Hotel for Dogs by Lois Duncan ch 5
CHAPTER FIVE It was on a Friday afternoon that the dogs moved in. “And that's what I'm naming her,” Andi said. “I'm going to name her Friday, because that's the day she's getting her very own home. Oh, Bruce, this was the most wonderful idea! Friday and her puppies will think they're staying in a hotel!” “Well, they'd better not get too used to it,” Bruce said. “As soon as the pups are old enough, we're going to find homes for all of them and for Friday, too.” He spoke decisively to cover the fact that he was beginning to feel a little nervous. The idea had seemed so reasonable when it first occurred to him: a vacant house with no one to tend it, four little dogs that needed a place to stay, so why not put them together for a few weeks?
The thing that was not reasonable was the way Andi was acting. In the day she had spent at home having her stomachache, she had formed a deep attachment to the group in the sewing closet. And now she was giving them names as if she expected to be their mistress for the rest of her life.
“This is just a short-term emergency thing,” Bruce kept saying, as he followed her about from one empty room to another. “This is somebody else's property, even if they're not living here. We really shouldn't be using it at all.” “I know, I know.” Andi's eyes were shining with excitement. “I think Friday would like the pink bedroom at the front of the hotel, don't you? It's such a ladylike room, and that big window lets in so much light. We can fix her a bed in the corner, and when the puppies start walking, they can go exploring down the hall to the living room.” “By the time they can do that, they'll be ready to leave,” Bruce said. “We should start right now trying to line up homes for them. Does your school have a bulletin board? You could pin up a sort of announcement —” But Andi was gone again, hurrying through to the kitchen to see if the faucets were working. It would be so much easier to fill Friday's drinking bowl from there than to have to keep carrying water over from Aunt Alice's. Andi was up at dawn the next morning and out of the house before anyone else was awake. Mrs. Walker discovered her room empty when she went to call her to breakfast.
“I can't understand it,” she said in bewilderment as she joined the rest of the family at the breakfast table. “Andi never gets up early if she can help it. Where in the world could she have gone?” “Perhaps she's over at somebody's house,” Mr. Walker suggested. “From the way she talks, she has dozens of girlfriends.” “This early in the morning?” Mrs. Walker shook her head. “Nobody goes visiting before breakfast.” She turned to Bruce. “Did your sister say anything to you about having plans for this morning?” “I — I don't think so. I mean, I don't exactly remember.” Bruce felt his face growing hot. He had never been able to tell a lie successfully, even a little one.
“I do hope she doesn't stay out too long,” Aunt Alice said. “Surely she knows that Saturday is cleaning day. There's so much dust in the air these days that we have to keep ahead of it, don't we?” She gave a little sniff and reached for her handkerchief. “My poor nose! My allergies have been so bad these past few days. I can't imagine what's causing it.” By the time breakfast was over and Andi still had not returned, Mrs. Walker was looking truly worried. “Really, Bruce,” she said, drawing him aside, “do you have any idea where Andi might have gone? It's so unlike her to miss a meal, and besides, she does know that Aunt Alice feels strongly about Saturday cleaning.” “We cleaned last Saturday and the Saturday before that,” Bruce said. “Geez, Mom, we haven't had a chance to get anything dirty!” “I know,” Mrs. Walker said with a sigh, “but it must seem that way to Aunt Alice. She's lived alone for so long that just normal tracking in and out brings in more dirt than she's used to. Besides, dust does seem to bother her terribly. The poor thing has been sneezing constantly.” “It's not the dust,” Bruce said. “It's the —” He stopped himself. How could he possibly tell his mother, “it's the dog hair, and the dogs are gone now”? “Okay,” he said reluctantly, “if Aunt Alice says it's cleaning day, I guess that's it. There's no reason Andi should be able to goof off when the rest of us can't. I'll go hunt her down.” Actually, Bruce was more irritated at Andi than his mother was. He knew exactly where she was and what she was doing, and he thought it was a dirty trick for her to have run off on a Saturday and leave him behind to field questions about her whereabouts.
As he left the house and started toward the hotel, he rehearsed under his breath the things he was going to say to her.
“Those dogs can get along by themselves until we've got the chores done. If you start pulling this sort of stuff, you're going to ruin everything. People are going to wonder what we're doing, and then we'll be in for it. Mom's already asking questions.” He was so intent on the speech he was planning that he was not aware of another presence until a voice called out to him, “Hey, shrimp, do you always go around talking to yourself?” Turning with a start, he saw Jerry Gordon standing only a few yards away from him. Three other boys were with him. One of them was Tim, who smiled and waved good-naturedly.
“Hi, Bruce! Where are you going in such a hurry?” “Oh, just — well — my sister's wandered off someplace.” Ignoring Jerry, Bruce responded to the more pleasant greeting. “My mother asked me to go round her up.” “Like a cow on a ranch?” Jerry threw out the insult like a challenge. Bruce fought back the temptation to be drawn into a name-calling contest. Squaring his shoulders, he was about to walk on past when a flash of red caught his eye and he saw Jerry's dog there with him. The dog was on a lead and had a rope tied across his chest. Alongside the boys on the sidewalk was a heavy wooden wagon.
“What are you doing?” Bruce directed the question to Tim. “You're not going to harness Red Rover to that thing, are you?” “Jerry wanted to try it,” Tim said, “but it doesn't look like he's going to get very far. Red has ideas of his own. He doesn't want to be a horse.” “I bet he doesn't,” Bruce said. “That dog's not much more than a pup, even if he is a big one. His back's not strong enough to take the weight of that wagon.” “Run along and play with your sister, shrimp.” Jerry had dropped to his knees and was adjusting the poles that were attached to the sides of the wagon. “Nobody asked for your advice. We're getting along just fine without it.” “You are, huh?” Bruce tried to control the anger that was building inside him. “You've got a beautiful dog there. What do you want to do, cripple him?” Jerry finished knotting the poles to the rope harness. Then he got slowly to his feet. His face was dark with fury.
“Let's get something straight. This is my dog — mine! He belongs to me, and I'll do what I want with him.” He turned to the dog and snapped his fingers. “Up, Red! Let's see you go!” The dog took a tentative step forward. The rope pulled tight against his chest, and he paused, bewildered. He was being ordered ahead and held back at the same time. He wasn't certain what was expected of him. “Bruce is right, Jerry,” Tim said, as he saw the animal's confusion. “This is a game to you, but it isn't one to Red. Let's get him out of this tangle and play something else.” The other two boys, whom Bruce knew only from having seen them at school, had drawn off a few paces, reluctant to become involved in the argument. They were looking at each other uncomfortably as though wishing they were somewhere else.
Jerry snapped his fingers again. “Giddyup, Red! Do you hear me?” At the sound of his master's voice, the dog cringed and sank down to a crouch between the traces. “You see?” Bruce said. “He won't even try. He's got enough sense to know he'll hurt himself.” “He'll try, all right, if he knows what's good for him. Come on, guys, help me get him going!” Jerry motioned to the watching boys. “You give him a shove while I get out in front and call him.” Bruce could stand it no longer. “Leave him alone!” he shouted. “The poor thing's already scared to death! If anybody shoves him anyplace, I'm going to go get my dad!” “Oh, you are, huh?” Jerry's reaction was quick and violent. Catching Bruce by the shoulder, he gave him a hard shove backward.
Bruce's legs buckled as the edge of the wagon caught him at the back of the knees. An instant later, all breath went out of him as his shoulders struck the floor of the wagon and his head hit the sharp wooden corner.
“Now, that's what our horse has been waiting for — a load to pull!” Jerry gave an excited laugh. “You stay right there, shrimp! You're going to get a ride you'll never forget!” Raising the end of the leash high above his head, he brought it down with all his strength across the dog's lean haunches. Then, for good measure, he kicked as hard as he could at Red's left flank. “Cool it, Jerry!” Tim's face was a mask of horror. “What are you trying to do, kill him?” Leaping forward, he grabbed for the leash, but the interference came too late. Red Rover let out a high-pitched, almost human, scream of fear and pain and threw himself against the harness.
Bruce felt the wagon lurch beneath him and dazedly tried to pull himself to a sitting position. He was rolling along the sidewalk. The curb loomed ahead. Bruce threw himself over the edge of the wagon and onto the ground, just as the wagon crashed over the curb and into the street.
Free of Bruce's weight, the wagon flew forward, striking the dog's hind legs. This new assault was the final spur to the terrified animal. He plunged frantically out into the middle of the street, dragging the wagon behind him.
It was Tim who saw the car as it rounded the corner.
“Get him back!” he shouted, but by the time the words left his lips it was already too late. With a crash of splintering wood, the front wheel of the car struck the wagon and crushed it into the street.
Red Rover, the rope harness streaming behind him, tore free of the wreckage and kept running. A moment later, the morning sunlight caught the sheen of his red coat at the end of the street, and then he was gone.
