My Dog is Better than Your Dog

by Tommy Greenwald

  Yup. You guessed it.

  Abby vomited up pretty much everything I’d just given her. I guess fried beets aren’t the best thing for a dog’s diet after all.

  Mrs. Cragg whipped her head around. “What was that?” Then her eyes darted to the floor, where Abby was standing right next to a reddish-greenish-globbish-gloopish pile of gross.

  Abby started wagging her tail. Believe it or not, I think she wanted more.

  She wasn’t going to get it.

  Especially since she jumped up on the counter and threw up a tiny bit more—and some got on Mrs. Cragg’s beloved, perfectly combed red hair.

  She screamed, “MY HAIR!!!!” and then made a sickening noise that sounded kind of like AARHROOARAHHHREEK!

  FACT: AARHROOARAHHHREEK! is even worse than thlarpksh!

  Mrs. Cragg hooked my arm with her cane and screamed, “What did you do? Did you give that dog your dinner? DID YOU?”

  “Sh-she was hungry,” I stammered.

  “That’s it!” Mrs. Cragg howled. “I’ve had it with you and this dog! You both need to learn a lesson!” Then she grabbed Abby by the collar. I couldn’t tell which one of them was barking and growling louder.

  I ran after them as they rounded the corner and headed straight for the hall closet. “Wait!” I shouted, but I was too late—Mrs. Cragg opened the closet and threw Abby in. Then she slammed the door shut.

  “It’s nice and dark in there, just the way you like it!” she yelled through the door.

  “She likes my closet, not the hall closet!” I said, with tears in my eyes.

  “Well, I’m a babysitter, not a dogsitter,” she muttered. “She stays in there until your parents come home.” Then she clomped away, her cane hitting the floor with an angry smack!

  Soon she was going to be a no-sitter, if I had anything to say about it.

  I sat next to the closet, thinking, trying to figure out what to do next. But it was hard to concentrate, because of all the noise going on in the kitchen. Pots were rattling, water was running, and Mrs. Cragg was … singing. That’s right, my babysitter was having a great time, singing at the top of her lungs, while my dog was stuck in a closet that might as well have been a dungeon.

  It would have been so easy to just let Abby out! But if she ran into the kitchen and did something else to make Mrs. Cragg upset, then who knows what would happen.

  “Are you okay, Abby?” I whispered through the door. “Hang in there, I’ll figure something out.”

  No response.

  “Yum, yum, yum!” I heard Mrs. Cragg exclaim. I guess she was about to sit down to her own plate of fried blech.

  “I’m going to go talk to her right now,” I whispered to Abby, even though I wasn’t moving.

  Come on! I said to myself. Be brave!

  I heard a slight scratch on the door. Abby was giving me courage!

  After a few deep breaths, I walked into the kitchen.

  Guess what I saw?

  Mrs. Cragg was sitting down to dinner, all right, but there wasn’t a fried beet in sight. Instead, I was staring at a cheeseburger, french fries, and chocolate milk.

  FACT: Adults never actually eat the disgusting stuff they feed you.

  She looked up at me impatiently. “What is it?”

  “You need to let Abby out of the closet,” I said. “I promise she’ll be good.”

  “That dog doesn’t know how to be good,” said Mrs. Cragg, spraying french fry particles out of her mouth. “The answer is no.”

  I stood up to my full height (not very full) and took a deep breath. “This is behavior that no civilized society can accept,” I said, my voice shaking a little. “And I will do everything in my power to stop it.”

  Mrs. Cragg’s eyes went wide. “What did you just say?”

  I wasn’t sure I could repeat it. And I definitely didn’t want to tell her that it was exactly what Hank Barlow said, whenever he was about to catch the bad guy.

  Be like Hank, I said to myself. You can do it.

  “I said, this is behavior—”

  “I HEARD YOU!” she yelled. “Now leave me alone. Scram.”

  But I refused to scram. I might not have been the bravest guy in the world, but I refused to be a coward.

  I was trying to figure out what to do next, when I saw something that made me rub my eyes.

  The closet door handle was moving.

  I rubbed my eyes again.

  Still moving.

  Then, unbelievably, I saw the door start to open.

  Are you kidding me?!?

  Meanwhile, Mrs. Cragg crammed another bite of burger in her mouth and closed her eyes in delight. She had no idea what Abby was doing.

  “Uh … okay,” I said to Mrs. Cragg. “I guess you’re right. I guess we’ll wait until my parents get home.” My plan was to wait until Abby had somehow miraculously finished opening the door—then I’d yell, “Holy smokes! Abby got out!” And while Mrs. Cragg freaked out, I’d grab Abby and hide her in my room.

  But that turned out to not be Abby’s plan.

  Because two seconds later, the door opened all the way and I suddenly saw two eyes looking at me like glow-in-the-dark marbles.

  I tried to whisper to Abby to not move, but it didn’t work.

  Instead, she sprinted straight for us. I think she wanted to see if there were any leftover fried beets.

  “WAIT!” I yelled, but it was too late.

  Mrs. Cragg looked up in shock. “What the—?” But she never got to finish the sentence, because Abby crashed into her, knocked the cheeseburger out of her hands, and ate it, all in about four seconds.

  Mrs. Cragg’s face turned the color of the beets she’d tried to get me to eat. Meanwhile, Abby started in on the fries.

  Then I saw something I’d never seen before, and hope to never see again.

  I saw a human being actually try to smack an animal.

  Notice I said try.

  Mrs. Cragg swatted at Abby’s adorable little nose, but Abby was way too fast for the old lady and ducked out of the way.

  Which is when the fangs came out.

  “Abby, no!” I yelled—as if that would do any good. She was in full predator mode. She started growling and walking slowly toward Mrs. Cragg, whose face went from beet red to pea green.

  “Get that beast away from me!” she yelled, backing up and bumping into the table. Plates and glasses crashed to the floor, but Abby didn’t care. She crouched down, like you see on one of those nature shows, where the panther suddenly spots the defenseless gazelle.

  In case you were wondering, Mrs. Cragg was the gazelle.

  Then Abby jumped, right onto Mrs. Cragg’s shoulder.

  “Abby, no!” I said again, even though what I was thinking was, Reminds me of Jonah Forrester.

  Mrs. Cragg let out a bloodcurdling scream—“AARRHHHGGGHHH!!!”—just as the front door opened. I turned to look—it was my mom, who picked that second to finally come home from work. She heard Mrs. Cragg scream, sprinted past me into the kitchen, and pulled Abby away, just as she was about to sink her teeth in.

  “What on earth is going on here?” my mom yelled.

  I wasn’t sure what to say. I ended up going with “Not much,” which probably wasn’t the best choice.

  Mrs. Cragg grabbed my mom’s arm. “Mrs. Bishop,” she panted, “this dog tried to kill me. Well, first she acted crazy, and then she threw up all over the kitchen, and then she was just about to bite me! I’m sure if you hadn’t walked in when you did, I would be terribly injured right now. Or worse!”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. “That’s not the whole story!” I protested. “This crazy old lady tried to feed me gross fried beets, and she ordered me to eat the whole thing, and so I gave it to Abby, and yeah, Abby vomited it all up, but then Mrs. Cragg locked her in the closet! And after that she tried to punch Abby! She’s a horrible babysitter, Mom, I swear!”

  Abby, who was still in my mom’s arms, squirmed in agreement.

  My mom shook her
head. “Jimmy, I saw what I saw with my own eyes. Abby wasn’t locked in the closet, she was right here, attacking poor Mrs. Cragg.”

  “That’s because somehow she broke out! Abby broke out of the closet! I swear: it was just like on STOP! POLICE! when Hank Barlow broke out of that car trunk during the episode where he was being held hostage by the gang of hippies!” I stopped talking when I realized my mom was staring at me like I was a crazy person.

  “Honey, this isn’t a television show from fifty years ago,” my mom said slowly, like I was a toddler. “This is real life.” Finally, she took her eyes off me and looked at Mrs. Cragg. “I’m so, so sorry,” she said. “I will deal with this.”

  “I certainly hope so,” Mrs. Cragg said.

  My mom waited a few seconds for everyone to calm down, then asked Mrs. Cragg, “Can you still come tomorrow after school? Again, I’m so sorry.”

  The babysitter smiled sweetly. “I accept your apology,” she said, nodding. “And yes, I will come tomorrow. But if things don’t improve, it will have to be my last day. I’m sure you understand. Good night.” Then she turned to me, nodded, and walked out the door.

  “Mom!” I said, but she refused to look at me. Instead, she looked at the broken plates on the table, beet stains on the wall, and dog vomit on the floor.

  “We’ll discuss this with Dad when he gets home,” she said.

  “Discuss what?” I moaned.

  “Everything,” said my mom. “Including the possibility that keeping Abby might not be such a great idea right now.”

  “No way!” I screamed. “That’s not fair! You don’t know what happened! You’re never here! And Dad is here but trying not to be! You guys don’t care about Misty or Abby or me at all!”

  “That’s ridiculous, Jimmy, you know we love you,” said my mom, but I was already halfway up the stairs, and I pretended I didn’t even hear her.

  For the next hour or so I hung out with Abby in my room, reading Fang Goodness. I was just getting to the best part—where someone is robbing movie sets, so Jonah Forrester goes undercover as an actor to play a vampire in a movie, but the director doesn’t know he’s a real vampire, he just thinks Jonah is a really good actor—when my dad got home.

  He poked his head in to tell me his interview went really well, and asked if I wanted to talk about the dog situation. I told him congratulations but that I didn’t feel much like talking. I just wanted to be alone with my dog.

  “You told mom that Abby let herself out of the closet?” Dad asked.

  I nodded. “She totally did, Dad. I swear!”

  “Okay, honey,” said my dad. “Okay.” He paused for a second. “You know that door has a loose handle, right? It opens on its own all the time.”

  “I know,” I said. “But it’s not what happened this time. I promise, I’m not lying!”

  He started to leave, then turned back. “By the way, the medicine for your rash won’t be in until tomorrow. Mom will pick it up after work.”

  “Great,” I said. “Just in time for me to already have been humiliated at school.”

  “Now, come on,” said my dad. “You’ll be fine in no time.”

  “I’m not giving Abby up.”

  My dad sighed. “Well, we’ll see, but your mom’s not happy right now. I have one last interview tomorrow, to meet the big boss. We’re going to give it one more try with Mrs. Cragg. That dog needs to win her over, and fast.”

  I couldn’t believe it. “So you’d rather keep Mrs. Cragg than Abby?”

  My dad sighed. “I’d rather keep you both. So figure it out.” He kissed the top of my head. “Don’t forget to walk the dog before bed.”

  After he left, I hugged Abby. “We’re sticking together,” I told her. “You’re special. You’re different. We’ll figure something out. You just need to not vomit on the babysitter anymore.” Abby gave me a quick lick on the hand, but mainly she was looking out the window. It was nighttime, so of course she was back on high alert.

  I thought of the night before, when I was pretty sure she’d snuck out the window while I was sleeping.

  “What are you up to?” I whispered. “What kind of a dog are you?” But she didn’t answer.

  By the time I took Abby for her walk it was dark out, so I got my flashlight. As soon as I opened the back door Abby pulled on the leash so hard, I had to run to keep up.

  She started sniffing around the yard, like she was looking for a rematch with the groundhog.

  “Not tonight, Abby,” I begged.

  Her next stop was a bush next to the barbecue grill, where she started gnawing on something, probably an old bone.

  “Hey, Ab, whatcha got there?” I said, but she kept on chomping. I was trying to figure out how to get Abby back in the house, when she suddenly froze, stopped chewing, and looked up.

  “What is it, girl?” I asked, but she still didn’t move. So I froze too. Then I heard it.

  It sounded like talking.

  We both stood there for another second, listening.

  It stopped, then the talking started again, a little louder, like arguing.

  FACT: If there was a list of things that you’d be happy to hear, two strange voices outside your house late at night would be pretty much at the bottom of that list.

  “Who could that be?” I whispered.

  I was just about to go inside and get my parents, when Abby suddenly gave a short growl and took off, yanking the leash right out of my hand. I stood there frozen for another second, then sprinted after her as she darted around to the front of the house.

  Two people were standing right in front of our house. It was too dark to really see what they looked like—all I could see was that one was wearing a striped shirt.

  They were yelling at each other.

  “You were supposed to bring it to me tonight!” the first one said.

  “It’s too dangerous!” the second one said.

  “Then tomorrow … or else!” the first one said.

  What in the world?

  My skin grew cold with fear. I’d seen enough episodes of STOP! POLICE! to know that two strangers fighting right outside your house late at night were probably up to no good.

  Abby wasn’t scared at all though. In fact, she was the opposite of scared. She sprinted out to the street, started barking at the top of her lungs, and then flashed her extremely large fangs.

  The two people took one look at her and started running.

  I was too nervous to move, but Abby sure wasn’t. She started chasing them and was nipping at their heels by the time they reached their car, climbed in, and took off down the street. Abby kept chasing, barking like crazy, until she got bored—then she turned around and trotted back to me, her tail wagging like she was having the best time in the world.

  It was at that point that somebody across the street in Daisy’s house turned on an outside light.

  Uh-oh.

  The last thing I needed was for my parents to think that Abby had woken up the whole neighborhood.

  I glanced back at my house. No movement. Good thing my parents liked to watch TV in their bedroom at the back of the house.

  “Abby girl,” I said. “We better go back inside.” She wasn’t listening though. She’d found something on the street that she was happily licking. I bent down to see what it was. It looked dark and sticky, and for a quick, gross second, I thought it was blood—because vampires drink blood, remember? But then when I looked more closely, I realized it was just a bit of melted chocolate stuck to a candy wrapper.

  “Hey, someone told me that chocolate is bad for dogs,” I said, taking the wrapper from Abby. Then I turned and looked down the street. “Litterers,” I muttered, even though they were long gone.

  Abby looked at me, like she was ready for me to tell her what our next fun activity was going to be.

  “You’re an amazing dog,” I whispered. “But if I’m going to have any hope of keeping you at all, we need to go to bed right now.”

  Her tail stop
ped wagging, which was the international dog sign for This does not make me happy.

  “Thanks for chasing those guys away, by the way,” I added. “Let’s go inside.”

  She gave me one wag, then ran to the front door.

  Yup, you heard me.

  She listened.

  Once we were back inside, safe and sound, Abby settled at her spot, staring out the window. First I made sure the window was totally shut, then I laid down on the bed, thinking about all her unusual habits:

  She sleeps all day.

  She’s up all night.

  She hates the light.

  She’s got huge fangs, and she’s not afraid to use them.

  She scared off two bad people who were arguing in front of our house.

  Wait a second.

  I picked up my copy of Fang Goodness and flipped through the pages until I found what I was looking for.

  Of all the things that were most frustrating for Jonah, he felt that having a secret identity was the hardest of all. No one could know who he really was; that would ruin everything. So he had to be satisfied living two very separate existences: the life of an ordinary, everyday man, going about his business … and the life he led after dark, when his true self emerged and his true soul was revealed.

  So that was it.

  I closed the book.

  I didn’t care if anyone believed me, I knew the truth.

  It was official.

  Abby wasn’t just a vampire dog.

  She was a crime-fighting vampire dog.

  I woke up and immediately thought, First day of school.

  Then I thought, Oh, jeez, the babysitter comes back today with more horrible recipes.

  Then I thought, Better keep Abby away from Mrs. Cragg. Because if she tries to bite her again, my parents will make me give her back. Which would be horrible, because I love her, and I’d miss her, and because she’s a crime-fighting vampire dog.

  And then I tiptoed past Abby (who of course was now fast asleep), headed to the bathroom, and looked in the mirror.

  Which made me think, BLOTCH!!!

  It was huge again.

  California?

  Bigger.