Cry Woof

by Sarah Hines-Stephens

  Desk Lady narrowed her eyes at me, hesitating. Then she finally started to nod, slowly. I was free to go. I took two steps toward the elevator bank and turned.

  “Oh, uh, what’s Uncle Duke’s room number again? Duke MacLean?” I reminded her.

  She checked her computer screen. “Three sixteen.”

  “Right, of course. Three sixteen.” I touched my palm to my forehead and forced myself to walk slowly to the elevators, waiting for what seemed like forever until the doors opened. As the elevator lifted I finally allowed myself to take a breath. Whew. I’d gotten past the first hurdle. Also, Duke couldn’t be too bad off if I was allowed to visit.

  The doors opened onto the third floor nurses’ station. Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I turned quickly and walked to the left, like I knew where I was going. My Converse squeaked on the tile and the sound sent a shiver up my spine. Or maybe the shiver was from being in the hospital. Hospitals creeped me out almost as much as Dad’s office. For about the billionth time I wished Dodge was there to lay a warm, wet kiss on my hand and let me know everything was all right.

  I had just turned the corner when I spotted Bill Heinz walking toward me. I wondered what he was doing there and briefly considered saying hello, then thought better of it. I bent down to tie my shoe instead, letting my hair make a curtain around my face. I probably didn’t need to hide, because Bill didn’t even notice me. He was totally preoccupied, muttering to himself and moving fast. I tilted my head to try to catch what he was saying but only got a few stray words: “broken agreements” and “contract.” The dude was hopping mad — not the friendly fish-fry guy he’d been at his house — and I was glad I’d gotten out of his way.

  I was almost back to the elevators when I found room 316. The door was open and after knocking lightly I stepped inside. “Hello?”

  “Cassandra!” Duke was sitting up in bed. He looked pale and tired, but smiled broadly when he saw me. Whatever was ailing him hadn’t diminished his spirit. “So nice of you to come!”

  “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,” I said, using a phrase Dad liked. “And neither could the cranky lady at the reception desk,” I added, putting my hand up to my mouth like it was a big secret. “I had to come see how you’re doing.”

  Duke grinned. “Well, the old ticker’s still going,” he said, patting his chest. “And the doc says my liver will recover.” Then he paused and gazed up at the ceiling before adding somberly, “Unlike our little business.”

  “Your business is sick, too?” I wasn’t totally surprised to hear that Duke’s “little miracles” weren’t going to make them millions, but I was curious to find out why. “What happened?”

  “Turns out it was the Pepper-Uppers that put me in here,” he said, raising his eyebrows high on his wrinkly forehead. “Yup. Too much of a good thing. Too much vitamin A — that’s what taxed my liver, and my stressed liver put my heart in a state.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was so familiar! “Yeah, too much vitamin A can cause all sorts of problems,” I said, nodding dumbly.

  “Yup. Especially for an old guy.” Duke twiddled his thumbs. “I guess that young fella thought he was onto something with his mega omega-3s, but it wasn’t anything good. There’s a reason you need FDA approval before marketing, you know.” Duke shook his head, his twinkly eyes narrowed. I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “I guess we jumped the gun a little, trying something untested. And we probably seemed like an easy target — a bunch of oldsters anxious to feel young and increase their retirement to boot. Old fools.” Duke seemed a little embarrassed.

  “You’re no fools,” I told him, and meant it. The folks at Home Away had given me advice about all kinds of things. They were smart and wise!

  “Maybe we just got carried away,” Duke said, smiling again. “But if that slippery salesman thinks we’re too feeble to pull out of his snake-oil business, he’s dead wrong. We may lose everything, but we’re going to make darn sure Mr. Heinz does, too.”

  “Heinz? Like Bill Heinz?” I asked, unable to believe my ears. “He’s the guy behind Pepper-Uppers?”

  “That’s the one.” Duke nodded. “Sold us a bunch of garbage.” With a shaking hand he took a pill bottle out of the bag by his bed and pitched it into the trash can by the door. It landed with a clunk. “Haven’t lost my touch!” he chortled.

  Bill Heinz, my mind repeated. I wanted to grab the bottle right back out of the trash. The pieces of the puzzle were falling together, but the image kept changing. I thought I’d been putting together a picture of a sea otter, only it suddenly looked more like a rhinoceros!

  “Mwuf.” A strange sound interrupted my thoughts, muffled but familiar. “Meowf!”

  Duke blinked at me. “What was that?”

  I smirked, suddenly knowing exactly what it was and why my backpack felt so heavy. Bananas! The sneaky cat stuck her head out of my pack. “Now, how did you manage that?” I asked her. The last time I’d seen Bananas she was at Pet Rescue … in the lobby … next to my backpack! She must have crawled in because it smelled like our favorite dog.

  “Meowf!” she repeated, satisfied.

  Duke’s face lit up and he reached out a hand to pet her.

  “Careful,” I warned. “Her cuteness is deceptive.” But Bananas let him lift her out of the pack and settle her on the bed. In fact, she walked right onto his lap and rubbed the top of her head all over his grizzled chin, purring!

  I stared, speechless.

  “Just who is this little angel?” Duke asked, loving the affection.

  Angel? I thought. But watching the two of them, I knew for certain that Bananas wasn’t a devil. She was just very, very particular. She loved Dodge. And now she loved Duke. “Duke MacLean,” I said, “meet Bananas.”

  “Why, hello, Bananas.” Duke stroked her back.

  “Meowf!” Bananas returned his greeting.

  I was smiling at the amazing development in room 316 when there was a light rap on the door. “How are we doing in here?” a nurse called.

  My eyes widened. I wasn’t supposed to be here, and neither was Bananas! Duke didn’t miss a beat, though. He quickly shoved the kitten under his covers.

  “Just fine,” he called to the nurse, giving me a wink.

  The nurse nodded approvingly as she came into the room. She glanced at a chart on the wall and took Duke’s blood pressure. Duke shifted a little, lifting his knees to give Bananas more room. I could still hear Bananas purring, so I coughed and started to riffle through my backpack to cover the noise. It worked … except the covers started to move!

  “Meowf!” Bananas wanted out!

  “What was that?” the nurse asked, looking up from her watch. “Bless you!” Duke said loudly.

  I quickly put a hand in front of my face like I’d just sneezed. The nurse stared. “You sneeze just like a cat,” she said, smiling at me while she removed the blood pressure thingy. “I’ll be back with your meds in a minute,” she told Duke.

  “And you two better get going,” Duke said in a whisper, his eyes twinkling. He lifted Bananas out of the bedclothes and gave her a kiss on the nose.

  “Time to be quiet,” I told the kitten as I pushed her back into my pack.

  “Mrroow!” she objected.

  “You chose this, you little stowaway,” I reminded her. I zipped the kitten in and squeezed Duke’s arm. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I’ll come back if I can,” I promised.

  “That would be lovely, Cassandra,” Duke replied. “And, please, bring our friend.”

  The nurse was coming back in as we headed out. I glanced down, not wanting to look her in the eyes, and found myself staring into the trash. The label on Duke’s bottle of Pepper-Uppers stared right back. “Shark liver oil — the richest source of vitamins and omega-3s.” The blurb was framed in a bright red burst. I quickly reached into the can and grabbed the bottle. Then the stowaway and I headed for the exit, for home, and for Dodge.

  I ran. And ran.
And ran. All the way home. Okay, most of the way home. I was near our corner when I spotted Summer ahead of me. On her bike. I slowed to a walk and lifted my nose, to see if I could smell a little something good in her bike basket. Sniff, sniff, sniff.

  Nothing.

  Summer’s basket was empty. Muffet wasn’t inside, which was too bad. I liked Muffet — liked her a lot. She was full of good surprises. I really could’ve used a good surprise.

  I picked up the pace again as I turned onto Salisbury Drive. I kept on running. And hoping. I circled around the back of the Sullivans’. I leaped the fence, going in the way we’d come out. I barked anxiously at the kitchen door. I panted. I needed to get in. To find Bananas.

  Finally The Brother opened the door. I was panting so hard I couldn’t give him a thank-you lick. I stopped by my bowls and took a long drink. Then a long sniff. Water dripped off my tongue while I logged the air. Cassie wasn’t home. I knew that. And Bananas wasn’t, either.

  My tail drooped. My hope drooped. If Bananas wasn’t home, she was still in Heinz’s house. And if she was still in Heinz’s house, she had to be stuck. Or trapped. Or hurt. Or … Woof.

  I needed to get into Heinz’s. Click, click, click, click. I paced. Click, click, click, click. Back and forth. Click, click, click, click. In front of the door. Click, click, click, click. My tail hung low. My ears hung low. I was responsible. Full of guilt. A bad dog. But I wasn’t a bad dog. I was a good dog. A great dog. A trained dog.

  I could make this right. I could make a plan.

  “Woof!” I barked at the back door. “Woof! Woof!” I barked again and again. I couldn’t open it myself. Not when humans were home. And I needed out. Out. Out. Out!

  Finally The Brother heard me through his ear buzzers and came up from his den. “Didn’t I just let you in?” he asked. “You okay, buddy?” His face was worried and his eyes scanned the kitchen floor. He thought I was acting weird because I’d made a mess. And I had. But it wasn’t a “pile on the floor” kind of mess. The mess I’d made would be harder to clean up.

  “Woof!” I barked again.

  “Okay, okay.” The Brother let me out.

  I waited until I heard the latch click shut. Then I leaped the fence and started to run. I’d gotten Bananas into this and I would get her out. I just needed a little help….

  “Hold still,” I told Bananas. I was pedaling home as fast as I could with an orange kitten scrambling around in my backpack. Her claws pierced the nylon fabric and went right through my jacket more sharply than the cold wind as she pulled herself up and poked her head out for a better view.

  “I don’t know how Dodge does it,” I murmured, wincing.

  “Meowf,” Bananas replied in my ear. She probably knew where we were headed and was anxious to get there, too.

  I stood on my pedals, exhaling steam and pumping hard up the last incline. I let out a groan — not at the effort, at the view. Up ahead, sprawled on the pavement next to her bike, was Summer Hill.

  “Oh, darn,” I muttered as we approached. Her chain was off and the tires were spinning slowly. I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen her and ride on by. Bananas must have picked up on my thoughts, because she ducked back inside my pack. “Is there enough room in there for both of us?” I asked. I longed to hide, too, but instead found myself putting on the brakes.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, coasting to a stop.

  Summer looked up at me, her face half covered with her blonde hair. I couldn’t tell if the twisted expression behind it was pain, surprise, or an attempt to fight back tears.

  She cleared her throat. “Um, no,” she said.

  I silently parked my bike and righted hers, leaving her to check her knees and elbows for scrapes. Summer wasn’t good at mechanical stuff. When we were friends, I was the one who pumped tires and put chains back on.

  I flipped her bike upside down, balancing it on the handlebars. Lining the chain up on the big gear in front, I spun the pedals forward. With a clickety-clunk, the chain slid back on.

  We didn’t talk. I could feel Summer watching, though, and when I glanced her way she gave me a very un-Summer-like look. She looked … softer. Maybe even bruised. I wondered if she was still trying not to cry when she opened her mouth.

  I braced for tears or a nasty comment — I wasn’t sure which.

  “I’m sorry about stepping on the scrapbook,” she said quietly.

  “Huh?” I said stupidly. An apology was not what I was expecting!

  “I guess I was hurt. I sort of wished you’d sent it to me. I think … sometimes … well, sometimes I just wish …” She drifted off, and I found myself wondering what she was wishing. It seemed impossible for Summer to be sorry. For anything. Maybe she had a minor head injury.

  I was trying to think of what to say when Bananas stuck her head out of my backpack and spoke for me. “Meowf!”

  Summer blinked rapidly and stared at my shoulder. “Is that a cat?”

  “That’s Bananas,” I replied.

  “No, seriously. There’s a cat in your bag.” She pointed like she’d spotted a miniature Sasquatch.

  “I know.” I couldn’t help smiling as I explained. “Her name is Bananas. She’s one of Madame LeFarge’s.”

  I cranked the pedals one last time, making sure the chain was going to stay, and turned the bike right side up.

  Summer stood, brushed herself off, and took the handlebars. Then she reached over to pet Bananas before I could warn her. Lo and behold, Bananas accepted the pet! Wonders never cease, I thought. I wasn’t just marveling at Bananas, either. I was kind of stunned by myself, because — amazingly — I didn’t want Bananas to scratch her. In fact, for the first time in practically forever, I was standing next to Summer without feeling a strong urge to trip her or spill something on her.

  “She’s pretty cute,” Summer said, tickling Bananas behind the ears.

  “You should see her with Dodge. She thinks she’s a dog,” I said before I could stop myself. Why did I tell Summer that?

  Summer laughed. “Really? That’s so funny! Remember those YouTube videos we used to watch of odd animal pairs — the tortoise and the baby hippo, and the dog and tiger cub?”

  I blinked. I totally remembered. But somehow I’d managed to forget that I remembered.

  “What happened to the rest of Madame’s cats?” Summer asked without pausing. It was like she cared or something, and it was freaking me out!

  “They’re at Pet Rescue waiting to be adopted,” I mumbled. I looked at her pupils to see if they were dilated — she could’ve gotten a concussion when she fell off her bike. But her eyes seemed normal as she nodded thoughtfully.

  “My aunt Marissa was thinking about getting a cat,” she said. “You want me to talk to her?”

  “Actually, that would be great,” I said. I was starting to feel like I was having an out-of-body experience. This was getting weirder by the second!

  Summer nodded, climbing onto her bike. “Okay, I will. And thanks.” She patted her handlebars.

  “Sure,” I mumbled as she pedaled away.

  Bananas meowfed in my ear.

  “Yup, I totally agree.” I was glad the cat had been with me to witness the weirdness. “Either we just made a stop on an alien planet or we’ve had a close encounter with Summer Hill’s not-so-evil twin!”

  All it took was one bark. One bark outside the sparkly doggy door and Muffet was heading right toward me. The Maltese whimpered. She wagged. She sniffed. She was happy to see me. I wagged back. I was happy to see her, too. The little dog was going to be a big help. I just hoped she wasn’t a major cat chaser. At least not today.

  Our noses touched and Muffet understood I was on a case. She was in. We took off toward Prospect Street in a hurry.

  When we got to Heinz’s, though, I realized we had a problem. A tall problem. The fence.

  Muffet wasn’t ladder trained like I was. And even if she were, the rungs were too far apart for her legs. She couldn’t go over; she’d have to g
o under!

  We sniffed out a soft, hidden spot in Bloom’s yard, at the back of a flower bed. We started to dig. Paw. Scrape. Paw. Scrape. It felt good to be doing something. Unearthing smells. Making dirt fly. We dug as fast as we could. The hole didn’t have to be big. Just Muffet-size.

  When we could see light from the other side, Muffet wriggled through. She got covered in dirt. Woof! She looked like the burglar she was about to become. And way better than she did in Summer’s froufy outfits.

  I climbed the ladder to see into Heinz’s yard and bark directions if I needed to. I didn’t need to. Muffet saw the basement window and slid right through. Good Muffet.

  I climbed another rung. And another. I was at the very top when I heard a noise. Someone was coming — again. I froze. I looked around for a place to hide. Then the best smells in the world hit my nostrils. Grass. Soap. A hint of bacon. Cassie! Cassie was my favorite. My absolute favorite.

  My tail wagged. Fast and hard. But wagging on a ladder was not a good idea. I had to jump before I fell. So I jumped. And I landed in Heinz’s yard. Woof.

  A moment later I saw Cassie’s head, peering over the fence. “Dodge?” she shouted in a whisper. “Dodge! I just went home to look for you. What’s going on? How’d you know about Bill?”

  Bill? I wasn’t here for Bill Heinz. I was here for The Kid. I gave Cassie my “heel” look. I didn’t want to bark, but I needed her by my side. I needed her to follow. I made sure she saw and headed for the house.

  Then I heard it. Coming from Cassie’s bag.

  “Meowf.”

  There was only one cat that mewed like that. The Kid! Cassie’d found The Kid!

  Cassie jumped down into Heinz’s yard and crouched in the grass. The Kid climbed out of her pack and scampered over. She rubbed on my legs with her motor going. Loud. If I had a motor, I’d have been revved up, too. Yeah. I was glad to see her safe. Really glad.

  I gave her a good sniff, to see where she’d been. The Kid smelled like dust and thyme. She also smelled like Cassie’s homework, Pet Rescue, and Erica Bloom!