This new dog would never do those things. It was obvious he didn’t care about anyone but himself. He was just a big, selfish bully.
Tank would have to speak to Gus about Decker tomorrow. Something needed to be done quickly before Decker hurt Moon Pie.
Tank Before
Tank found his dog gift early in life.
“You are a guardian, Tank,” his mother often told him. “It’s your gift. You do it better than dogs twice your size.”
Tank knew it was true. He felt it in every bone in his body. And so when he was adopted by a family with two chubby, grabby twin boys, he protected them with the same fierce loyalty with which he had once protected his siblings.
When one of them crawled too close to the edges of the glass coffee table, Tank stood between the twin and the table so the twin couldn’t bump against its edges and cut himself.
When strangers came to the door, Tank barked and snarled until he was sure they meant no harm.
When the new kitten got on top of the refrigerator and could not get down, Tank dragged his bed over for her to jump onto and barked until she did it.
He was everyone’s bodyguard, and he loved his job.
When the accident happened, Tank was sleeping on the sofa. The twins had just learned to walk, and sometimes they fell. This kept Tank on guard most of the time, but at that crucial moment he was taking a well-deserved nap.
Tank woke up in time to see one twin push the other against the glass coffee table. The cut was deep. The hurt twin looked stunned. Tank hopped down from the sofa to help.
Blood poured down the toddler’s face. Tank wanted to help, needed to help. He barked and got on top of the boy, who was rolling back and forth on the floor. If he could just keep the boy still, maybe he would calm down. Then Tank could lick the boy’s face like his mother had when he got hurt as a pup.
The boy started to whimper, then burst into a howl of pain.
The other twin crawled over, waving the TV remote at his brother. The remote had sharp edges, and the boy was clumsy. Tank growled at the boy, hoping that would scare him away.
And that was when the parents came in. They screamed louder than the twin.
It took Tank a moment to realize that they were screaming at him.
“Tank, OFF!” cried the mother. She shoved him off the boy. “Where were you?” she asked the twins’ father angrily.
“I just went to the bathroom for a second—hey, don’t be so rough!”
“He’s on top of our son and he’s growling! Get him out of here!”
“But—”
“NOW.”
The father pulled Tank out to the yard by his collar. Tank stayed there for a long, long time, worrying about his twins, wondering if they were okay.
Later that day, the father drove Tank to a small building with small windows. Inside it smelled of fear and mange. Tank heard the wails and whines of other dogs.
The father brought Tank up to the desk and handed his leash to the woman there.
“We can’t keep this dog any longer,” he said.
The woman behind the desk got up quickly.
“Sir, we need you to fill out some forms—”
“I can’t,” the father said. “I just can’t.”
He walked away without looking back.
A woman was nearby. A woman with gray, frizzy hair. She bent down and held Tank’s head in her hands.
“I’ll take him,” she said.
“Now, Lottie,” said the woman behind the desk. “You don’t know anything about this dog.”
“I’ve been volunteering here a long time,” Miss Lottie said, “and I know a good dog when I see one. This guy looks like he might make a good guard dog, too.”
A good guard dog. That’s what Tank had always thought he was. But ever since that day, he hadn’t been sure.
Gus
The family room was still dark. Gus could hear Tank and Roo snoring. He smelled Moon Pie’s deep sleep. Moon Pie had been awake earlier in the night and had wandered off, but Tank, his ever-vigilant guardian, had brought him back. Moon Pie settled in right away. After tossing and turning for a while, Tank finally fell asleep. Gus lifted his head and sniffed the air.
Ghost was nearby.
Ghost had been adopted just a few days after Gus. At first Ghost had stayed under the bed. Gus desperately wanted an animal friend, someone who understood how long and lonely the days could be when Miss Lottie left the house to run errands. Day after day he would call out to Ghost, pleading with him to come out and talk, but the cat kept quiet.
Then one night, Gus woke up with a start and found Ghost batting a paper clip across the family room floor. Gus watched him for a while, trying to figure out the best way to approach the shy cat. The more he watched, the more he realized Ghost was showing off. For him. Gus finally understood what to do. He had simply said, “You’re good at that.”
“I know,” was all Ghost said back.
Ever since that night, the two had forged a tenuous friendship. Ghost would sometimes come into the family room to complain about the toys Miss Lottie was always giving him, which lacked catnip and were therefore inferior.
Other times Gus would go to the guest room and quietly talk about whatever was on his mind—his pack, his food, rocks. Gus always felt that Ghost was truly listening to him in a focused, catlike way.
What fascinated Gus most about Ghost was that he was such a cat. As much as Gus hated to admit it, Ghost was smarter and more observant than any dog he had ever spoken to. Gus was sure Ghost had definite ideas about the new dog, and he wanted to hear them.
Once Gus’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see the outlines of the slim white cat sitting on top of the bookshelves. Gus trotted over and sat down in front of them.
“I’ve been hearing a mouse,” he said.
“Old news,” Ghost said. He lifted up his paw and started grooming. “I’ve known about him for ages. I like keeping him around, though. It’s fun.”
“I suppose,” Gus said, although he didn’t really understand the mouse thing. He was more of a squirrel guy.
“So what do you think of Decker?” Gus asked.
Ghost stopped licking his paw for a moment. He turned to stare at Gus. Sometimes, when those big, owl eyes shone on Gus, he felt a strange quiver tunnel its way through his body. His mouth would twitch, and he found himself yearning to bite Ghost very, very badly. He didn’t want to do it, but he could feel his doggy instinct swelling up inside him. He prided himself on being able to keep this urge checked.
“I find him . . . disturbing,” Ghost said.
“Really? How?”
Ghost lifted his other paw and started licking it. “For one thing, he threatened me.”
“That’s not so strange,” Gus said. “Dogs threaten cats all the time.”
“This was different. Can’t explain it,” Ghost said. “Something about his tone.”
That, Gus understood. The aloofness and arrogance of the new dog made Gus uneasy, too.
“Didn’t like the way he talked to Moon Pie, either,” Ghost said. “Not that I was eavesdropping.”
“Of course not.”
“He wasn’t very pleasant. Granted, Moon Pie is a terrible nuisance, but this seemed a bit . . . harsh.” Ghost swatted a pen off the shelf.
“Can you keep an eye on Decker?” Gus asked. “I wouldn’t want you to eavesdrop. I know it’s beneath you. But maybe, if you happen to hear something interesting, you could report back to me.”
Ghost tilted his head slightly. One ear twitched. “Why should I do that?”
Gus thought for a moment. “How about I bring you a Tiddle Widdle Chicken Bit every morning?”
Ghost swished his tail.
“Two.”
Miss Lottie only gave out two Tiddle Widdle Chicken Bits a day to each dog. If he gave both to Ghost, he wouldn’t have any.
Gus thumped his tail once.
“Deal,” he said.
His pack was wo
rth a thousand Tiddle Widdle Chicken Bits.
Before he fell asleep, he thought about what Ghost had said. A conversation between Decker and Moon Pie was troublesome. The young pug was so easily influenced. Gus would have to pay extra attention to Decker when Moon Pie was around.
Moon Pie Before
The first face Moon Pie saw every morning was Gertie’s, and the first face Gertie saw was Moon Pie’s.
They had their breakfast together, and then they napped. They watched TV, had a little bitty something for lunch, and then they napped. They ate their dinner, watched more TV, and napped some more.
They did go for walks, but not for long walks, oh no. Moon Pie liked to be up on the big bed, and Gertie did, too.
Some days, when Gertie got the sniffles, they stayed in bed all day watching TV and eating popcorn. These were Moon Pie’s favorite days. And when Gertie stayed in bed for days and days and days, Moon Pie was happiest of all, since it meant lots of popcorn.
When Gertie had the sniffles, a lady with gray, frizzy hair named Miss Lottie came by. She would walk Moon Pie up and down the block and then bring him back to the big bed. Then she and Gertie would talk about Gertie’s “treasure.”
“You’ll be in charge of my little treasure when the time comes, won’t you, Lottie?” Gertie asked often.
“I most definitely will, Gertie. You can count on me.”
Moon Pie knew what the treasure was, of course. It was popcorn. Gertie was worried about her popcorn and wanted to be sure Miss Lottie knew where it was in case anything happened, like a flood or a fire or something. Popcorn was very important, and Moon Pie was glad Gertie told Miss Lottie all about it.
One day Gertie’s nasty, nasty sister came to the house. She fussed over all the popcorn kernels and the dog hair on Gertie’s bed. She locked Moon Pie up in his kennel in the basement, which he hadn’t used since he was a tiny puppy.
He stayed there for what seemed like forever until Miss Lottie came to take him on his walk. Only this time, they walked a new way.
“You’ll like it at my house,” Miss Lottie said. She seemed to have caught Gertie’s sniffles, because she wiped her nose with a handkerchief. “But first we’ll go to the park and meet the rest of the pack.”
Moon Pie liked the other dogs right away, and they liked him. Roo played chase. Tank played tug with the rope. Gus licked the top of his head and told him he was a good boy.
Later, when they were at Miss Lottie’s house, Moon Pie smelled a familiar smell.
Popcorn! Miss Lottie made it just for him!
Miss Lottie took him to her big bed and they ate popcorn and watched TV.
And while Miss Lottie’s bed wasn’t quite as big as Gertie’s, her popcorn was even better. And she gave Moon Pie salami. Moon Pie loved salami.
It was just about the best day ever.
Gus
Even though it was a quiet Saturday morning, Gus nervously gnawed on a rock in Miss Lottie’s small yard as he watched the other dogs do their business. He wondered, briefly, if chewing on things that were not food was his special dog gift. He was very good at it, better than any other dog he had ever met. Still, it wasn’t a very useful talent.
He kept a careful eye on Decker, who had sauntered off into the corner. There was a thick patch of fir trees and bushes there that none of the other dogs ventured into. The low, full bushes scratched the dogs’ sides, so they had learned to stay in the open spaces.
Gus thought about his conversation with Ghost the night before. If what Ghost had said was true, Gus would have to speak to Decker about it.
He hated confrontation, especially with a new dog. He shifted the rock to the other side of his mouth and chewed.
Roo wandered across the grass, nose down, looking for the right spot to pee. Moon Pie inspected a dying rosebush.
Tank sat next to Gus. “What’s the new guy doing?” he asked.
“Just investigating,” Gus said.
“Sure,” Tank said.
Moon Pie plunked down next to Gus. “Am I the lowest member of the pack?” he asked.
“Where did you get that idea?” Gus asked sharply. The question made his neck hairs tingle. He would never, ever imply that any of his pack members were “lower” than the others.
“I don’t know,” Moon Pie said. He glanced at the corner of the yard.
“I bet I know exactly how he got that idea in his head,” Tank growled.
Just then, Decker strode out from behind a fir. He stopped when he saw Tank.
“What’s your problem?” Decker asked.
“YOU,” Tank said. “Why are you telling Moon Pie he’s the lowest member of the pack?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Decker said. He lay down on the grass and closed his eyes.
Tank waddled over. He stood above Decker and barked.
Decker raised his head. “What?”
“Don’t ever talk to my Moon Pie again about ANYTHING, do you hear me?”
Decker growled. “I’ll talk to him whenever I feel like it.”
“NO, YOU WON’T!” Tank yelled.
Tank’s barking grew louder. Roo howled.
Gus heard the back door open.
“Everybody, BE QUIET!” Miss Lottie yelled.
Tank stopped barking. Roo, who hated being scolded, scampered under the deck to hide.
“That’s better,” Miss Lottie said. She went back into the house.
Decker got to his feet.
“Get out of my way,” he said.
“No,” Tank said. He leaned in toward Decker. The fur stood up along his back, and he looked Decker right in the eyes and growled.
“I dare you to take a step closer,” Decker said.
“Tank, stay where you are!” Gus said.
“WATCH OUT!” Roo said from under the deck.
Tank took a step closer.
Decker sat on his haunches, glaring at Tank. The two dogs were almost nose to nose.
Gus’s heart quickened. He took a step toward them, but then paused. Sometimes dogs needed to work things out themselves, without the pack leader stepping in.
Moon Pie whimpered. “Don’t let them fight!” he said.
“Gus, MAKE THEM STOP!” Roo said.
But there were also times when those fights went too far and dogs got hurt.
He stared at the two dogs, his body quivering. Should he, or shouldn’t he?
Then Decker did something so odd, so startlingly strange, that for a moment Gus didn’t understand what was happening.
Decker brought his own paw up to his mouth and bit it. Hard.
“What—” Tank began.
Decker continued biting his paw until it started to bleed. Then he lifted his head to the sky and yelped.
“What are you doing?” Tank asked again. His tail was tense, his legs rooted to the ground.
Decker pinned his ears back and yelped again.
Gus barked once—a high, startled yip. When he heard the back door slam, he whipped his head around and saw Miss Lottie running across the grass.
“Oh my goodness, what’s happened?” she yelled.
As soon as Decker saw she was watching him, he shrieked again and tucked his tail between his legs. He kept his eyes on Tank as he skittered sideways over to the edge of the yard.
“Tank, what did you do?” Miss Lottie asked. Her frown was deep as she hurried over to Decker.
“What happened?”
Quinn stood by the back gate, eyes wide. He had his hand on the latch but wasn’t pushing it open.
“Tank bit Decker!” Miss Lottie said.
“What?”
Miss Lottie nodded. She crouched next to Decker, who was whimpering by the fence. “I’ll take Tank inside and lock him in his kennel. Then I’ll drive Decker to the vet. Can you give the dogs their breakfast and medicine while I’m gone?”
“Okay,” Quinn said. He stared at Tank, shaking his head. “But that’s not like Tank. He would never bite.”
; “Well, he must have snapped for some reason,” Miss Lottie said. She was out of breath and wiping sweat from her forehead. “All I know is that Decker here probably needs stitches.”
She gently picked up Decker’s paw. The paw he’d bitten himself. He yelped when she held it a certain way.
“Okay, buddy, I’ll get you to the vet. First let me take Tank here to his kennel.”
She walked slowly over to Tank, like he was a bomb waiting to go off. “Come here, Tank. That’s a good boy.”
Tank was still standing in the middle of the yard, looking confused.
“Here, boy, here, Tank,” Miss Lottie said. She slowly reached down and held Tank’s collar. “Let’s go in, okay?”
“Gus, I didn’t do it! I swear!” Tank said as Miss Lottie led him into the house.
“I know, Tank, I know!” Gus said.
But knowing Tank was innocent didn’t help. Miss Lottie thought he was guilty, and that was all that mattered.
Quinn
Quinn peered under the deck. He could see Roo huddled in the far corner.
“Come on out, Roo,” he said softly. “Come on, girl, it’s fine.”
Roo stayed where she was. Quinn understood wanting to hide. Sometimes, when his mom was gone for the day, Quinn would wedge a chair up against his bedroom door. Jessie and his friends could say whatever they wanted to from the other side, but at least they couldn’t poke. They couldn’t shove. They couldn’t trip.
His phone rang. He ignored it. That was their newest form of taunting. Call, then hang up as soon as Quinn answered.
“Come on, you two, let’s go inside.” Patting his leg, Quinn beckoned to Moon Pie and Gus. They followed him into the house.
When Quinn opened the back door, he was immediately hit by the warm, furry smell of dogs. It was a comforting smell. To Quinn, that smell meant safety. Safety from Jessie and his friends.
Quinn poured kibble into Gus’s and Moon Pie’s bowls. He tore off pieces of hot dog buns, smushed their vitamins and pills inside, and then sprinkled the bits of bread on top of the kibble.
He held the bowls above their heads, waiting for them to do their silly food dance. But they didn’t move.
Secondhand Dogs Page 4