn't taste good, but they smelled nice. He had found his people.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
One day, the little girl cried and spilled her cereal. No one got mad when Boomer tried to eat it. He didn't like it when she cried. She cried harder when he tried to lick away the salt on her face. The big man and the big lady took him in the car, but they didn't go the vet this time. He didn't like the vet, much, but he was a "Pretty Princess Puppy..." and he did what they said. This time, they drove to the farm. He couldn't understand why the little girl cried when she met Mutter. All of his people were together now, even the farm people, who weren't really his. Mutter sighed, and said, "Es tut mir leid, Liebling." She had tried to herd him away as the big man picked up the little girl and carried her to the Auto. No, the car. He couldn't wait to tell Mutter about his English, and his playgroup.
"Mutter, where are they going?" Boomer said, as she nudged him. He tried to follow his people. They were his people. The big man always said he had to stay with his people. He had his people and his mutter now. He wasn't going to leave his people. The fence stopped him, and the lady at the farm made a clicking noise. Boomer ignored her. She wasn't his people.
"They're going. You're ready for your training now." Mutter said, "You will get new people, just as your brothers and sisters will. Come now." Boomer didn't move. He was going to miss the TV show that he and the little girl watched. She hopped around the room on her back paws, and he snuck chips out of her bowl. He wanted to know what happened and he wanted her to finally tell him what pink was. Pink must be beautiful, if she loved it. "Ich liebe meinen Sohn."
Boomer tried to sleep, cuddled up with Mutter. He was glad to know that his mutter would always be his mother, even if he did miss the bit of her back at the new missed his people, but they would be back.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
The next year or so flew by for Boomer. He learned all sorts of things. He could find people. He could bite. He could search for people and things. Still, no matter how hard he tried, he could not find his people, or the little girl. He never did find out what happened on that TV show. No one could tell him what pink was, at that hurt. It hurt to squeak his squeaky, and he only did it when he was very lonely.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
The people at the farm said he was Ready. He saw others get their new people, but no people came for Boomer. He'd had people, and they'd abandoned him. Boomer knew what that was. Mutter said it was horrible, but it would never happen to him. He was grown up now. Mutter could not lie, because she loved him, but he was young enough to want to believe her. His sister Daisy got her people and bragged about it. Boomer focused on his training and ignored her. He'd had people. You only got people one.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
One day, a man came to Boomer. He patted his fur. First he said, "Hello." and Boomer liked that. Many people forgot to ask permission, even though Mutter said he had to forgive people because they hadn't mothers to show them how to do things. The new man was kind. He moved softly, and spoke softly. Boomer wanted to trust him. He shouldn't want to trust anyone. He just wanted to know if this man had a little girl. He still wanted to know what pink was, and the big lady said all little girls loved pink. This man wore a silly hat, and smelled like firewood. Boomer liked him. This man saw Boomer. Boomer wanted desperately to be seen.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
He spent all of his time with the new man. This man wasn't like the big man. He was younger, and he didn't smell like the white sticks in the tiny box Boomer wasn't allowed to eat. He liked to spend his time on the black box that people could blow up. His brother Wolfgang had learned to find bombs, and Boomer knew too much about bombs and terrorists because Wolfgang liked to blab. Boomer wondered how he was faring in the ATF. His box didn't blow up, and he took lots of pictures of Boomer. The little girl had taken his picture, too. The new man never said he was a "Pretty Princess Puppy." and Boomer tried to make him see that he was.
He liked the new man. He was respectful. He talked to Boomer, asked him what he thought of things. He told him all about his people, and Boomer wanted to know if they could be his people, too. He missed having people. He hated being alone. Maybe this new man even had a little girl to call him "Pretty Princess Puppy..." and kiss his head. He liked kisses, and no one kissed him anymore, even if the people at the farm were nice.
The new man told Boomer that his name was Jake and that, if he wanted to, he could come and live with Jake, and his parents. They must be Jake's people, Boomer decided. Boomer, though he would never tell Mutter, was glad to go. She had a new litter, and had little time for him. He needed his own people. He was grown up enough to admit that there was nothing more to do on the farm. He wanted to find the little girl.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
It turned out that Jake did not live in a house like the little girl. The little girl had something called neighbors, who evidently shared the driveway. Once, the big lady had been angry about her flowers being run over by the car that belonged to the neighbor. Jake lived in a big place, with other animals. They big hay eating dog didn't like him. She said he was stupid. She had a terrible accent. Everything sounded so nasal to Boomer, but she said he sounded like he was hacking up a lung. Siger liked him. He liked Siger, even though he couldn't speak German. Siger taught him about horses, though Boomer could not heard like Siger could.
He'd been at Jake's house for a while, looking for his people. Jake had a mutter that he called mom. Jake's Mom brushed his hair just like Mutter used to run her paws over his fur. Mutter said all mothers did that, so he had to sit still. There were other people, too, but they weren't Jake's people. Boomer could tell what people went with other people. The mom that Jake had went with the man that stretched Boomer's back. He was kind. Boomer knew that Jake had his own people, but even after one day at his house, Boomer sniffed and sniffed and sniffed, but he could not find them. Where were Jake's people?
Then Boomer got to go in the car, and he got to play find. As soon as he sniffed the sweater, he knew. He had found Jake's people. Maybe she had gone to school like the little girl, or to work like the big lady. The big lady made food he was not allowed to eat. He was so happy when he met this new lady. When he met her, he knew who Jake had promised would love him.
She was Jake's people, so she was his people, too. The little girl said that a people was a family, and that families loved each other. He liked that. She did love him. The first time she met him, she kissed his head when he left, and said he was pretty, just like the little girl and the big lady had. Boomer understood, then. There was no little girl, yet, but this lady was his new big lady, just like Jake was his new big man. It all made sense.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
He was confused when Sam didn't come home. So, he sniffed around the room to find bits of her scent. Something wasn't right. The little girl had told him that families lived in the same place because they loved each other. Boomer knew what love was. He liked the way love felt. He could see it all around Sam, and Jake. He found little bits of her smell on the T-shirt on the floor, but Boomer knew it wasn't her shirt. Jake had worn it and she'd been around him. He sniffed and sniffed, and only slept when he found more of her scent that lingered on Jake. He cuddled up in the big bed with Jake. For the first night in forever, he didn't miss the big lady and the little girl.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Boomer spent the next few months confused. Sam and Jake were his people. They did the things the big lady and the big man did. There wasn't a little girl, in this family, but there was a boy. The boy was fun. He didn't like pink. Boomer asked. He liked green, and told him that green was the color that grass felt like. Why couldn't pink be so easy to explain? The boy pulled his rope toy when Sam brought him over to play. He still didn't understand why his people didn't live together.
Yes, Boomer knew he had to learn. The pferd threatened him, but he wasn't scared of her. She was right, though. He needed his family together. It wasn't right that they weren't. He spent so much time in the Auto going back and forth after work. He liked his family. Maybe they didn't know that they were his people. He tried to tell Sam. He sat on her feet like he used to do with the little girl.
When he did it, Jake said, "Boomer, lass das sein!" and pointed, "Aus!" Boomer left and the door shut behind him. The tack room was quiet as he wandered out to see the pferd. The big man and lady had kicked him out of rooms, too, especially when the little girl was at something called Ballet, and they had time, for what Boomer didn't know. The big lady always gave him a treat after she opened the door again. Boomer knew how this worked. He wondered why Sam didn't give him a treat that night.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Boomer liked his job. He was good at it. He liked to smell, and to find. He didn't so much like it when he had to bite someone, but they were bad, and he was a "Braver Hund!" He especially liked when he got to go to the school, or the library. He liked the Kindergarten best. The boy wasn't in Kindergarten yet, but he was in pre-school, like the little girl had been. Boomer got to go to something called Lunch with the Bunch at the library. Jake talked all about his job, and said Boomer was very Special, and Very Important, and he felt very happy because he was the only dog that had ever come to work at the library. He was even happier when the little boy stood up and hollered, "And he's my dog! He likes Doritos and my sister, but that's only cos Jake likes her. Boomer likes me best." He did like the boy. Boomer had found his people. It was even a little bit funny when Jake's skin got warm. The boy giggled that Jake was bright red. He knew what red was now, and he wondered if that was anything like pink. That was a wonderful day. Boomer realized that his people loved him, and nothing would ever change again.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
All was well. Except, it wasn't. Sam and Jake started leaving him at home. They were "going out." That made Boomer sad, because everyone knew that he liked to go out, too. Sometimes, Jake didn't come home until very late. He did stupid things like put syrup in his cereal bowl, and wouldn't let Boomer eat it. It was a shame all around. He was losing his people. He'd found his people, only to loose them.
Boomer was very well trained, or else he would have stretched at the door until Mom let him out. She saw him sitting on the steps with his chew toy, and smiled. She asked him if she should be polishing her Grandmother's engagement ring. Boomer didn't know what that was, so he tilted his head to ask her. She smiled.
That wasn't good, though, because Boomer was losing his people in the room. Jake said, "Aus!" in the tack room more often now. There was no room for him on Sam's lap, sometimes, for reasons Boomer didn't understand. She would look at Jake, and say, "I can't kiss you if the dog is watching, you freak."
Jake would say "Aus!" then. It was all "Aus! Aus! Aus!" all the time. The lady with the cookies gave him an oat cookie, and said that he shouldn't feel left out because it was the way of things. He tried to listen to Sam and Jake. Once, Jake had gotten really mad. They didn't speak for a week. It was a long week. Finally, they talked. Boomer sat on Sam's feet. "What's your problem with telling me you love me?"
Boomer liked that word. They made him feel fuzzy. The little girl had always said that when your people were your people, that they loved you so much that they couldn't help but say it. Why wasn't Sam saying it? That's what people did. "Why should I tell you something you know?"
Boomer went and got his toy. This was going to be a long conversation. He knew that. "Because Sam! That's what people do! They say 'I love you' when they do love somebody. So either you don't..."
"Shut up!" She said, and Boomer was very still. He didn't like it when she used that voice. "If you think that I..." She broke off, "I think, once again, Ely, you aren't listening! Or do I think I just offer my soul to every person that I..." She tried to leave them behind. Boomer didn't want that to happen. The other dogs at training said that people got divorces when people yelled.
"Sam!" Jake called. Boomer knew that voice. When Jake used that voice, the bad people dropped the gun. They got down. They put their hands up. Boomer knew that voice and he liked it.
Sam didn't do anything. She kept walking. Jake, instead of staying with him, followed her. "Sam!"
"I'm done!" Sam replied. Boomer sped after her, wanting to know what was going on. What did being done mean? There was no food.
Jake was there, and Boomer knew that he would fix it. "What the hell's that mean?"
She rounded on him, "Love is a choice. It's a choice! Not some empty words! If you don't know that I love you without having to hear it told to you like some middle-schooler than maybe we should be done! I'm not the one whose been fickle here! In every choice, in every chance to love you, I picked you above anything and everything! You can't say that, so get off your high horse and take your deputy voice and shove it!"
Boomer skirted out of the way as Jake hugged Sam. "Geez, Sam. Why don't you just scream loud enough so they here you in Montana? I'm sorry."
"For what?" Sam snapped. She didn't pull away, though. Boomer tried to go and sit on her feet and make her happy. There was no room, so he sat next to her. Jake would probably say "Aus!" soon, but for now, he'd stay.
"For not listening." Jake whispered, "Again. It's just that I need the words, Sam. I need them."
"I feel like I'm 15 when I say them." Sam said, "They make me feel funny, and silly, and..."
"That's the point, Brat. That's the point. That's what I feel when you say them." Jake was sniffing at her hair again, and Boomer could barely hear the words. Luckily, he had better hearing than the pferd, and even Wolfgang.
"Jake..." Sam replied, "I don't need that. I just need know that you're choosing me. That's all. I don't...I would rather you told me every day that you were picking me today, that you were choosing me, rather than telling me you loved me. It doesn't matter how you feel, if you don't show it."
Jake was silent. Boomer was curious. He squeaked his toy. It helped him think when his French got rusty. Maybe it would help Jake. "Do you really feel that way?"
Sam nodded, "Love can fade, Jake. I've seen it. That's not going to be us, not before we're even out of the gate."
Jake said, "Boomer, Aus!" and so Boomer went to see the pferd. He never did know what happened after that, but the cookie lady smiled and say that every couple had their troubles, and it would take some time to figure things out. She said all was well, and gave him another cookie.
She was wrong. Boomer knew when things weren't right. That's what he did. He knew that his people loved each other. They said it more, now. The little girl said that when people loved each other, that they lived together, and because they lived together, that there was a little girl. There was room for everybody, even for Boomer, even when he smelled like Bologna. The little girl would giggle when the big man asked her why he smelled like someone named Oscar.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
The pferd said that's what she wanted, too. She said that he was stupid, and that one did not get something called a foal by acting like a dumb dog who was left out in the rain. He had never been left out in the rain. He was Very Special and Very Important, but he didn't feel like that sometimes. He was very lonely. So Boomer decided to understand why his people were not like other dog's peoples.
He wasn't like the other dogs at the trainings. The other dogs had people at one house. He had people at two. He didn't have a little girl anymore. He had a little boy. No one else knew what a cookie lady was, and nobody else had a Sam. One of the dogs had something called a Grandma, and he wanted one of those. Apparently, they came with a hairless puppy. Boomer figured he could put up with one of those, whatever they were, if he could have a grandma, too.
His people were funny. That made him feel funny. When other dogs asked him where he lived, he could never say, because some of the time, home was with Sam, and sometimes, it was with Jake. Another dog asked Boomer if his people had gotten a divorce. That dog said that her people divorced because they didn't love each other anymore. Boomer asked the horse what that was, and she said no. She said you had to be married before you could get a divorce.
He tried to play with Siger, but Siger wanted to herd things. Boomer thought herding was pointless. He liked to play find, but the little boy was in Kindergarten now, so he couldn't play find during the day when Boomer was off and Jake was with the animals. He was alone, when he wasn't working, sometimes. His chew toy made a pitiful squeak.
Finally, the car came back. It was vey dark, and Boomer wondered how on earth he would be expected to patrol his beat with all due grace and poise if he had to wait up. Sam sat down on the steps. "Hey, Boomer. I brought you something." She shook a a bag. Boomer knew what that meant. She pulled out a container of chicken, and let him have at it.
He smelled firewood before he heard the voice that matched it. "I don't think they mean doggie bag literally, Brat."
Boomer ignored her, focusing on his chicken, as she said, "Of course they do. Why else would they call it that? It's not as if you need it."
"I think I've been fat-shamed." Jake insisted, plopping onto the swing. Sam patted his head, and he continued to munch.
"You?" Sam replied, still running her fingers through his fur as he licked the icky tasting carton for the last bits of chicken. "No. You have never once found any sort of fat-shaming remarks in your lunchbox, now have you?"
Jake smiled, "So you admit it. I knew you had a lurid mind." Boomer wondered what lurid meant. He still had trouble with English sometimes. German was much easier.
"Well, it isn't Boomer. We're lucky he can't read." Sam said, and Boomer took offense. Not too much, though. His people might be leaving him, but at least they had brought back chicken.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Boomer liked his job. He liked to find. Once, he'd found a little girl in the brush, but it hadn't been his little girl. He'd been sad after that, because Jake had said they were going to find a little girl. He liked to be on call. It was fun to wake up in the middle of the night and go to work. It was fun. It wasn't so much fun when Jake left him with Siger and came racing by to grab him. Boomer knew where he'd been. He'd been with Jake for almost three years. He was good at finding, but his people were more of a mess than they had been in a long time.
It was late summer when Jake said to him, "Boom. How would you feel about making some changes?" They were sitting in the car, and they were working. There was nothing on the radio, but they had to sit and wait.
Boomer wondered what kind of changes Jake meant. The last time there had been changes his kibble had been replaced, and he'd had what the vet called gastrointestinal issues. Jake had called it disgusting, and Sam had patted him and said, "Poor baby..." like Mutter had when he'd gotten his shots, and refused to shampoo Jake's rug. "How would you like to have a family?'
Boomer tilted his head. He had a family. He had Jake, and the oat cookie lady, and the little boy, and Sam. He didn't want new people. His people now were strange, but he liked them. Just because his family was funny, and not like families should be, didn't mean that he didn't love them. He might have never had a Daddy, and his people might not live together, but he had a cookie lady. No other dog at the trainings had a cookie lady.
He wanted to keep his family the way it was. He had taken so long to find his people. He couldn't feel like he did when he thought about the little girl and the big lady for all of these people. He had never had so many people to lose. Boomer didn't want to risk it.
"I want to marry her, Boom." Jake said, "We're doing well. We're doing really well. We've made choices to be together, and I feel like it's time. I want it to be time. What do you think?"
The only thing Boomer knew about marriage was that you had to be married to get a divorce. He didn't know what to think. He couldn't ask the pferd. She would laugh at him. Jake sighed, and changed the subject.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
Two weeks later, Sam was sitting with him on the swing. Maybe he could ask her. "Boomer, do you know why Jake's acting so strangely?"
Boomer tilted his head. He knew how to get someone talking. They covered that at Academy. He also knew how to work a microwave, but Quinn had taught him that. "It's just...he's weird, you know? Like quiet. Things have felt so natural, you know, for a good year. And well, things are good. I admit, we lost our heads, Boomer, when we finally got together, but it was like a bomb going off between us."
Sam's voice dropped, "Love's a choice, Boom. It's a verb. It's something we do, and it has nothing to do with sex. Oh, God, I'm talking about sex with the dog. You know what love is, right? Love is...when I bring you chicken from Tika Tika because I know you like it. Love is making choices. Ir's knowing who you are, and knowing that the other person makes you want to be more you because you know that they think you're awesome and you're not scared to be you because you know that they're in your corner. I'm a bit scared, honestly, because it's changing, somehow. I can feel it. I've made my choice. I'm going to ask Jake to marry me. What do you think?"
Boomer didn't know what to think. He knew what she wanted to hear. He butted her hand. He knew what love was. Love was when she spent extra time playing with his ears. She sighed, and went back to swinging. Boomer's tail thumped in time with her fingers. He was still scared, but she was right. Love was being a "Braver Hund!" even when he didn't know what was going to happen.
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
He made the mistake of asking the pferd what an engagement ring was. The pferd said it was something that Sam would like. He and Jake were doing laundry, and something that looked like a cookie fell out of his pocket. Boomer sat quickly, showing him what he'd dropped. Jake picked up the box and set it on the counter after telling him that it was a ring. He continued sorting the laundry, and left the box there. Sam came in when Jake was in the barn. Boomer had left the barn because he'd gotten hungry.
She wasn't his find person. Jake was, but if the pferd said she needed to see the box, then she would see it. He sat down by the counter. Everyone knew that that was his found signal. He waited for Sam to catch up. "What do you want to show me, Boomer?"
She looked at the floor. Boomer nudged her up, up. She looked up. She made a gasping sound, like she did when she watched a movie, and hid her face in Boomer's fur. She sat on the floor next to Boomer. "You knew, didn't you?"
He always knew. That was his job. The horse said that if she took the ring, his people would be like other people's people. Boomer wanted his people to be like other people's people, even if he had come to like them just as they were. "Do you think I should open it? I mean, what if it's like, not for me, and I...What if it is? It probably isn't." Sam shook her head, and a bunch of her fur brushed Boomer's ear. "That must be it. It wouldn't hurt if I looked, then, would it?"
Boomer had no idea what she was talking about. He found. Where was his "Braver Hund!" and big kisses, and his reward squeaky? She just opened the box, and shut it quickly, with a big snap that sounded like one of Boomer's squeaky balls had popped. "No, no, no, no, no..." Sam repeated. She didn't speak for a long time, so Boomer went and got her a squeaky toy. Maybe a squawky toy would help her to think. They always helped him.
Boomer wished she would get the funny look off of her face, "I mean, I don't normally like jewelry, but..." She was shaking, and but Boomer didn't know why. It wasn't cold. He pushed his blue squeaky at her. She would squeak it, and she would feel better. "I'm shaking. I'm shaking. Pull it together, Sammy. You knew this was going to happen. You just didn't know when. You still don't. It doesn't count if the dog proposes."
Boomer pushed the squeaky toy at her again. It was his favorite wool-y squeaky, the one that Mutter had given him. He'd decided that if his family wasn't going to be like other people's, that Sam should still know that he loved her. He would share his toy, and maybe, she would bring it over when she came to play. That way, his blue squeaky could have a family just like his, and he wouldn't be the only one at trainings. "Oh, God. Boomer."
Boomer was suddenly very sad. There was salt on her face. Boomer licked the salt off of her face, and she snorted. Boomer knew what was going to happen next. She was crying, so she was going to leave him. He pushed the toy towards her again. She should take the toy. He would miss it, but he knew what it was like to be lonely, and if she left, he'd still have the cookie lady, and Jake, and the Mom, and the little boy. Sam could have the toy. She could squeak it, and she would think about all of the people. After a while, the squeak would not make her sad anymore. It had taken him a long time to be happy when he squeaked it, but now he was.
Boomer raced away when Jake called his name. He left, knowing that she wouldn't be there when he got back. Boomer followed him into the kitchen. Sam was standing there, holding the wool squeaky. Boomer was happy. He didn't know what was going on, but she was there. Jake put more kibble in his bowl. Boomer set to eating. Let them sort it out. He'd done his job. He'd found the parts that were right. He'd better get his reward squeaky later. A find was a find, after all.
Seconds later, same place, same time...
Jake poured out the dog food, and turned to get some juice. Sam spoke then. "I think Boomer proposed."
Jake kept his eyes on his glass. They'd been dancing around the topic for a good three months out of the last two and half years. He hoped Jen hadn't blabbed. He'd tried to keep everything on the down low but of course, he'd had to ask Dad for the ring. Jen showed up at the only jewelry store in miles and miles the same time he was having it cleaned. He had no luck. Jen had gone completely white, a mean feat for a girl as pale as she was. She tried to pretend like he wasn't the only other person in the store, but she'd gone and blown it when the jeweler had wished him luck. She'd all but shouted, "I won't say anything! I won't, but let me see! Let me see!"
The next thing he knew, the box had been ripped from his hands. He'd been keeping it in his pocket since. He reached down and patted his pocket frantically, looking down at the floor as though his pocket had a hole in it. It wasn't there. He'd lost a vintage ring. He'd lost it somewhere on the range. He had to go back. "Sam, I forgot something in the barn..." Hopefully, she wouldn't see him retracing his steps. He hadn't seen it in hours. He was completely distracted. The loss of that ring would kill his parents, and there was no way that he could buy something as nice. It was darn hard to buy an engagement ring that didn't have diamonds in it, but somehow, he wanted to marry the only woman in the world that said diamonds were cold.
She might not want to say she loved him, and that had hurt. He'd agonized over why she wouldn't say it, even going so far as to ask Boomer. They'd had their tough times in figuring out what they each needed from themselves, and from each other, to make things work, and once they had, it was great. She laughed when he told her loved her, and she said, "Well that's good, because I'd never pick anyone else." Sometimes, he'd say, "I've picked you because I love you." And she'd say, "Well, that's good, because I'd never choose anyone I didn't love."
He was halfway to the door when she replied, "I just told you Boomer proposed. You don't think he'd do it without a ring, do you?" Jake heard something in her voice. Had she been crying?
Jake spun around. Sam was standing there, against the counter, next to the very box he'd thought he'd lost. He exhaled, half relieved, half-disappointed his plans had been blown. He tried to play it cool, "Are you sure it was Boomer who asked you?"
She nodded as Jake crossed the room, "He even gave me a squeaker and told me he would love me always."
"Be serious." Jake pleaded, wrapping his arms around her, "Are you going to marry me? Will you?"
"Well, Boomer's sort of busy. So..." Sam laughed, and the sound warmed his soul, "I will. For the record, Jake..."
"Hm?" He asked, knowing what she was going to say. He could see it in her eyes. He could feel it in her touch.
"I love you." Sam pushed up on her toes. Just before her mouth pressed to his, she added, "Don't expect to hear it again for forty years, or something. I hate repeating myself."
He opened his mouth to assure her that he would say it enough for the both of them, if only she kept showing him, showing him how to show her.
Don't you worry
Sometimes you've just gotta let it ride
The world is changing
Right before your eyes
Now I've found you
There's no more emptiness inside
When we're hungry, love will keep us alive
I would die for you
Climb the highest mountain
Baby, there's nothing I wouldn't do
Now I've found you
There's no more emptiness inside
When we're hungry, love will keep us alive
Love Will Keep Us Alive, The Eagles
So this is a bit lighter, because we're seeing this through the eyes of a dog. My point with this was that a) A family is people and a family is love and b) love is a choice. I might also be trying to say that love changes and grows, and you just kind of have to take it as it comes. You might imagine that Sam and Jake had some issues because Jake needed the words, and Sam just needed to know that he was picking her because he loved her. To her, that's love. Maybe it's just the way she is, and maybe she was more shaped by the events surrounding Jake leaving in ways that she can't quantify.
I'm sorry if I gutted you like a fish talking about Boomer being fostered with a family before he was trained. That's how it goes, and yes, somewhere out there, there is a little girl who still thinks about all the dogs she knew. She's not so little anymore, but she likes to think that every animal found happiness, and their forever people.
Next up is Starkey's story...