Hotel for Dogs by Lois Duncan ch 9-2
The first time he had tried this, the alarm clock had gone off like a fire alarm. The shrill sound had been so shattering in the stillness of the sleeping house that both his parents and Aunt Alice had awakened in terror.
“What was that? Did you hear that? Was it the doorbell?” “Telephone?” “Could someone have set off a car alarm?” “I'm sure it was an air-raid siren!” screamed Aunt Alice. “Do you suppose some foreign country has decided to attack us in the night?” Lying huddled in his bed with the now-silent clock clutched protectively to his chest, Bruce heard their frantic voices as they rushed through the upstairs hall, pulling on robes, snatching up the phone receiver, and finally running down the stairs to see if someone was at the front door. After that he kept the alarm clock under his pillow. This muffled the sound, and soon he grew so used to having it there that he began to waken at the first tiny click before the bell even had a chance to ring.
Getting out of bed was the hard part. Once he was into his clothes and out of the house, there was something exhilarating about being up and about before the rest of the world. The sky, still dotted with stars, and the cold, fresh smell of the air filled him with a special kind of excitement.
Raising the ramp against the window ledge, he would hear Red Rover stirring around inside, already awake and eager for his outing.
“Red?” He never had to speak more than once. The big dog would be upon him, tail thumping excitedly, body quivering with anticipation.
Once they were outside, the world opened before them, theirs alone. It was night when they started off along the deserted streets, but soon the dark shapes of trees began to emerge against the gradually paling sky. Red was like a wild thing in the joy of his freedom, first racing ahead, then loping back to circle Bruce and fly off again in another direction.
Then, in what seemed a matter of minutes, it was morning. The sky lightened in the east, turning from gray to a soft pink. Birds began to twitter in the trees, making drowsy, coming-awake noises. Somewhere a baby cried, the sound surprisingly loud through the stillness.
Then the sun itself appeared, a bright red ball over the treetops, and the whole sky exploded with color. It was so much brighter, so much more thrilling, Bruce thought in wonder, than it ever was in an evening sunset! This was the point at which he turned Red toward home.
As he told Tim, he did not mind those morning outings. It was fun being out alone with Red. It made him feel in a way as though he were the dog's real master. No matter how much he enjoyed himself, however, the fact remained that each morning he was sacrificing two hours of sleep. The rest of the day seemed to drag on forever. Sitting in class, Bruce would find his head nodding, his eyelids drooping. The sound of the teacher's voice would begin to drone like a lullaby, and before class was half over he would be fighting to stay awake. Despite his exhaustion, Bruce did make an effort to do more studying. The grades on his first-quarter report card had shocked him as much as they had his father. He was used to being at the top of his class, and to find himself getting Cs where he once had gotten As was an upsetting experience.
Every night after dinner he spread his books out on the table in the den and tried to concentrate. Often he ended up falling asleep on top of them.
It was during one of these times that his mother came in and found him there. She stood gazing down at him worriedly.
“I can't understand it,” she said softly. “It isn't even eight-thirty. Can he be sick, I wonder? Maybe I should make a doctor's appointment and see that he gets a complete checkup.” Leaning over, she touched his arm. “Bruce? You'd better go to bed. You're not going to get any studying done tonight.” Bruce mumbled something and turned his face against his outstretched arm. “Come, honey, I'll help you.” Mrs. Walker put her arm around him and dragged him to his feet. Steering him to the sofa, she helped him onto it. Bruce was so heavily asleep the moment his head touched the pillow that he was not even aware of his mother removing his shoes. She drew a blanket over him and quietly turned out the light.
The next day he awoke to the pale light of early morning. For a moment he lay there wondering what had happened. It had been weeks since he had wakened to anything but total darkness. Sliding his hand under the pillow, he groped for the clock. It wasn't there. Lifting his head, he saw it on the table next to the couch. He had fallen asleep the night before without setting the alarm, and now it was morning.
“Poor Red!” Bruce snapped into a sitting position, shocked wide awake. “He's probably over there, tearing the walls down!” Grabbing for the shoes that his mother had placed beside the sofa, he hurriedly began to put them on. It was still early. It had to be. The light was dim. He could barely make out the blur of his jacket thrown across the back of the chair by the door. People in Elmwood were not generally early risers. Streets were free of cars until close to seven.
I can still give him a quick run, Bruce thought as he pulled on his jacket. The Gordons aren't going to be sitting on their lawn to watch the sunrise. We'll just take a fast trek down the street and back again. It won't be much for Red, but it will be better than nothing. Heavy fog engulfed him as he left the house. He could hardly see ten feet before him, but by the time he reached the empty lot between the houses, he could hear the short, sharp sounds of impatient barking.
When he reached the hotel, Red Rover was so happy to see him that he nearly knocked him over.
“Simmer down, boy. Calm down.” Bruce gave the leaping animal a quick pat. “This is going to be a short one this morning.” When he opened the door at the end of the hall the dog shot past him with the speed of a bullet. Up he went to the back window and down the ramp. By the time Bruce had followed him outside, he was nowhere to be seen.
“Red! Hey, Red, where are you?” Bruce called softly, keeping his voice low. “Red Rover, come on back here!” Rounding the corner of the house, he crossed the front yard to the sidewalk. He looked up and down the street in both directions. Somewhere ahead of him a streak of red flashed across a yard and disappeared into the mists. Bruce began to run. He reached the yard and stopped.
“Red! Red Rover!” He called more loudly this time.
The fog was heavy, shutting off his view of the end of the street. A garbage truck rattled by. Across the street from him, the door of a house opened, and a woman stuck out her head.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty! Come get your breakfast!” Her voice was thin and shrill.
It's later than I thought! Bruce realized. It's the fog that made everything seem darker. A feeling of panic came over him. I've got to get hold of Red! I've got to get him home fast! It was impossible to know with any certainty where the dog had gone. Bruce hurried along the sidewalk, glancing frantically into yards on either side. Every few paces he stopped to call Red's name. “You looking for somebody?” a voice called to him. A newspaper delivery boy pulled his bicycle to a stop next to the curb.
“Yes. No. I mean, it's not a person.” Bruce didn't know how to answer. “I'm looking for a —” The boy was not listening. His attention was directed toward a side street.
“Look at that, will you!” he exclaimed. “It looks like one of those ghost hounds on television!” Following his gaze, Bruce saw the outline of a dog against a bank of fog. “It's not a ghost,” he said. “It's —” “Like a sci-fi movie.” The boy leaned forward. “Here he comes!” Red Rover galloped toward them. “That's no spirit dog!” the boy cried. “He sure looked like one for a minute, but that's a real animal! Hey, isn't that the setter that's been missing from that house down the street? The one they've posted a reward for?” “I don't think so,” Bruce said quickly as Red shot past them. He was headed for home now. He'd had his run and knew that breakfast awaited him back at the hotel. “I bet it is,” the boy said. “I sure wish I'd thought about that in time to grab him.” “It's not the same dog,” Bruce insisted. “I'm sure it's not. That dog used to live next door to me — the one that's lost, I mean. I've seen him close up. This dog here didn't look at all like him.” “Well, I think he did,” the boy said. “I deliver papers to that house, so I've seen the setter. There can't be many big dogs like that running loose around the neighborhood.” He turned to Bruce, his eyes narrowing with sudden suspicion. “I bet I know what you've got in mind. You're trying to discourage me so you can claim that reward yourself. Well, it's not going to work, kid!” He grinned triumphantly. “I'm going down to that house right now and telling them I've seen their ghost dog and the reward is mine!”
