Tatum Comes Home

Book 1: Dog Agency Novels

by Tatum Talks, Mica Stone

Genres: Women's Fiction; Romantic Comedy

Synopsis

With 3.5M TikTok followers, Tatum is a bone-a-fide social media star, and his legions of fans will love this sweet, heartwarming adventure, full of humor and featuring Tatum’s own distinctive voice! For fans of Melinda Metz, Victoria Schade, and Annie England Noblin.

Here’s a few fings I learned on my vacation . . . beef jerkey is delightfoo, hikin is just walkin but for a long time, and if you get into someone’s truck they don’t know where you live also you have to tell them you’re in the truck. Also I fink maybe I wasn’t on vacation?
--excerpt from Tatum’s diary
 
The late May air is filled with the rich scents of a Maine spring, and Tatum, a sweet, rust-colored rescue dog, is enjoying a trip to the hardware store with his dad when a heavy thunderstorm blows in. Frightened, Tatum scampers off to hide—and buries himself beneath a blanket on a nearby truck.
 
When Tatum wakes, hungry and confused, he’s hours from home. The truck’s kind owner promises to get him back to his family, but that’ll be no easy feat. Tatum lost his collar during his travels, and with power out because of the storm, the local vet can’t scan for a chip.
 
But Tatum, with his deep golden eyes and trusting gaze, has a knack for making friends—and for letting humans know exactly what’s on his mind. While his mum and dad do everything they can to track him down, the people Tatum meets on his journey are just as eager to do their part to get him home. And in turn, Tatum has a way of nudging everyone he encounters to overcome hurdles, seek out second chances, and find—or make—the families they need.

Release date: October 24, 2023

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 256

Sample

It was a little bit crazy to think a dog could go to sleep beneath a blanket in the bed of a truck parked in front of a store in Bangor, Maine, during the scariest storm the world had ever seen, only to wake up hours later near the Canadian border. Not only that, but to find himself staring at a man who looked like Santa Claus, big and jolly and round.

But there Tatum was, hungry, scared, cold, still damp, his foreleg aching from a wound he’d licked until it had stopped bleeding. This was really not how Tatum had expected his night to go. And he didn’t understand how he’d got there.

All he’d wanted was to take a ride with his dad. Family outings were more fun than playing fetch and chase in the backyard. He made sure to let his mum and dad know he was always ready for a ride. Most of the time, they let him come along. The times he couldn’t weren’t any fun. He didn’t like staying home. It always took his parents forever to get back.

He couldn’t remember exactly how he’d hurt his leg. He’d been scampering back and forth, looking for shelter, wriggling deep into bushes, crawling under cars. When he’d finally found his dad’s truck again, having run away, scared by the storm, he’d jumped into the open bed, shivering because he was wet and frightened. And then he’d gone to sleep.

“Hey there, little fella,” the man said, his big hands spread out on the tailgate.

His voice was gruff, and it boomed. His eyes looked like they were twinkling behind his glasses, though it was hard to see his mouth with his bushy white whiskers. Also, it was really dark in the sky, and there weren’t any lights. But Tatum was pretty sure the man was smiling.

He sounded super nice. “Considering I loaded up my gear in Bangor, and I ain’t been back here to check on things since, I’d say you’re a long way from home.”

That was the last thing Tatum wanted to hear. He tucked his tail close and lowered his ears. He gave a little whimper, but mostly because his leg hurt and he was cold. He dropped his head. He wanted his dad. He wanted his mum. He wanted to go home and see Puddles.

“Aww, what’s wrong, buddy?” The man patted the tailgate and then boosted one hip to sit on the edge.

The truck bounced a bit because the man was big. He wore overalls and a shirt that looked warm. It had a lot of brown and black squares. It made Tatum think of a blanket. He really, really missed his blanket and bed. And all of his toys. Especially his squishy shark.

He thought they must be parked in front of the man’s house. On the side, there was a bench in a garden with some yellow flowers he thought were called daffodils growing around it. The house was white and had black shutters. It looked like a cozy house. It didn’t look like a place where bad things happened, just good things. That made him feel better.

“C’mon. Let’s get a look at you and see about finding something to eat, eh? It’s late, but I could use a bite myself. That was the kind of drive I don’t like making. Too long and terrible weather. I think I might have some leftover pot roast and gravy in the fridge. How ’bout it?”

Eating was the other thing Tatum was ready to do. And gravy made everything in the world taste so much better. He knew that from all the times his mum would put hot water on his food and stir it up until there was gravy in the bowl. His mum made magic happen like that.

He hobbled slowly toward the man, limping on three legs, worried by the frown on the man’s face. Had he done something wrong? Was the man going to be mean to him? Because Tatum was really afraid. It was going to be hard to walk back to his family if he had to run away from a mean man who had said he was a long way from home.

“Oh, boy. That looks like it might need some stitches. Think you could come inside and let me get a better look? It’s too late to do anything about it tonight ’cept clean it up a bit. Looks like you’re shivering pretty bad. I’ll run you over to the vet in the morning just in case. She’ll get you fixed right up. She’s a good friend of mine.”

Tatum stopped when the man said the word vet. He’d been to too many when his family first took him home. He’d been in pretty bad shape before getting better, but he still didn’t want to go. Even if the man said she was a friend, a vet was no place for a dog.

A dog needed a big yard to run and play in. A dog needed toys to chew on and sleep with. A dog needed a soft bed and lots of cuddles from his mum and dad.

Nope. He was sure of it. A dog did not need a vet.

“It’ll be all right. Now c’mon. Let me take a look at what’s left of your collar. See if you’ve got a name or a number on there so we can let your family know you’re okay.”

That made Tatum feel better. It was the best idea he’d heard all night. Still, he didn’t rush forward but took his time and watched the man closely. Finally he was near enough for the man to reach him. The man moved slowly and touched Tatum gently. He smelled like he’d been outdoors, or had been driving with his window down and letting in the stormy air.

“Hmm. It looks like one of your tags got torn off. This ring keeping it on is loose, but this tag tells me your name is Tatum.” The man chuckled and rubbed Tatum’s head. “That sounds like a great name for a young fella like you. Tatum. I like it,” he said, and laughed. “Now that we’ve got that all figured out, let’s go eat.”

At that, Tatum wagged his tail and smiled.

Back in Bangor, four hundred miles and six hours earlier, Charles Frazier was frantic. Frantic, breathless, and worried sick. His heart was pounding to rival the thunder of the storm. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Every flash of lightning lit up his truck.

His empty truck.

He’d already started it to drive home, then stepped out to better situate the plastic tubs he’d picked up. He was in the middle of organizing the garage and wanted to finish before the workweek started the following day. Nicole had told him it could wait. He could finish next weekend; they had nothing planned. He should’ve listened to his wife.

If he had, he wouldn’t be standing there alone, his heart ripped to shreds.

He’d seen the storm coming in, but the trip should’ve been a quick one. For the most part, it had been. Until the wind had started whipping the trees in the parking lot and blowing the tubs in the bed of his truck, causing them to bounce around.

He’d decided to move them into the cab. He’d had his back turned for only fifteen seconds. Maybe twenty. When he reached the back seat with the first tub, Tatum was gone.

Why had he left his door open? Tatum never got out of the truck without permission. But usually the weather wasn’t slamming through like a hurricane. He knew how much Tatum hated storms. He had one particular closet he crawled into at home to wait them out. Sometimes Nicole would sit with him, rubbing his head and talking softly to keep him calm.

The first time he’d run in there hadn’t been long after they’d brought him home from the shelter. He and Tatum had been racing across the backyard, rolling on the grass, having a great time becoming friends. Then Charles had picked up a stick to see if Tatum knew how to play fetch.

Tatum had frozen in his tracks, then tucked his tail between his legs, and finally bolted toward the open back door. Charles and Nicole had shared a look, then gone after him. It had taken several minutes to find him huddled and shaking in the closet. Charles had been the one to sit with him then, calming him, assuring him he was safe.

Charles didn’t know why he was wasting time thinking about all that now. Probably because he didn’t know what to do. He was soaked to the skin, which meant Tatum would be drenched as well, wherever he’d gotten himself to. And Charles had looked for him everywhere.

Inside the store. Around the back of the store. Beneath every single car in the lot. Nothing. Nothing.

“Tatum! C‘mon, boy! Let’s go home! Mum’s waiting for us!”

He was going to have to call Nicole. He would much rather have given her the bad news in person, but he needed to stay put should Tatum find his way back. He sat on the edge of his seat, his door open, and hit the Call button. She answered almost immediately.

“Where are you? I’ve been calling and calling. You should’ve been home by now.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I left my phone in the truck. I didn’t hear it.”

“What? Charles, tell me. What’s wrong?”

He could hear her voice trembling. She didn’t even know what was happening, and she was as scared as he was. He was about to make things so much worse.

“It’s Tatum, Nicole. I’ve lost him. He’s gone.”

A heartbeat of silence passed before she whispered, “What?”

He closed his eyes, feeling the water from his lashes running down his face. “I was putting the storage tubs in the back seat. My door was open. There was a loud crack of thunder. He jumped out and ran before I could turn around.”

“And you’ve called him? And looked for him?”

“Yes, yes. I ran after him but couldn’t see him. The rain is blinding. I looked under every car in the lot. I asked everyone I saw. I searched inside the store. Around the perimeter. Down the block both ways. Across the street. I can’t find him anywhere. I’m soaked to the skin. I can’t imagine he’s in any better shape.” He pulled in a shaking breath after that long rush of words. “I’m sorry, Nicole. I don’t want to leave in case he comes back.”

She didn’t hesitate but asked, her voice steady and sure, “What do you need me to do?”

Jed Allen had been without a dog for two years now. Hard to believe it had been that long since he’d lost his Rosie. She’d been such a good girl, the best friend and companion dogs were meant to be. An Irish setter with gorgeous deep red hair that required more maintenance than that of most people he’d known. She’d loved to be groomed. Just loved it. Always with a smile, that girl. And boy could she ever run. She never wanted to stop. They’d trekked for miles, and she’d worn out Jed long before she’d been ready to call it a day.

He’d been a dog owner, and dog lover, since he was five years old. That was the year his folks had given him a puppy for Christmas. He’d opened the box that was making the funniest sounds to find a ball of black fuzz and slobber and big brown eyes.

The pup had jumped into his lap, getting his clumsy legs all tangled up in the box flaps, and peed all over himself and Jed. He and his parents had laughed and laughed before cleaning up. They hadn’t even been mad. They knew what it meant to take on a dog.

As an adult, Jed knew Christmas pups didn’t always work out for kids. But he and Sam had grown up together, best friends, him and his big black Lab. He’d lost him to old age just after he’d graduated high school. It made coming home from college for holidays bittersweet, sleeping in his bed without his buddy curled up at his feet.

He still hated thinking about it. Got a big ol’ knot in his gut every time. He’d never understand why man’s best friend hadn’t been given a longer life span. Seemed to make more sense to stick together through all the years of thick and thin than share so few.

Being without a dog was tough these days, but he was growing older and wasn’t sure adding that responsibility to his life was a good idea. Some mornings, it was all he could do to walk from his bedroom to the kitchen to make his coffee. Others, he got up ready to walk for miles. He’d hate disappointing or failing a pet who expected and deserved so much more.

Inside now with Tatum, he covered the table, which he’d thoroughly disinfect later, with a clean sheet. It was an old one, white with some faded yellow flowers, one he’d used in Rosie’s bed. He’d spoiled her in her later years, but he’d wanted her comfortable. She’d been his trusted sidekick through some really hard times. And it was his business, no one else’s, if he babied the pups in his care.

With Tatum looking on, Jed set the small bowl of pot roast and carrots he’d fixed on one side before he reached for Tatum. He did so slowly, carefully. He didn’t want Tatum to bolt.

“I know this probably isn’t what you’re used to. Tables are for family meals. I imagine you know that. But it’s better lighting up here, and I can get a good look at this wound.”

Tatum wasn’t too heavy; he was a rusty-brown color, his hair short and coarse, his eyes dark gold and intense. Looked like he had some bulldog in him. Great breed. So misunderstood. Friendly and loyal and protective. He was a sharp fella, taking in his surroundings, curious and aware.

Tatum scented the food and went to town on it. Jed hadn’t given him too much. Just enough to distract him while he took a look at his leg. He wet a cloth and carefully cleaned away the dried blood and dirt, clipping away matted hair. Best to get him looked at by a vet the next day. He didn’t see any glass or metal shards, but the vet would do a better cleaning than he could. Little guy probably needed some antibiotics. Maybe pain meds. Man, did Jed ever hate seeing a scared animal.

Jed gave Tatum another spoonful of food, saying, “This may sting a bit, but then we’ll be done here, and we can make you up a comfy bed for the night.”

Just as Tatum opened his mouth, Jed sprayed the antiseptic. Tatum yelped and scampered back, but Jed had been ready with a steadying arm wrapped around him. Tatum’s nails skidded on the table but couldn’t take hold, and finally he stilled.

“Shh, now. All done. I’m just going to wrap this up. You finish your food there. I used to have a cone, but I donated that with most of Rosie’s things. Lucky you, huh?” Jed said, chuckling when Tatum’s ears perked up at the word. “Guess you’ll be staying here with me till we find your folks. Hopefully they chipped you and that won’t take long.”

Finished licking his bowl, Tatum sat back on his haunches while Jed bandaged his wound. It was seeping a bit, but not bleeding, and only took a minute to get wrapped up. Once Jed was done, he moved all the supplies to the side so he could lift Tatum down. That’s when Jed realized how still Tatum was, sitting and staring at the wall beside the pantry door.

Jed followed the direction of Tatum’s gaze. He doubted the pup was actually looking at the photos framed and hung there, but it was hard for Jed to see them and not be taken back.

“That big black Lab there? That’s Sam. He was my first dog. My first pet. He was my best friend for thirteen long years. He lived a good long life. Most Labs don’t have that thick coat, so he might’ve been a mix of Labrador and another sort of retriever. Boy, did he shed. I had to brush and de-shed him and even vacuum him sometimes.”

That memory had Jed chuckling. Tatum looked at him with a curious uncertainty but gave a quick tail wag.

“No need to worry. I won’t be vacuuming you, though I might dig up Rosie’s de-shedding tool, if I still have it, and rid you of some of that loose hair. She used to beg for that. Guess it felt good, like an itch being scratched.”

Tatum dropped to his belly then, his tail wagging again. Jed pointed to another picture. “That’s Rosie there. I named her that because her coat made me think of red roses. My wife, Patty, she loved red roses. Brought them home to her as often as I could.”

The memory had Jed swallowing hard. He knew it would always be that way, no matter how many years passed. “Lots of men give them to their women without knowing what their favorite flower is. I knew. Patty told me early on so I wouldn’t waste my money on other things. That’s when you know you’ve got a good woman. She’s not afraid to speak her mind.”

Tatum hunkered down, his chin on the table, his eyes solemn as he studied Jed. “Oh, you won’t have to worry about that. Just about that leg of yours and getting back home. And I’ll do my best to do most of the worrying for you.”

Tatum was well cared for and no doubt missed as much as he was doing the missing. Jed had never lost one of his dogs for more than a few minutes, and that really wasn’t losing. They’d just decided not to listen when he called. But he remembered that panicked sensation, all of his insides dropping to his feet. He didn’t want Tatum’s people to have to go through more of that than they already had. He’d get him to the vet first thing in the morning.

Dogs were something else, the way they got beneath a person’s skin and in no time made their way to their heart. But that was okay, and no doubt exactly how the maker had intended, Jed mused, rubbing a hand over Tatum’s head, smiling as Tatum closed his eyes.

It was then Jed realized how much he’d been talking since finding this little guy in the back of his truck. Huh. Other than the visit he’d just made to the VA in Augusta, and all the talking he’d gotten in during the trip, he didn’t have a lot of interest in conversing with anyone, or anyone to converse with for that matter. And now he’d be heading to the vet in the morning.

That tied a knot of another whole color in Jed’s gut, one he didn’t want to think about that night. He pushed away from the table, his chair’s legs scraping over the worn linoleum Patty had stayed after him for years to replace, and lifted Tatum to the floor.

He should’ve done it for her, for the both of them, but they’d been so busy. He’d just have to do it now for himself. But he’d pick the color he knew she’d wanted. Because this had been her home for most of her life, and he owed her memory that courtesy.

“C’mon, young fella. Let me leash you up and take you out, then we’ll fix you a bed. I’m way past ready to crawl into mine.”

Even if he’d be doing it by himself like he had for the last fourteen years.

The crowd of friends and neighbors gathering to help Charles and Nicole search for Tatum continued to grow. They all huddled beneath the hardwa. . .