by M. E. Kerr
Then the dogs forgot their arguments and all began to bark gaily.
All but Catherine, who was never warm, and who also always shivered when she feared she had lost a bet.
Mrs. Splinter, paused by Catherine’s cage. She looped Catherine’s leash around the handle. “Are you sad, darling? Don’t be,” she said. “Ginny Tintree has invited you to her home for all of Christmas weekend, starting tonight. Every year she takes a dog for the holidays. I wish all our volunteers were that generous.”
Marshall said, “Why just for the holidays, if she’s so generous?”
“Because the Star-Tintrees already have a dog, and a daughter, plus they run the tree farm,” said Irving. “I was there two Christmases ago.”
“What are they like?” Catherine asked, dancing about with excitement.
“Little Sun Lily can speak Chinese because she happens to be Chinese. Nell Star is a news freak and a landscapes. Ginny Tintree is the brains behind the business. She handles the money.”
Marshall began to giggle meanly. “Don’t forget the chanteuse who comes to visit with them on holidays. Placido told me all about her.”
“It’s just Ginny’s mother, Mrs. Tintree,” said Irving. “Her first name is Flo, and she’s an animal lover just like Mrs. Splinter.”
“And Walter, and Mr. Larissa, and on and on,” said Marshall. “We attract zoophiles here at Critters.”
“Attract what?” Catherine asked.
“A zoophile is simply someone who has a fondness for animals,” said Marshall. “I need a nap, I think. I’m so very hungry I’m lethargic. I wish Mrs. Splinter would serve our Christmas snacks.”
Instead of a stocking with chew sticks and dog biscuits, for Christmas Marshall always received a defrosted mouse, which was in a Baggie on the office desk.
“Guess what!” Mrs. Splinter said. “The Star-Tintrees had a party today.”
It was her custom to babble away as she went among the animals. But the Star-Tintrees’ having a party was hardly a guess what, Irving thought. That family was always having parties. When Irving was their Christmas dog, they had a party for fifteen—five kids from the Ross School and their parents.
Once, for a party, Mrs. Tintree had borrowed Placido. As she began to sing “Soft I Am and Purr I Do,” Placido had jumped from her lap, run behind Ginny and Nell’s expensive printed linen drapes, and tangled himself up in them until he brought them down with a crash.
He had been returned to Critters in disgrace, marching angrily about the cat room, his tail whipping in the air, his dignity outraged.
Mrs. Splinter continued talking to the animals waiting for their Christmas stockings. “Guess what! The Star-Tintrees hired Placido’s new owner to play Santa Claus! He might still be there, Catherine. You might meet him and learn how Placido is doing. Ginny Tintree left the party just to come here for you.”
Never one to lose her gambling spirit, even in blissful moments, Catherine sat on her haunches and said, “Who wants to bet that when I come back from the Star-Tintrees’ in three days, Placido will be here?”
“You have nothing left to bet,” said Irving.
“Just bet,” said Catherine. “We don’t have to bet anything.”
“No one wants to bet just to bet,” said Irving. “Relax, Catherine, if you know how.”
Everyone joined in as Mrs. Splinter came back to take Catherine away on her leash. “Merry Christmas, Catherine! We’ll miss you!”
“Merry Christmas!” Catherine answered, even though she had no idea what it really meant, or what people did on Christmas. She had spent most of her life at a track kennel in a stacked cage. She had been let loose only four times a day in a small turnout pen, to do number one and number two.
Marshall dangled woefully from a branch of the plastic palm tree a volunteer had contributed to his cage. Then he slumped to the wood chips and curled into a tight, depressed circle. Mrs. Splinter, in her excitement over Catherine’s invitation to the Star-Tintrees’, had forgotten to give Marshall his Christmas mouse.
8
Sun Lily
CATHERINE RODE IN THE back of the black Land Rover, her thin tail spanking the tan leather seat with excitement. Since the Star-Tintree farm was a tree farm, out in front there was a string of lights, with some last-minute shoppers buying Christmas trees. Catherine was becoming more and more excited. At the racetrack the greyhounds did not celebrate Christmas, even though there were decorative wreaths on the stall doors.
The Land Rover went up a long driveway in the snow and stopped in front of a redbrick house.
A small child began to jump up and down on the sidewalk.
“Sun Lily is here to greet you, Catherine,” said Ginny Tintree.
The little girl with black hair and almond-shaped eyes was grinning. She had on a red sweater, red earmuffs, and black riding pants with black boots.
Ginny opened the car door and cried out, “Sun Lily, Mummy has brought home your Christmas dog!”
“He’s a whippet!” Sun Lily said, dancing up and down.
“No, sweetheart, it’s a she and she’s a greyhound. Catherine is one of the racetrack dogs Mrs. Splinter saved from being put to sleep.”
“Or being taken away by Percival Uttergore. Or being sold to a university hospital for experiments. That’s what Nell said.”
“Nell is right, I’m sorry to say.” Ginny Tintree had long blond hair, and she was smiling at Catherine as she waited patiently for the greyhound to step out of the car.
“She’s so scared, isn’t she, Mummy?” Sun Lily reached out to pet Catherine, who flinched, not meaning to but not used to someone so small touching her.
“Don’t be scared, Catherine,” Sun Lily said. “No one will harm you here.”
“Remember, Sun Lily,” said Ginny, “she’s not used to a child, nor a house.”
“What about when she sees Peke?”
“She’s been living in a kennel full of dogs, so Peke probably won’t surprise her. We’ll introduce them gradually.”
They began walking toward the house.
“How can people be so cruel to greyhounds and horses?” Sun Lily asked.
Ginny Tintree said, “A lot of the owners of racing dogs and also racing horses don’t think of them as pets. They’re simply investments. When their racing days are over, they are of no use, and their racing days don’t last that long.”
“I love Mrs. Splinter for taking Catherine in!” said Sun Lily. “And I love you, Catherine!”
“Woof! Woof!” Catherine decided that the feeling suddenly overwhelming her was happiness. She had never had such a delicious feeling before.
Inside the large redbrick house there was an enormous Christmas tree in the hall. It had blinking blue lights, blue and silver ornaments, and silver tinsel. Underneath there were many wrapped packages.
“Hello, Catherine,” said Nell. “Remember me? I took you out a few times.” She gave Catherine a friendly pat on the head.
Catherine certainly did remember her. Nell had hair as black as Sun Lily’s, and she was tall and husky. You didn’t go on walks with Nell. You went on runs. Nell was the volunteer who usually asked for Goldie, too, and tried to run with him. Goldie told the critters he always felt sorry for giving Nell such a hard time, but he could not help himself. He dreamed of getting free to search for Bob, the boy who owned him, so Goldie pulled hard on the leash and kept barking. But Nell was patient, Goldie always told the others. Nell was his favorite volunteer.
“Our party is over already,” said Sun Lily, “or we could have given you some cake and ice cream, Catherine.”
Catherine wondered what cake tasted like. She doubted she’d like anything with ice in it, since her teeth and gums were in bad shape. Even falling snow hurt them.
“We let Santa Claus go home early, Ginny,” Nell Star said. “After all, it is Christmas Eve, and Sam Twilight has a daughter to be with.”
“We’re having another party soon,” Ginny Tintree said.
; “On New Year’s Eve,” Nell said, “and we’ve already asked Mr. Twilight to entertain.”
“How about a party on Chinese New Year?” Sun Lily said.
“Why not?” Nell laughed.
Catherine heard some dog yips coming from another room in the house. She looked up at Ginny and Nell with concerned eyes.
Nell said, “That’s right, Catherine, there’s another dog here. You’re going to meet him later. Right now we want you to get used to the downstairs.”
“Let’s show Catherine her bed and her dinner bowl!” Sun Lily said.
“Not now, sweetheart,” said Ginny Tintree. “The news is coming on. You know how Nell feels about the nightly news.”
“Why do we have to watch it?” said Sun Lily. “We don’t feel that way.”
“I do,” said Ginny. “I like to know what’s going on in the world.”
Catherine followed along as they all went into the living room, where the television was.
“Nell? When shall we tell Mummy what Santa Claus told us about the boy at the mall?” Sun Lily asked.
“Can we wait until after the news?” Nell asked.
“Let’s compromise,” Ginny said. “Let’s wait until the first commercial.”
The three of them sat on the long blue-velvet sofa facing the TV.
Catherine sat beside the sofa. She had heard television before from the office at Critters, where Mrs. Splinter watched soaps. But only Irving could see it from his cage. He was particularly fond of Days of Our Lives. No one dared whimper or bark when Days of Our Lives was on.
“Good evening,” said the man on TV. “This is Guy Splinter reporting from Israel.”
“So that’s where he is now,” said Ginny.
“Israel is only about the size of New Jersey,” said Sun Lily. “We learned that in school.”
“Good for you, honey!” Ginny said.
“New Jersey is where Guy Splinter’s ex-wife lives now,” said Sun Lily. “She’s Walter’s mother!”
“The town crier knows all the gossip, don’t you, Sun Lily?” Nell chuckled.
“I know Guy Splinter is Mrs. Splinter’s son!” Sun Lily said. “And I know that he’s Walter Splinter’s father. Another thing I know is Santa’s real name. It’s—”
“Put a lid on it, Gossip Gertie,” Nell said. “I want to hear the news.”
When the commercials came on, Sun Lily said, “Mummy, is Santa Claus’ real name Mr. Twilight?”
“He’s one of Santa’s helpers who dresses up like Santa,” said Nell.
“Mummy, when I told him you were bringing Catherine from Critters, he said he just adopted a cat named Placido from Critters.”
“So that’s who has Placido,” Ginny said.
“But that’s not all, Mummy! Mr. Twilight was playing Santa Claus at the Riverhead Mall this morning. There was a young boy there with his little sister. She told Santa Claus what she wanted for Christmas was for her brother to get his dog back. He lost his dog, and it’s a yellow Labrador retriever!”
Nell said, “The family just moved to Long Island. The boy loosened his dog’s collar during a drive. The dog saw a rabbit and jumped right out the car window.”
I would have done the same thing, Catherine thought. I would have jumped off a train or jumped out of a plane for a rabbit.
“It couldn’t be Goldie’s owner, could it?” Ginny asked.
“It’s such a long shot,” Nell told Ginny. “I’m not letting myself get excited yet.”
“The boy’s name is Bob,” Sun Lily said.
Bob. Catherine’s ears twitched.
“They’re from Montauk, Mummy! But because they’re new, they never heard of Critters.”
Nell Star said, “I don’t dare hope.”
Dare, Catherine would have said if she could talk people’s language. Dare, because Goldie’s owner is named Bob.
“Just on the chance the dog could be at Critters, Mr. Twilight wrote down the address and gave it to Bob’s mother,” said Nell.
“Oh, I pray it’s Goldie!” said Ginny.
“He said his dog’s name is Rex,” Sun Lily said. “You can see if he answers to that name!”
“Good idea, Sun Lily!”
“Quiet, please,” said Nell. “The news is back on.”
Catherine breathed a sigh of contentment and lay down on the soft living room rug. The only other rug she had ever been on was in Mrs. Splinter’s office at Critters, but it was not a thick rug like this one. There was a rug in the cat room, too, but the dogs could not have rugs in their cages because some dogs were not housebroken. There was no way to hose down the kennels mornings with wet rugs inside the cages. Unlike cats, dogs were not going to use kitty litter.
Catherine put all those practical considerations out of her mind and concentrated on the idea that Goldie was this Bob’s lost dog. Catherine was sure of it, for Goldie had told everyone his real name was Rex.
Even though right at that very moment Goldie was probably eating the lamb-and-rice sticks he had won from Catherine, Catherine would not hold it against him. Catherine was known to be something of a sore loser, but she was happy for the first time ever in her life. There were not that many happy gamblers in the world either.
The yipping from the upstairs in the house became wailing, barking, whining, until Nell slapped her hand on her knee and said, “Damn Peke!”
“Damn Peke!” said Sun Lily. “We can’t hear the news!”
“Don’t you get surly,” Ginny told her. “One surly person in this family is enough!”
Soon after Ginny had spoken, from the corner of her eye, Catherine caught sight of a small dog who had suddenly appeared by the Christmas tree in the hall. Catherine stood and immediately went to attention, body rigid, ears up, tail up.
What was the little beast doing? There was a white ribbon in his mouth, and he was tugging at it.
It was tied around a large red package, and Catherine saw that now this peculiar creature was running off. with the ribbon.
Catherine began to bark, great loud barks of alarm!
Barks that said, “Thief! Ribbon thief!”
Barks that even brought Nell to her feet to shout, “Peke! You’re going to get it, Peke! What have you done?”
9
A Warning from a Snake
ONE THING IRVING DID not need was to see a snake swallow a mouse whole on Christmas Eve. He turned his face away and put his nose down between his paws.
“My grandmother forgot all about you, didn’t she, Marshall?” said Walter Splinter as he dropped the dead rodent into Marshall’s cage. “I was worried that she wouldn’t remember, so I sneaked over to give it to you.”
The dogs never barked those evenings Walter paid surprise visits. They all understood he’d get in trouble if Mrs. Splinter found out he was there. It was against her rules for him to enter Critters alone, at night. But he was often worried about one thing or another, and he would sneak in to see that everything was all right.
The dogs raised their heads when the lights went on, but they knew his step by now and fell back asleep.
His blond hair was covered with snow. So was the leather jacket his father had sent him from Italy last year.
It must be coming down very hard outside, Irving mused. That meant the volunteers wouldn’t be able to take out the dogs on their morning walks. Christmas Day all the dogs would be grumpy and sorry for themselves. The cats would be chasing their tails, drunk on Christmas catnip.
“I guess everyone’s asleep,” said Walter. “Grandma fell asleep right after dinner. But I’m waiting for my mother to come.”
Irving shook himself so Walter would know not everyone was asleep. Not everyone could sleep through the sounds of Marshall’s thrashing about, hitting the sides of his cage, as the mouse disappeared inside him.
Marshall had not had a good meal for a long time, so the mouse was a welcome treat.
The clock on the wall said ten thirty.
If Catherine had been there
, she would be waking the others to take bets that Walter’s mother wouldn’t show up. Goldie would be the only dog to bet she would, since everyone else at Critters knew Walter’s mother all too well.
It was Marshall who knew the most about Walter’s family. Walter was one of the rare humans who ever paid attention to the snake. Often when the dogs were being walked by the volunteers, Walter kept Marshall company. That was when he confided in Marshall.
By the time the dogs came back panting and thirsty, Marshall would know where Guy Splinter’s next assignment would take him.
Marshall would also know how the mother was doing, off in New Jersey with Walter’s stepfather and his four little stepsisters.
“So you’re awake, Irving,” said Walter. “And you’ve eaten everything in your stocking. We had turkey. I can’t bring you turkey bones, because they are bad for you; pieces of bone could get stuck in your throat. But I’ll bring you a slice tomorrow. Grandma and I had a whole turkey to ourselves. At nine o’clock we decided not to wait any longer for my mother.”
A wise decision, from Irving’s point of view.
Irving had seen Olivia Splinter only once. She was a pretty thing for a human female, but she was always in a hurry. She was always saying things like “I would love to see the new Dalmatian, Walter, but there isn’t time!” She would say, “I’m on a tight schedule,” and “Next time I’ll spend the whole afternoon with you!”
Irving was standing so Walter could tickle him behind his ears. Ecstasy. Irving closed his eyes, only to open them and see the bulge in Marshall’s body. Now came the job of choking it down to where he could digest it.
Snakes were really gross!
As much as Irving liked Marshall, who always took his side in arguments, he had to admit that his table manners were revolting!
Even Goldie awakened, shook his head so hard his Critters tags rattled, and said, “That snake makes me sick! How can you stand to be next to him, Irving?”
“Marshall can’t help what he is,” said Irving philosophically. “We are what we are, even when we are snakes.”
Walter moved down to Goldie’s cage. “How’re you doing, fellow?” he said. “Are you a lonesome boy tonight?”