“They know how to swim!” Maggie Rose exclaimed.
“Geese can swim at one day old,” Dad said.
After that, the goslings swam in the pool every day. And every night I slept in the kennel with a bunch of geese burrowing into me. Brewster kept regarding them sourly, probably thinking I was a poor excuse for a dog with all these birds sitting on me.
Even worse than my embarrassment over being covered with geese was the fact that I was not with Maggie Rose. I missed my girl so much that I finally realized what I had to do:
I needed to escape from Work.
7
I began to watch very carefully as Mom and my girl left Work every day. They always went out the back door into the yard, which was at the end of a hall. There was a door to that hall, but they only shut it when they were leading dogs to the kennels. Otherwise, it was open. Which meant I could run down the hall and out the dog door. And then Mom always held the gate open for Maggie Rose. When that gate was open, I would have my chance!
I almost felt like a bad dog, just thinking about bursting through that gate, but I was tired of always being covered in geese, and I belonged with my girl.
One day Craig came to watch the goslings swim. I poked at his leg with my nose to remind him that dogs are important, too. He scratched my ears. Bryan was using a loud machine to blow leaves around in the front yard, and Mrs. Swanson came out to be with us, though she still seemed more interested in the geese than in a good dog who could do Sit and Roll Over.
“I have a lot of fall eggs that I’ve collected over the years,” Mrs. Swanson said to Maggie Rose and Craig. “Would you like to see them?”
Craig looked at Maggie Rose. Maggie Rose nodded and got my leash and led me to the gate. We slipped out, shutting the geese into the yard. Then we all went on a walk, Maggie Rose and me and Mom and Craig and Mrs. Swanson, too. It felt so good not to have a bunch of birds stepping all over my feet!
We crossed the field and passed Home and walked down the street to a house I’d never been in. It smelled like Mr. and Mrs. Swanson.
We went into the garage. “I’m sorry, it’s a little cluttered,” Mrs. Swanson said. “I keep meaning to organize it.”
“So many geese!” Maggie Rose said. She held my leash and turned from side to side.
“Geese Christmas ornaments. Geese plates,” Craig said, looking around.
“Stuffed geese!” Maggie Rose said, pointing.
“Geese statues!” Craig said, pointing somewhere else.
“Kids! Don’t be rude,” Mom said sternly.
Mrs. Swanson laughed. “They’re not being rude in the least. They’re quite right! I do love geese!”
Why were all the people saying “geese” so much? We had left the geese behind at Work. I could not smell any geese here.
“But my very favorite part of my collection is inside,” Mrs. Swanson went on. “Come in and let me show you.”
We went inside the house. Mrs. Swanson led us over to a shelf high up on the wall. A row of eggs was lined up on it.
I know about eggs because Mom or Dad cracks them for breakfast, and if there are leftovers they sometimes end up in my bowl. I looked up at these eggs hopefully, but no one seemed to be thinking of a good dog in that moment.
“These are very rare,” Mrs. Swanson explained.
“Why?” Craig asked. “Don’t geese lay eggs all the time?”
“They aren’t ordinary eggs,” Mrs. Swanson said. “They’re fall eggs. Most geese don’t lay eggs until they’re a year old, in the spring. But every now and then a young goose will lay an egg in the fall, right before she migrates. The eggs don’t hatch. But sometimes people have one for sale and I’ll buy it. They’re rare and they’re special—the first eggs from a goose!”
They all looked at the eggs for a while and talked some more. I sat down and scratched one of my ears. Then the other one.
At last the people were done talking about geese. Mom and Craig and Maggie Rose and I left.
“I didn’t want to ask Mrs. Swanson,” Craig said, “but she’s had those eggs for years, right? Why don’t they stink?”
“If an egg never cracks, it won’t stink,” Mom said. “The water inside evaporates eventually, and the solid parts of the egg just stay there, dried up, forever.”
“Goose mummies,” Craig said. “Creepy!”
Maggie Rose squealed and Mom laughed a little. “That’s pretty much right,” she said. “That’s exactly what fall eggs are!”
“What’s ‘migrate,’ Mom?” my girl asked.
“It’s when they fly south for the winter,” Craig volunteered.
Mom nodded. “Exactly right. Geese fly out to where it is warm to fatten up, and come back here in the spring. Except our little goslings think that a dog is their mommy. Who is going to teach them to fly? And how will they know where to go if they think they are supposed to spend the winter with a dog?”
Back home the goslings were so overjoyed at my return I had to just stand there and let them flap at me and climb up and prod me with their beaks. Later, I was not able to follow my girl and Mom out the back gate because Maggie Rose fed Brewster and me and my face was in the bowl, frantically licking up every scrap, and then I bolted for the dog door but Mom was already shutting the gate.
So I was just lying there at night, covered in birds, Gertrude huddled closest, Bryan sitting with Brewster’s head in his lap, when I heard a door open.
I lifted my head and sniffed. It was not Maggie Rose coming. It was Dad.
“Bryan?” he called.
Brewster and I both lifted our heads, startled, when Bryan made an alarmed-sounding noise. Dad came into the room. He stopped when he saw Bryan and Brewster.
“Bryan?” Dad said again.
8
Brewster and I could tell something was going on, and the goslings couldn’t. Bryan and Dad were both tense. Brewster sat up but I didn’t, because if I did the geese would start peeping in confusion and who could put up with that?
“So this is where you’ve been going every night. I thought you were playing ball with your friends,” Dad said. “I went by the park, though, and you weren’t there. Maggie Rose told me I could find you here.”
Bryan muttered something. It sounded like “not any good.”
“What?” Dad asked.
“They won’t let me play,” Bryan said, staring down at Brewster’s head. “I’m not good enough.”
Dad frowned. “What do you mean? You do fine with Craig and me.”
Bryan shrugged. “I can’t hit the ball.”
“Well,” Dad said. “Let’s see about that. Come on, out in the yard.”
“Now?” Bryan asked. He sounded surprised.
“Now,” Dad said. “Get your bat and come on.”
Dad headed out for the yard. Bryan eased Brewster’s head off his lap and picked up his big stick and headed after Dad.
Brewster got up and shook himself and followed. I followed Brewster and Bryan. The goslings followed me.
Of course.
We went out in the backyard and Bryan and Dad started playing a game I have seen before. It’s called Hit-a-Ball-With-a-Stick-So-Lily-Can-Chase-It.
Dad threw the ball and Bryan swung the stick. But he missed the ball. It thudded into the grass.
I knew what to do! I ran after the ball. The goslings ran after me. Brewster sat and watched us all.
Bryan got to the ball before I did, so he won that time.
“Again,” Dad said. Bryan threw the ball back to him. They tried this game a few more times. Each time Bryan swung his stick, he missed the ball. Each time he got to pick it up before I did, which wasn’t as much fun as the other way around. Bryan seemed to feel the same way.
“See?” he said to Dad. His shoulders slumped. His voice was low.
“I do see,” Dad replied. “You’re looking at the wrong thing.”
“Huh?” Bryan asked.
“You watch the ball when I throw it, but as you swing,
you change to looking at the bat. Keep your eye on the ball.”
Bryan threw the ball to Dad. Dad threw it back. Bryan swung the stick again.
He hit the ball! Now we were really playing. The ball sailed toward the fence. I ran after it. The goslings ran after me. And then something amazing happened. Something I had never seen before.
Brewster ran. He heaved himself up and lumbered across the yard. He wanted the ball! It hit the fence and bounced off, right at him, and he scooped it up!
I stopped running. Gertrude thumped into my rump. The other goslings piled into her.
Brewster had gotten to the ball first!
But he didn’t understand how to play this game at all. When you get the ball, you are supposed to run around the yard with it so that people chase you. Brewster just trotted back to Dad and put the ball down gently at his feet.
“Good dog,” Dad said to Brewster.
What is good about forgetting to be chased?
Dad picked up the ball and threw it back to Bryan. Bryan hit it with the stick again.
“Hey!” Bryan exclaimed. “You were right!”
Each time Bryan hit the ball with the stick, we all chased after it, Brewster and the goslings and me. Casey flew over and sat on the fence to watch.
Sometimes I got to the ball first. Sometimes Brewster did.
The goslings never got there first, though. Geese are not as fast as dogs.
After a while, Dad and Bryan sat down in the grass with their backs against the fence. Brewster flopped down and put his head in Bryan’s lap.
I sat down and panted. Gertrude came and settled down between my front legs.
“Bryan,” said Dad. “We’ve got to talk about something. I’m not happy that you lied. You said you were going to be playing with your friends.”
“I was playing with my friends,” Bryan said. “Brewster’s my friend. And Lily. They were here, so…”
“Bryan,” Dad said sternly. “That’s not the point. You can’t mislead us like that.”
Bryan nodded. Dad nodded, too. “I’m afraid you’re grounded this weekend. Plus, you have to clean the garage.”
“Again?”
Dad frowned. “What do you mean, ‘again’?”
“I just cleaned it. Mom paid me.”
“Ah. All right. You’ve got me there. But you’re still grounded.”
“Okay. Sorry, Dad.”
Bryan and Dad stood. “Let’s head home,” Dad said. “I’ll lock up inside.”
Home! This would be my chance! I raced across the yard after Dad and dove through the dog door into Work ahead of him.
Dad went around doing things to doors and shutting off lights while first Gertrude and then the others squeezed through the dog door and ran to be with me.
“Good night, Lily,” he said.
He left and shut the door to the yard behind him.
I jumped up on the couch and put my paws up on the back of it so that I could look out the window. Bryan and Dad were walking across the yard toward the gate.
The goslings followed me. They flapped and scrambled and peeped and got up onto the couch with me. They didn’t look out the window, though. All they wanted was to look at me.
My plan was working!
I jumped off the couch. The goslings peeped in a panic. I tore across the floor. The birds fell and flopped off the couch.
I leaped through the dog door. The goslings were stuck inside!
But they weren’t stuck for long. Gertrude poked her head out through the dog door and peeped loudly at me. I thought she was telling me to wait, but I wasn’t going to.
Gertrude shoved herself through the dog door. I raced across the yard. Other goslings pushed through the dog door in a jumble.
Bryan had his hand on the gate that led out of the yard. It was open a little. Dad was standing next to him.
I ran as hard as I could for the gate. “Whoa, Lily, what’re you doing?” Bryan asked. He started to swing the gate shut.
Too slow! I was through!
“Lily! Come!” Dad called.
“Lily!” Bryan shouted.
The geese peeped and peeped. But they were all too late. No one could stop me!
I ran right through the field. I ran straight for Home.
9
Home! I galloped across the field, down the sidewalk, up the steps. I shoved myself through the dog door. I tore down the hallway to Maggie Rose’s room.
My girl was on her bed, reading a book. My girl!
I jumped on the bed. The quilt bounced under my paws and stuffed animals flew off the bed as I wagged and jumped and whined with pure happiness.
Maggie Rose laughed as I threw myself on her and licked her face and her neck and her hands. I’d been apart from my girl for way too long.
Maggie Rose was still laughing when Dad and Bryan walked in.
“Did you bring Lily home for me?” she asked.
“She brought herself,” Dad said, grinning. “Boy, she’s smart! She got through the dog door and out the gate before we could stop her and before the geese could follow her.”
“She really loves you,” Bryan observed.
“That’s what happens when you have a dog,” Maggie Rose replied. “You get all the love in the world.”
“I think Lily needs a break from being a mother to orphaned geese,” Dad said.
“Will they be okay without her, though?” Maggie Rose asked. I wiggled so she’d scratch my belly.
“They should be,” Dad said. “They’ll be upset, but it won’t do them any harm. They have to learn to live without her someday. In fact, that’s what I’m worried about.”
“Mom says that because the geese are imprinted on a dog, they might not learn to fly,” my girl observed.
“She’s exactly right,” Dad agreed. “Not sure what we’re going to do about it, either.”
When Dad left the room, Bryan came over to the bed. He sat down and reached out a hand to pet me.
I gave him a few licks to share my happiness with him.
“What’s wrong?” Maggie Rose asked him.
“I got in trouble for not telling Dad the other kids won’t let me play with them. I’m grounded for the weekend.”
“Good thing it wasn’t Mom who found out; you’d be grounded for a month,” Maggie Rose replied.
He shrugged. “Yeah, doesn’t matter. Brewster’s like … my only friend,” he said. “Ever since we moved, I can’t make any new friends.”
“Oh,” Maggie Rose said.
Bryan sighed and left the room. My girl rubbed my belly quietly for a minute. She seemed to be thinking hard.
“Oh, Lily,” she said to me. “What happens if we get the adoption fee and Mom still won’t let Bryan adopt Brewster?”
That night I was so happy I almost couldn’t sleep. At some point I awoke and for a moment wondered where the geese were. Then I pictured Gertrude and Harold and all the birds wondering where Lily was. The thought made me sad.
I didn’t think it was possible, but I missed my geese.
The next morning when I arrived at Work, the geese rushed at me and nearly knocked me over. Gertrude leaned into me and wouldn’t stop, so that when I walked I was constantly bumping into her.
Of all the geese, Gertrude was my favorite. She really seemed to care about me—she would probe me with her beak and turn her head, looking at me with one eye and then the other.
The other geese all followed me everywhere and tried to climb on me when I stopped. The attention was actually nice.
For a while, anyway.
Mom, Maggie Rose, and I all took the geese into the backyard. They immediately charged into their pool. The only two things they cared about were swimming in the pool and being with me.
“I have an idea how Lily could help the geese learn to fly,” Maggie Rose told her mother.
“Really? That would be great,” Mom exclaimed. “The geese are old enough now that they should be able to fly. Their real mother would be able t
o show them how.”
“You know how Casey the crow likes to stand on Lily’s back? And then when Lily starts to run, Casey flies?” my girl asked. “I thought we could try the same thing with the geese!”
“Worth a shot,” Mom agreed.
I was pretty surprised when my girl told me to do Stay and then put Gertrude on my back. The geese were much heavier now, no longer little balls of light fluff, and Gertrude’s feet were much bigger than my friend Casey’s, and felt flat, without Casey’s claws.
The geese in the pool all stared in amazement. Because I was doing Stay, I held still as Maggie Rose crossed the yard. “Ready, Lily?” she called.
I tensed. We were about to do something fun!
“Lily, come!”
I ran straight toward my girl. Gertrude squawked and fell on the ground in a flutter of feathers.
“Oh boy,” my girl said.
The geese all piled out of the pool and pursued me, of course. Even Gertrude, who honked in irritation. Mom followed them, shaking her head.
“Well, that didn’t go so well,” Mom observed.
Maggie Rose looked down at the geese. “Do they have to fly? I mean, what happens if they don’t?”
“Then they can’t migrate,” Mom explained. “There are some geese these days who don’t migrate anymore—they just hang around in parks or on golf courses all winter. I don’t want that to happen to these guys. It’s better for them to fly south.”
“Why?”
“It’s too cold here. If geese try to stay in Colorado all winter, they can’t find enough food and they get thin and weak. Sick, too. Predators can take them very easily—coyotes, for example. They don’t all die, but it is a real struggle. Much better for them to go to warmer places, where they can fatten up for the long flight back.”
My girl seemed to be thinking hard. “What about if we just sort of throw them up into the air? Won’t they flap their wings then?”
Mom nodded. “I’m ready to try anything.”
“Lily, come!” Maggie Rose called, walking toward the far side of the yard.
Lily to the Rescue: Dog Dog Goose Page 3