Here’s the beginning of my first draft of A FAMILY FOR KUMBA. Comments are welcome!

November 8, 2015
Carolina, Puerto Rico

The black puppy slips into the world and onto the squirming pile of brothers and sisters, all mewing, blind, helpless. His mother’s tongue seeks him out, lapping the birth membrane away, leaving him looking like a teeny guinea pig with a cool gelled hairdo. She is a purebred black Labrador retriever, and she has had the good fortune to be mated with another Lab instead of by one of the hundreds of little mutts that roam the island of Puerto Rico. The black puppy follows the scent of his mother’s milk and, cheek to cheek with his littermates, latches on to a warm teat. 
        He doesn’t have a name, not yet. And the tiny black puppy doesn’t know that this universe of warm fur and licking tongues won’t be his Forever Family. 

January 6, 2016
Carolina, Puerto Rico

In eight weeks, when his mother’s milk has fattened the little black puppy into a proper Lab, a hand lifts him out of the kennel and into a cardboard box. The puppy barks to summon his mother, brothers, his sisters. Instead, the hand closes the box. “Quieto!” quiet, a man’s voice scolds. But, no. The puppy yelps and yips as this dark, lonely world is assaulted by harsh new sounds: car engines, horns, shouting. The box jiggles and jiggles for what seems like forever. 
    Then, it is quiet again. The box comes to a stop. The little black puppy pushes his nose through the gap in the lid. “Feliz dia de los reyes!” the man says.
“Un cachorro!” A puppy, a boy exclaims as he takes the squirmy little dog into his arms. The Lab is given the name Kumba, perhaps because it is the Aboriginal name meaning Black Fruit Tree. Or maybe the boy who becomes his owner just thinks it sounds cool. Like Kumba-ya. 
Kumba becomes the boy’s best friend. Before school, after school, on weekends. Sleeping together. Eating together. Going to the beach, except Kumba prefers staying by the boy’s side on the sand. They are both afraid of the waves, so  they run and wrestle, both of them growing long and strong. 
    They are amigos para siempre, friends for life. This is Kumba’s new Forever Family. 

September, 2017
Carolina, Puerto Rico

Hurricane Maria twists the island into its dark vortex. Donald Trump proclaims victory over the storm, tossing packets of paper towels into the cheering crowd. 
Kumba hasn’t a clue. He is living his best life. Pura vida.

November 8, 2017
Carolina, Puerto Rico

The power is still out as Kumba turns two. The boy, now a restless teenager, paces in his bedroom. Something is changing. The humans don’t play with him like they used do. Kumba curls his long black body into a tight ball, tucks his nose into his paws, and sighs. 

August 1, 2019
Animal Shelter, Puerto Rico

The hurricane is long gone but the damage stays done. There is no future in Puerto Rico and so the boy’s family is leaving the island. Time is running out and there is no place for Kumba in the departure. 
The boy walks Kumba to the animal shelter, his head down. Those deep brown eyes beseech but the boy’s eyes are cloudy and wet and cannot answer. He walks away.
Kumba barks. And barks. And barks. 
The boy does not return.
Kumba hears only killer dogs. He lunges and snarls before they can get too close.

November 8, 2019

      Worn out by heartache and deathly thin from a tick-borne illness, Kumba turns four alone in his cage at the shelter. No one knows it’s his birthday. The light in his eyes has dimmed. 

Hang in there, Kumba. Your rescue is about to happen!