W. Bruce Cameron A Dog's Journey: A Novel

ISBN 13: 9781427222893

A Dog's Journey: A Novel

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9781427222893: A Dog's Journey: A Novel
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Direct sequel to the New York Times and USA Today bestselling A Dog's Purpose by W. Bruce Cameron

Buddy is a good dog.

After searching for his purpose through several eventful lives, Buddy is sure that he has found and fulfilled it. Yet as he watches curious baby Clarity get into dangerous mischief, he is certain that this little girl is very much in need of a dog of her own.

When Buddy is reborn, he realizes that he has a new destiny. He's overjoyed when he is adopted by Clarity, now a vibrant but troubled teenager. When they are suddenly separated, Buddy despairs―who will take care of his girl?

A charming and heartwarming story of hope, love, and unending devotion, A Dog's Journey asks the question: Do we really take care of our pets, or do they take care of us? More than just another endearing dog tale, A Dog's Journey is the moving story of unwavering loyalty and a love that crosses all barriers.

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About the Author:

W. BRUCE CAMERON is the New York Times bestselling author of A Dog's Purpose, A Dog's Journey and The Dogs of Christmas. He lives in California.


George K Wilson has narrated over 100 audiobook titles and has won several AudioFile Earphone Awards. He has worked in broadcast news, stage, television, and stand-up comedy, and has written and performed over 500 nationally syndicated news satire features for public radio and NPR.

Excerpt. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

A DOG’S JOURNEY (CHAPTER 1)

As I sat in the sun on the wooden dock that jutted out into the pond, I knew this to be true: my name was Buddy, and I was a good dog.

The fur on my legs was as black as the rest of me, but down at my paws it had, over time, become tinged with white. I had lived a long and full life with a boy named Ethan, spending many lazy afternoons on this very dock, here on the Farm, enjoying a swim or barking at the ducks.

This was the second summer without Ethan. When he died I felt a pain inside me much sharper than any other I’d ever felt. Now the pain was less, more like a stomachache, but I still felt it all the time. Only sleep soothed it away—in my sleep, Ethan ran with me through my dreams.

I was an old dog and knew that someday soon a much deeper sleep would come, as it had always come for me before. It came for me when I was named Toby, in my silly first life, when I had no real purpose but to play with other dogs. It came for me when I was named Bailey, when I first met my boy and loving him became my whole focus. It came for me when I was Ellie, when my job was to Work, to Find people, and to Save them. So when the deeper sleep came for me next, at the end of this life, as Buddy, I felt sure that I would not live again, that I had fulfilled my purpose and there was no reason for me to be a dog anymore. So whether it happened this summer or the next didn’t matter. Ethan, loving Ethan, was my ultimate purpose, and I had done it as well as I could. I was a good dog.

And yet ...

And yet as I sat there I was watching one of the many children from Ethan’s family striding unsteadily toward the end of the dock. She hadn’t been walking very long in her life, so every step was a wobble. She wore white puffy pants and a thin shirt. I pictured jumping in the water and pulling her to the surface by that shirt, and I let out a soft whimper.

The child’s mother’s name was Gloria. She was on the dock, too, lying motionless on a reclined chair with bits of vegetables placed on both of her eyes. Her hand had been holding a leash that went to the little girl’s waist, but the leash had gone slack in Gloria’s hand and was now trailing behind the child as she headed for the end of the dock and the pond beyond.

As a puppy my reaction to a limp leash was always to explore, and this little girl’s response was just the same.

This was Gloria’s second visit to the Farm. The previous time was in the wintertime. Ethan had still been alive, and Gloria had handed the baby to him and called him Grandpa. After Gloria left, Ethan and his mate, Hannah, said the name Gloria out loud many times over many nights, with sad emotions underlying their conversations.

They also said the name Clarity. The baby’s name was Clarity, though often Gloria called her Clarity June.

I felt certain that Ethan would want me to watch over Clarity, who always seemed to be getting into trouble. Just the other day I had sat by miserably while the baby crawled under the bird feeder and stuffed handfuls of fallen seeds into her mouth. It was one of my main jobs to terrorize the squirrels when they did this, but I wasn’t sure what to do when I caught Clarity at it, even though I knew that for a child to eat birdseed was probably against a rule. And I was right about that—when I finally barked a few times, Gloria sat up from where she had been lying facedown on a towel and she was very angry.

I glanced at Gloria now. Should I bark? Children often jumped into the pond but never when they were as young as this little girl, though the way she was going it seemed inevitable she was going to get wet. Babies were only allowed in the water with adults holding them. I looked back toward the house. Hannah was outside, kneeling and playing with flowers up by the driveway, too far away to do anything if Clarity fell in the pond. I was pretty sure Hannah would want me to watch over Clarity, too. It was my new purpose.

Clarity was getting closer to the edge. I let out another whimper, a louder one.

“Hush,” Gloria said without opening her eyes. I didn’t understand the word, but the sharp tone was unmistakable.

Clarity didn’t even look back. When she got to the edge of the dock, she teetered briefly and then fell straight off the front.

My nails dug into the wood as I lunged off the side of the dock and into the warm water. Clarity bobbed up a little, her little limbs working frantically, but her head was mostly below the pond’s surface. I reached her in seconds, my teeth gently snagging the shirt. I pulled her head out of the water and turned for the shore.

Gloria started screaming, “Oh my God! Clarity!” She ran around and waded into the water just as my feet found purchase on the mucky bottom of the pond.

“Bad dog!” she shouted as she snatched Clarity from me. “You are a bad, bad dog!”

I hung my head in shame.

“Gloria! What happened?” Hannah shouted as she came running up.

“Your dog just knocked the baby into the water. Clarity could have drowned! I had to jump in to save her and now I’m all wet!”

The distress in everyone’s voices was very plain.

“Buddy?” Hannah said.

I didn’t dare look at her. I wagged my tail a little and it splashed the surface of the pond. I didn’t know what I had done wrong, but clearly I had upset everyone.

Everyone, that is, except Clarity. I risked a glance at her because I could sense her straining in her mother’s arms, her little hands reaching out toward me.

“Bubby,” Clarity gurgled. Her pants were streaming water down her legs. I dropped my eyes again.

Gloria blew out some air. “Hannah, would you mind taking the baby? Her diaper’s all wet and I want to lie on my stomach so I’ll be the same color on both sides.”

“Sure,” Hannah said. “Come on, Buddy.”

Thankful we had that over with, I leaped out of the water, wagging my tail.

“Don’t shake!” Gloria said, dancing away from me on the dock. I heard the warning in her voice, though I wasn’t sure what she was trying to tell me. I shook myself from head to tail, ridding my fur of the pond water.

“Yuck, no!” Gloria shrieked. She sternly lectured me, pointing her finger and using a whole string of words I didn’t understand, though she did say “bad dog” a few times. I lowered my head, blinking.

“Buddy, come,” Hannah said. Her tone was gentle. I followed obediently as we went up to the house.

“Bubby,” Clarity kept saying. “Bubby.”

As we reached the front steps to the house I paused because of the odd taste in my mouth. I’d had it before—it reminded me of the time when I pulled a thin metal pan out of the trash that was lined with sweet flavors and, after licking it clean, experimentally crunched up the pan itself. The metal tasted bad, so I spat it out. This particular taste, though, I couldn’t spit out—it sat on my tongue and invaded my nose.

“Buddy?” Hannah stood on the front porch, regarding me. “What’s wrong?”

I wagged and bounded up onto the porch, leading the way into the house when she opened the door.

It was always fun to walk through that door, whether it was going inside or heading out, because it meant we were doing something new.

Later I stood guard while Hannah and Clarity played a new game. Hannah would carry Clarity to the top of the stairs and then watch while Clarity turned around and went down the stairs in a backward crawl. Usually Hannah would say “Good girl,” and I would wag my tail. When Clarity got to the bottom step I would lick her in the face and she would giggle; then she would raise her arms to Hannah. “Mo’,” she would beg. “Mo,’ Gramma. Mo’.” When she said this Hannah would lift her up and kiss her and then take her to the top of the stairs to do it again.

When I felt satisfied they were safe I went to my favorite spot in the living room, circled, and lay down with a sigh. A few minutes later Clarity came over to me, dragging her blanket. She had the thing in her mouth that she chewed on but never swallowed.

“Bubby,” she said. She dropped to all fours and crawled the last few feet to me and curled up against me, pulling her blanket against herself with her tiny hands. I sniffed her head—nobody in the world smelled like Clarity. Her scent filled me with a warm feeling that nudged me into a nap.

We were still sleeping when I heard the screen door shut and Gloria come into the room. “Oh, Clarity!” she said. I blearily opened my eyes as Gloria reached down and snatched the little girl away from where she’d been sleeping. The place where Clarity had been snuggled against me felt oddly cold and empty without her there.

Hannah came out from the kitchen. “I’m making cookies,” she said.

I eased myself to my feet because I knew that word. Wagging, I went over to sniff Hannah’s sweet-smelling hands.

“The baby was sleeping right up against the dog,” Gloria said. I heard the word “dog” and, as usual, it sounded as if I had made her mad. I wondered if this meant no cookies.

“That’s right,” Hannah said. “Clarity cuddled right up against him.”

“I would just prefer it if my child not sleep next to a dog. If Buddy had rolled over, Clarity might have been crushed.”

I watched Hannah for some clue as to why my name had just been mentioned. She put her hand to her mouth. “I ... all right, of course. I won’t let it happen again.”

Clarity was still asleep, her little head against Gloria’s s...

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