Dog Named Leaf Read Online Free PDF Page A

I called. His little head shot up, and he looked at me with the intelligent expression in his eyes that had intrigued me at the animal shelter. “Leaf,” I said again, more softly this time. “Leaf.”
    As we continued our walk with Leaf, I began to feel lighter and less burdened. The sharp, heavy pain of Taylor’s death lifted now that my heart opened with love for another being. This abandoned and confused pup desperately needed a safe and loving home with good people who would never desert him. I looked down at Leaf and inwardly proclaimed, “I’m going to be here for you from now on.”
    Then, as if that thought wasn’t powerful enough, I said out loud, “Leaf, I’ll always take care of you.” I wanted him to know that he’d never go back to the animal shelter. I wish I could say that Leaf looked back at me and nodded or somehow communicated that he understood. There was no reason for him to believe that human words could be trusted. Or that promises people made to dogs would never be broken.
    On the way back to the car, a large man approached us from the opposite direction. Leaf’s little body stiffened. As he did when the Harley motorcycle idled next to our car, he emitted a menacing growl. Although he weighed only twenty-five pounds, I had to use my strength to pull in his leash and hold on to it tightly. Leaf acted as if he wanted to take a chunk out of the man’s leg. What memory brought such a strong emotional reaction from our little cocker spaniel? I managed to stop him from lunging for the man who innocently strolled past us.
    Linda and I exchanged worried glances. “OK, Leaf,” I said. “It may take time for you to relax and trust us to take care of you. It’s OK, boy. You will soon be home.”

    At the pet-supply store, Leaf smelled dog-food bags and other dogs who shopped with their people. The smiles and comments about how adorable Leaf was reassured me. We’d made the right decision by adopting such a well-adjusted, friendly rescue dog.
    While nobody was looking Leaf lifted his leg to take ownership of one of the floor-level bins that contained dog treats. I caught the power play too late to stop it. While Linda held on to him, I hurried to get one of the cleanup wipes. The store supplied them for overly stimulated canine customers.
    When we went to check out, the young cashier said, “I have a girl cocker spaniel. I love her so much. Do you have problems house training? I’ve had my dog for over a year. She still has never been house-trained. But I love her.”
    I thought about the smell in the clerk’s home. I knew that I would work hard to teach Leaf where to go to the bathroom. Our previous two dogs had been relatively easy to train. We’d only had to take them to a spot in the backyard a few times, and they’d figured out exactly what we wanted them to do.

    When we arrived home Leaf was hesitant. Unlike the eager Taylor, he didn’t immediately leap from the seat. “He’s cautious,” I told Linda. I snapped the leash onto his collar and signaled for him to jump out of the car. “OK, boy,” I encouraged. He bounded onto the concrete garage floor. Was he starting to trust me already?
    We walked through the backyard and into the back door of our home. Leaf thrust his nose in the air and took a long, slow inhale of the world he was about to enter. “Cats,” Linda crooned. We laughed. The smart cats were nowhere in sight. They were most likely downstairs in their “basement apartment.”
    I snapped off Leaf’s leash. He hurried into the kitchen. Feverishly he sniffed everything. When we entered the dining room from the kitchen, his paws touched the carpeted floor. He yanked his right paw back as if he’d had an electrical shock. The carpet with its multiple odors—cat, human, Taylor—must have unnerved him. Linda said, “It looks like he’s never walked on carpet before.”
    “Maybe he hasn’t been inside a house,” I added.
    Leaf made his way from the dining room into