Secondhand Dogs

by Carolyn Crimi

  “Happy peeing!”

  “Thanks!” said the other dog, whose human was impatiently tugging on his leash. “Good peeing to you, too!”

  Nina reached over and stroked Moon Pie’s back. “You’ll love Dr. Happ,” she said. “She’s very gentle.”

  Moon Pie stopped wagging his tail, and his ears perked up. Gertie took him to a Dr. Happ.

  He stared outside at the people and homes rushing by. Maybe there were lots of Dr. Happs. Maybe all vets were called Dr. Happ.

  But when they passed a small house with a stone statue of a large frog out front, Moon Pie let out a sharp bark. Weeds covered the yard. A broken stroller was parked by the front steps.

  Moon Pie’s heart beat wildly. He knew that frog! He knew those weeds! He knew that stroller!

  He knew that house!

  When he and Gertie went on walks, they passed it, and when they did, Gertie would always say, “That house sure does need some love and paint.”

  The house was only a little bit away from Gertie’s house!

  He scratched at the door frantically.

  “Gertie! Gertie! I’m coming, I’m coming!”

  “Sweetpea, what’s the matter?” Nina asked. She pulled the car into a parking lot. “Are you afraid of the vet? Is that it?”

  He recognized the building in front of them. This was where they saw Dr. Happ! Gertie lived right nearby!

  Nina reached over to grab him, but he wiggled away.

  “I’m coming, Gertie!”

  Nina shook her head as she got out of the car. She opened the door on Moon Pie’s side, but before she could grab him, he jumped down and raced toward the sidewalk.

  “Moon Pie, stop!”

  But Moon Pie didn’t stop. Finally, finally, he knew where he was going!

  He could hear Nina calling as he ran.

  “Moon Pie, stop! NO!”

  The big shaggy dog barked his approval. “Go, little dude! Find your freedom!”

  Moon Pie looked to his left and saw an alley. He dashed over to it.

  He raced halfway down the length of the alley and stopped.

  There was the garage.

  Gertie’s garage!

  The door on the side was open, just like it always was. Moon Pie darted inside to hide from Nina.

  His heart felt all fluttery just being in the old garage again. He did a quick spin. He was in Gertie’s garage! He had made it there all by himself!

  He knew the garage well. He and Gertie would climb into the old car that lived there, the car with the scratched leather seats. Gertie would say, “We’re off on an adventure!” every time, even if they were just going to the post office.

  It was dark inside, so dark he couldn’t see, but he could smell strange scents wafting about. What puzzled him was that he couldn’t smell the scratched leather seats or the mulch or Gertie’s gardening gloves. Instead he smelled bleach and cardboard boxes. They were not Gertie smells.

  And the car that was in there wasn’t Gertie’s car.

  He could still hear Nina calling his name, but she was moving farther and farther away. It was probably best. Now that he was finally back at Gertie’s, he didn’t need Nina’s bacon anymore. He would need to keep quiet, though. If Nina found him, she’d try to bring him back to her house.

  Once he was sure Nina was gone, he crept out of the garage. His heart thumped as he trotted closer to the house. He smelled oak leaves, the warmth of the brick, the neighbor’s cat.

  But there were so many new smells, smells that didn’t go with Gertie. Fresh paint. Glass cleaner.

  Something wasn’t right.

  Three tidy towers of cardboard boxes sat on the back deck.

  He stared into the kitchen window, hoping to see Gertie in her polka-dotted robe watering her plants.

  Gertie’s nasty, nasty sister was still there. She was reaching up into the cupboards and putting dishes into a box on the counter.

  She must have dropped Gertie off after their vacation. But why hadn’t she left yet? Where was Gertie?

  He waited and waited for Gertie to come into view. She was probably cooking something for her sister. Maybe her beef stew, or her lasagna.

  He preferred the beef stew, but the lasagna was pretty good, too.

  He started to bark and then stopped. Gertie’s nasty, nasty sister would put him in the basement again. He’d wait until she left, then he would bark at the back door. Gertie would pick him up and swing him through the air, just like she used to.

  He crept over to his favorite hiding spot, the thick bushes he hid behind when he didn’t feel like coming in when Gertie called him.

  The back door opened. Gertie’s sister grunted as she placed another box on the deck. She reached into her pocket, took out a tissue, and dabbed at her eyes. She sighed.

  Moon Pie wondered if maybe she had a cold, but then a soft, tired smell drifted toward him. It smelled like an old, frayed rope.

  She was sad. Moon Pie could smell it coming off her in waves. It was the same smell Gertie had when she watched movies where people died.

  Why was Gertie’s sister so sad? And what were all those boxes for?

  Then Moon Pie remembered something else. Miss Lottie had had that same sad smell when she had walked with him to her house for the very first time. Oh, sure, it was mixed in with popcorn and dog smells, but it had been there, and Moon Pie had ignored it.

  Moon Pie tucked himself into a tight ball and watched as Gertie’s sister came outside onto the deck. She picked up a box and walked across the yard to the garage. He could hear the beep of a car door being unlocked. Moments later, she came back into the yard and brought another box from the deck to the car. When all the boxes on the back deck were gone, she pulled the car out of the garage and drove away.

  The sun sat low in the gray sky. Moon Pie shivered. He had waited all day for Gertie, but she never came out. He hadn’t seen her through the window, making lunch or reading the paper. He hadn’t seen her in the yard, breathing in the fresh air or looking up at the clouds.

  He hadn’t seen her, or smelled her, at all.

  Gus

  The pack was moving slowly. Gus hadn’t had his medicine since he left Miss Lottie’s the day before. The deep aches and pains in his legs had gotten worse, and his eyes were crusty and dry. The three dogs ate scraps of food from garbage cans they tipped over, but it wasn’t enough. They had to stop a few times so Tank could rest.

  The faint smell of coyote had wafted in and out as they traveled. It wore on Gus’s nerves.

  “I think Moonie is this way,” Roo said as she trotted over to an old chair that had been dumped in the alley. Roo had lost the scent, found the scent, then lost it again.

  “This is taking forever,” Tank said. “Be honest. You can’t find the scent, can you?”

  Roo growled. “I’m trying my best, okay? I AM TRYING MY BEST.”

  Tank growled back at her. “Well, it’s not good enough!”

  “Stop it, you two,” Gus said. “This isn’t helping.”

  Roo sniffed at the old chair. “Someone else has marked this besides Moon Pie. I smell a big male with too many treats in his diet.” She looked to her right, then her left. “Like him.”

  Gus turned to see who Roo was looking at. In a nearby yard, a large, shaggy dog was sprawled on the grass, gnawing on a Frisbee.

  “Maybe he knows something,” Gus said. Wincing at the pain, he got up slowly and made his way over to the big dog.

  “Hey,” Gus said, speaking through the fence. “Nice Frisbee.”

  “It’s mine,” the dog said without looking up.

  “I don’t want it,” Gus said.

  The shaggy dog stopped gnawing and stared at Gus. “Why not? It’s a good Frisbee.”

  He seemed annoyed. This was not what Gus wanted.

  “I’m not here to play—” Gus started.

  “That’s good, ’cause I don’t want to share my Frisbee.”

  “I know, I know, don’t worry!” Gus said, ex
asperated. “I’m looking for a dog. I’m wondering if you’ve seen him.”

  “There are a lot of dogs around, dude.”

  “This dog is a small pug, practically a puppy. He’s probably with a woman with a ponytail.”

  Tank and Roo were now standing next to Gus.

  The shaggy dog stopped gnawing. He stood and puffed out his chest. “Who are you guys?”

  “No need to go all alpha on us,” Roo said. “We’re just looking for our friend Moon Pie.”

  The dog flopped back down. “Moon Pie is kind of a dumb name.”

  “We didn’t name him,” Gus said. He glanced at Tank and Roo. “Come on, this is a waste of time.” He turned to leave.

  “I saw that little dude,” the shaggy dog said.

  Gus stopped.

  “Where?” he asked.

  “He was running like a crazy squirrel! Running, running, running like his life depended on it. Some lady was calling after him, but he didn’t care.”

  “Okay, but where?” Tank asked.

  The shaggy dog got up, shook his head, and dipped down into a long stretch. “Looked like he was running away from the vet. Can’t say I blame him. It’s two blocks that way.” He nodded his head to his right. “You can smell the fear from here. He was heading down Saunders Street, away from the vet’s office. Smart dog.”

  Roo lifted her head. “I smell the vet’s office. I do I do I do! If we want to find Moonie we need to go this way!” she said.

  She loped along down the alley away from the vet’s office, with Gus and Tank doing their best to keep up with her.

  “I smell him I smell him I smell him,” she sang.

  “I . . . hope . . . she’s . . . right . . . ,” Tank said, huffing beside Gus.

  Roo stopped. Her right ear shot straight up. Her body quivered.

  “We’re close,” she said quietly.

  “Be very quiet,” Gus said. “If he knows we’re following him, he’ll hide.”

  They peered into a yard with swings and another yard with a patio. Nothing. The sun was low in the sky. None of them could see that well in the dark. If they didn’t find Moon Pie soon, they’d have to stop and find somewhere to sleep for the night.

  Then, as they were passing a garage, all three caught it.

  Moon Pie’s scent. Moon Pie’s frightened, sad scent.

  The three dogs trotted into the yard next to the garage. They looked everywhere. Finally, Gus found him behind some bushes, huddled in a corner, staring at the house.

  “He’s here,” Gus said.

  Roo galloped over to Gus with Tank chugging along behind her. They stood in front of the small dog, waiting for him to acknowledge them, but Moon Pie just kept staring at the house.

  “Moonie?” Gus said. He took a step toward him.

  “She’s not there,” Moon Pie said.

  “No, she’s not,” Tank said.

  “I think she died,” Moon Pie said quietly. “I think that’s why her nasty, nasty sister is so sad. She’s packing Gertie’s stuff into boxes because Gertie died.”

  Gus and Tank exchanged looks.

  “Yes,” Tank said. “I’m so sorry, Moonie.”

  Moon Pie blinked a long, slow blink. “I’ll never see her again. I’ll never get to say goodbye.”

  “I know it’s hard, Moonie,” Gus said. “We should have told you the truth. It was wrong to keep it from you.”

  They all sat in silence, staring at the house.

  “I heard her, you know,” Moon Pie said.

  Gus tilted his head, waiting.

  “I was crossing the street and I shouldn’t have been and I wasn’t going fast enough and she said, ‘Run, Moon Pie, run!’ It was like she was right there next to me.”

  He looked into their faces. “She was there, I know she was, and no one can ever say any different.”

  “I believe you,” Roo said.

  “So do I,” Tank said.

  “The humans who really and truly loved us are with us all the time,” Gus said. “Like Miss Lottie. She misses you, Moonie.”

  “I miss her lots, too,” Moon Pie said softly. He looked down at the ground and sighed.

  They walked back home in the dimming afternoon light. Roo in front. Gus and Moon Pie behind her. Tank lagging behind.

  Dry leaves skittered across their path. A crow cawed off in the distance. For a moment, Gus thought he caught the coyote’s scent again, swirling around in the cold November wind.

  “You know what else I’ve missed?” Moon Pie asked.

  “What?” Gus asked.

  “Miss Lottie’s popcorn. Hers is the best.”

  “I’m sure that when you get home, you can have as much as you want,” Gus said.

  “Is Decker still there?” Moon Pie asked.

  “Yes,” Gus said.

  “Oh.”

  “Moonie, don’t you worry about Decker,” Tank said. “We’ll have you back in the big bed in no time, just wait and see.”

  There was a strange determination in Tank’s voice. He would be hankering for a fight once they got home.

  Gus’s head filled with concern. He would probably have to make a lot of quick decisions, and quick decisions were not his strength.

  He really wished he had a tennis ball to gnaw on.

  Decker

  Decker woke up with a start. His breathing was ragged. His blood thrummed through his veins.

  They were coming back. All of them.

  He could feel it. There was a certain knowing in the pads of his feet and at the end of his tail. They were on their way, and they were determined to change things back to the way they had been.

  Well, that was not going to happen. Things were finally as they should be. He had Miss Lottie and the house and the bed and the treats all to himself. Everything was perfect.

  Miss Lottie snored and turned onto her back. Tomorrow she would be thrilled. Ecstatic. She might even let the putrid little pug back into the big bed.

  He needed sleep. Tomorrow he would be ready.

  Decker Before

  He was born in a box by a dumpster.

  Cold. Dark.

  Rough hands hoisted him out of the box.

  Rough hands spanked him hard when he peed on the floor, then shoved him down into the cold, dark basement.

  Rough hands pulled, pushed, yanked, tugged, smacked.

  Long days turned into long months of living in the dark basement.

  Those same rough hands put him in a box and brought him to town in the middle of the night. A new puppy, a pug puppy, had arrived, and he was no longer needed or wanted.

  He lived on the streets, fought on the streets, until he was caught and put in a cage. He had food, and he had water, but the cage was cold and dark.

  Too cold. Too dark.

  He bit the cage until his mouth bled, then bit it again.

  He stayed there for months.

  Then came the gentle hands, the kind voice. Gray, frizzy hair.

  And even though she took him out of the cold and the dark, he was still haunted by them. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the cold and the dark had taken root deep inside him, and that because of this, he could never, ever know love.

  He felt broken. Like something inside him had withered and died.

  Decker knew one thing for sure. No one wants a broken dog.

  Quinn

  Quinn couldn’t sleep. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of fear and worry. He thought briefly of Jessie and the others, but for once, they weren’t his biggest concern. For the first time since their bullying started, he thought that maybe, maybe it had all come to an end. He wasn’t sure, but it felt like something had shifted when he stood up to them. As though they were seeing him as a real person for the first time.

  And Jessie. Letting him go like that. Quinn hoped that he had somehow remembered that they were still brothers. Brothers who had once hung out together, who had built forts together. Brothers who shared the same dad.

  But his dogs were out t
here all alone. After hours and hours of looking, he still hadn’t found them.

  He got up to get a drink of water. As soon as his feet touched the cold bathroom tile floor, he stopped. The hairs on his arms prickled. He held on to the door frame and closed his eyes.

  A warm, calm feeling settled over him. He knew with a strange certainty that they were coming back. All of them. They were worn out, shivering. And they were waiting for him to open the gate.

  Quinn shoved his feet into his sneakers, pulled on a heavy sweatshirt, and tiptoed down the hall. His mother’s room was quiet. Jessie’s bedroom door was open a crack.

  Quinn crept down the stairs. A light was on in the kitchen. Quinn peered into the room and saw Jessie standing by the refrigerator, taking out a milk carton. He turned and started when he saw Quinn, then quickly composed himself.

  Jessie raised his eyebrows. “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “The dogs,” Quinn said. “They’re back.”

  Jessie poured the milk into a glass, sipped it, then set it back down.

  “How do you know?”

  Quinn shrugged.

  Jessie paused. “Better hurry,” he said. He walked over to the hooks by the back door, grabbed their dad’s old wool hat, and tossed it to Quinn. “It’s cold out.”

  Quinn pulled the hat over his ears.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  He wanted to say more, but wasn’t sure what. He didn’t know how to act with Jessie now, but he hoped, in time, he would. He gave him a quick nod as he slipped out the back door and into the night air.

  Quinn unlocked his bike and rolled it out of the garage. Sliding onto the worn seat, he blew on his hands and then grabbed the handlebars and headed to Miss Lottie’s.

  Gus

  As much as they all wanted to rest, Gus pushed them on through the night. They were tired and hungry, but he knew Miss Lottie would have taken their escape hard. Prolonging their return was unfair. She needed to have them safe and back where they belonged, and where they belonged was with her.