Hotel for Dogs by Lois Duncan ch 14-2
Shoulder to shoulder, like prisoners going to face a firing squad, they followed their mother and Mr. Crabtree into the familiar brown house.
The moment they were in the hallway, Aunt Alice started sneezing.
“How odd!” she said. “If I didn't know better, I'd think there was animal hair around here someplace. I feel just the way I do when — when — when — atchooooo!” “Bless you,” said Mrs. Walker. “Perhaps it's dust. Although it does look clean, doesn't it, for having sat empty for so many months?” “This is the living room,” Mr. Crabtree was saying. “Hardwood floors, you'll notice. The master bedroom is on the first floor also. If you'll just follow me —” With quick, efficient steps, he led the way down the hall toward the pink bedroom. “I can't watch,” Andi breathed. “Oh, Bruce, I just can't!” She shut her eyes tightly. A shriek split the air. “There's something in there!” Aunt Alice screamed. “It's — it's — atchoooo! It's a dog!” “It's two dogs!” Mrs. Walker cried, as Friday and MacTavish shot past her and came racing down the hall to Bruce and Andi. “How incredible! How could they have gotten in here?” Mr. Crabtree blinked his eyes in amazement.
“It seems impossible —” From the floor above them, a deep, melodious voice broke into a howl. It rose higher and higher in a mournful beagle wail.
“That's the sound we heard the other day!” Mrs. Walker exclaimed. “It's coming from upstairs!” She started briskly down the hall. “Wait, wait, Mrs. Walker! Don't go up there alone.” Mr. Crabtree came hurrying after her. “Let me go first. It might be something dangerous.” Pressing his way past her, he started up the stairway.
Andi choked back a sob. “They're going to find Preston!” “And Tiffany's pups.” Bruce's face was strained and white. “But they haven't found Red yet. I'm going back to the family room and see if I can get him out through the window. I'll hide him somewhere, even if I have to run away with him. They can't find him and give him back to Jerry — they just can't!” Turning quickly, he ran down the hall toward the back of the house. At that moment, another scream broke forth from Aunt Alice. Preston, followed by the five joyful Bulldales, came tearing down the stairs to greet their company.
“Dear heaven!” Mrs. Walker gasped, clutching at the railing to keep from being knocked over as the string of dogs shot past her. “Why, it's — it's like a — a zoo!” “Believe me, Mrs. Walker, Mrs. Scudder —” Mr. Crabtree appeared at the top of the stairs. His mustache was twitching nervously. “Believe me, ladies, I had no idea. I still have no idea. This has never happened before. Never at any house on our list.” “Atchoooo! Atchoooo! Atchoooo!” Aunt Alice leaned weakly against the wall, helpless with sneezing. Her eyes were watering so hard that great tears rolled down her round cheeks.
“You poor dear!” Mrs. Walker rushed over to put an arm around the elderly lady. “Here, let me help you! Andi, come take her other arm! We have to get her outside!” “Here, Aunt Alice! Lean on me!” A little frightened by the violence of her aunt's attack, Andi helped to steer the wheezing woman down the hall to the front door. She really is allergic, she thought. She wasn't just making it up. No wonder she didn't want Bebe to stay with us. They stepped through the doorway into the fresh chill air, and Aunt Alice drew a shaky breath and wiped at her teary eyes.
“That was dreadful!” she gasped. “Just dreadful! All those animals! How did they get in there?” “I don't know, dear,” Mrs. Walker said. “Mr. Crabtree will find out.” “Indeed I will,” Mr. Crabtree told them. Not only his mustache, but his whole face, was twitching with outrage. He pulled his cell phone out of his coat pocket. “I'll call the pound. They'll send a wagon for those beasts.” “You can't do that!” Andi burst out wretchedly. “You can't let them be dragged off and put to sleep! They're nice dogs. They couldn't help being where they were and having Aunt Alice allergic to them.” “Of course they couldn't help it,” Mrs. Walker said. “Nobody's blaming the poor animals. They have no homes and nobody to take care of them. I'm sure they were eager for any shelter they could find.” “But they do have a home! They are taken care of!” Andi cried. “Delaney Belanger owns Preston, and I own Friday, and Tim sort of owns MacTavish, now that he's gotten used to him. Tiffany owns the Bulldales, and Bruce —” She stopped herself before she got to Bruce. “They're our dogs, all of them! They can't be lugged off to the pound!” “You and Bruce and Tim —” Mrs. Walker repeated in confusion. “And Debbie, too. She's a partner.” Andi was really crying now. “What exactly is it that you're trying to tell me?” Her mother's voice was low and controlled. “I want the truth, not one of your stories. Are you children responsible for this menagerie? Have you been keeping eight dogs here in this house?” “I think the count is nine,” a man's voice said quietly. “Look who I found headed down the street as I was on my way home to lunch.” Blinking back her tears, Andi saw Mr. Gordon coming toward them along the sidewalk, and Bruce and Red Rover were with him.
