Bark vs. Snark

by Spencer Quinn

  She took Maxie’s money, but didn’t stick it in her pocket, as she’d done with the money from the other customers. Instead she laid it on her chair.

  “Why are you so persistent?” she said.

  “Can’t you guess?” said Maxie. He did one of those little laughs to himself, the kind possibly called a chuckle. There were no other chucklers in the group, at least not then. Harmony crossed her arms over her chest.

  Miranda shook her head. “I can only guess weights, Maxie.”

  “Then be my guest and guess away!”

  “I will,” Miranda said. “But first, Maxie, can I ask you to please ditch the rolled-up coins?”

  “Huh?” said Maxie.

  “Or the lead bars, or the boxes of screws, or the rocks, or whatever else you’ve got in your pockets?”

  Maxie’s mouth and eyes opened wide. His face turned a tomatoey color. The smells of all of them—Maxie, Miranda, Harmony, and Bro—started changing, all in different ways. So hard to keep track of! It’s not so easy being a dog—don’t forget that. As for what was going on, I leave that to you.

  “I—” Maxie said. “I—I don’t. I mean not on … on purpose. Sort of.” He began to back away. “It’s for science. I’m … I’m a budding, um. But there’s no such thing as magic. So there must be … must be some trick!” At that point, backing up, he bumped into a big woman holding a giant stick of cotton candy, mostly backing into the cotton candy. Then came a commotion, and in the middle of that, Maxie spun away and took off. He turned out to be fast! People are full of surprises.

  Miranda watched him go. As she did, were her eyes starting to dampen? Yes, for sure. They dampened and dampened and overflowed, tears streaming down her face although she didn’t make a sound. She took off her crown, and almost seemed like she was going to throw it away. Instead she laid it on the chair and turned her back to us, her thin shoulders shaking.

  Bro and Harmony glanced at each other. They both looked shocked. Poor Miranda, a friend of ol’ Arthur. That was one thing for sure. I went over and pressed my head against the side of her leg.

  Miranda made a sound, kind of a sniffle. Then she wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve, turned, crouched down, and kissed the top of my head. “Oh, Arthur,” she said.

  “Um,” said Bro. “What’s, uh …”

  “What’s wrong, Miranda?” said Harmony.

  Miranda looked up at them, blinking away the last of her tears. “Nothing’s wrong,” she said.

  “But—but—” said Bro.

  “Is it because of Maxie?” said Harmony.

  “Oh, no,” Miranda said. “I’ve … I’ve seen it all. But thanks for giving me the heads-up.”

  “We gave you the heads-up?” said Bro.

  “Just enough of a hint,” Miranda said.

  “Like what kind of a hint?” Bro said.

  “On your faces,” Miranda told him. “In your eyes. You didn’t like what your friend was doing but you couldn’t rat him out.” She wiped her eyes again. “And I don’t even know your names.”

  “Harmony,” said Harmony.

  “Bro,” said Bro. “We’re twins, but not the identical type.”

  “That must be nice,” said Miranda.

  Harmony and Bro both looked surprised.

  Miranda laughed. “Or not.” She glanced up at Bro. “Is that your real name? Bro?”

  “Yeah,” said Bro.

  “Well,” said Harmony, “not strictly speaking. Our mom named me and our dad gave Bro a name Bro hates, but I think he’ll change his mind one day.”

  “Never,” said Bro.

  “What is it?” Miranda said.

  “Can you guess?” Bro said.

  “Now you’re sounding like Maxie,” said Harmony.

  Bro frowned. “You really can only guess weight?”

  Miranda nodded.

  “How did you learn?” Harmony said.

  “Well, it’s supposed to be magic,” said Miranda. “And I was sort of a natural, but Cuthbert taught me a lot.”

  “Cuthbert the Clown?” Harmony said.

  Miranda nodded, and checked her watch. “He should have been here by now,” she said. “Cuthbert works this stall after me. Not in his clown costume, of course. Everybody does a little of everything in the carnival business.”

  “How old are you?” Harmony said.

  “Twelve,” said Miranda.

  “We’re eleven,” Bro said.

  “Been there, done that,” Miranda said.

  Harmony laughed that real big laugh of hers. Usually when one of the twins laughs, the other does, too, but not this time.

  “You’re in the carnival business?” Bro said.

  “Yes.”

  “Full time?”

  “Pretty much. We’re on the road nine months of the year.”

  “What about school?” Harmony said.

  “I do it online.”

  “Do you get to keep all the money?” said Bro. “All those three dollars?”

  “That goes in the pot,” Miranda said.

  “What pot?”

  “We—my mom and—well, just my mom, sort of, owns the company. Sunshine Amusements. We contract out midway attractions at fairs all over the place.”

  “Wow,” said Harmony.

  Miranda smiled a shy smile. “I’ve been in all the lower forty-eight states except one.”

  “Can I guess?” said Bro.

  There was a pause and then both girls started laughing. Miranda tilted her head to one side like she was looking at Bro in a new way.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Guess.”

  “North Dakota,” Bro said.

  “Hey!” said Miranda.

  “I got it?” Bro said.

  “No,” she told him. “But close. North Dakota was second last. Nevada’s last. And we were never going to go there ever, except now …” Her eyes got a faraway look.

  “How come—” Harmony began, but then a voice came out of the sky:

  “And now, in the old ball field behind the big tent, the event you’ve all been waiting for! It’s time for the first annual All-County Frisbee Fetch! So pooches—get on over there! It’s going to be a barking good time!”

  “Barking good time?” said Harmony. “What does that even mean?”

  Miranda shook her head. “We’re still trying to find a good replacement for the PA announcements.”

  “What happened to the old announcer?” said Harmony.

  Miranda looked down. “That’s a real big question.” She took a deep breath. “All the PA announcements used to be handled by … by my dad.”

  “Oh,” said Harmony. “And, um …”

  For a moment, she was starting to sound like Bro. Meanwhile Bro was sounding like Harmony. “Hey, come on! We don’t want to be late.”

  “Hurry, hurry, hurry, all you four-footed fetchers! Here’s your chance to win a brand-new state-of-the-art mountain bike for your favorite human! So get your tail on over to the old ball field!”

  Miranda looked up and met Harmony’s gaze. “You better get going,” she said.

  “But—” Harmony began.

  “Harmy!” said Bro, his voice pretty loud. In Harmony’s backpack, worn on the front as usual, Queenie’s eyes slowly opened and then slowly closed. She looked real sleepy. Also, she smelled a bit funny, but exactly in what way I didn’t know.

  A youngish-looking man with long hair and tattooed arms hurled a yellow Frisbee into the air, so fast and so far it was soon just a yellow dot.

  “Okay, Burner—GO!” he yelled.

  Then this dog—but I’m getting ahead of myself here. First I should have mentioned that we were over at the old ball field, with spectators, including Harmony and Queenie, in the stands, and in the batting cage a whole bunch of dogs, each with a human holding a Frisbee. One of these dogs turned out to be Burner, and as soon as Burner heard “GO!” he took off.

  “Good grief!” said Bro, standing beside me, like … like Burner had caught his eye in some wa
y.

  I watched Burner chase after the yellow dot. Was there something special about him? He appeared to be about my size, perhaps a little on the underfed side, and his legs seemed rather long, maybe a bit too long in my opinion. As for his coat, Burner sported what might be called the sleek kind, almost certainly not as soft and comfy as mine, which Mom says is like an old tweed coat. In short, while I like just about everyone I’ve ever met, there really wasn’t anything special about Burner.

  For example, was it special how he raced across the old ball field, paws hardly ever touching down? Or how about the way he suddenly caught up to the Frisbee, sprang up high—really, not that high, certainly no higher than the roof of the cab on Elrod’s old truck—and snatched the Frisbee in one clean motion, whirling around in midair and zooming back to the batting cage, where he skidded to a stop and held it out for the long-haired man to take? Was there anything special about that? I don’t think you would have been impressed.

  After that came other dogs—including Speedy, Jet, Bolt, Charger, Rocket, and Vroom—and other Frisbees, red, yellow, green, striped, polka-dotted, black, and white. They were all okay dogs, I suppose, but in truth even less special than Burner. What was so hard about chasing Frisbees? But more important, what was the point? It was pretty hot out here at the old ball field, and also pretty dusty. Also I happened to be feeling a bit full. What do you do on a hot and dusty day when you’re feeling a bit full? You lie down, stretch out, and take it easy for a spell, don’t you? So I did exactly what you would do. I lay down, stretched out, and—

  “Arthur? What are you doing?”

  My eyes seemed to be almost closed, just narrowed down to two slits. I peered up through those slits and there was Bro.

  “Arthur! Up!”

  Up? Up was one of those words with lots of meanings. You can be mixed up, fed up, up to here, rounded up, up in the air, hung up, rung up, stood up, up and down, high up, up high, locked—

  “ARTHUR!”

  —although in this particular case it was possible that Bro wanted me to get up. As I mentioned already, although I’m very much the cooperative type, I wasn’t actually in the mood for getting up. A good part of life is our search for comfort, and once you finally find it, shouldn’t there be a very good reason for—

  The voice from the sky interrupted my thoughts. “Any contestants who still haven’t competed? If not, we now declare—”

  Bro raised his hand and shouted. “Wait! Wait! There’s still Arthur!”

  I liked the sound of that. There’s still Arthur. How nice of Bro! Still Arthur! You can count on ol’ Arthur. Ol’ Arthur’s goin’ nowhere, baby. I stretched out to the max on the soft grass, unmovable, unbudgeable, still, and always—Arthur.

  Bro crouched down beside me. Hey! He didn’t look too happy. I wondered why.

  “C’mon, Arthur,” he said softly. “I’d really like that mountain bike. Harmony’s going to have one. We’ll want to ride together. Can’t you at least try?”

  Try what? Mountain biking? How could that be in the cards? Poor Bro. He wasn’t doing his best thinking.

  “Just once, Arthur,” he said. “I’ll throw and you chase. Then you’ll never have to do it again.” He took the green Frisbee out of Big Fred’s plastic bag and waved it in my face.

  Whoa! Do that again.

  Bro did it again, waving the Frisbee in my face. This time I tried to snatch it and almost did, but Bro was too quick. He pulled it away and stepped back. I jumped up, tried to snatch it again.

  “Well well,” came the voice from the sky. “Looks like ol’ Arthur here’s a competitor.”

  Huh? Competitor was what again? I didn’t know. In fact, I didn’t know diddly, whatever that means. All I knew was one thing. I wanted that green Frisbee and I wanted it now! Not only that, but I wanted to lick it and possibly eat it. That Frisbee was the most amazing Frisbee in the world. I leaped up for it. And almost got it, even though Bro now had it raised above his head.

  “Arthur!” he whispered. “What’s going on with you?”

  Not a thing! I wanted that Frisbee and I wanted it now. What could be more obvious? I leaped again, right up to head level with Bro, but at the last second he twisted away and flung the Frisbee the farthest he’d ever flung anything, and Bro has flung a lot of objects, way too many to list here—and especially now in all this excitement. Desperate excitement! Yes, that was the answer to Bro’s whispered question. What was going on with me out here at the old county fair ball field was desperate excitement. I was desperately excited to possess the green Frisbee, to have it all to myself forever and ever.

  Excited excited excited desperately excited: That was what was pulsing in my mind as I chased after the green Frisbee. I hardly even noticed that I wasn’t alone. Burner seemed to have joined the chase, and not only Burner, but also Speedy, Jet, Bolt, Charger, Rocket, and Vroom, plus other dogs whose names I’d forgotten or missed in the first place. But guess what. All of them—Burner, Speedy, Jet, Bolt, Charger, Rocket, Vroom, and all the rest—were eating the dust of ol’ Arthur!

  Because all at once, and for the first time in my life, I understood velocity. Not only that, I commanded velocity. I, Arthur, was a speed demon. I flew after the flying Frisbee, closing in with every bound. Did I hear the roar of the crowd? Possibly not, but only because of the unusual position of my ears, sticking out straight behind me from the wind I was making. Yes, I was now commanding not just velocity, but the wind as well!

  Closer and closer I got to the Frisbee, gliding in a long curve toward a big tree. Behind me I heard the pant-pant-pant of all those others, falling farther and farther behind. And now I could smell my wonderful Frisbee, fill my nose with its fabulous aroma. Just a few more bounds and—and—

  But what was this? An enormous bird was hopping off a branch high up in the big tree? And swooping down in a straight line toward my Frisbee? Oh, no! I bounded one last bound with all my heart, then gathered all my strength and took to the air, really flying, flying just like a bird myself.

  I snatched my Frisbee, but at the exact same moment the enormous bird snatched it, too, snatched the Frisbee in its nasty beak. We fought it out in midair, the bird glaring at me with its tiny, hot eyes, and me growling back in a way no bird would soon forget. Look at me that way, Mr. Bird? That’ll only make me more desperately excited! Which was just what happened. With a last mighty twist of my head, I wrenched my Frisbee out of the nasty beak, the bird squawking and flapping off, and me gliding back to earth.

  The winner! I, Arthur, winner and still champ! Well, maybe not the still champ part. But I didn’t worry about that. I didn’t worry about anything. All I did was lick my Frisbee, licking it like there was no tomorrow. And why should there be? Today was perfection.

  I DIDN’T FEEL TOO GOOD. IN FACT, I DIDN’T feel good at all. For one thing, I was so sleepy. Feeling sleepy has always been a nice thing in my life, the way my body and mind just relax and relax and very soon I’m in another world, a private world of sweet dreams. The kind of sleepiness I had now wasn’t like that. This was edgy sleepiness, not at all relaxed in body or mind. I even hurt a little bit. The top of one of my back legs felt like it had gotten poked. Had I been poked? I didn’t remember that. I actually didn’t remember much at all.

  Oh, I knew I was Queenie, of course. And that I lived at the Blackberry Hill Inn with Mom and Harmony and Bro. There was also Bertha the cook, who always gave me fresh cream in the morning, and Elrod the handyman, who sometimes called me “Boss,” and … and Arthur. What did Arthur do for me? Nothing. Would life at the Blackberry Hill Inn be better without him? Yes. But—but I wouldn’t have minded Arthur’s company at the moment. How strange! How complicated I am, and in such an interesting way, and always totally a boss, as Elrod for one knew very well—a boss and in need of no one. But … where was everybody?

  I opened my eyes. Uh-oh. And realized they were already open. If my eyes were open, why couldn’t I see anything? Was it night? I can see pretty well
at night. Was I in a dark room? I can see pretty well in dark rooms.

  I sniffed the air. I smelled detergent and damp clothing and dust balls. Those were the smells of the laundry room down in the basement of the inn. I don’t mean the old part of the basement where I do some of my best hunting. I mean the new part, with the laundry room and the wine cellar that Dad was building from the plans drawn up by Lilah Fairbanks, but that never got built because of … well, because of Mom kicking Dad out of the house. I knew it was the right thing to do, knew it just from the look on Mom’s face when she told him to go. How upset she was! And that upset was all over her face. But there was another look as well—the look of a human doing the right thing.

  But … but why was I thinking these thoughts? My mind—edgy and nervous—seemed to be wandering around on its own, like it wasn’t even mine! All at once I puked. Some others of my kind are frequent pukers, but not me. I hate feeling pukey and I also hate puking. As for eating my own puke—an occasional activity of Arthur’s—the idea is revolting. Actually enough to make me puke. Which I did again! Oh, what was happening to me? I moved away from the puke, but after only a step or two got dizzy—dizzy! Me! And slumped down into what felt and smelled like a disgusting pile of laundry waiting to go in the washer. I could almost hear the scene, Harmony telling Mom it was Bro’s turn, Bro saying no way, followed by the same old endless and annoying back-and-forth. If only I could actually hear it now, instead of just almost.

  Queenie! Stop this at once! Get a grip! Your mind is your mind and must obey. Mind! Obey!

  My mind heard me and went quiet. I still didn’t feel too good, but at least I knew where I was, namely down in the laundry room at home. My least favorite room in the whole place, but as long as I was home, everything was all right.

  I got up, felt dizzy, slumped down, got up again, and moved toward the door. I knew where the door was in my own laundry room, no matter how strangely dark it happened to be. I reached the door, raised a paw, gave it a push. The laundry room door is made of wood. Whatever I was pushing on felt like metal against my paw, cold metal. I felt dizzy and slumped down.