Hotel for Dogs by Lois Duncan ch 9-1
CHAPTER NINE There was nothing difficult about locating MacTavish. When school was out for the day, Debbie led the way to the back of the cafeteria, and there he was. When she saw him, Andi had the immediate feeling that he was waiting there just for her.
“I wish I could help you get him to the hotel,” Debbie said. “I would if I didn't have a Scout meeting.” “I can manage fine,” Andi told her. “He isn't so big. I was afraid he might be the size of Red Rover.” Actually, although he was a small dog, MacTavish was heavy, for he had gained a good deal of weight eating sandwich crusts and potato chips and spaghetti left over from school lunches. Andi was panting by the time she got him to the hotel.
Still, it was worth it! Never had she seen a dog so happy! She had decided to give him the blue room, as it had a built-in window seat from which a dog could look out over the backyard, and MacTavish leaped up there at once. From there he jumped to the floor and ran around sniffing, exploring the room from one corner to another. Then he leaped upon Andi. Wagging and licking and wriggling with delight, he burrowed into her arms, making little squeaking sounds of joy.
Hooray! he seemed to be saying. At last I have a home!
“You poor thing! Imagine your master going off and leaving you!” Andi hugged the dog hard, ducking her head to keep the busy pink tongue from washing her face. “Just wait until Bruce sees you! Friday's so busy with her puppies, she isn't much company for Red Rover. Bruce will be so glad to have a friend for Red to play with!” She was wrong about that, however. Bruce was not happy at all.
“Another dog!” He regarded his sister with disbelief. “Andi Walker, you must be crazy! Tim and I are working ourselves to death to take care of the ones we already have.” “He won't eat much,” Andi said. “He's already fat. One meal a day should do him just fine.” “Fat dogs eat more than thin ones,” Tim volunteered. He and Bruce had stopped by the hotel on their way over to the Kellys' to get their rakes. “It's the same with fat people. Their stomachs stretch, and they have to eat more and more food to fill them up.” “That's not so,” Andi contradicted. “Aunt Alice is fat, and she hardly eats anything. Besides, we won't have to buy all the food. Debbie thinks if we ask the ladies at the cafeteria to save the scraps and put them in a bag —” “Debbie!” Bruce pounced upon the unfamiliar name. “Who's Debbie? Have you been blabbing around about the hotel? I thought we all promised —” “I haven't been blabbing,” Andi said. “I only told Debbie. She's my best friend, just the way Tim is yours.” “What do you mean, your best friend?” Bruce exploded. “I've never even heard of her! If you have a best friend, why haven't you ever had her over?” “I am going to have her over tomorrow,” Andi told him. “She's going to help me with the hotel housework. Now that we have six guests, there's too much work for one person to do alone. You boys never help.” “Never help!” Bruce was so angry that it was all he could do to keep from grabbing his sister and shaking her until her teeth rattled. “What do you call all those hours Tim and I put in after school and on weekends raking leaves?” “That's not the same thing,” Andi said. “It really isn't, Bruce. I feed them and clean up after them.” Then, because it seemed very likely that her brother might be about to hit her, she snatched MacTavish into her arms and ran out of the room. “You shouldn't let her get to you like that,” Tim remarked later, as the boys collected their rakes from the Kellys' garage. “She's just acting like a girl. My sisters are the same way sometimes.” “I know,” Bruce said wearily. “I never used to get so mad at her. It's just today — bringing home that blasted dog without even checking with us first —” “He seems like a nice dog,” Tim said. “Those black ears and white face make him look like a clown. Those pups of Friday's are going to be ready to leave her in another week or so anyway.” “That's true. They're already beginning to eat solid food.” Bruce brightened slightly. “If we get rid of them, that will cut things down by half.” Even so, he had far from a joyful expression on his face as he and Tim set off down the street toward their afternoon job. Bruce was exhausted. He had always been a boy who enjoyed having time to himself — time for reading, for playing with other boys, for puttering around with his photography. Now suddenly there was no time at all. When he was not in school, he was working, and when he wasn't working, he was trying to study — trying because by the time dinner was over and he was ready to settle down to his books, he was usually so sleepy that he could not keep the words on the page from running together. It showed in his grades.
“I don't understand what's happened,” his father said the day report cards came out. “You've always been an A student. Where did these Bs and Cs come from all of a sudden?” “Maybe the schools in Elmwood are more advanced than the ones out West,” Aunt Alice suggested. “Perhaps they grade harder here.” “In that case, Bruce should be working harder.” Mr. Walker had no patience with average marks. He knew that both Bruce and Andi were bright children, and he had always expected them to stay at the top of their classes. The fact that his wife was a teacher only enhanced those expectations.
“I know I should, Dad.” Bruce struggled to stifle a yawn. “I'll get at that math tonight.” “You look as though you could fall asleep right here at the table,” his mother said worriedly. “Can't you do some of your studying in the afternoon?” She turned to her husband. “He and Andi both go out to play right after school every day. They're out all afternoon, every afternoon.” “I'm not tired. It's only eight o'clock.” Bruce forced his eyes wide. The last thing he wanted was to be forbidden to spend his afternoons away from the house. “I'm just sort of groggy from eating so much. I'll wake right up as soon as I get going on that math.” But the math problems, when he opened his book to them, seemed to be written in a foreign language. There was no sense to any of them, even the simple ones. Numbers danced before Bruce's eyes like black dots, shifting and whirling about against the white page. By the time twenty minutes had passed, he was fast asleep with his face buried in the book.
There was good reason for Bruce's weariness. Not only was he doing more outdoor physical work than he ever had done in his life, but he was getting up at five o'clock every morning. It was at this time of day that Red Rover had his exercise.
Exercising the small dogs was no problem. They could romp in the yard behind the hotel where the bushes were a protective screen cutting them off from the street. Every afternoon Andi took them outdoors for playtime, and they went out again after dinner.
Red Rover presented a different problem. He could not be satisfied with chasing a ball around a tiny restricted area. Red was a big dog, a dog bred for running. As his wounds began to heal and his health and good spirits returned, so too did his energy. He roamed restlessly around the hotel, scratching at the doors and propping his big paws on the sills to gaze wistfully out windows. Sometimes he barked.
“That's not good,” Tim said worriedly. “Even with the house set back like it is, sounds carry. Somebody might be walking past and hear him.” “I can run him at night.” It was Bruce who had come up with the idea. “That way there wouldn't be any chance of Jerry and his parents seeing him. I sleep on the couch in the den. Everybody else in the family sleeps upstairs. I could sneak out when they're all asleep and nobody would know the difference.” “I wish I could help you,” Tim said. “I feel like a cop-out not doing my part, but my bedroom is next to the girls'. There's always one of them hopping up and down for water or something. They'd catch me first thing and go tattling off to our parents.” “That's okay,” Bruce said. “I don't mind doing it myself. I'll set my alarm for two hours earlier than I usually get up and have Red out and back again before it gets light.”
