Cages (9 page)

Next she took a big dog, part-German shepherd and part collie, out to the yard and let him run. The dog trotted along next to her on the leash and when she threw the ball, he brought it back and dropped it in front of her. She only kept him in the yard for ten minutes. It didn’t seem like much exercise for such a big dog but there were so many others, all waiting a turn.

She socialized ten dogs that day, counting the three puppies. Only ten out of—how many? Kit did a quick count. Fifty. Maybe more. Many of the cages contained more than one dog. She hadn’t even tried to do anything with them because she was afraid one would get loose while she tried to remove the other. She wanted to stay longer than two hours, but she had a baby-sitting job at 6:30.

She went back to Lynnette’s office. Lynnette looked up as Kit approached. “How did it go?” she asked.

“I only did seven dogs, plus three puppies,” Kit said. “I tried to hurry, but . . .”

Lynnette smiled at her. “Each one deserves your full two hours,” she said. “If you did ten, you did well.” She picked up a folder with Kit’s name on it, opened it, and recorded the time inside. “Thank you, Kit,” she said. “I’ll see you again on Friday.”

On Friday, Lynnette said, “You know what to do. Just start where you left off last time.”

Kit put on her nametag, took a leash, and entered the kennel. This time, she was prepared for the noise.

She walked quickly to the last cage and looked inside. Lady wagged her tail vigorously.

Kit hesitated. She knew she was supposed to give the others a turn but Lady was so glad to see her.

“We’ll hurry,” Kit said, as she opened the cage and dropped the leash around Lady’s neck. “Just a quick game of ball.”

Lady danced around her, clearly overjoyed to see Kit again.

This time, it was harder to put Lady back in the cage. Her
tail drooped and her head hung. She slunk to the back of the cage and lay down with her nose on her paws.

“I’m sorry,” Kit whispered. “I’m sorry, but all the others want to get out for awhile, too.”

She wrote the date and time on Lady’s paper, noting that no one else had socialized Lady since Kit’s last visit, three days ago. At the top of each paper was the date when the animal had been brought in. Lady had been there for two weeks. That’s a long time to sit in a cage and wait, Kit thought. No wonder some of the dogs gave up hope.

There were only two puppies in the cage where she’d sat last time. Kit smiled, knowing one of the pups must have been adopted. She passed that cage by and went on to those she hadn’t done before.

Kit played with twelve dogs that day, everything from a wriggly black-and-white dustmop to a stately Afghan. Before she left, she slipped into Lady’s cage for a few minutes and sat on the floor. Instantly, Lady was on Kit’s lap, trembling with pleasure.

Kit leaned against the side of the cage and looked out through the wire. It was like being in prison. She stroked Lady’s head and talked quietly to her.

“Maybe someone will adopt you soon,” Kit said. “A nice family, with children for you to play with. They’ll have a yard for you to run in and plenty of doggie toys and a soft bed, all your own.”

Lady licked Kit’s fingers; her tail thumped on the concrete floor. Kit leaned over and buried her face in Lady’s fur. Then she wrinkled up her nose. “The first thing your new family will do,” she said, “is give you a bath.”

Lady’s tail thumped some more.

“You silly dog,” Kit said. “You don’t care what I say, do you, as long as I talk to you?”

Lady’s tail wagged harder.

Kit smiled and rubbed Lady’s velvety ears. “If I could have a dog,” she said, “I’d have one just like you.”

For her seventh birthday, Kit had asked for a puppy. Dorothy explained that they couldn’t have a dog because no one was home all day and the puppy would be lonely. Kit was disappointed, but she had accepted the decision.

After Dorothy married Wayne and quit her job, Kit asked again. Although Dorothy’s excuse that time was that Kit was too young to be responsible for a dog, Kit overheard Wayne say dogs were expensive and she sensed that no matter how responsible she was, the answer would be the same. She had never asked again.

Now Kit stroked Lady’s fur thoughtfully. Dorothy no longer had a secretarial job; she was home all day. Certainly Kit was old enough to take full responsibility for a pet. She could even pay for Lady’s food, with the money she earned baby-sitting. She already had enough saved to pay The Humane Society’s adoption fee.

A tingle of excitement prickled the back of Kit’s neck. She couldn’t think of a single valid reason for Dorothy and Wayne to say
no
.

She stood. “Good-bye, Lady,” she said. “Maybe you’ll see me again tomorrow, with good news. Keep your paws crossed.”

As she gave Lady one final pat, the incessant barking stopped. Kit listened, surprised to hear music in the kennel. Someone was playing “April Showers” on a harmonica.

Curious, she slipped out of Lady’s cage and looked to see where the music was coming from.

A chubby man sat on a folding campstool, just inside the kennel door. With his gray hair, bushy beard, and abundant belly, he looked exactly like Santa Claus, except that he wore bib overalls, a green plaid shirt, and a baseball cap. He also wore a volunteer nametag.

He leaned toward the nearest cage as he played, serenading the dogs. When he saw Kit, his eyes crinkled but he kept playing. She listened until the song ended, watching the dogs.

“They like it,” Kit said.

“Music hath charms to soothe the savage beast,” he said.

“It hasn’t been this quiet in here since I arrived.”

“That’s why I come, girl. Best audience in town. They love every tune I play and they never request anything I don’t know.” He put out his hand. “I’m Randall Morrison,” he said.

“Kit Hathaway.”

They shook hands and then Mr. Morrison put the harmonica to his mouth and began to play, “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad.”

As the peppy music filled the air, Kit could have sworn that some of the dogs were wagging their tails in 4/4 time.

She wondered if Mr. Morrison was a volunteer by choice or if, like she, he was doing community service to atone for some trouble with the law. She couldn’t imagine such a jolly-looking person getting arrested.

All the way home on the bus, she rehearsed how she would tell Dorothy and Wayne her plan to adopt Lady. By the time she reached her bus stop, she knew exactly what she wanted to say.

It took willpower not to blurt out her speech the minute she got home, but she knew Wayne was always more agreeable after he ate.

She sniffed. Good. Pot roast. Wayne’s favorite meal.

She waited until they were almost finished eating. Then she couldn’t stand it any longer. Trying to sound casual, she said, “One of the dogs at the Humane Society is really special.”

“It beats me,” Wayne said, “why you want to hang around with a bunch of stray mutts. Next thing we know you’ll have fleas.”

“I like dogs,” Kit said. “And Lynnette says sometimes the mixed breeds are smarter than the purebreds.”

“Dogs,” said Wayne, “are nothing but trouble. All they do is chew the furniture and wet on the carpets.”

“Not when they’re trained,” Kit said. “This one . . .”

“Forget it,” Wayne said. “We aren’t getting a puppy.”

“The one I’m talking about is two years old,” Kit said. “Her puppy days are over. And she’s smart. I know she’d be easy to house train. She might even be trained already.”

“The last thing your mother needs is a dog to worry about.”

Kit looked at Dorothy, hoping Dorothy would speak up in favor of Lady. Dorothy said nothing.

“You wouldn’t have to worry about it,” Kit said. “I’d feed Lady and take her out for walks every day before school and again when I get home. She could sleep in my room and stay there when I’m not home.”

“Well . . .” Dorothy said.

“No,” Wayne said.

“Wouldn’t you at least think about it? She’s really a nice dog and . . .”

“I said NO,” Wayne said, “and that’s the end of it.”

“But . . .”

“You heard your father,” Dorothy said.

Kit glared at Wayne. “He isn’t,” she said, “my father.” She stood up and walked out of the room.

Why did they treat her like she was seven years old?

If Wayne wasn’t so set against it, Dorothy would have agreed to give Lady a chance. Why was Dorothy’s spine made of melted Jell-O?

She sat on her bed, pounding her fist rhythmically into her pillow. They wouldn’t even let her tell them about Lady. It made no difference to them that Lady had been at The Humane Society a long time and if nobody adopted her soon, she would be euthanized. Lady was a gentle, calm dog. She wouldn’t cause any trouble. If they would only give Lady a chance, Kit was sure they’d change their minds about her.

Kit put her head down on her knees. Sometimes she felt just as trapped as the unwanted dogs.

W
E’LL begin with Act Two,” Miss Fenton said. “Berenice and John Henry: on stage, please. Frankie, be ready for your entrance. Everyone else, QUIET.”

There was a brief flurry as everyone moved into place.

Kit watched from the back of the auditorium. It was the first rehearsal she had attended, although Tracy had urged her repeatedly to come. Kit said she was volunteering at The Humane Society or baby-sitting every afternoon. She came now because Justin, the school photographer, was going to take pictures for the posters. She couldn’t very well supervise the pictures without being there.

“Curtain!” called Miss Fenton, even though they weren’t really using the curtain for rehearsals.

As Kit watched and listened, she was quickly caught up in the characters and their words. Marcia no longer sounded like
Marcia. Her voice was higher, with a slight Southern accent. She no longer looked like Marcia, either. It wasn’t just because she had exchanged her jeans and top for a short, shapeless cotton dress; it was the way she stood and moved. She seemed thinner, younger, more vulnerable. She was a forlorn, mixed-up twelve-year-old girl, who truly believed that her brother and his fiancée would want her to go along on their honeymoon.

Everyone knew their lines and knew when and where they were supposed to move.

“Pace,” yelled Miss Fenton. “It’s dragging. Pick up the pace!”

The actors spoke faster. Marcia’s good, Kit thought. She’s really good. So were the others. It was going to be a fabulous play.

When Act Two ended, Miss Fenton said, “We’ll take a break now for some publicity photos. Please stay seated in the front rows while Kit explains what shots she wants, and then pose quickly. We still have to do all of Act Three today.”

Kit had made a list of the scenes she wanted Justin to shoot. “First is the scene from Act One,” she said, “with Frankie, Helen, and Doris.”

Tracy and the girl who played Helen joined Marcia on stage and Kit told them where to stand. She put Marcia’s back to the camera, so that Tracy’s face showed.

“Thanks,” Tracy whispered, after Justin took the picture. “You’ll make me a star yet.”

Kit continued down her list of pictures, including one of Miss Fenton holding her clipboard and talking with several cast members. All of the pictures Kit had planned were group
shots, with at least three actors in each. Everyone cooperated. Nobody goofed off. Even Marcia kept quiet. There was a unity of spirit; the entire cast was willing to do whatever was necessary to make the publicity photos as good as possible.

Impulsively, Kit added one more shot to her list. “Last, I want one of Frankie by herself,” she said.

Marcia stood alone on the stage.

“Give her a line, someone,” Miss Fenton suggested. “Lead her into a scene.”

From the front row, the others began saying their lines. When John Henry said, “You want me to get the weekend bag?” Marcia began to speak.

Marcia stretched out her arms and turned slowly in a circle. When she stopped, she looked at Justin and Kit as if she didn’t see them. Her head tilted back; her eyes glittered in her pinched face.
I feel it turning and it makes me dizzy
.

Click. Justin’s camera recorded the moment with a flash of light. Marcia blinked and dropped her arms.

“Thank you,” Kit said. “You are a fantastic Frankie.”

Justin left but Kit stayed to watch the rest of rehearsal. Tracy sat with her, since she only appeared in Act One.

When it was over, Miss Fenton gave comments on lines that she wanted the actors to do differently. Then she said, “There are a few props that the props committee hasn’t been able to find. We still need a palmetto fan and we need a tape recording of a piano being tuned. Can any of you help?”