Guinea Dog (10 page)

I broke my foot. Murph’s dad fixed it. He’s a foot doctor, remember? That meant a cast, of course, and crutches. I had to stay home from school for a week—Mom’s orders, not the doctor’s. She wanted me to stay in bed as much as possible and keep the foot “elevated.” The crutches were to get me to the bathroom.

Fido kept me company, and she was a real pal. She played games with me and did tricks and fetched things for me, like comic books and the remote. (Mom brought the TV and DVD player in from the family room to help keep me in bed.) I trained Fido to take out discs and put in new ones. It was pretty cool. She curled up in bed with me, too, watching the movies. She seemed to like comedies the best, especially if they had dogs in them. She hissed at any cats that showed up.

Lurena came over sometimes, and when I was bored, I actually let her come up to my room and we played Scrabble. Why not? I figured. She’d already wrecked my life at school anyway by telling everyone about her going on a picnic with me, about me owning a guinea pig, and about Fido saving my life. She was pretty impressed with the tile collection, but felt it should be cleaned and organized, so I let her do that. I figured she owed me. She also liked my collection of paint stirrers with anagrammed Scrabble tiles glued onto them, and made a few of her own. Her anagrams were very different from mine. Mine were like:
SLOW KELP KILL CRAB LIPS
and
POISON FART BISON
; hers were like:
LIMP SHRILL HUM IS NIGH
and
AN OWL ROMP A JAM LOVER
.

Sometimes she brought China C. Hill, her chinchilla, along to keep Fido company. China C. was about the same size as Fido, but more mouselike, with big ears and a tail. She had a weird, wrinkly gray coat and often stood up on her hind legs. She was always really nervous.

Fido was pretty mean to her. Usually she growled and barked at her and chased her under my bookshelf, where China C. remained the rest of the visit. Lurena said it was just a game they played, but I was pretty sure Fido was trying to catch China C. and eat her, even if Fido wasn’t much bigger.

One time, Lurena said, “I’m still willing to buy Fido from you. China C. really likes her. And I think the feeling is mutual.”

At the moment, China C. was cowering under the bookshelf, and Fido was on the floor nearby, waiting.

“I’m not willing,” I said.

“I’ll double what I was going to pay you before.”

“No deal.”

“Triple?”

“Nope.”

“I’ll throw in China C.”

“Fido’s not for sale. She’s mine. End of discussion.”

Lurena grinned at me.

“Glad to hear it,” she said, like that was what she wanted to hear all along.

Girls.

One day, Mom said Dmitri was at the door.

“Don’t let him in,” I said.

“Ohhh,” she said. “Sorry…”

Dmitri stepped by her through the door and started scanning the room like he was going to be making a full report at school the next day.

“Hey, Roof,” he said. “How’s the…?”

He looked stuck. I helped him out.

“Foot?”

“Yeah.”

“Still broken.”

He continued his scanning, like he wasn’t finding what he was looking for. Then I caught on.

“You looking for Murph?”

“Yeah. He here?”

“He was, but he left.”

“Where to?”

“Park, I think.”

“I bet you wish you could go to the park, huh?” He grinned.

What a nice guy. “I bet you’d win that bet.”

“I guess I’ll head over there,” he said. “I got something to show him.”

“What is it?”

“I said I got something to show
him
.”

I repeat: what a nice guy.

“But, look, uh, I got this for you.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out something. It was a small gray gadget with a little screen. “It’s my old Game Boy. I don’t use it anymore, and my mom thought I should give it to you since you’re stuck at home and all.”

“Your mom thought?”

“Yeah. I guess she knows your mom and they were talking, yap yap yap. You know.”

I nodded. I knew.

“I’m doing PSP now, so I don’t need it. Some of the buttons kind of stick, but it works okay.”

“Gee, thanks, Dmitri,” I said, trying not to sound too sarcastic.

“Like I said, my mom thought it might help you pass the time, you know, while you’re sick.”

“It’s not that bad, really. I have movies and books and…” I glanced at Fido sleeping at the foot of my bed. She was snoring and pawing at the air. Probably dreaming she was running.

“And your
guinea pig
.” He said it like he was talking about a turnip-asparagus-booger smoothie.

“Yeah, my guinea pig, Fido.” I tapped my thigh. “Here, Fido! Here, girl!”

“Fido,” Dmitri snorted. “You’re a total dorkchop, dude.”

Fido woke up, panted, then scampered up to my chest and sat, waiting for my next command.

“What the—?” Dmitri said, then a laugh burst through his lips.

“Roll over,” I said to Fido.

She rolled over, then popped back up to her feet. I peeked at Dmitri out of the corner of my eye. His smugness faded a little.

“Good girl,” I said, and scratched her head. “Play dead.”

She dropped onto her back and went limp. Her tongue fell out her mouth.

Dmitri let slip a little “Whoa.”

“Good girl, Fido,” I said, and she jumped back to her feet. I fed her one of the bacon bits I kept under my pillow. “Remote, Fido.”

She fetched it. I pushed the
EJECT
button and the disc in the player across the room ejected.

“Disc out,” I said.

She dove from the bed, dashed across the carpet, ducked under the disc, poked her nose up into the hole, then carried it to me. I put it in its case, popped out the disc from another one, and held it out to her.

“Disc in.”

She scooped it with her snout, took it to the player, and deposited it into the slot.

“Oh, man!” Dmitri said. “I
so
want one of those!”

This was satisfying, but irritating as well.

“She’s one of a kind, dude,” I said.

“No such thing.”

I thought of a pretty cornball thing to say about how everybody’s one of a kind, but figured he’d just make fun of it, so instead I held up the movie case and said, “Have you seen this? It’s pretty funny.”

“Yeah,” he said, “but I’d watch it again.”

I pressed
PLAY
on the remote and the FBI warning came on, then a bunch of previews.

“Hit
MENU
, dude,” Dmitri said.

“I like watching previews.”

“Dorkchop,” he muttered.

After the previews, the movie started. Fido curled up in my lap, and Dmitri sat on the floor at the end of my bed. About halfway through, Dmitri called real quietly,
“Here, Fido!”
She looked up at me for an okay, and I nodded, so she went to him. I figured I should share. I heard Dmitri giving her commands and laughing and playing with her.

I’d seen the movie, so I fooled around with the Game Boy. It was old school, and the buttons actually stuck pretty bad, and it was his mom’s idea to give it to me, but he was acting nice and friendly, and he had even changed his mind about Fido. That was a start. Look how long it had taken me.

“What’s this? Dmitri playing with a rodent at Roof’s house while his dog is tied up outside and howling to wake the dead?”

Dmitri and I turned and saw Murph standing at the door. He was smiling, of course. Dmitri jumped up like the floor was on fire and dropped Fido like she was suddenly electrified.

“H-Hey, Murph, dude!” he said. “’Sup? What’re
you
doin’ here? Want to go hit the skate park, man? Catch some air?”

Murph nodded. “Sounds sweet. Definitely sweet. But don’t let me interrupt this touching scene. What’re you guys watching?”

I held up the movie case.

“Cool,” Murph said. “Count me in. But, Dmitri, you’ve got to do something with Mars. He’s miserable.”

“You got Buddy with you?” Dmitri asked.

“No, I leave Buddy at home when I come to Roof’s.” He looked at me and smiled. “The dude’s dad doesn’t like dogs.”

“Really?” Dmitri said, acting like he had wandered into Freak Land. “I did not know this. I’ll call home and have someone pick up Mars.” He pulled out his U-phone and started punching buttons. “I didn’t think I’d be staying. I was hoping to find you and we’d hit the park or something, dude. I’m still up for it. I’m ready to go.…”

“After the movie,” Murph said.

“You know, Murph,” I said, “I’ve seen it before, and so has Dmitri, and to tell you the truth, I could use some sleep.”

“You sure, man?”

“Positootly.”

“You da boss, Roof. Broken-foot guy.
Vamos
, Señor Sull.”

“Huh?” Dmitri said, one ear still on the phone.

“I have your homework,” Murph said to me, and held it up. “For after your siesta. With Ms. Charp’s compliments. She says she misses you and she loves you and get well soon.”

I squinted at him. Did she really say that?

“Shireen and Keisha said the same thing,” he said.

Okay. Nobody said any of that.

Murph slapped Dmitri’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “Go shut up your dog, dude. I’ll be right down.”

“Righteous,” Dmitri said. He dumped his phone in his pocket and hustled out the door.

“He didn’t even say good-bye,” I said, faking a pout.

“To you or to Fido,” Murph added, and covered his heart with his hand. “Has the boy no feelings?”

“No, he doesn’t. He gave me his old busted Game Boy. His mom made him.” I held it up for him to see.

“He’s learning the meaning of sacrifice. That’s important. He’s growing.”

I laughed.

“So what’s up with him and Fido anyway?”

“Weird, huh? He wants one, too.”

“You are a trailblazer, Roof. A trendsetter. Guinea pig sales will go through the roof.”

“You gonna come back and do homework with me?” I asked.

“I guess I better.”

“You better.”

“Okay, okay. Cease cracking the whip, taskmaster.”

“Were you on time for school today, young man?”

“Yes, Mother dear. Teacher gave me a gold star.”

“Prove it.”

“She put it in her grade book.”

“Prove it.”

He rolled his eyes.

“You were late,” I said.

“I was not.”

“How late?”

“A couple of minutes. So what?”

“So what? That’s three times this week, and it’s only Wednesday.”

“Yeah, but let me tell you what happened on the way to school.…”

“Save it, Murph.”

He acted all hurt.

“Till later,” I said. “Dmitri’s waiting. You can tell me when you come back—
after
we finish our homework.”

“Yes, Sarge. See you at sixteen hundred hours, more or less.”

“Isn’t that four o’clock? Because it’s already past that.…”

“Never mind. Over and out.” And he left.

I looked around for Fido. She was actually right under my nose, on my chest. She must have curled up there when I was talking to Murph. I scratched her head. People came and went, but she was always there.

“What do you say?” I said. “
Lassie
again?”

It was her favorite, even if it wasn’t exactly mine.

She panted.

“Okay,” I said, pressing
EJECT
on the remote. “Disc out.”

But as a kid who has had them, let me tell you: you don’t want them.

The first day I was released from bondage was a Saturday, and I couldn’t wait to take Fido for a walk. Mom had bought a ferret collar and leash from a different pet store she found. She never did find Petopia, or whatever the store she bought Fido from was called. Because of this, and the doggish way Fido turned out to be, she tried to convince Dad and me that the place was some kind of enchanted, magical place where wishes were granted. Dad didn’t believe her one little bit. Me? I believed her a little bit more than he did.

Mom also bought a tiny cat tag and had Fido’s name and our address and phone number inscribed on it. And she bought a couple of rawhide bones, some squeeze toys, and a ball launcher and a couple of little pink rubber balls to launch. I thought she’d gone over the top, but Fido was so happy she peed herself.

I attached the tag to the collar and put the collar around Fido’s neck. I kept quiet around Fido about what sort of animal the tag was made for. She kept tugging at me on the walk, even though I was walking on crutches outside for the first time. She insisted on sniffing everything on both sides of the sidewalk, especially the stuff just out of her reach.

“Will you give me a break?” I pleaded. “I’m on crutches here.”

She didn’t care.

I only fell four times.

When we got home, I took her out back and unhooked her. She ran around in circles like a mad dog. I hobbled into the garage to my dad’s workbench and opened his toolbox. Both the bench and the box were covered with dust and cobwebs. I found some boards and a saw and a sawhorse and carried them over to my work area, which wasn’t easy with the crutches, but somehow I got them there. Fido came in and crawled up on the bench and watched me, which made it more fun. I measured and sawed and hammered, and then I heard a voice behind me.

“What are you up to, son?”

“Sorry, Dad. Am I being too noisy?”

He shook his head. “Need any help?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

He was actually a big help. It wasn’t too long before the doghouse was built. We painted it white with a red roof, then we went out in the yard while it was drying.

Dad dug some golf tees out of his pocket and tossed one. Fido raced after it.

“I think it’s going to work out after all,” Dad said.

“What is?” I said.

“Working at home.”

“Oh. How come?”

He shrugged. “I just needed some time to adjust. To change my way of thinking. To look at it differently.”

He looked at me and smiled.

“These help,” he said, and pulled some orange earplugs out of his pocket.

I smiled. “I bet. Good idea.”

Fido retrieved the tee, and Dad threw another one.

“You happy with your pet?” he asked.

“Yep,” I said.

“I’m glad. I like her, too. She keeps me company. It gets lonely in this big house all day by myself.”

I nodded. I hadn’t thought about that.

“I’m not going to walk her, though.”

“I know.”

“Or clean up her…messes.”

“Check.”

“And you need to keep her away from my shoes.”

“You should keep your shoes away from her,” I said.

“You’re probably right about that.”

Fido came back again, and Dad scooped her up. It was wild to watch him with her. He was petting her and cooing and rubbing his nose in her fur. Weird.

But then he stopped all of a sudden and took off his glasses. He leaned in real close and squinted, then picked something out of her fur with his finger and thumb. His face scrunched up, and his eyes burned with fury. He shoved whatever he had pinched in his fingers in my face and bellowed, “FLEA!”

Mom was sent back to the new pet store to buy flea killer. Meanwhile, Dad stomped around the house, vacuuming all the carpets and furniture and washing all the rugs and bedding. I was ordered to give Fido her first bath, outside.

When Mom returned, she came out to help.

“We can only give her just a teeny bit of this stuff,” she said. “It’s made for C-A-T-S, which weigh more.”

I nodded. And I appreciated her spelling out the C-word. Fido was freaked out enough as it was.

“Dad’s pretty mad, huh?” I asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think he likes housework. He sees the fleas as invaders, and he’s protecting his home. Big hero!” She laughed.

“Really? I don’t think he likes housework.”

“You’re probably right,” she said.

We bathed Fido in a soup pot in the backyard. She looked even more ratlike when wet. But even dogs look weird when they’re soaked to the skin. What was more upsetting was how miserable she looked. She was shivering like crazy. And she sure was giving me the stink eye.

“Time to get her out of there,” Mom said, and lifted her out onto the towel we had ready.

I bundled her up and held her to my chest to warm her. She was trembling like a leaf. Her teeth were chattering.

Mom’s bottom lip stuck out, her chin quivered, and her eyes got all moist. I knew what that meant.

“Don’t, Mom,” I said.

“I can’t help it,” she said, and sniffled. “It’s just so
sweet
.”

“Stop, Mom.”

“The two of you…,” she went on.

“Mom, I mean it!”

“Okay, okay, sorry.” She wiped her wet nose with her sleeve.

I shook my head. How hopeless was this woman? She brought me home a guinea pig instead of a dog. She said it would be quiet and it wouldn’t chew things up and it would bathe itself. She said that it wouldn’t get fleas.
Hah!
She was so wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. About everything!

Well, not about one thing, I guess. She said she knew I’d love Fido.

So I tossed her a bone.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said. “You know…for Fido.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, sunshine!” she said. Then she busted out bawling.

I tell you, when it comes to moms, sometimes it’s best just to keep your thanks to yourself.

After Fido was dry and happy, I went into the garage and finished the last detail on her doghouse. No doghouse is complete without the name painted in an arc over the door, right? So I did that, then I carried the house outside under my arm.

Fido got so excited she jumped up and down till she knocked it out of my hands. I tried to catch it and got tangled up in my crutches and fell on the ground. It was lying on its side, so I tipped it upright. Fido ran in and out and in and out and in and out, like she knew exactly what it was and who it was for. Then she walked around it a few times and marked it, if you know what I mean. When she was done with that, she went inside, turned around, and plopped down. All that was outside was her head resting on her paws. She looked so happy. Which made me happy. Crippled and sprawled out on the grass with my crutches, but happy.

I remembered then that I put a treat in my pocket for her for after the bath, and I dug it out. It was a rawhide bone from the new pet shop. When Fido saw it, she sprang from her house, poised for action, her nose high, her butt wagging. I tossed the bone up over her head. She leaped, caught it in midair, and came down with it. Then she ran over to me.

“Good girl!” I said, scratching her neck. “Attagirl! Whattagirl! That’s my girl!”

She soaked up the praise awhile, then darted off to some bushes, where she dug a hole, dropped in the bone, and buried it.

what a dog!