Dog Day Afterschool

by Tommy Greenwald

  “When I met young Jimmy Bishop in my office, I immediately recognized that this was a young man who cared,” the mayor told people who were hanging out on the green. “A young man who wanted to make a difference in our lives, and our precious animals’ lives. So I urge you to stop by his booth, sign his petition, and have a cookie while you’re at it!”

  “Isn’t she gonna say my name?” muttered Isaac. “I could use the plug.”

  “Have a wonderful day!” declared Mayor Murpt, and she walked off to extremely scattered applause. Then she got into a really sweet, powder-blue BMW, which made me wonder for a second how much mayors of small towns were paid.

  “That was really nice of her,” I said. “Why didn’t people clap louder?”

  “Because she’s a politician,” Shep said, as if that explained everything.

  Baxter, Chad, and Kermit were in charge of handing out the flyers, and they were doing a solid job. “Best cookies ever, fifty cents for three!” they crowed. “You know you want ’em!” Whenever someone walked up to our table, Isaac handled the sale, and either Shep or I would hit them up with the petition. “Help save the shelter!” we’d say. “The animals need your help! Please protect the puppies and kittens!”

  Who could turn that down?

  Sure enough, people started to wander over, just a few at first, then a steady trickle, and after about half an hour, it was a nonstop flow. According to my mom, we needed four hundred signatures to be able to take the petition to the Zoning Board meeting—which seemed like a ton. But it soon became clear that we’d reach that number in no time.

  “Wow!” I said to Isaac. “We’re gonna sell out!”

  “Those are the two sweetest words in the English language,” he told me, while handing out his business card to anyone who stopped by. ISAAC’S COOKIES, they said. BAKING A DIFFERENCE SINCE 2003.

  An hour and a half after we started, we were done. We had all the signatures we needed; Isaac was out of business cards; my parents were impressed; Shep was grateful; Kermit, Chad, and Baxter were chomping on a few leftover cookies; and the bake sale was declared a total success.

  If only Irwin and Daisy had been there to see it.

  ON WEDNESDAY, THE night of the Zoning Board meeting, I made an announcement at dinner.

  “I’m bringing Abby,” I said, before my parents told me I couldn’t.

  My mom chuckled. “To city hall? Are you kidding?”

  “I know for a fact I can bring her,” I said. “When I went to see the mayor, I brought Abby. And besides, she believes in this cause just as much as I do, and we both want to fight for what we believe in!”

  My dad smiled and shook his head. “Wow,” he said. “It’s just like that famous movie with Al Pacino. Dog Day Afterschool.”

  “Dog Day Afterschool?” I asked. “Is that really a movie?”

  “No,” he said, “but it should be.”

  I nervously drummed my hand on the dining room table, thinking about presenting my petition to the board. I’d even written a speech, and Shep told me he’d written one too. Mrs. Cragg was going to come, and maybe some people who’d adopted pets at the shelter, and other people who worked there too.

  We were going to make our case, and hope for the best.

  “You can bring Abby, under one condition,” said my dad. “That you wear a tie.”

  Ack! I hated ties. And ties hated me. We hated each other. But Abby came first.

  “Fine,” I mumbled.

  I yanked at my neck during the whole car ride downtown. Abby was looking at me like, What is wrong with you?

  “I don’t like ties,” I reminded her. “We talked about this.”

  She cocked her head at me the way dogs do when they think you’re not making any sense. Which is often.

  When we pulled in to the city hall parking lot, I was surprised it was only a quarter full.

  “Where is everyone?” I asked.

  “People are a lot less interested in government affairs than you might think,” my dad answered.

  “Including us, sadly,” added my mom. “I think this is the first time we’ve ever gone to one of these things.”

  I was shocked. “Seriously? That’s terrible.”

  My dad made a guilty face. “You’re right, it is.”

  When we walked into the auditorium though, it only took about three seconds for me to understand why it wasn’t exactly the most popular game in town. There were about ten people on a stage, with one woman speaking into a microphone. She sounded the way a hypnotist might sound if they were trying to put you to sleep. The audience was made up of about twenty people who looked like they’d gotten a two-hour hall pass from an old folks’ home. (Oops. I think that last comment might have been what my mom likes to call “too honest.”)

  “And in the matter of blah blah blah,” the hypnotist was saying, “it is so ordered that blah blah blah agrees to restitution for moving his fence back blah blah without permission blah the required twenty feet blah blah that is adjacent to the property line blah.”

  “Welcome to town politics,” said my dad.

  I sat down and immediately started fidgeting. “When do we get to my petition?”

  “Not sure,” said my mom.

  I looked down at Abby, who was lying on the floor licking one of her paws. “You’re being a very good dog,” I whispered to her. “Keep it up.”

  After five minutes—which seemed more like five hours—my dad tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Look! Another concerned citizen just showed up.” I turned around to see my sister, Misty, sitting behind us with her boyfriend, Jarrod.

  “Hey!” I said. “You’re late.”

  Misty slapped me lightly on the top of my head. “Some of us actually care about finishing our homework,” she said. Then she batted her eyelashes at my parents. “Especially those of us who want to get straight As so their parents reward them by letting them go on an amazing summer adventure.” She was talking about that road trip with Jarrod’s family.

  “I’m confused,” my mom said. “What part of ‘over my dead body’ don’t you understand?”

  “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” said Jarrod, a little too loudly. Heads turned in his direction. “Sorry, everyone,” he said. “My bad.”

  “I wonder where Shep and Kelsey are,” I said to no one in particular. “They should have been here by now.”

  “I’m sure they’re on their way,” said my dad, but he checked his watch too.

  We continued to sit there quietly while a bunch of other people also blah blah blahed about a bunch of stuff I didn’t understand. There was one interesting thing though: some guy complained that his neighbor’s bird feeder was attracting hawks and vultures who were threatening his chickens, and then the neighbor said that the other guy’s roosters were waking him up every morning at five o’clock. Finally, after about ten minutes of arguing back and forth, they reached a compromise: the bird feeder would be moved to the other side of the house, and the chicken neighbor would pay for a noise machine for the bird feeder guy who was getting woken up.

  “Your tax dollars at work,” my mom said, whatever that meant.

  Finally, I heard the magic words: “And now we come to the matter of a C-1323 petition, initiated by one James Bishop, concerning the sale of 427 Main Street, and the impending closure of tenant of said building, the Northport Animal Rescue Foundation.” The woman who seemed to be in charge peered down into the audience. “Mr. Bishop, are you here? Would you care to make a statement?”

  Yes! And also, Noooo! Because where were Shep and Kelsey?

  I couldn’t believe they didn’t show up.

  I cleared my throat. “Yes, I would, Your Honor.”

  The woman laughed. “I’m not a judge, son, but thank you for those kind words of respect. Call me Mrs. Loeffler.”

  “Oh, got it. Sorry.”

  I walked slowly up to the microphone, which was at the front of the auditorium, near the stage.

  “Thank you for allowing me to s
peak today. I’m here because—”

  The back entrance door to the auditorium creaked open, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Backup had finally arrived!

  FACT: “Backup” means reinforcements. If you watched STOP! POLICE!, you’d know that.

  But it wasn’t Shep. It wasn’t even my pal Isaac, who said he might come by and try to bribe the committee with his amazing oatmeal raisin cookies (I’m pretty sure that’s not legal, by the way).

  Nope. It was Mrs. Cragg.

  “AM I LATE?” she hollered, loud enough to wake up all the snoozing senior citizens. “SO SORRY! I HAD TO WALK THE DOGS.”

  Dogs? Plural?

  I felt my heart swell up with happiness when I saw her. It was amazing that she came.

  It was also amazing that she brought her giant Saint Bernard, Thor, with her. She’d adopted Thor after his previous owner, Ned Swab, was arrested for sabotaging our lacrosse field and endangering the welfare of minors. (Long story. Look it up.)

  But most amazing of all, she brought another dog! A dog that was as tiny as Thor was huge.

  Mrs. Cragg and her two dogs came scrambling down the aisle, all three of them huffing and puffing.

  Everyone was focused on the tiny one. “Who’s this?” said my mom.

  “Where are my manners!” said Mrs. Cragg. “This is Tuco, my new Chihuahua! I got him from Shep two days ago. I decided Thor needed a friend.”

  Tuco looked more like Thor’s breakfast than his friend, but I wasn’t going to say that out loud.

  Mrs. Cragg leaned into the microphone. “I don’t want to interrupt. I just want to add my two cents, that these two animals are the best things that ever happened to me, and that’s saying a lot, and Jimmy is absolutely right about this shelter, we cannot let it close, and besides, the last thing we need is another nail salon, or a store selling overpriced clothes!”

  Tuco barked, which echoed through the whole auditorium.

  “See?” said Mrs. Cragg. “He agrees with me.”

  She sat down.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” said Mrs. Loeffler. “Young man, would you like to continue with your statement?”

  “Yes, please.” It seemed clear at this point that Shep wasn’t coming, so I just had to make the best of it and plow ahead. “The first time I went to the Northport ARF was when I adopted this dog right here. Her name is Abby, and she’s a very special dog.”

  Abby wagged her tail and licked my nose.

  “But I ended up volunteering there,” I continued. “Because it’s a very special place, and the guy who runs it is named Shep and he’s amazing. He should be here any second.” I turned to the door, one last time, but he was nowhere in sight. I looked at my parents, who signaled me to just keep going.

  “I guess the thing is, animal shelters save animals, but they also save people. Because animals rescue us, just as much as we rescue them. Thank you for listening.”

  “That was very impressive, young fellow,” said one of the men on the stage. “We will certainly take this matter under advisement.”

  “Please do it soon!” I begged him. “The shelter is scheduled to close next week!”

  “I understand,” the man said, “and we shall.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  As I walked back to my parents and Misty, who were all pumping their fists and beaming, I heard someone clapping in the back row. Everyone turned around, because you weren’t supposed to clap at these things. But the person kept clapping, and when I heard her say “Go, Jimmy!” I knew exactly who it was.

  Daisy Flowers.

  I handed Abby’s leash to Misty and ran back to Daisy. “You came!” I exclaimed. “How did you get here? When did you get here? Did you bring Purrkins?”

  She shook her head. “My parents dropped me off, and they convinced me I couldn’t take the chance of bringing her. What if Abby and Purrkins started fighting in front of all these people? That wouldn’t look very good for the shelter.”

  She was right, of course.

  “But I wanted to be here to support you, and your cause,” she said. “Because it’s my cause too. And also—I don’t want us to fight anymore.”

  “I don’t either,” I told her.

  And just like that, we were friends again! But two seconds later, our brand-new re-friendship was interrupted by Mrs. Loeffler, who was trying to get my attention.

  “Young man? You had mentioned that the owner of the shelter would be coming. We are about to conclude our business for the evening. Where is he?”

  “He must have had an emergency,” I said. “Otherwise he would definitely be here.”

  “Would you like to call him?”

  I looked at my parents. “I have his cell number,” my dad said. “Hold on.”

  As my dad called, Tuco was still yapping away, Abby was semigrowling at this tiny newcomer, and Thor was drooling on my mom, but we all did our best to hush. My dad was only on the phone for about a minute, but I could tell by his body language something was wrong. Finally he hung up, looking grim.

  “I got ahold of Shep,” he said. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. There’s been a flood at the shelter. Apparently a pipe burst, and the entire facility is underwater, half the street too. The fire department is there right now.” My dad paused for a second, to let that soak in. “Shep was obviously very busy and couldn’t talk, so I’m afraid that’s all the information I have.”

  Everyone was silent—even all the dogs, who could tell something very bad had just happened.

  Mrs. Loeffler cleared her throat. “Well, we are all very sorry to hear that news. Obviously, we cannot hope to resolve this matter in any timely fashion until the extent of the damage is known. Our session is therefore adjourned for the evening. Good night.”

  We all stared at each other—the humans, the dogs, everyone. Five minutes before, it had seemed like we actually had a chance of saving the shelter. Now, it seemed like the whole thing was ruined.

  “Let’s go home,” my mom said, finally.

  But Misty didn’t move. “I think we should go down there,” she said.

  We all stared at her, puzzled.

  “To the shelter?” Jarrod asked.

  “Yes!” Misty’s eyes started blazing, which proved she meant business. “Let’s find out what happened! Let’s see if we can help! Come on!”

  “Can I come with you guys?” Daisy asked. “If it’s okay, I mean.”

  “Of course,” my dad said. “Just call your mom and tell her the plan.”

  And just like that, we all ran out of city hall, got in our cars, and headed down to the shelter.

  Our family drove right behind Mrs. Cragg. It was the first time I noticed the bumper sticker on the back of her car.

  It said: DOGS ARE PEOPLE TOO.

  “WHY ARE THERE fire trucks at a flood?” I asked my parents. We were pulling onto the street where the shelter was, and there were firefighters running all over the place, and a few police cars too. It looked like the whole street was underwater.

  “The fire department handles all kinds of different emergencies,” my mom said. “Including getting cats down from trees.”

  I immediately had an image of Purrkins stuck in a tree, and Daisy crying, and me in a firefighter’s hat climbing up and saving the day.

  We left our dogs in our cars (with the windows half-open, of course) and started walking quickly down the block toward the shelter. No one said a word, because I think we were all in shock. Somebody had already moved most of the furniture out onto the sidewalk, and there were some dogs and cats outside in crates. I searched for Shep but didn’t see him anywhere.

  “Holy moly,” my dad said, under his breath. “This is crazy.”

  We tried to go inside, but a policeman stopped us. “Sorry, folks, you’re not allowed in there,” he said. “Only authorized personnel.”

  “I work here,” I said, before realizing how silly that must have sounded.

  The policeman chuckled. “Oh, you do, do you? Well,
son, you need to find another job, because I think this place might have just gone out of business.”

  “This is hardly a laughing matter,” my mom said to the policeman. “Where are all these animals supposed to go?”

  I really loved her right then.

  The cop looked embarrassed. “My apologies, ma’am.”

  There was a sudden commotion by the door, and I turned to see Eric Miranda, the guy who worked for Mayor Murpt, coming down the sidewalk, surrounded by reporters with notepads. One of them was the woman with red hair that I’d met at city hall. I waved to her, and she waved back.

  “What an unfortunate turn of events,” I heard Mr. Miranda say to the reporters. “We’re trying to figure out exactly what happened, but it appears that a pipe did in fact burst. This happens with some of these aging buildings, as we all know. Perhaps that’s one reason this building had been scheduled for demolition and redevelopment. The important thing is to try and preserve all the businesses in the surrounding area, and of course the safety of everyone involved.”

  “What about the animals?” asked the red-haired woman.

  Mr. Miranda smiled awkwardly. “Oh, of course, the animals too! We love all animals.”

  I ran up to him. “Hi, Mr. Miranda! Where’s the mayor? Is she coming?”

  Mr. Miranda looked down at me. “Well, hello there, Jimmy. What are you doing here?”

  “I was just down at the Zoning Board meeting presenting my petition, and we heard that there was a flood.”

  “Isn’t it awful? And after all your hard work! It’s such a shame.” He shook his head sadly. “Unfortunately, the mayor is at a fund-raiser for her campaign tonight, but I am keeping her informed of all developments.”

  “Will the mayor come here if at all possible?” asked the red-haired woman.

  Eric Miranda shot her a look that was the opposite of friendly. “She is making every effort to come down here. I’ll keep you informed.”

  The red-haired woman looked at me and rolled her eyes. “I’m holding my breath.”