Webster (6 page)

“The people!” Jack said. “They'll come out here to
see us now. And maybe they'll adopt a bunch of us!”

The Bad Hat was
so
not interested.

Jack ran to the main door of his kennel. “Come and see, Bad Hat, it's exciting!”

He didn't want to crush the little guy's enthusiasm, so the Bad Hat dragged himself up and went inside.

“Think they're looking for me?” Jack asked. “I hope they're looking for me. I'm right there, on the website. Cole showed me. And I'm
wicked
photogenic.”

As far as the Bad Hat knew, he had never been photographed as anything other than a blur of black fur.

Once the family began walking down the corridor, Jack got so charged up that the Bad Hat could hear him jumping wildly and bouncing off the walls.

“Well, that's a cute little dog,” a woman's voice remarked. “He has quite a lot to say, doesn't he?”

And how.

“Wow, look at him jump!” a little boy's voice said. “I can't believe how high off the floor he can get!”

“Jack is quite a special dog,” Joan said. “He's going to make such a wonderful companion for someone.”

The little boy giggled. “He licked my hand. It feels funny.”

“That means he likes you,” the little boy's mother said. “I can tell you're going to be a really good dog person.”

“I am,” the boy said proudly. “And I'll help with the walks, and the feeding, and
everything
.”

His parents laughed.

“Well, we're planning to hold you to that, Freddy,” his father said.

Knowing that the people were going to walk by his kennel next, the Bad Hat went to sit in the far corner, facing away from them.

“That's a beautiful Retriever,” the man said. “What's his name?”

“Webster,” Joan answered. “He's our newest rescue. We're still getting to know him.”

“Hey, Webster,” the little boy said. “Come here, boy!”

The Bad Hat stayed where he was, ignoring all of them. If he didn't act friendly, there was no chance anyone would be interested in adopting him.

“He doesn't like me,” the little boy said, with his voice quavering.

The Bad Hat sighed. Yes, he was an antisocial grouch, but that didn't mean that he wanted to make small children cry. So, he got up and went over to the door, and
allowed the little boy to reach through and pat him on the head.

“He does like me!” the little boy said happily.

The Bad Hat let him pat him for another few seconds, and then went back to sit in the corner.

“That was great,” Joan said to the little boy. “That's as friendly and responsive as he's been to anyone so far. Thank you!”

The little boy beamed, and he and his parents continued down the hall, admiring each of the dogs in turn.

All of the dogs were barking and jumping up against their kennel doors to greet the adopters. There was a rumor that the family had filed an application to adopt Josephine and had been approved, and that they were going to have a private meet-and-greet session with her, to make sure it was a good adoption match. But, that didn't stop all of the dogs around the Bad Hat from hoping that the people might decide that they wanted to bring home
two
dogs.

Even he couldn't resist going out to his fenced-in run to watch as the family played with Josephine in the meadow, and got to know her better. Josephine barked, and rolled, and scampered with the little boy, while his
parents watched with big smiles on their faces.

“Someone's going home tonight,” MacNulty said quietly.

The Bad Hat nodded. It certainly looked that way.

When he had been in other shelters, it had always been difficult for the animals when someone else got adopted. They were all happy for their lucky friend—but, it was hard not to be envious, too.

The first time he had been adopted, he was only about five months old, and still growing—a lot. So, when a young couple came into the pound and wanted to give him a home, he was overjoyed. It was fun, at first, and they seemed to like him when he only weighed about twenty pounds. By the time he hit thirty-five pounds, they were losing interest, and when it was clear he was only half grown, they decided that he was “too big,” and gave him away—to a guy who
also
didn't like him, and abandoned him at a local animal shelter late one rainy night, by tying his leash to the locked back door.

That had been a terrifying night, and he'd been really hungry, and so cold that he couldn't stop shaking the whole time.

When the first shelter worker arrived in the morning
to open up for the day, instead of saying something gentle like,
Let's get you dried off, you poor pup,
he groaned and said, “Oh no, not another one.”

There was always a lot of talk in the shelters about no one wanting to adopt black dogs. And when a stray dog was old, or sick, or had behavior problems, really bad things that the Bad Hat couldn't even
think
about would usually happen.

He was in that particular shelter for a couple of weeks, crammed into a small cage with a cold concrete floor. Then, he was put in a truck, with about fifty other dogs, and they drove for about two days, until he ended up somewhere in New Hampshire—at yet another shelter. That was where the mean family had come and picked him out—before getting rid of him.

So, yeah, he had earned the right to be cynical and grumpy. But, that didn't mean that watching Josephine dance happily around in the meadow with the boy and his parents wasn't breaking his heart a little.

After a while, Josephine and the family went into the house, and were inside for what seemed like hours.

“Finishing the paperwork,” MacNulty said.

Seemed likely, yeah. The Bad Hat nodded.

Finally, the family came outside again, with the little
boy proudly walking Josephine on a brand-new blue leash. The parents shook hands with Joan and Thomas, who both leaned down to give Josephine a farewell hug.

Josephine wagged her tail so hard that her whole body shook.

“Bye!” she barked towards the kennels, right before she got into the car. “I'll miss you guys!”

They all barked things back like, “Good luck!” and “We'll miss you, too!” and “Have fun!”

After the SUV drove down the driveway and out of sight, it got very quiet in the kennels. Jack turned and went inside, without saying anything. The Bad Hat heard him lie down on his bed and start crying. Crying
hard
.

To his shock, the Bad Hat almost started crying, too.

“Hey, come on, cheer up, little man,” he said. “Everything's okay. One of these days, it's going to be your turn, too.”

Jack kept crying.

“You're really cute,” the Bad Hat said. “People won't be able to resist you. Seriously.”

Jack wept even harder. “They've been resisting me for
months
. No one is
ever
going to love me.”

It was hard to disagree with that, when the Bad Hat felt the exact same way. But, then again, Jack was actually
friendly and eager to be chosen by someone—which would have to help him be able to find a new home.

The sadness must have been contagious, because within a minute or two, almost every single dog in the kennels was crying.
Sobbing
, even.

In fact, the truth was, the Bad Hat curled up on his bed in a tight ball, and cried, too.

A little.

Maybe.

T
he Bad Hat wasn't sorry that he, personally, hadn't gotten adopted—even though the little boy and his parents had seemed nice and fun and genuine. But, because all of the other dogs wanted so much to find homes, and people who would love them—and maybe none of them would
ever
get adopted, which was really, really awful—he cried. And cried. And then, cried some more.

After listening to nonstop weeping throughout the kennels for what felt like a really long time, he finally heard a tiny stump, stump, skitter, skitter coming down the hall.

“It's okay, everyone,” Florence said, in soothing meows. “Josephine is going to be very happy, and you all will find
homes someday, too. Joan and Thomas will make
sure
of that. So, please don't be upset.”

No one stopped crying.

“And there are some positively brilliant liver-flavored biscuits baking in the kitchen,” Florence said. “I'm sure Monica will bring them in here for all of you, while they're still warm, and they will taste
delicious
. And then, everyone can go out to the meadow, and run and run until the sun goes down.”

The dogs kept crying. Whimpering. Wailing. Sobbing. Wrenching, terrible, heart-breaking sobs.

The Bad Hat heard Florence sigh. Then, she stumped over to his door—and looked stunned.

“Are you crying, too, Bad Hat?” she asked.

Caught in the act. “Nope,” the Bad Hat said, and was embarrassed that his bark cracked and sounded squeaky. He quickly got up, shook himself all over, and tried not to sniffle audibly as he strode to the door. “I'm too cool to cry.”

“Maybe you have allergies,” Florence said kindly.

That was it. Allergies! The Bad Hat nodded. “Yeah, it's the pollen, that's all. Or—leaves. Autumn leaves bother me. Are the cats crying, too?”

“Most of them, yes,” Florence said.

Wow. “Does this happen every time someone gets adopted?” the Bad Hat asked.

Florence sighed again. “I'm afraid so. It's worse for the ones who have been here for a long time, although some of them, like Cole, have given up on ever finding a home. So, they just shrug it off, and pretend they don't care, and in some ways, that's even
more
sad.”

He had never thought of it that way, but maybe it was true. It was hard to decide what was worse—having hopes that never came true, or having no hopes at all. “Do you think those people will be good to Josephine?” he asked.

Florence nodded. “Indubitably. Their application and references were very carefully checked, and there will be home visits to make sure. Also, the adopters have to promise that if, for any reason, it isn't working out, they will bring the animal back here. No one will
ever
end up in a public shelter again.”

The Bad Hat didn't believe that, but he was sure that Joan and Thomas meant well, and always tried as hard as they could to make things work out.

“Who is the most upset?” Florence asked.

The Bad Hat motioned with his head in the direction of Jack's cage.

“Okay, thank you,” Florence said, and limped over to the kennel next door, where Jack was still sobbing miserably. “Jack,” she said. “You are adorable and charming. You
will
be adopted. I promise.”

“I was jumping really high, and doing spins in the air, and they didn't even
care
,” Jack said, through his tears.

“Of course they cared,” Florence said. “But, their application for Josephine had already been approved, so she was going home with them.”

Jack kept crying.

“When you
do
get adopted, Jack, I'll be the one sitting here weeping,” Florence said. “Because you are my dear friend, and I shall miss you terribly. But, I'll be glad, too, because you will be going off to a wonderful new life.”

Jack sniffled so hard that he sneezed. “I'll miss you, too, Florence. And be really sad that you're unadoptable.”

Not that he was eavesdropping or anything, but the Bad Hat laughed.

“Right, I forgot,” Jack said. “The Bad Hat says that Joan is, like, your person, and that you are
already
adopted.”

Florence laughed, too. “The Bad Hat may have a little bit of cat in him.”

Oh, gross. No way. “I am
all
dog,” the Bad Hat said. “In fact, I'm a dog and a half! All other dogs bow before me.”

Duke—who had been crying in his kennel across the corridor—perked up. “They actually
bow
? How'd you manage that? Florence, you're not going to rename him King, are you? Because I'm still trying to work my way back up.”

“No, he's the Bad Hat,” Florence said. “It rather suits him.”

Raw-ther.
The British accent cracked him up, so the Bad Hat laughed again.

“Don't worry, Duke,” Florence said, ignoring that. “You may still try to earn your promotion.”

“Whew,” Duke said, and flopped back down on his bed.

The connecting door to the house opened, and the smell of baked liver and cheese and other good things came wafting into the hall.

“Oh my, so much howling and yowling back here,” Monica said, in her friendly way. “What a ruckus you dear little things are making. But, you're all going to have some nice biscuits now, and cheer up.”

At least six of the dogs yelled, “Biscuits! Biscuits! Biscuits!”—and now, everyone was barking instead of crying.

Since he was so very resistant to congeniality and the Ways of the Civilized World, the Bad Hat stubbornly decided not to eat his fresh dog biscuits right away. In fact, he lasted almost two full minutes before devouring them.

Then, a couple of volunteers whose names he didn't know came in and took turns leading everyone outside to the meadow. The dogs mostly forgot how unhappy they had been, and romped energetically. Except for a little bit of goofing around with Jack, the Bad Hat was determined to keep to himself. But, when Rachel, a grey-and-white Greyhound mix, challenged him to a race, he took her up on it.

She was
fast
. The Bad Hat realized that he wasn't going to be able to keep pace, so he gave her back hip a quick bump with his shoulder. It knocked her off balance, and she slowed down enough to stare at him.

“What do you think you're doing?” she asked.