Read Online Strays by Jennifer Caloyeras - Free Book Online Page A

had been, and the muscles there moved and pulsed as though a phantom limb were attached.
    So that was it.
    I showed up late and got the worst possible dog available—the one no one else wanted. The dog that had lost some of its dog-ness. I was so mad I wanted to kick the dog in all three of its working legs, but I was too afraid it would respond by killing me, so I just left my sweaty hands at my side and listened to Kevin.
    â€œRoman hasn’t had an easy life. None of these dogs has. I know all their stories well, and as the dogs’ official trainers, it’s important that you learn their stories, too. If you can understand the dog you’re working with, you’ll be able to train it much more effectively.”
    Roman sat and scratched his ear with his one back leg. So weird looking.
    â€œRoman was born on the streets and was picked up by an illegal dog-fighting ring.”
    â€œWhat’s that?” asked Talbot, adjusting the small silver stud in her nose.
    â€œThe dogs fight each other, and people bet on it. My uncle used to do it with roosters,” said Oak. He tugged both cords around his hood, and the fabric tightened against his face. I made it my mission to see his forehead before the summer was over.
    â€œThat’s so mean,” said Talbot, hugging her dog.
    Kevin continued, “Essentially, people pay to see dogs tear each other apart. More often than not, both dogs wind up badly injured. Many die. And then there’s the psychological ramifications. Roman here was in a fighting ring for a long time. He was a prizefighter, until he met his match. Another dog attacked him so severely it ruined his back leg, and his owner had no use for him. Animal rescue services found him wandering the streets. He had lost so much blood from his back leg, it had to be amputated. We traced him back to his owner, whose daughter told us Roman’s story. Her dad is doing jail time now for animal abuse.”
    â€œIs that what all those scars are from? The fighting?” asked Shelley, still talking in practically a whisper.
    I looked more closely at what she was referring to. All along Roman’s fur were small lines, scars telling stories of his previous life. His body resembled dolphins I’d seen in the ocean who had been hit by boats or attacked by sharks, their rubbery skin covered in slash marks that would never heal. I did feel sorry for the dog, but at the same time, Kevin had just verified that he really was a trained killing machine. What business did I have training Roman? Was I, an incarcerated teen, so disposable that I could be used as an experiment in this killer-dog training process?
    As though Kevin could read my thoughts, he added, “Just to let you know, Roman has been in training for a long time, Iris. There’s nothing to be afraid of. We would never give you a dog who was dangerous.”
    â€œIf he’s all trained, then why is he still here ?” asked Randy. I couldn’t even see Tinkerbelle, who was hiding behind his massive legs.
    â€œWell, he still needs work—it’s a slow process to undo all the damage that’s been done and have him gain our trust. Also, it’s really hard to adopt out a three-legged dog. People want a dog that looks like…” Kevin paused, contemplating his word choice.
    â€œA dog?” said Talbot.
    â€œExactly, but I think you’ll find that Roman can do everything other dogs can do.” Kevin handed the leash to me. “You ready for him?”
    No. I wasn’t ready to take charge of a recovering killer. I wouldn’t ever be ready—but did I have a choice? I reached out my shaky arm to Kevin. As soon as I made contact with the leash, Roman ran over to me and sniffed my feet. I kicked them up and toward his nose to shoo him away. He growled, and my fingers automatically released the leash.
    The dog took off across the grass, and Kevin followed him.
    â€œThat was