Free Say Good-bye by Laurie Halse Anderson Page B

barking wildly in his crate.
    “Shhh!” I tell him. I pick up my watch fromthe nightstand. “Sneakers!” I whisper. “For goodness’ sake, it’s three A.M.!”
    I crawl out of bed and open the crate. Sneakers darts out and runs through the open bedroom door.
    “Whoa,” I say through a yawn. “He must really gotta go.”
    I follow him downstairs, but he’s not standing by the back door. He’s pawing at the door leading into the clinic.
    The lights are on. Gran must be in there.
Emergency!
    I open the door, and Sneakers scampers into the clinic. I’m right behind him. Maybe Gran will need my help.
    My heart skips a beat when I see who’s there with her.
    Jane and Yum-Yum!
    “Gran! Jane! What’s wrong?” I ask.
    Jane looks stricken. “Yum-Yum hasn’t eaten in almost two days. At first I thought the treatment might have made him lose his appetite. Then tonight, I noticed his jaw was a little funny-looking. I woke up at two A.M. to his whimpering. J.J., can you help him?”
    They rush him into a treatment room. I standnear the door, but I think I’m too upset to help.
    Gran gently strokes the dog, examining him everywhere. He yelps when her hands barely touch his muzzle.
    Gran’s brow knots. “His teeth are loose, and he may have even fractured his jaw. The tumor is doing extensive damage now,” she says.
    “Fractured!” Jane exclaims. “But how? I’ve been taking such good care of him! He’s with me night and day, J.J. He hasn’t fallen or tripped—”
    “Jane…” Gran lays a hand on her friend’s arm. “That’s not it. I can’t be sure without more tests, but I’m pretty certain that the cancer has spread to his bones.”
    I turn away. How awful! How will he be able to eat now? Yum-Yum’s body is breaking down. And all our love can’t stop it. “I’ll be out in the waiting room if you need me, Gran.”
    Gran is kind enough not to ask me to stay.
    I sit at the receptionist’s desk and sort through piles of paperwork and files, trying to be useful, trying to keep my mind busy. But the words written on them blur as my eyes fill with tears. I push them to the side, afraid I’ll just mess them up.
    I marvel at how quiet the world seems at three A.M.People sleeping, dreaming their dreams—even as an emergency takes place down the hall.
    •  •  •  •  •  •  •
    At some point I feel someone shaking me. I realize I’ve fallen asleep on my folded arms, drooling into the corner of my elbow, I get up and shake the sleep from my eyes.
    “How is he?” I blurt out.
    “Yum-Yum is resting comfortably,” Gran tells me. “I gave him something for the pain.”
    Jane is sitting across from me on one of the waiting-room couches. She looks as if she’s in a daze.
    I don’t know what to say or do. And I’m afraid to ask questions. “I’ll go make some tea,” I say, and hurry into the kitchen.
    The water seems as if it will never boil, but at last it does, and I hurry back to the clinic with three mugs of tea.
    I find Sneakers sitting on the couch next to Jane. She laughs softly through her tears. “That’s perfect therapy-dog behavior,” she says, rubbing the little dog’s head. “Sneakers can sense who needs some comfort.”
    I’m surprised. “You mean, he can really tell what you’re thinking?”
    “Sure,” Jane says. “Sometimes I could swear Yum-Yum is reading my mind.”
    I think of my mom’s latest craze. “You mean, like ESP and all that?”
    Gran smiles. “Well, I don’t know about that. But dogs are very tuned in to people. They can pick up on all kinds of little signals—expressions, body language, mood. That’s why it’s so easy to send the wrong signals to dogs when we train them. They just want to please humans. They need consistent, steady training. And lots of love.”
    Jane sits there a moment, stroking Sneakers’ back. Of course, Sneakers loves it. But I realize that the action seems to help Jane even more than it does Sneakers. A calmness comes