Secondhand Dogs Read online

  Until things changed. Gus wasn’t sure exactly when it began. But the mother started hurrying Gus too much on his walk.

  The boy stayed in his room in the afternoons.

  The father sometimes forgot to rub Gus’s head.

  They didn’t cook together. They didn’t watch TV together. Sometimes they even snapped at him. For barking. For begging. For just being a dog.

  Gus would wander from room to room to hop on laps, hoping that his presence would comfort them, but it wasn’t the same.

  He tried everything in his power to make them happy. He brought tennis balls to the boy and a pair of old socks to the father. He didn’t eat the bacon off the table, even when the mother placed a plate of it achingly close to the edge. He barked less, wagged more, and always did what he was told. He was sure that if he could just be a better dog, maybe they would be happy again.

  It didn’t work, and one day the mother and the boy left.

  The father stayed with Gus, but he had changed. He slept in front of the TV. He yelled into the phone. He fed Gus and walked him, but other than that, he ignored him.

  So when the father left the back gate open, Gus walked through it. He paused on the other side, seeing if the father would notice. He didn’t. Gus kept going.

  Gus hoped his old family would come together as they looked for him. He hoped they’d be so happy to have him home that they’d go back to living their old life as a pack, as a family.

  He walked and he walked until he came to the park. He sat on the grass near the pond and watched the ducks until it grew dark, then he curled up in the grass and slept. He stayed there for days, gnawing on a rock. His stomach grumbled, but he didn’t move. Surely his family would come looking for him.

  Then someone did come. A large woman with frizzy hair wandered across the park and sat next to him.

  “You look like you could use a friend,” she said.

  She coaxed him into her van, which sparkled like the pond in the morning sun. She fixed him his very own dinner and watched TV with him.

  She made phone calls about him and put up signs about the sweet and scruffy terrier she had found. But the family never came.

  There were no other dogs at Miss Lottie’s back then. And while he loved Miss Lottie fiercely, his tiny pack of two could sometimes be lonely. At his old house, there was always someone around when he wanted to play or snuggle, but now, whenever Miss Lottie left, all he had were his tennis balls.

  And so every day, as he went on walks and gnawed on rocks, Gus wished for a new dog. With each wish, he made a promise to himself that if he became part of a pack again, he would keep them together no matter what.

  Quinn

  Quinn sat in the front seat of the van with Moon Pie in his lap and watched the windshield wipers flick back and forth.

  “Sure is coming down,” Miss Lottie said. “Looks like my house will smell like wet dog for a while.” She chuckled. “Not that it doesn’t smell like that all the time.”

  “I kind of like that smell,” Quinn said.

  Miss Lottie smiled. “Me, too, actually. Smells like home.”

  Quinn turned to look at the dogs behind him. Roo’s ears twitched. Gus and Tank both watched the new dog. Decker gazed out the window, ignoring them.

  Quinn frowned. They were too quiet. Usually Roo barked at cars, and Tank would growl at her. But today they were both silent.

  Moon Pie pawed at Quinn’s shoulder.

  “We’re almost home, Moonie,” Quinn said.

  “I think he’s hungry,” Miss Lottie said. “I bet they all are, especially Decker. We’ll need to fatten him up.”

  Decker did look lean, but a few weeks at Miss Lottie’s would change that.

  “Is he on any kind of special food or medication?” Quinn asked. A big part of his job at Miss Lottie’s was giving the dogs their pills and eye drops. He loved doing it, and Miss Lottie loved that she didn’t have to.

  “Nope, he’s totally healthy,” Miss Lottie said. “Aren’t you, Decker?”

  Quinn glanced behind him. Decker stared at Miss Lottie for a moment, then went back to gazing out the window.

  “Something got into the garbage last night,” Miss Lottie said. “Probably raccoons. I’m going to have to start putting bricks on top of the lids again.”

  “They got into ours, too,” Quinn said.

  He didn’t mention the conversation he had had with his mom. She had seen a coyote in the alley the night before. Quinn knew if Miss Lottie heard that, she wouldn’t stop worrying about her dogs, so he decided to keep it to himself.

  He took his phone out and, with a shaky hand, started scrolling through the texts that had accumulated in the short time he had been away from home. He counted three new ones from Cole and Sam, his brother’s friends. They were texts about the way Quinn wore his hair, the way he walked, the way he talked. Nothing he did was okay.

  “I know I just brought Moon Pie home a month ago, but I couldn’t resist Decker,” Miss Lottie said. “I hope they all get along.”

  “You’ve never had a problem before, have you?” Quinn asked. He frowned at his phone.

  Miss Lottie nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right, I haven’t. It’ll be fine.”

  Quinn’s stomach clenched every time he read the texts, but he kept on doing it. If he could just understand why they’d chosen him as their target, then maybe he could change himself somehow.

  Quinn knew, too, that he read all the texts hoping that someday his brother would jump in and defend him. Quinn could see that Jessie had read them, but he never responded to them, except for the occasional thumbs up.

  And, of course, Jessie had been the one to give Cole and Sam Quinn’s number in the first place. When they were bored and just hanging out, Jessie might even encourage them to text. Quinn often wondered if he did.

  Miss Lottie pulled up to Quinn’s house.

  “Hey, there’s Jessie!” she said. She waved enthusiastically at Quinn’s brother, who was sitting on the front porch swing, tossing a baseball from one hand to the other. Jessie gave her an equally enthusiastic smile and waved back.

  “It’s so nice that he waits for you every day,” Miss Lottie said.

  Quinn slid out of the van.

  “See you tomorrow?” Miss Lottie asked.

  “Yup,” he said.

  “Great! The dogs always look forward to seeing you. Me, too, of course!”

  She pulled away. Quinn kept his head down as he walked up the front steps. It was Friday, which meant macaroni and cheese from a box for dinner.

  “Hey,” Quinn mumbled as he passed Jessie.

  “Hang on a second,” Jessie said.

  Quinn paused but kept his eyes on the porch floor, his heart hammering in his chest. Jessie rarely spoke to him these days.

  “You are the worst person to be working with that weird old lady and her dogs. You know that, don’t you? I can’t believe she hired you to take care of them. Especially after what you did to Murph.”

  The words stung. Even though it had happened months ago, he still felt like crying every time he thought of their old dog, Murph. Jessie seemed to know that. He commented on how bad Quinn was with dogs whenever Quinn came home from Miss Lottie’s.

  Just like with the texts, it was best to suck it up and keep quiet. Maybe, after a while, Jessie and the others would get bored of bullying him. If he could hang on until then, everything would be all right.

  Besides, Miss Lottie always told him he was good with the dogs. She said he was the best thing to happen to them since Tiddle Widdle Chicken Bits.

  The door swung open. Quinn’s mom stuck her head out.

  “You’re home! Want to help me with dinner? I could use your special touch with the orange powder.” She gave Quinn a big grin. “You, too, Jessie! You can microwave the broccoli and melt the butter.”

  “Sure, Mom,” Jessie said. He stood and gave Quinn a playful punch. “Come on, bro! Let’s get cooking!”

  As he walked into the
house, Quinn felt a hard shove from behind.

  “Moron,” Jessie whispered.

  Quinn stumbled but kept walking. He had to show Jessie how tough he was, how he could take it.

  Quinn already couldn’t wait until morning, when he could go back to Miss Lottie’s. No one there cared if he was tough or cool.

  Gus

  Every dog had a dog gift, and Moon Pie’s dog gift was begging.

  Gus had noticed it from the first moment Moon Pie stepped into Miss Lottie’s. It was inspiring, really, to watch Moon Pie in action.

  “There he goes,” Tank said. His gaze went from Moon Pie to the new dog, then back to Moon Pie.

  “He’s a pro, a real pro!” Roo said. She was sitting on her bed. She, too, kept shifting her gaze to the new dog.

  Decker sat near the back door, quiet and still. Gus kept glancing over at him, but Decker barely moved.

  Moon Pie was the only one who seemed oblivious to the tension in the kitchen. He was completely focused on Miss Lottie and the pork on the cutting board.

  Miss Lottie liked to sing as she cooked. Tonight she was singing along to a slow, soft song playing on her iPod. Her large hips swooshed back and forth. Every once in a while, she tilted her head back and belted out one long, loud note. This always made Roo howl.

  “Sing it, Roo, sing it!” Miss Lottie cried.

  Roo howled louder.

  Gus wagged his tail. He loved it when Miss Lottie sang.

  Keeping a close eye on Miss Lottie’s feet, Moon Pie took two dainty steps toward her.

  Miss Lottie started. “Oh, Moon Pie, I didn’t see you!” she said, looking down at the little dog. “Don’t get underfoot, now.”

  But that was precisely what Moon Pie did so well. He got underfoot without getting hurt. Miss Lottie would take a step in one direction and Moon Pie would take a step in the same direction. His tiny paw would only be a hair’s width away from Miss Lottie’s big foot.

  Miss Lottie turned and shook her head. “Now, now,” she said. She reached down to pet Moon Pie, who somehow was able to make his eyes bigger and rounder than any other dog on Earth.

  “Wish I could beg like that,” Tank said.

  “Me, too,” Gus said.

  None of the other dogs could do it. It was Moon Pie’s special gift. Gus often wondered what his own gift was. All the others seemed to have found theirs, but Gus had yet to discover what his was. He spent a lot of time thinking about it.

  “Oh, Moonie, you’re such an angel, but do watch out so that I don’t step on you,” Miss Lottie said.

  By this time, Moon Pie had edged his foot in close to Miss Lottie’s foot, and then, then, he drew his own paw back quickly and yipped.

  It only took one sharp, pathetic yip.

  “Awww, honey, I told you not to get underfoot,” Miss Lottie said. She scooped up the small dog and cradled him in her arms. Moon Pie’s eyes were larger and sadder than ever now.

  “Here,” Miss Lottie said, putting him back down. She picked through the fatty slices of roasted pork on the cutting board until she found a piece that seemed right. “I’m sorry, sweetie.”

  Moon Pie sat back on his haunches and waved one forepaw in the air. Miss Lottie chuckled as she put the piece of pork in Moon Pie’s mouth.

  “Oh my Lord, you are so cute,” Miss Lottie muttered, shaking her head.

  The smell of roasted pork filled the small kitchen. Roo and Tank sniffed the air.

  “I can’t take it any longer,” Tank said. He rose to his feet.

  “Me neither!” Roo said.

  They surreptitiously wandered over to where the pork was being doled out.

  “NO,” Miss Lottie said. She gave the two dogs a stern stare. “Tank, you know you’re on a diet.” She shook her head at him. “Roo, last time I gave you table scraps, you were sick for days. No, this is for Moon Pie.” She put another piece in Moon Pie’s mouth.

  “But you didn’t even really step on Moon Pie’s toe!” Tank said. “It was all an act!”

  Tank often spoke to Miss Lottie, even though he knew she didn’t understand. While Miss Lottie was more dog savvy than most, she still only understood about one-third of what they said to her, and she clearly did not understand what Tank was saying now.

  Miss Lottie gently pushed Tank aside with her foot. “Come on, old guy, gimme some room here.”

  Tank grumbled as he shuffled over to his bed and plopped down onto it. “All I wanted was one piece.”

  After finishing the pork, Moon Pie tottered over to Tank and curled up on top of his broad back. Tank leaned over and licked a tidbit of pork off Moon Pie’s chin.

  “That’s quite a gift you’ve got,” Roo said.

  “Gertie says I can charm the pants off anyone,” Moon Pie said. “Gertie says I’ll never starve because of it.”

  Decker, who had been staring out the window, quickly turned his head in Moon Pie’s direction. “Who’s Gertie?” he asked.

  It was the first time Decker had addressed the pack since the dog park. Gus kept quiet. Roo turned to face the wall. Tank shifted his weight and glanced over at Gus.

  “Gertie’s my human,” Moon Pie said. He sat up. “I’m pretty sure she’s on vacation with that nasty, nasty sister of hers, but I’m also pretty sure she’ll be home soon. And when she brings me back to her house, we’ll order french fries at the drive-through and we’ll eat sausage on Sundays! And at night we’ll eat popcorn and watch TV shows about people behaving badly. Right, Gus, right?”

  The only sound in the cramped kitchen was Miss Lottie’s knife scraping the cutting board. Moon Pie’s ears sat straight up. His tail wagged eagerly.

  “Gus . . . ,” Tank said.

  Gus looked up at the ceiling, hoping something would come to him.

  “Gus, he’s talking to you! Answer him!” Roo cried.

  Gus licked his paw and thought. Moon Pie was so sweet and happy. If Gus told him the truth, that his Gertie had died, he would be sad. Which would make Tank sad, and probably Roo, too.

  That wasn’t what his pack needed today.

  But if he lied now, when would he tell Moon Pie the truth?

  “GUS!” Roo said.

  Maybe when Moon Pie was older and the pack was settled down a bit.

  Yes. That would be the perfect time.

  “Gus?” Moon Pie asked. “When do you think I’m going back to Gertie’s?”

  The sinking feeling swept over him again. Gus ignored it.

  “Soon, Moonie,” Gus said. “Very soon. She’s just on vacation like you said.”

  Tank and Roo both turned their heads sharply to look at him.

  “Right, Tank?” Gus asked. He held his breath and waited for Tank to respond.

  Tank paused. He gave his stomach a quick lick. “Right. Gertie will come and get you . . . soon.”

  “I knew it,” Moon Pie said. His voice sounded sleepy and faraway. He eased himself down so that he was sprawled across Tank’s back again. Soon he was snoring his soft, sweet snore.

  Decker glared at Moon Pie, then stalked out of the room.

  “Where’s he going?” Tank asked, staring after Decker.

  “Probably just looking around,” Gus said. “He needs to get used to things.”

  “If you say so. But I still don’t like him. I don’t like the way he looks at my Moon Pie.”

  “I know, Tank, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  But when Gus felt the hair on his back prickle with alarm, he worried he had made a huge mistake welcoming this dog into the pack.

  And lying to Moon Pie. That, too, felt wrong.

  Gus got up and nosed around under the sofa until he found an old sock to gnaw on. It wasn’t as good as a rock, but it made him feel better about the day’s events.

  Roo spun in a quick circle. “I don’t see what’s wrong with the new guy! He seems fine, just fine! At least he can make up his mind!”

  Gus sighed. Roo hadn’t always been so annoyed with him. In the beginning, she’d clung to Gus. His
presence had seemed to calm her down.

  Gus had been her friend back then.

  Roo Before

  On the day of her birth, Roo shot out of her mama—BAM!

  “Ow.” Mama winced. Her new puppy was wigglier than the three others had been. She pushed and shoved and pushed her way up to her mama’s face and then barked and barked and barked.

  Mama licked her forehead. “Hello there! What an eager little thing you are—what’s this?” Mama stopped licking. “Well now, that’s a first for me. A three-legged pup.”

  That pup had three strong legs, though, and it was soon discovered that she could run faster than any other animal on the farm.

  “WATCH MEEEEE!”

  She would bark and bark and BARK.

  If she got nervous or worried or scared, which was often, she would give herself one big shake and then RUN, with barely a thought as to where she was going.

  “GOTTA GOOOOO!”

  One day, after a cow mooed especially loudly, the pup ran and ran and ran and ran until . . .

  She found herself in a new place. A quieter place. A place without mooing cows.

  She sat in front of a man. A new man.

  He scooped her up and took her in. He fed her.

  It was good for a few days.

  “Hey, Tripod, wanna go for a ride?”

  That three-legged dog took one look at that loud truck making knock-knock-knocking noises, with its black smoke and its bad smells, and she gave herself a big shake.

  “GOTTA GOOOOO!”

  She ran and ran and ran and RAN until . . .

  She found herself in another new place. With new people.

  “HOW DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?” She didn’t want to keep running, but something deep inside her needed to move, get away, go somewhere new, somewhere safe. Nothing ever felt right.

  The new people in the new house were good for a while. They fed her and hugged her and gave her fresh water and space to run until . . .

  A tiny new human was born. A tiny new human who cried and shrieked and screamed and turned red.

  “DON’T LIKE IT, DON’T LIKE IT, DON’T LIKE IT!”

  The three-legged dog gave herself one big shake and then she was off and running again, only not quite as fast as before. She ran through alleys, across yards, through forests, over fields. She ran for days, weeks, months.