Ghost Dog Secrets

by Peg Kehret

  “So do I,” Andrew said. “Let’s wait. Maybe we’ll find a good collar at a garage sale.”

  We didn’t see any dog beds. “We could buy him a blanket, instead of a bed,” I said. “That’s what the shelter dogs use.”

  We went to the section of the store that sold bedding. The blankets were priced from $4 to $8. The one we liked best, of course, cost $8.

  “Why don’t we keep one of the donated blankets? ” Andrew asked. “We can go to school early and pick out a blanket for Ra from what’s in the bin.”

  “People are donating those blankets to help the rescued puppy mill dogs,” I said.

  “Ra will be a rescued dog, too. What’s the difference?”

  “When you ask people to donate to a particular cause, you can’t use the donations for something else, even if it is similar.”

  Andrew shrugged. I’m not sure I had convinced him, but he agreed we should buy a soft old blanket for Ra to sleep on. We found a tan-and-brown plaid blanket for six dollars that we both liked and that looked clean.

  We also bought two bright yellow ceramic bowls for Ra’s food and water.

  “Yellow, like the sun,” Andrew said.

  We carried our purchases to the checkout where the checker rang them up and added sales tax. Even with Andrew paying half, I was left with a grand total of twelve cents to my name.

  We took our purchases back to the fort. We folded the blanket, making it the right size for Ra. We hung the leash on a nail that we had pounded into one wall. Originally we had put a picture of our Little League baseball team there, only the team lost every game and we didn’t want to look at the picture anymore.

  That evening Andrew went shopping with his grandma. I got an excited phone call saying he had purchased a collar for Ra. He showed it to me the next day. It was blue with golden suns on it.

  “Perfect!” I said.

  “Best of all,” Andrew said, “my grandma paid for it.”

  “Didn’t she wonder why you wanted a dog collar?”

  “I told her our class is collecting things for the animal shelter, to help the rescued puppy mill dogs.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “What?” Andrew said.

  “This collar isn’t for the shelter.”

  “I never said it was. I wouldn’t lie to my grandma.”

  Andrew may be the smartest kid I know but he isn’t always totally ethical. Still, it wasn’t as if he had shoplifted the collar. I knew Andrew’s grandma had a pampered Pomeranian. If she had known the real reason Andrew wanted a dog collar, she would probably have paid for it anyway.

  “I did some research,” Andrew said, “and I learned something interesting about dog ghosts.”

  “Such as?”

  “Most are friendly, often hanging around the people they loved, but there are a few reports of vicious ghost dogs who appear to be guarding their former homes and who terrorize anyone who approaches.”

  “So how do you tell the difference? How do I know if the collie’s ghost is friendly or evil?”

  Andrew shrugged. “The source didn’t say. I guess you know it’s vicious if it attacks you.”

  “That does a lot for my peace of mind.”

  Andrew spoke in an eerie voice. “Ghastly growling ghost.”

  “Cut it out,” I said. “Since it didn’t try to attack me when I was sleeping, I’m going to assume it’s a good ghost.”

  The next day, Lexi and Hayley said the Safeway manager was enthusiastic about having the bin in his store.

  “He had seen the puppy mill report on TV,” Lexi said, “so we didn’t even have to explain.”

  “My mom says we can leave for school a few minutes early every morning,” Hayley said, “and pick up whatever is in the bin.”

  Mrs. Webster had us make three graphs to record how many blankets, how many towels, and how much dog food we collected. She said every morning the whole class would count the contents of the two school bins, add them to the Safeway donations, and pack them in boxes. Then we’d enter the numbers on our graphs and post the graphs in the hallway outside our room. We also kept a running total of monetary donations. Mrs. Webster put those in a locked metal box which she kept in the school office.

  Mrs. Webster said the graphs were a way to keep track of our progress and to let the rest of the classes know the results, but I suspected it was a way to work some math practice into our puppy mill project.

  Andrew and I fed Ra again after school. Ra stood up as we approached, but instead of backing away, he stayed where he was as we brought him his food. Andrew watched hopefully for the collie’s ghost but it didn’t show up.

  On Friday, Ra came forward to meet us when we brought the food to him. He even wagged his tail! Andrew and I felt like cheering, but we didn’t want to startle him. We smiled at each other.

  Always before, Ra had watched warily while we put the dishes down, and he had waited until we walked away before he ate. Now he started to eat while we were still standing beside him. I looked at Andrew, who grinned and gave me a thumbs-up. I waited until Ra had finished, then reached down and put my fingertips on his head. “Good dog,” I said softly. “Good boy, Ra.”

  He let me run my hand down his back, stroking his fur. I kept talking to him and petting him. Then he let Andrew pet him. We rubbed behind his ears and stroked his back.

  “Soon,” Andrew said.

  “Soon,” I agreed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Andrew’s little sister, Wendy the Whiner, went bowling with us on Saturday. She’s six, too young to bowl at the alley where we go, but she likes to hang around and watch. If Wendy had her way, she would go everywhere with Andrew and me. Most of the time we said no, but letting her tag along to the bowling alley was relatively painless. For one thing, if we took Wendy, Andrew’s mom would drive us and pick us up. Otherwise we rode our bikes. It was only a couple of miles but after bowling for two hours, neither of us felt much like hopping on a bike.

  Andrew asked if he could stay at my house awhile afterward.

  “I want to stay, too,” Wendy said.

  Andrew’s mother told Wendy no. She always seemed grateful when we took Wendy with us, and I think she didn’t want to push her luck. As soon as she dropped us off, we got ready to go feed Ra.

  We were cautious as we approached Ra’s yard, watching carefully for any sign that someone might be home. Until now, no one had been there, but we had always gone during the week. Today we heard loud music coming from behind the hedge.

  “Uh-oh,” I said. “Somebody’s in the house.”

  “Do you think we should leave?” Andrew asked.

  I hesitated, looking at the thick shrubs around the house. “Maybe we should come back later,” I said, “after dark.”

  “I’m not sure I can sneak out after dark.”

  “Me neither.”

  “I don’t really want to come here after dark,” Andrew admitted.

  We stood on the sidewalk at the edge of the property. Ra had seen us and had stood up. I wanted to feed him but I also wanted to get out of there as fast as I could. I had no desire to meet Ra’s owner. If he was mean to his dog he was probably mean to kids, too, especially kids who were trespassing on his property and feeding his dog without permission.

  A cloud of cold air billowed around my ankles. When I looked down, I saw the ghost dog standing in the dirt beside us.

  “She’s here,” I said.

  “Who’s here?”

  “The collie’s ghost.”

  Andrew’s head swiveled. “Where?”

  I pointed. “There!”

  “I don’t see her.”

  “Do you feel the cold wind?”

  Andrew moved closer to me. “I don’t feel anything.” He gave me his laser look. “Are you making this up?” he asked.

  “No! The ghost dog is right in front of us.”

  “What’s she doing?”

  “She’s floating slowly toward Ra, but she keeps looking back at us.”<
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  Ra watched us, waiting for his meal.

  “Ra is hungry,” I said. “I think the collie wants us to feed him.”

  “If you want to give Ra his food,” Andrew said, “l’ll stand at the end of the driveway and watch the house. If anyone comes, I’ll yell and we can both run.”

  I poured kibble into a pan and walked quickly to Ra. He wagged his tail as I approached. The collie’s ghost stood beside him; her tail wagged, too.

  While Ra ate the kibble, I poured some water in the second pan and put it down. I realized I no longer felt the cold air. I looked around.

  The collie had disappeared.

  As soon as Ra finished eating and drinking, Andrew and I hurried away, relieved that nobody had seen us.

  That night the collie’s ghost appeared in my bedroom again. I had just gone to bed and was half-asleep, half-awake when the cold air blew across my face. I opened my eyes. The ghost was standing on her hind legs, with her front paws on the bed beside me. Even in the dark, her white fur was clearly visible. As soon as I looked at her, she pawed at the blanket. I didn’t hear the scratch of her toenails, but the blanket moved.

  This time, I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t sure why the ghost had come, but she didn’t seem to want to hurt me or even to frighten me. “What do you want?” I whispered. She pawed at the blanket again. I wondered if she could hear me. I wondered if she could bark.

  “You want me to get up, don’t you?” I said. The dog left the side of my bed and glided to the door.

  “I can’t go outside with you,” I told her. The dog lifted one front foot and scratched at the door.

  I put a pair of jeans on over my pajamas, slipped my feet into my flip-flops, and grabbed my jacket. Then I picked up my camera, aimed it at the dog ghost, and snapped. The flash briefly illuminated the room but did not startle the collie. I opened my bedroom door and looked toward Mom’s bedroom. Her door was closed. No light showed under the crack. I put the camera in my jacket pocket.

  The collie’s ghost was already partway down the stairs. I followed quietly. I hope I don’t regret this, I thought.

  I unlocked the front door, stepped outside, and closed the door softly behind me. When I got to the sidewalk, I looked up at Mom’s bedroom window. It was still dark. I turned and walked quickly down the street.

  I followed the ghost, but I already knew where she was taking me. I felt like Timmy in one of those old Lassie movie reruns that Mom and I used to watch. I remember snickering at those films and thinking, no dog is that smart. Now I wasn’t so sure.

  When we reached Ra’s yard, he wasn’t there. One end of the chain still circled the tree, but the other end lay in the dirt. Ra was gone. Had he broken loose? Was he running through the streets? Is that what the collie’s ghost wanted me to know?

  Two cars were parked in the driveway near the hedge. Loud rap music throbbed inside the house and harsh voices rose angrily. I couldn’t make out what the people said, but I could tell a huge argument was taking place.

  The collie trotted up the driveway toward the house, then stopped to look at me. She clearly wanted me to follow, knock on the door, and see what was going on inside, but I knew I couldn’t do that. Whoever was in that house would not be pleased to find a twelve-year-old kid on the doorstep, asking about a missing dog.

  I got out my camera and snapped a picture of the chain lying on the ground by the tree. I’m not sure why, but I also took a picture of the two cars. Then I turned and ran for home.

  Instantly I was running into a strong, icy wind. It was as if a cold front had suddenly moved down from Canada and the full force of the storm was blowing at my face, trying to keep me from going forward. I put my head down, pushing ahead, but I barely moved. When I looked up, I saw the collie a few yards ahead of me. She faced me head on with her legs braced stiffly, as if she were using all her energy to create a barrier that I couldn’t get past.

  I stopped running. “I’m sorry,” I told her. “I know you want me to go back there, but I can’t do it. I want to help Ra, but I can’t talk to the people in that house. I need to help Ra my own way. If he’s lost, I’ll do everything I can to find him. If he’s in that house, I . . .” I what? My voice trailed off. “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  I was glad there wasn’t anyone else around. If someone saw me standing there in the middle of the night apologizing to a dog’s ghost, they would probably haul me off for a mental evaluation.

  I didn’t know if the collie could understand me. I didn’t even know for sure if she could hear me. All I knew was that the cold wind stopped and I was able to make it home with no more trouble. Mom’s window was still dark. I eased inside, locked the door, and tiptoed upstairs to bed.

  I didn’t sleep, though. I lay there wondering where Ra was. It had been awful to know that he was always chained outside, lying in the dirt no matter what the weather was, but it was worse not to know where he was or what was happening to him. I was certain the collie had tried to alert me to a problem. There was no other explanation. But I didn’t know what the difficulty was or what to do about it.

  If Ra had somehow escaped, it might be a good thing. Maybe he would be picked up and turned in to the Humane Society and I could talk Mom into letting me adopt him. That way he’d be my dog legally. Still, I didn’t like the idea of Ra being loose. He could get hit by a car or get lost or have lots of other bad things happen to him.

  There was still the possibility that he had not broken free of his chain but was in the house with those angry people. I remembered Andrew saying, “Someone’s been mean to that dog,” and I felt as if I might throw up.

  I called Andrew the next morning. “Ra’s missing,” I said, and told him what had happened. “We need to get over there as soon as we can. If he isn’t there, we can report him as a lost dog, and we can go to the shelter and look to see if anyone has brought him there.”

  “I can’t do it today,” Andrew said. “It’s my grandpa’s birthday, and I’m spending the day at my grandparents’ house. I was going to call you and tell you I can’t come this afternoon.”

  “I’ll go by myself,” I said.

  “Let me know if you find him,” Andrew said. “I wish I could go with you but my parents made it clear that the whole family is going today for Grandpa’s birthday. My presence is requested, required, and rewarded.”

  “Rewarded? What’s your reward for going?”

  “I’m allowed to continue living with my parents. Actually, I want to go to Grandpa’s birthday party, although I wish I could go with you, too. Maybe Ra will be there. Maybe his owner took him inside last night.”

  I wasn’t sure which would be worse—having Ra lost or having him inside with the angry voices.

  I couldn’t wait until late afternoon when I usually fed Ra. I went as soon as I finished talking to Andrew. I told Mom I was going out for a bike ride, and then I pedaled straight to Ra’s house.

  I spotted him from a block away, lying in the dirt in his usual place. I had not been aware that I was holding my breath as I turned onto Ra’s street, but when I saw him my breath blew out in relief. The collie’s ghost lay beside him. It was the first time I’d seen the dog ghost lying down. I wondered if the ghost made Ra feel cold.

  Ra did not get up when I got off my bike, even though he saw me.

  The house was quiet. The two cars that had been parked in the driveway the night before were gone. I hoped it was early enough that Ra’s owner might still be sleeping.

  When I went toward Ra, the collie’s ghost stood and moved away, but Ra stayed where he was. I knelt beside him. He kept his snout on his front paws. I took a dog biscuit out of my pocket and offered it to him. He didn’t take it. Whatever had happened to Ra the night before, it had left him lethargic and uninterested even in food.

  I gently slid my hands down his sides. When my fingers touched his haunch, he whimpered. My hand jerked away. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  But someo
ne else had hurt him. I knew that, deep in my bones, even though I didn’t have what the sheriff ’s department would consider proof. Last night, something bad had happened to Ra.

  I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to rescue Ra before he got hurt again.

  “Tomorrow,” I told him. “I have to wait until Andrew’s here to help me, but tomorrow we’ll take you away from here. I promise.”

  Ra did not respond. Much as I wanted to stay with him, I couldn’t take a chance of being seen. I left him lying in the dirt and climbed on my bike. The collie’s ghost lay back down next to Ra.

  As soon as I got home, I sent Andrew an urgent e-mail: Must rescue Ra tomorrow.Sometimes he checked e-mail from his grandpa’s computer. I wished I could text him because he’d get a text message instantly, but Mom refused to pay the extra monthly fee for text messaging.

  I spent most of the day fretting. What if Ra still couldn’t stand up when Andrew and I were ready to take him? He was too big for us to carry him. He probably needed to be seen by a veterinarian. How would we manage that without telling anyone that we had a dog?

  I called the sheriff ’s department again and asked for Heidi Kellogg. I got her voice mail, which said she’d be back in the office on Monday. I didn’t want to leave a message, so I dialed again and talked to the person who answered.

  “I want to report a dog that’s been mistreated,” I said. Then, before I was asked, I gave the address. “I have pictures, one taken every afternoon last week, that show he was kept chained up with no food or water,” I said. “Today he acts as if he’s hurt, like maybe somebody hit him or kicked him or something.”

  “Did you witness the abuse?”

  “I didn’t see anyone hit the dog, but I know it happened.”

  “What is your name, please?” the man asked.

  “I—uh—I don’t want to give my name,” I said.

  “Anonymous complaints are never given as much credence as those where we can check back with the complainant,” he said. “Is this Pat Larson?”

  After a second of stunned silence at hearing my mom’s name, I realized that the sheriff ’s department would have caller ID. He knew what telephone number I was calling from.