CHAPTER 10 - OLDENBURG, GERMANY—AUGUST 2, 1916
The clang of an alarm clock awakened Anna.
She shifted the alarm switch on the back of the clock, silencing the bells.
But muted chimes from Norbie’s workshop, two stories below Anna’s room, reverberated through the house.
She rubbed sand from her eyes, and then looked to the corner of the room where Nia was curled on the floor.
“Good morning,” Anna said.
Nia’s tail thumped against the wall.
“The guide dog school opens today,” Anna said. “You’re going with me to work.”
Nia raised her head.
“Come,” she said, leaning over her bed.
Nia labored to stand. She limped, favoring her front right paw, and placed her chin on the bed.
Anna patted Nia on the head and received a wet lick to her face. She giggled and ruffled Nia’s ears. You’re getting better.
For the past two weeks, Anna looked after Nia.
She washed and dried her paws, swollen and infected, and then applied a homemade garlic antibacterial ointment, which was a recipe from Emmi.
During the treatment, Nia didn’t squirm or kick.
Other than an occasional sniff or lick at the pungent concoction between her pads and claws, she was a model patient.
But it became clear to Anna, when woken in the night by whines and whimpers, that Nia had suffered far more than trench-damaged paws during her service as an ambulance dog on the front.
“You’re safe, and you never have to go back there,” she’d whispered, cuddling Nia on the floor.
As days passed, Nia’s bad dreams waned but didn’t disappear. And seeing Nia’s distress made Anna wonder if Bruno might also be suffering from battlefield nightmares, even though his letters, which had dwindled in frequency and content, reassured her that he was of sound mind and body.
While Anna was away at work, Norbie filled in as caregiver.
Each day, he wrapped Nia in a wool blanket and carried her down the stairs to his workshop, where he fed her turnip feed, mixed with bits of black war bread.
Most of the time, Nia slept at his feet while he tinkered on timepieces.
Twice per day, he gently transferred her to the garden behind the workshop to do her business.
With Nia unable to stand on her own, he held her under the abdomen to keep weight off her paws.
After relieving herself, Nia raised her snout and licked Norbie on the nose.
In the evenings, Anna returned home to find Norbie at his workbench and Nia curled at his feet.
When Anna inquired as to why Norbie was missing his socks and shoes, he’d wiggled his toes and said, “She likes her tummy rubbed.”
Within a week, Nia gained a bit of weight.
Her rib cage no longer looked like a washboard covered in fur, and her caramel- and charcoal-colored coat began to shine.
She managed to briefly stand on her own, her legs splayed and quivering, before flopping on her belly.
But after a few more days of care, she was hobbling to the door to nuzzle Anna when she came home from work.
And, judging from a broken pendulum clock that remained in the same state of disrepair on a workbench, Anna knew that Norbie had forgone much of his work to care for Nia.
Seeing Norbie’s selfless compassion reminded Anna of how he’d cared for her after Mutter died.
Now, more than ever, she was grateful to have Norbie as her vater.
Anna straightened her bed and dressed for work. She helped Nia down the stairs to the kitchen, where Norbie was reading a newspaper and eating breakfast.
“Good morning,” Anna said.
Norbie put down his newspaper. “I made you toast and bark coffee. The brew is better than the last batch, but it still tastes like wood tea.”
“Danke.” Anna poured a cup of coffee, the color of blanched hazelnut, from a pot on the stove. She sat at the table and nibbled on her toasted black bread.
Nia hobbled to Norbie and nuzzled his leg.
He patted Nia and looked at Anna. “Are you sure she’s healthy enough to spend a day at the school?” he asked, a timbre of sadness in his voice.
You’re going to miss her, Anna thought. “Her paws need more time to heal, but my supervisor wants to see how she’s recovering.”
Norbie nodded.
Anna had provided Rolf Fleck with daily verbal progress reports on Nia’s health.
However, after two weeks, his patience on Nia’s recovery had grown thin, and he insisted on examining the dog for himself.
She hoped that, despite the pressure to produce a supply of dogs for training, he would allow more time for Nia’s recuperation.
“Our first veteran arrives today,” Anna said. “His name is Paul Feyen.”
“That’s wonderful news,” he said. “Will there be others joining him?”
“Not in the first class,” Anna said. “Fleck wants to keep it small to allow time for the trainers to learn and make adjustments.”
“When is the next class?” Norbie asked.
“Eight weeks,” Anna said. “Enough time for Nia to recover and be enrolled in class.”
Norbie rubbed Nia’s head. “I have two months to spoil you.”
Nia licked Norbie’s hand.
“We should treat her like a working guide dog, rather than a pet,” Anna said. “We mustn’t get too attached to her. It’s only a matter of time before she’s gone.”
Nia’s eyes glanced between Anna and Norbie.
Norbie patted Nia and placed his hands on his lap. “Okay.”
A bit of guilt fluttered in Anna’s stomach. Like Norbie, she’d spoiled Nia with cuddles and naps on her bed.
“Will you be working with the veteran?” Norbie asked.
“Nein,” she said, attempting to hide her disappointment. “My duties are limited to assisting trainers and caring for dogs.”
Norbie took a gulp of coffee. “They should be allowing you to do more.”
“I like my work,” she said.
“I’m sure you do,” he said. “But I think that you’d make a grand dog teacher. Right, Nia?”
Nia perked her head.
Anna sipped her coffee. Despite her proclamation that she was content with her role, she aspired to be a trainer.
She loved everything about guide dogs, and the prospect that these beautiful, intelligent animals were destined to be a prosthesis for the eyes of blind veterans.
She took every opportunity to attentively survey the work of trainers.
The manner in which they judged a dog’s temperament.
The assessments and tests they administered to the dogs.
Obedience commands. The steps they took to induct an untrained dog to a class-standard canine.
Advanced training and obstacle work. But by far the most impressive work, to Anna, was intelligent disobedience training, which was when a guide dog learned to disobey a command for the safety of a handler, such as being ordered to cross a busy street.
Each evening, Anna recorded her observations in a journal that she kept at her bedside.
Her heart and mind were awakened to the incredible feats that the guide dogs performed and, more than anything, she wanted to be part of restoring a disabled person’s life.
Perhaps someday I’ll get a chance to train with them.
Strikes of chimes, bells, and rings erupted in the workshop, and then abruptly stopped.
6:30 a.m. Anna paused, waiting for another strike. “Did you fix the grandfather clock?”
“Ja,” Norbie said, smiling.
A loud chime sounded.
Norbie sighed. “Confounded pendulum disc.”
“We need to leave.” Anna stood and patted Nia. “Ready?”
Nia stood. She raised her lame front paw, giving her the appearance of a hunting dog.
“Don’t you want to give her something to eat?” Norbie asked.
“I’ll feed her at school.”
Norbie pointed. “I packed you a lunch.”
“Danke.” She retrieved a paper sack from the counter. As she turned, Norbie folded his arms and peered out the kitchen window. His plate was empty of bread, and Nia was licking her snout. “I know what you did.”
Norbie patted his belly “She needs it more than I do.”
Anna fought back a smile and kissed him on the cheek. She helped Nia down the steps and waited outside until Emmi and a trainer, who was driving a horse-drawn wagon, picked them up. They arrived at the guide dog school at 7:00 a.m., precisely as Fleck required.
In the barn, Nia hobbled from stall to stall, greeting the other dogs. Tails wagged. Sniffing noses poked through the gaps in the stalls. As Anna was dishing turnip feed into tins, Emmi scurried to her and said, “Fleck’s coming.”
Anxiousness flooded Anna’s stomach. She dropped the scoop into the bin.
“Where is she?” Fleck asked, entering the barn.
Anna retrieved Nia, resting near a pen with two shepherds.
Fleck frowned. “She’s limping.”
She’s walking. “Nia is doing much better. She’s gained weight and—”
“She can’t train if she’s lame.” Fleck grabbed a leash from a hook and attached it to Nia’s collar. He examined each of her paws, and then led her around the barn.
Nia, unable to place weight on her front paw, hobbled over the ground on three legs.
Fleck tossed the leash to Anna. “We don’t have the luxury of feeding dogs that cannot work.”
I will not let you euthanize her. Anna squeezed the leash, attempting to bury her fear. “She only needs time to recover.”
“We do not have time, Fr?ulein Zeller,” he said firmly.
“Herr Fleck,” Emmi said, stepping to Anna’s side. “It sometimes takes months for a soldier’s trench-damaged feet to heal. I have no reason to believe that the recovery time would be shorter for dogs.”
Fleck smoothed his mustache with his fingers.
“Battle-blinded soldiers are flooding hospitals,” Anna said, mustering her confidence. “There will not be enough dogs for them. In the months and years ahead, you might need every dog in Germany.”
Fleck retrieved a metal case from his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.
“Two weeks ago, Nia was unable to walk,” Anna said. “She’s made tremendous strides with her health. I’ll have her ready to train by the next class.”
Fleck took a drag and exhaled smoke through his nose. “Pair her with another dog and place her in a stall.”
“Okay,” Anna said. “But—”
“But what?” he asked, his voice impatient.
Anna swallowed. Harbor your heart, Norbie’s voice echoed in her mind. “If you want to ensure her recovery, she should continue under my care, day and night.”
He flicked ash from his cigarette.
“With all due respect, Herr Fleck,” Emmi said, “sleeping on the cold ground might cause a setback with her paws.”
“Very well.” Fleck looked at Anna. “Since you insist on saving this dog, I expect you to feed her with your own food.”
I’m already feeding her our rations, Anna thought, but held her tongue. “Ja, sir.”
Fleck turned and left the building.
“Danke,” Anna said.
“You did most of the persuading,” Emmi said.
Anna hugged her. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
“Of course you could.” Emmi released Anna and smiled. “But it’s nice to feel needed.”
The clopping of hooves compelled them to step to the doorway.
In the courtyard, a horse-drawn wagon slowed to a stop.
The driver helped a man, holding a cane and wearing a gray uniform bare of military insignias, out of the wagon.
His eyes were dark and motionless, and scars covered his brows and cheekbones.
“That must be Paul Feyen,” Anna said.
“Ja,” Emmi said. “They always look so young.”
Anna nodded.
Nia hobbled to Anna and nudged her hand with her nose.
Anna stroked Nia’s head. Her tension eased.
Fleck greeted Paul with a handshake, and then introduced him to the trainers and several guide dogs. A smile spread over Paul’s face as he patted a dog.
“You think Fleck will introduce us?” Anna asked.
“Maybe, but I wouldn’t count on it.” Emmi retrieved a shovel and began cleaning a stall.
Nia stared at the group in the yard.
Anna kneeled to Nia and whispered, “Someday, you’ll be helping a veteran like him.”
Nia wagged her tail.
She ran her fingers through the dog’s fur. “We’re going to practice every night. You will learn everything the other dogs are doing. And when you’re well, there will be no chance of Fleck expelling you from school.”