Читать книгу Hello There, We've Been Waiting for You! - Laurie B. Arnold - Страница 9

The minutes ticked by like hours. I sat on the sofa with my sketchbook and drew the dog’s prison mug shot. Prison is just where he belonged.

Then to cheer myself up, I sketched a picture of Violet and me feeding the Canada geese at Waterfront Park, back on Bainbridge Island.

When I grow up I want to be a famous artist. When I draw, my whole world becomes a magical kingdom of dots, lines, curves, and pictures. Then the rest of the world goes away.

Just as I was starting in on a drawing of the beautiful cloud angel, a horrible howl echoed in the backyard.

I peered out the sliding glass door. The mangy soccer ball assassin was tangled up in his chain, struggling to yank himself free. But the more he pulled, the harder the chain choked his neck.

I crept outside to get a closer look. The second he saw me, his howl changed to a pitiful whimper.

Would the crazy lady next door come out and save him? I glanced over there, but her curtains were now pulled shut. It looked like no one was home. Where did she go?

Even though that nasty dog had massacred my soccer ball, I couldn’t let him die.

The chain cinched tighter around his neck and he gasped for breath.

It was time to face my fears. Being afraid of the dog wasn’t that big a deal considering he was being choked to death by a chain.

“I’ll help you, boy.”

I kneeled beside him. The chain pulled tighter, and his whimpers turned to heavy panting.

“Calm down, boy. Everything’s going to be okay.”

I moved my hands toward his collar, praying he wouldn’t bite. He looked up at me with sad, buggy eyes and panted harder. I slid my fingers under the chain, and he yelped with pain. It was way too tight. The only thing to do was to unhook it from the TV monitor and set him free.

The second I unclipped him he bolted like a shot across the yard, past the neighbor lady’s house, and then he was out of sight.

Great. I’d saved the dog, and then I’d lost him.

“Here, boy! Here, boy!” I called for the longest time, but I couldn’t even make out the jangling of the chain dragging behind him.

I gave up and went back into the house.

Should I call 911? Just as I picked up the phone, there was a crash at the back door.

The dog was leaping at the glass!

I threw open the sliding door and he practically knocked me flat onto the living room floor. He licked me all over as if I were a steak-flavored Popsicle. Okay, maybe the soccer ball murderer wasn’t entirely bad.

It was then that I noticed the tag jingling on his collar. On it was stamped the name Leroy.

“You’re a bad boy, Leroy,” I told him as I scrambled to my feet. “You popped my soccer ball and ran away.”

The dog hung his head and whimpered.

“Okay, I forgive you. This time.”

He panted with happiness and licked my leg with wet doggy kisses of thanks.

“Want me to take off your chain?”

Leroy thumped his tail.

I led him back outside to the patio, slid the door closed behind us, and unclipped the rusty chain from his collar. Immediately he charged to the middle of the yard and began to turn in circles so fast he looked like a spinning top.

“Come here, Leroy! Here, boy!”

Leroy trotted right to me. Wow. He may have been goofy-looking but he sure was smart.

“Sit, Leroy. Sit, boy.” He stared at me blankly. Okay, maybe he still had things to learn. I pushed down his butt and he sat.

Violet and I had once trained her dog Oscar to sit and stay. We’d used little dog biscuits to reward him every time he did something right. The problem was, I didn’t have any dog biscuits. But I knew what might work. Froot Loops. But how could I leave Leroy to go get the box?

I clipped on his chain and hooked it to the chaise lounge on the patio. I grabbed the Froot Loops from the kitchen cupboard and by the time I returned, Leroy had made himself at home. He was sprawled on his back on the chaise lounge, as if he were vacationing in a Hawaiian resort. All he needed was a pair of sunglasses and a bottle of Dog de Soleil sunscreen.

It turned out Leroy was a big fan of Froot Loops. It didn’t take him more than ten minutes to learn how to sit.

We moved on to “stay” pretty quickly. That one wasn’t so easy. All he wanted to do was follow me wherever I went. I’d walk two steps and Leroy would walk two steps right behind me. I’d walk real fast across the yard and he’d follow like a shadow at my heels, scooting along the dirt on his butt.

“Leroy!” I’d say, making my voice sound stern.

He’d stare guiltily down at the ground. Then each time he’d look up and give me a big grin. Seriously. That dog could smile.

Because it was getting super-hot outside, I finally gave up trying to teach him to “stay.” Since Florida wasn’t home, I thought it wouldn’t be so bad if he came into the house with me for just a little bit. Besides, he was the only friend I had—and at least he couldn’t ask me any questions about why I had to move in with my grandmother.

The second I slid open the door, Leroy barreled inside. He raced through the house, skidding on the throw rug in the hall, then zipped back to the living room. I pleaded for him to stop, but he kept on going.

He sailed onto the sofa, knocking every cushion to the floor. Then he scampered into the kitchen, where he immediately scattered the trash. In ten seconds flat he licked up all the leftover scraps from Florida’s TV dinner tray.

The more I yelled “stop” the faster he zoomed from room to room, knocking over lamps, chairs, and boxes of TV shopping stuff stacked in the hallway.

Then in one giant leap he practically flew onto the dining room table as if he were auditioning for the role of Super Dog. He skidded right into Florida’s fake flower centerpiece. Just as he was about to snatch it in his jaws, it came to me. I yelled one of the only commands he knew.

“Sit! Leroy, sit!”

Leroy sat. Right in the middle of the dining room table. He eyed the box of Froot Loops, waiting for his reward. Then he smiled. Seriously smiled.

I sighed and gave him a few bits of cereal. How could I resist that grin?

The house was a disaster. I had to clean up before Florida came home. Leroy followed me as I tidied, mostly because I dropped a trail of cereal wherever I went. He happily sucked the pieces up like a vacuum cleaner.

As I was putting the last cushions back on the sofa, the TV switched on.

The remote control was clenched in Leroy’s teeth.

“Come here, boy. Drop it. Drop it!”

Leroy wagged his tail. Drool oozed from his mouth and slid down the plastic. On the TV someone was selling underwear so tight it made ladies’ butts look two sizes smaller.

I approached him super-slowly. He flung the remote back and forth just as he’d done with my soccer ball. I offered Leroy a Froot Loop. He dropped the remote control like a hot rock and inhaled the cereal.

The remote was totally drenched with doggie drool.

I sopped up the slobber with a paper towel. It was tricky cleaning around the buttons. As I dried them off, they’d get pushed in and the TV channels changed like mad.

One second someone was selling tight butt underwear, the next second it was some cheesy soap opera, and then a game show. The channels switched as fast as I wiped the buttons. As I cleaned around a small purple one, the sound on the MegaPix went dead.

A loud ping sounded, kind of like the noise an elevator makes before the doors slide open. A purple question mark appeared in the middle of the screen. Underneath it were some words.

Are you SURE you want to choose this channel?

If “yes” push ENTER again.

I’d never seen anything like that on a TV before.

“What do you think, boy? Should I push it?”

Leroy wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention. He was busy sniffing Florida’s ceramic poodle collection.

Was this one of the features Mike the delivery guy had tried to warn us about?

The ENTER button was still wet with drool so I dried it off. I heard another ping. Suddenly my body turned as cold as stone. Everything went blurry, and a strange tingle shot through me. Seconds later, I realized I wasn’t in Florida’s living room anymore.