The Boy Who Ate Dog Biscuits (3 page)

“I won’t be able to bring treats anymore.”

“Oh?”

“I lost my allowance.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Yeah, me and Howard got in trouble.”

“I see,” she said.

“We were playing with the Rosas’ garage opener. Mrs. Rosa didn’t like us giving Howard’s baby brother rides on the garage door.”

Dr. Mike put a hand over her mouth. She made a funny noise. Was she laughing? Billy wasn’t sure.

“Did it break?”

“Yeah. And I have to help pay with my allowance. So I won’t have money for treats.”

“I see,” she said. “Well, I’ll tell you what. You come every day, and I’ll get the dog biscuits.”

“Oh, wow!”

“Maybe I could even pay you. But I’d have to check with your parents.”

“Ah.” Billy frowned. “They’re kinda mad at me. Don’t call right now, okay?”

“Okay,” she said.

Billy smiled. He wanted to be a vet just like Dr. Mike.

“It helps me a lot if you run the strays. I have so much to do with the regular dogs. I don’t have much time for the strays.”

Dr. Mike stopped in front of a cage. Inside was a stocky dog with short white hair and a
stumpy tail. He had a brown-and-black patch around one eye. “Here’s the stray the police found. I have to check him over before he can mix with the other dogs. I’m sure someone will claim him. He’s no mutt.”

“He’s beautiful.” Billy dug in his pocket for the last little piece of biscuit.

“Don’t,” said Dr. Mike. “Not until I’m sure he’s okay.”

The dog wagged his tail. He barked at Billy.

“Out you go now,” said Dr. Mike. “I’ll have the treats tomorrow.”

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When Billy got home, his grandparents’ van was parked in the driveway.

“Well, hello there, darling!” his grandmother called from the porch. She was holding the baby in her lap.

Sarah had yellow food all over her face. There was some in her hair, too.

“Hiya, Nana.” Billy came up the steps.

His grandfather pushed the screen door open with his cane. “We’ve been waiting for you,” he called. He had on his cowboy hat.

“Hi, Grandpa.”

“Come give me a kiss, Billy,” his grandmother said.

Billy leaned over his grandmother. He kissed her on the cheek. She smelled funny. He backed away.

No, Billy thought, Nana didn’t smell bad. It was Sarah. Yucky babies!

“What about me?” said Grandpa Stewie.

Billy grabbed his grandfather around the waist and squeezed hard. Grandpa Stewie whispered, “I have a big favor to ask you.”

Billy looked up. He waited, but Grandpa Stewie just winked.

“It’s time for supper,” his mother yelled from the kitchen. “Go wash up, Billy.”

Billy went into the downstairs bathroom and turned on the water. His hands smelled like dogs. It was a good smell. Billy decided not to use soap. Maybe then the smell would stay.

He dangled his fingers under the water. Little rivers of dirt ran down the sink. He shook his hands to dry them.

What did his grandfather want him to do? Last time he visited, Billy kept him company while he smoked cigars in the backyard. Billy’s mother wouldn’t let Grandpa Stewie smoke in the house.

“Billy.” His grandfather rapped on the door. “Did you fall in?”

Billy laughed. He pictured a little person swimming in circles in the toilet. “Glub, glub, glub!” he yelled, and opened the door.

Grandpa Stewie leaned on his cane. “Billy,” he said. “Will you go get the paper for me at the general store while we’re here?”

“I’m not allowed to cross the highway by myself.”

“If I drive, would you run into the store?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

“Is that the favor?”

“Yes.”

“That’s easy,” Billy said. He wondered why his grandpa had made a big deal over such a little thing.

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Billy’s grandparents stayed a whole week. Every day Billy and Grandpa Stewie went out for the paper.

On Saturday it was cool and breezy. Grandpa Stewie rolled down the windows in the van. As they were driving along, he said, “You’re doing a good job, you know.”

“I am?”

“Sure! Getting the paper for me like this each day.”

“It’s no big deal. It only takes a second to run in.”

All of a sudden Billy thought Grandpa Stewie looked sad. Billy didn’t know what to
do. Finally he asked, “What’s the matter, Grandpa?”

The old man shook his head. In a low voice he said, “I don’t like talking about this. Sometimes my legs hurt so much, they don’t want to walk me around. Not even to get the paper.”

This time Billy kept quiet. He really didn’t know what to say. He felt bad for his grandfather.

“Your getting the paper really helps me. From now on I want you to keep the change as pay.”

“But I could just do it. For free. I like doing stuff with you.”

“You don’t hate money, do you?”

“No. I like it.” Billy laughed.

“So keep the change, then.”

“All right.” Then Billy thought of something funny. “Now I get paid in money from you and in dog biscuits from Dr. Mike.”

“That sounds fine.”

“Could we stop at Dr. Mike’s? We go right by.”

“Just point the way.”

Grandpa Stewie pulled into Dr. Mike’s parking lot. He turned off the engine. Billy jumped out. “Hey, wait for me,” Grandpa Stewie called after Billy. “My legs feel like walking today.”

Billy watched Grandpa Stewie make his way up the path. His grandfather did walk slowly, as if his legs really hurt. Billy led him around to the side of the house where the dogs were fenced in. Grandpa Stewie sat down on a bench in the sun.

“Dr. Mike?” Billy called through the screen door. The hall was dark inside. He couldn’t see anything. “Are you in there?”

Billy heard footsteps coming. Then Dr. Mike called, “Good morning.” She was carrying a box of dog treats.

“Hi,” Billy said as she stepped outside. “My grandfather’s here.”

“How do you do?” Dr. Mike put the box on the ground. She extended her hand. Grandpa Stewie used his cane to push himself up. “Oh, don’t get up.” She sat beside him. “Billy tells me you’re visiting.”

“For his birthday.”

“Billy!” She turned to him. “I didn’t know it was your birthday.”

“Yeah. Tomorrow.”

Dr. Mike smiled at him. To his grandfather she said, “Has Billy told you how much he’s been helping me?”

Billy didn’t want to stand around while they talked about him. It made him feel funny. He
grabbed the box of dog treats and began to fill his pockets with them. “I’m going to take care of the dogs now,” he said.

The new white stray was out in the yard with the other dogs. He jumped against the fence when Billy opened the gate.

“Hey, there.” The stray licked Billy’s hand. “How you doing, doggie?”

The stray waited while Billy splashed water into the bowls. Then he trotted along with Billy.

“Are you dogging me, dog?” Billy laughed. He made it across the field without spilling any water.

The other dogs gathered around Billy. They whined and begged for treats. The white stray sat quietly. He kept his eyes on Billy.

“Here, fella.” Billy tossed him a biscuit. Only then did he stop watching Billy and begin to chew.

When Billy moved away, the white stray followed him again. Billy leaned against a tree and watched the other dogs settle down for their morning snooze. The stray leaned against Billy’s leg.

Billy looked down at him. He was such a great dog. “Listen,” he whispered. “I know someone must own you. But I really want to take you home.”

The stray barked. He put a paw on Billy’s leg. “Shush,” said Billy. “Not so loud. I don’t want the other dogs to know.”

The stray whimpered. He barked again softly.

Billy broke a biscuit in two. He and the dog each ate half of a chicken-cheese-flavored treat.

“You need a name,” he said. “Something that really goes with you.”

The stray seemed to understand what Billy was saying. He wagged his tail.

Grandpa Stewie tooted the horn. The stray followed Billy back to the gate.

Dr. Mike came out as Billy was leaving. “See you tomorrow. Say so long to your grandfather.”

“Yup.” Billy started down the walk. Then he turned around. “Dr. Mike, has anyone called about the new stray?”

She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure someone will, though. He’s an expensive dog.”

“I hope they don’t.”

“Remember our rule: Don’t get too attached. He might be gone tomorrow.”

“I know.” Billy sighed.

“Let’s just see what happens, okay?”

“Okay.” Billy took a long look at the stray and slipped him one last biscuit through the fence.

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