A Short Tale About a Long Dog

by Henry Winkler

  Before I could stop him, my dad had marched up to Mr. McKelty and introduced himself. Right away, they started talking about business. I don’t know why grown-ups always do that. That left me and Nick McKelty staring at each other with nothing to say.

  “Your dog looks like a hot dog,” McKelty sneered.

  Cheerio just wagged his tail happily. I guess some puppies don’t know a jerk when they see one.

  “I bet he feels like one, too,” McKelty added.

  Then he bent down to touch Cheerio. But instead of petting him, he unhooked his leash from his collar! Cheerio took off running.

  “Come back, Cheerio!” I yelled as he chased a fat gray squirrel around the park.

  But Cheerio wasn’t interested in listening. All he was thinking about was catching that squirrel.

  “Hank!” my father called out. “Get your dog!”

  I went after him, but I couldn’t catch him. No matter which direction I went, Cheerio ran the opposite way. To him, it was a game.

  McKelty just stood there laughing his head off.

  “You are such a loser, Zippertooth,” he said under his breath as I ran by him for the fifth time.

  My dad joined in the chase. He ran after Cheerio, but he didn’t have any more success than I did. A mom pushing a stroller stepped out of the way so he could run by her. Two little kids on the swings just pointed and laughed.

  Cheerio never got tired. Finally, he stopped right next to the fountain to catch his breath. Panting hard, he looked up at the statue in the middle of it. It’s a statue of a man on a horse. I think Cheerio thought he could play with the horse, because he jumped right into the fountain.

  “Now I’ve got you cornered!” my dad yelled. And with that, he jumped into the fountain, too, shoes and all. A tourist with a camera stopped taking pictures of his wife and started shooting pictures of my dad.

  “These New Yorkers know how to have fun,” I heard him say.

  Cheerio just splashed around in the shallow water. He was having the best time. My dad was not. With every step, he splashed himself more and more, until he was dripping wet. Even the mechanical pencils in his shirt pocket got soaked.

  “This is it, buddy!” he roared at Cheerio. “Your playtime is over!”

  He plunged into the water. When he came up for air, he was holding two things. Cheerio was in one hand, and a large goldfish was in the other.

  “Hey, Dad, you’re quite a fisherman,” I called out.

  My father did not crack a smile. His face was purple with anger. He climbed out of the fountain and put Cheerio back on his leash.

  “Come on, Hank,” he growled. “I have to get out of these wet clothes.”

  “Dad, just let me explain what happened,” I said.

  “Not now, Hank. You’ve gotten into enough trouble for one day.”

  We walked home in total silence. Even Cheerio knew not to make a peep. When we reached Broadway and 78th Street, I tried to start a conversation.

  “You’re shivering, Dad,” I said. “Do you want to borrow my jacket?

  “It’s a little small, but you could wear it as a scarf,” I continued.

  Again, no answer.

  In fact, he didn’t speak until we got to the elevator in our building. Then he turned to me and said the sentence I was hoping he wouldn’t say.

  “This ‘adventure’ proves that you are not ready to take care of a dog,” he said. “I specifically told you that you were to keep Cheerio on the leash at all times. And yet, you couldn’t follow even that simple rule.”

  “But it wasn’t my fault, Dad.”

  “Not another word, Hank. This dog is going back to the animal shelter.”

  “No, Dad! Please! No!” I was trying as hard as I could not to cry.

  “Hank, that is my decision,” he said. “End of story.”

  When we got home, the first thing my dad did was put Cheerio in his crate. Then he took a shower to wash off the fountain water. After he put on some dry clothes, he came into the living room.

  “Dad,” I said. I had been waiting for him. “You’ve got to give Cheerio another chance. Please.”

  He didn’t answer, just walked into the dining room. I followed right behind him.

  “I’ve only known him for one day, Dad, and he’s already my best friend,” I pleaded.

  “Then you should have taken better care of him,” my dad said. “Letting him off the leash was very dangerous for him.”

  “But, Dad . . .”

  He picked up his phone and turned his back to me.

  “You’re not calling the animal shelter, are you, Dad?” I asked nervously.

  “Not yet,” he answered.

  “Good,” I said. “Then are you calling for a pizza?”

  “Hank, I’m calling to invite Rick McKelty over,” he said. “Your dog interrupted a very important business conversation that we have to finish. I’ll call the animal shelter in the morning.”

  I listened as he arranged for Mr. McKelty to come over. I hoped that after their conversation, I’d have another chance to change my dad’s mind.

  I went into my room and threw myself onto my bed. When I thought about losing Cheerio, I couldn’t hold in my tears any longer. I cried so much that my pillow got soaking wet.

  I don’t know how long I lay there crying. Finally, I got up and blew my nose about twenty times. Then I called Frankie to talk over the situation, but his mom said he was out at his karate lesson. I called Ashley. When I got a recording saying, “The Wongs aren’t available to take your call,” I hung up without even leaving a message. Then I tried calling Papa Pete. He wasn’t home, either. Where was everyone when I needed them the most?

  I heard the intercom buzzer ringing in the living room.

  “Hank!” my father called. “That must be Rick McKelty. Please buzz him in. Tell him I’m just printing out a few papers for us to go over.”

  The buzzer rang again.

  “Hank!” my father called. “Do it now!”

  I went into the living room and spoke into the intercom.

  “Come on up,” I said, my nose sounding all stuffy. “Tenth floor.”

  When Rick McKelty stepped out of the elevator a few minutes later, he was not alone. By his side was his troublemaker son.

  “My dad’s here to hire your dad,” Nick the Tick said, a smirk plastered across his large face. Then he walked right past me and into our living room.

  “Where’s your stupid dog?” he asked me.

  “He’s locked in his crate. And then he’s going back to the shelter, thanks to you.”

  Our dads had already sat down at the dining-room table to talk business.

  “Your house is boring,” McKelty said. “Don’t you have anything fun to do here?”

  Just then, Emily came out of her room, wearing Katherine around her neck like a scarf again. McKelty’s eyes grew wide at the sight.

  “Hey, why don’t you introduce me to your lizard friend?” he said to Emily.

  “She’s not a lizard,” Emily told him. “She’s a very sensitive iguana. So please keep your voice down.”

  “Excuse me for breathing,” Nick said.

  The three of us just stood there in silence. I could hear Cheerio whimpering behind the kitchen door.

  “Your dog is crying like a baby,” McKelty said. “What’s his problem?”

  “Cheerio is being punished,” Emily said. “He wouldn’t stay on his leash in the park.”

  “That’s because I unhooked it.” McKelty snickered.

  “Why would you do that?” Emily asked.

  “Seemed like it would be fun,” the big creep answered. “I wanted to see how much trouble your brother’s short-legged runt could cause.”

  “This is what I’ve been trying to explain to Dad,” I told Emily. “What
happened in the park wasn’t my fault. And it sure wasn’t Cheerio’s.”

  Emily whirled around so fast that her braids whipped me in the face. Without a word, she stormed into the dining room. Poor Katherine nearly fell off her shoulders. Her little claws had to work overtime just to hang on.

  “Dad!” Emily said, putting herself right in front of his face.

  “Not now, Emily,” Dad said. “I am having a business meeting.”

  “But, Dad, you have to hear this. It can’t wait.”

  My dad turned to Rick McKelty. “I’m sorry for the interruption,” he said. Then, turning to Emily, he asked, “Now, what is so important?”

  “You know Katherine and I are not fans of Cheerio,” she said. “But fair is fair.”

  “Emily, we can discuss the dog after the McKeltys leave,” he said in a low voice.

  “Mr. McKelty should hear this, too,” she told him. “It wasn’t Hank who let Cheerio off the leash. It was Nick. He did it just to be mean. And he admitted it right there in the living room. Didn’t he, Katherine?”

  Katherine shot out her tongue and hissed.

  “You see?” Emily said. “Katherine never lies.”

  I felt like I needed to wash out my ears. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Emily, the one who never wanted Cheerio in the first place, was coming to his rescue. Even Katherine was defending him. I never realized what a great reptile she was.

  “Nick,” Mr. McKelty said, “is this true?”

  “What’s the big deal, Dad?” McKelty answered. “I thought the dog needed some exercise.”

  “Nick, that’s not a decision for you to make.” His dad sounded angry. “That pet does not belong to you.”

  Rick McKelty stood up and collected his papers from the table.

  “Stan,” he said, “we’ll continue our business at another time. Right now, I’m taking Nick home. He and I are going to have a serious conversation.”

  One thing I know for sure. When your mom or dad says they’re going to have a serious conversation with you, nothing good happens.

  I flashed Nick my best Zipzer smile.

  “Enjoy your chat,” I whispered.

  When they were gone, I turned to my dad.

  “Hank, I owe you an apology,” he said.

  I shook my head to make sure I wasn’t wearing someone else’s ears. But they were mine, all right.

  “You tried to tell me the truth about what happened in the park,” he went on. “And I didn’t listen. I thought I knew what had happened, but I was wrong. I shouldn’t have blamed you until I had the facts. I’m sorry, Hank.”

  I ran to my dad and threw my arms around his neck.

  “I am so happy right now, I could scream,” I said. And then I did.

  “So does this mean we can keep Cheerio?” I asked him.

  “This means you have to continue to step up to the plate,” he answered.

  What was he talking about? I don’t even play baseball.

  “Cheerio can stay,” he explained, “but only if I continue to see improvement in your grades. That was our agreement. Remember, I said all your grades had to improve, not just a few. That was the deal, and I expect you to keep it.”

  To me, that sounded like a yes.

  I asked my mom to make sure she was home at exactly six thirty. I invited Papa Pete, Frankie, and Ashley over, too. They all arrived on time.

  I asked everyone to sit on the living-room floor in a big circle. I didn’t even object when Emily brought Katherine. I wanted all my family and friends there.

  After the whole group was gathered, I went into my room to get Cheerio. I picked him up and put him on my pillow. Then I carried him into the living room and placed the pillow in the center of the circle.

  “I have gathered everyone together here to welcome Cheerio into our family,” I announced. Then I picked up the piece of paper I had decorated while I was waiting for everyone to come over. It was Cheerio’s official birth certificate. I cleared my throat and read aloud.

  “This paper says that Cheerio finally has a last name,” I read. “From this day forth, he shall be known as Cheerio S. Zipzer.”

  “What’s the S for?” Emily asked.

  “Superdog,” I answered.

  “Cool name!” Frankie nodded.

  “Now all he needs is a Superdog cape,” Papa Pete said.

  “With rhinestones,” Ashley added.

  My mom laughed, and everyone else joined in. I think I saw my dad almost smile.

  We celebrated with milk and cookies. While I was finishing my favorite black-and-white cookie, my dad picked up Cheerio’s birth certificate.

  “Hank,” he pointed out, “you’ve spelled Cheerio wrong. There are two Es in his name. You’ll have to rewrite this.”

  He handed the paper back to me.

  “Sorry, Cheerio,” I said. “I’m not the best speller in the world.”

  He didn’t care. He snatched the paper out of my hand and took a big bite out of it. Then with everyone watching, he did his crazy spin. I’m pretty sure he was telling us all how happy he was to be a Zipzer.

  “That dog is crazy,” Emily said.

  “Crazy happy,” I answered. “Just like me.”