Bailey's Story (5 page)

This was no fun at all.

Restlessly, I wandered over to the dog door and scratched at it. The flap moved and a waft of damp, delicious air from the backyard drifted in. It had rained in the night, and I loved the way the water clung to the air and dripped from the leaves of the trees, scattering down in showers when a breeze came by. Damp air carried so many more smells than dry. My nose picked up exhaust from cars, Mom's roses, burnt toast from next door, wet earth, living leaves on the trees and dead ones scattered on the ground.

I leaned against the dog door, my nose working hard to draw the smells in. I leaned farther. And then, suddenly, I was out in the yard! The boy hadn't even pushed me!

I tore around the backyard, barking with excitement. I was out! I was outside, surrounded by all of those marvelous smells!

I squatted and peed into the grass. It was nicer to do it outside, anyway, even apart from the fuss that all the humans made about their floors and rugs. I liked to wipe my paws on the lawn after I went, so that the scent from the sweat on my pads ended up on the blades of grass. And it was just more satisfying, somehow, to lift my leg and mark the corners of the yard instead of a leg of the couch.

I raced around the yard some more, my nose up in the wind, picking up whatever smells the breeze bought me. Being in the yard alone was not as much fun as being there with the boy, but it was definitely better than the garage!

However, when the breeze brought new, cold raindrops my way, I began to think that the garage had its points. I went back to the dog door and poked my nose at it. If I'd gotten
out
on my own, was there a chance that …

Yes! I could get
back
into the garage all by myself, too! Under a roof once more, I shook a little water from my fur and wished the boy were here to see what I had learned. I was sure he'd call me a good dog. There would probably be a biscuit in it for me.

After the rain ended, I tried my new trick with the dog door again, and sure enough, I was out in the backyard for a second time. I dug a hole, chewed the hose, and barked at Smokey, who was sitting in a window and pretending not to notice me. When a large yellow bus pulled up in front of the house, Ethan and several more neighborhood kids, including Chelsea, tumbled out. I jumped up to put my paws against the fence, and the boy ran to me, laughing.

The doghouse didn't get much use after that. But every now and then, Ethan and I still played Doghouse. It would usually happen when he got off the bus with his shoulders slumped, smelling tired and sad. Then he'd crawl inside the doghouse and call me, and I'd push myself in, too. It got a little harder to get in there as months went by, and I had to leave more and more of my rear end outside. But I did it, because the boy wanted me.

He would put his arm around me and tell me things quietly. “Nobody would play with me at recess, Bailey,” he'd whisper. Or “I can't believe my teacher gave me a D. I worked so hard on that project, Bailey. It's not fair.” Or sometimes he'd just tell me, “You're lucky to be a dog, Bailey. It's tough being a boy.”

I didn't understand most of the words, although I wagged every time he said my name. But I knew that he was sad, and that being with me in the doghouse made him feel better. I would sit perfectly still with him, however long he needed me. This was my job, I came to understand, and it was even more important than staying close to the boy, or playing with the boy, or learning tricks with the boy, or sleeping beside the boy at night. I was supposed to comfort Ethan whenever he needed me.

*   *   *

Each time Ethan and I went out to play in the neighborhood, a crowd of kids would show up. I got to know most of them. There was Billy, who usually smelled like peanut butter, and Chelsea, of course, who'd bring Marshmallow with her. And now and then there'd be a new kid with a new smell for me to memorize.

So when Todd arrived, I figured it was good news. First, it meant that Mom baked delicious cookies for Ethan to take over to the new family, and she gave me a few as a reward for keeping her company in the kitchen. Second, a new boy to play with was always fun.

Todd was the same age as Ethan, and they began to spend a lot of time together. Todd had a little sister named Linda, but he wouldn't let her play with them most of the time. I didn't know why. I liked her fine. She fed me sugary treats when nobody was watching.

There was a game that Todd liked to play, down by a small creek that ran behind the houses. He'd bring a pack of matches and burn things—leaves, sticks, Linda's dolls. I stayed a little distance away, since I didn't like the way the matches smelled when Todd struck them. And the smell of Linda's plastic dolls when their hair lit up and their faces shrank and shriveled was horrible.

Ethan didn't want to touch the matches, but he'd watch. He didn't laugh as much as Todd did, though.

One day, Todd announced that he had a firecracker this time. I had never seen anything like the brightly colored stick he was holding, and I didn't like its smell—it was like the matches, only worse. It smoldered for a bit on the ground, and then there was a flash and a bang so loud that I leaped across the creek. Quickly, I ran back to the boy, barking.

Ethan patted my head. “It's okay, Bailey. Easy, boy. It's just noise. Don't worry.”

I sniffed cautiously around on the ground where the stick had been. There were some scraps of paper and cardboard there now, and a piece of one of Linda's dolls. All of these things had a charred, smokey smell that I didn't like. Somehow it said “danger” to me.

“Come on, Ethan. Get it!” Todd said impatiently while I sniffed.

Ethan hesitated. I lifted my nose from the ground.

“Come
on,
” Todd insisted, and Ethan turned toward his house. Of course, I followed.

Ethan went to his room and took something off a high shelf. I got a faint whiff of that same smell that came off the table when Dad and Ethan sat there together after dinner.

“No, not the rocket,” Ethan decided and put back the toy he was holding. He grabbed another one and ran outside to where Todd was waiting.

“Cool airplane!” Todd said.

There was excitement coming off of Ethan, but it was a strange kind of excitement. I could smell something like fear in it, and I danced around nervously, barking a little, as Ethan and Todd fussed over the toy in Ethan's hands. I could smell the sharp flare of a match being lighted, and then Ethan threw his toy up into the air.

Bang!

Another noise! I shook my ears, which hurt from the loudness. Both boys were standing still, looking up into the sky, where smelly, charred bits of plastic were drifting down to the creek.

“Cool!” Todd yelled. Ethan said nothing. The excitement and the fear were both draining out of him, leaving something heavy and sad behind.

“Come on, Ethan, get another one!” Todd shouted. But Ethan shook his head. Todd lit more firecrackers and tossed them into the air, and I ran in circles as the noises went off.

Ethan picked up a bit of plastic from a rock near the creek bed, one a little smaller than his hand.

Behind Ethan's back, Todd looked at me and grinned. He tossed a firecracker in my direction.

Bang!
The thing burst so close I felt the wind from the explosion whoosh against my fur. I yelped and ran to Ethan, who dropped the chunk of plastic to hug me.

“Come on, Bailey,” he said. “Let's go home.”

The next day Ethan and I went to Chelsea's house after school. Marshmallow and I wrestled and ran in their backyard. I liked Marshmallow. She was always ready for a good game of Tug on a Stick or This Ball Is Mine.

Sometimes I even got to go and see Marshmallow on my own. Whenever Ethan went away on the yellow bus, leaving me alone in the backyard, I would check the gate. It didn't have a doorknob, like the gate to the first yard I'd lived in, so there was nothing I could bite or tug with my teeth. But sometimes, if I gave this gate a good hard shove with my paw or my nose, it would swing open. Then I'd take a stroll around the neighborhood.

I'd visit Marshmallow, touching noses with her through the wire fence around her backyard, and I'd mark all of her trees carefully. After that I'd go wherever my nose took me, until I remembered that the boy might be waiting. That meant it was time to trot home.

One day I wandered farther than usual, so that when I turned back it was just starting to get dark. I began to worry that I might have missed the time when Ethan was supposed to get off the bus. What would he do without me there to greet him?

I cut through the creek, which took me right past Todd's backyard. He was playing on the muddy bank, and when he saw me, he called out to me.

“Hey, Bailey. Here, Bailey.” He held out his hand.

I eyed him with suspicion. There was just something inside Todd that I didn't trust. And that something seemed to be stronger now that he was on his own, with no other humans nearby.

“Come on, boy,” he said, slapping his hand against his leg. He turned and walked toward his house.

What could I do? Come was one of the tricks Ethan had taught me. I knew that it meant I was supposed to follow the person who said it.

I lowered my head and trailed after Todd into his house.

 

7

Todd let me in through the back door into a kitchen. He eased the door shut behind us without a sound. Curtains were pulled over the windows, and the room had a dark, gloomy feel and a stale, chilly smell. I usually love the way kitchens smell, but not this one.

Todd whispered, “Come on, Bailey!” and I followed him out of the kitchen and down a hallway. About halfway along it we passed a doorway to a living room, where a woman was slumped on a couch, watching television. She didn't move or even turn her head as we went past.

But someone else moved. After we were past the door, Todd turned back. I paused, too. He scowled as a small figure came to the doorway that led into the living room, outlined against the grayish, flickering light of the TV.

It was Linda, Todd's sister. She saw me and her eyes grew wider. She came forward.

“No,” Todd hissed at her.

I certainly knew
that
word. I cringed at the sharp tone of Todd's voice. Linda put a finger in her mouth, chewing at the nail, but she didn't back up. She held her other hand out to me. I licked it.

Todd stepped forward to push Linda away. “Leave me alone,” he said sharply to her.

Then he opened a door, grabbed my collar, and pulled me inside. He didn't have to do that. I would have gone with him, even though I would rather have stayed with Linda. I knew what I was supposed to do to be a good dog.

Todd shut the door and I heard the lock make a clicking sound. I sniffed at piles of smelly clothes on the floor and found a plate under an old T-shirt with half a piece of toast on it. I quickly ate it. Clean the Plate was always my job when a plate was on the floor.

Then I checked on what Todd was doing. He was walking quickly around the room, his hands shoved into his pockets. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, now … now…”

He sat at his desk and opened a drawer. I could smell firecrackers in there; the odor stung my nose. I didn't like it. I backed up to the other side of the room, under a window.

“I don't know where Bailey is,” Todd muttered. “I haven't seen Bailey.”

I wagged at my name, then sighed and flopped onto a pile of sweatshirts. It had been a long day, and I was tired. I hoped I'd be going home to the boy soon.

A tiny knock at the door made Todd jump up as though one of his firecrackers had gone off right under him. I jumped up, too, and came over to stand right behind Todd as he whispered angrily out his door at Linda.

I could smell the girl more than I could see her in the dark hallway. Her dress needed washing, and she had been eating salty crackers, and she was both worried and scared. That made me worried, too. I backed away from Todd and started to pace. I didn't feel like lying back down.

Todd slammed the door and locked it again. I could feel a flash of pure rage from him, and it frightened me. I'd felt the boy get angry from time to time, Dad and Mom, too. But that was a mild feeling compared to what I could sense from Todd.

Just then there was a drawn-out cry from outside the window. “Bay-leeeeee!”

Ethan! My boy was calling me!

I ran to the window and tried to jump up, putting both feet on the sill. But before I could see anything except that it was starting to get dark out there, Todd was beside me. He yanked a thick curtain that smelled of dust across the glass.

I couldn't see the boy! I barked in frustration. Todd smacked at my rear end with an open palm. “No! Bad dog! No barking!”

I whined and backed away, as alarmed by the flare of rage and the tone of his voice as I was by the pain from my hindquarters. Had I been a bad dog? But I'd been trying to get to my boy! When he called, I was supposed to come!