Webster (7 page)

Wasn't it obvious? The Bad Hat shrugged. “I hate to lose.”

Rachel looked puzzled. “But, that's cheating.”

Was it? Not really. “No, it's
gamesmanship
,” the Bad Hat said. “It's not the same at all.”

Rachel narrowed her eyes. “What's the difference?”

It was a jock thing, and someone either got it, or not. She seemed to fall right smack into the
not
category. “I wanted to win, but you were faster, so I knocked you down,” the Bad Hat said.

Rachel frowned. “Just like that?”

Yep.

Lancelot, who was jumping around with a skinny little Spaniel mix named Matilda, laughed. “Dude, that is so totally twisted. You're going to be a really good villain.”

Oh, yeah. He was going to be a
fabulous
villain. And a ne'er-do-well, and a punk, and all of that other great stuff.

The rest of the dogs kept playing, but after a while, the Bad Hat wandered over to the fence by himself. He stood there, gauging the height. It looked pretty high, but it really wasn't. He would need a running start, but if he put a good effort into it, he could almost certainly jump high enough to be able to scramble over the top and escape.

Which was, of course, his goal, but did he want to do
it
today
? Right after everyone had finally stopped crying? Maybe he should bide his time.

Not that they would all go to pieces, if he left—but, still. This wasn't the right moment.

Jack bounced over next to him. “What's up, buddy?”

Buddy? Okay,
definitely
not today. He didn't want to have Jack dissolve into tears twice in less than an hour. “Just thinking,” he said.

Jack shrugged. “Okay. You sure do that a lot, Bad Hat. But, want to chase our tails, instead? That would be
so fun
.”

There were worse ways to spend an hour, yeah. “I'll watch you, little man,” the Bad Hat said. “Then, maybe I'll join in.”

“Okay!” Jack said. He chased his tail in one direction, stopped to scratch for a few seconds, and then chased his tail wildly in the other direction.

“That's a pretty dumb game,” the Bad Hat said.

Jack reversed direction, and chased his tail some more. “That's probably why it's fun.”

Well, yeah. Dog games had never been famous for their complexity. The Bad Hat liked to think of himself as being unusually intelligent and clever—but, that didn't make it true.

“Can I climb on your back and look around?” Jack asked. “See what it's like to be big?”

What? No! “Of course you can't,” the Bad Hat said.

“Come on, colleague, bend your legs a little, so I can climb up,” Jack said impatiently.

He was never going to live down the colleague crack, was he? The Bad Hat sighed, and lowered his front paws and shoulders. “Fine. But, just for a minute.”

“Yay!” Jack said, and scrabbled his way up.

The Bad Hat winced. “Ow. You need to have your claws clipped.”

“I know,” Jack said, very cheerful. “I was really bad the last time they tried, so they postponed it.”

Great. The dog stood patiently, resisting the urge to shake Jack off.

Jack looked around, balancing precariously, digging those annoying claws in. “Wow, it must be cool to be this tall.”

Yeah. Although the Bad Hat was pretty sure he would be cool no matter
how
big he was.

Jack enjoyed the view for a while longer, and then jumped down to the grass. “Want to chase our tails some more?”

Why not. “Sure,” the Bad Hat said—and that was what they did, until it was time to go inside again.

•  •  •

After midnight, all of the animals gathered in the den for snacks and movies. They watched
E.T.
—which made most of them cry again, during the sad scenes. But, it was still a really good movie, and the dog was glad they had chosen it. Next, they watched a movie called
The Blind Side 
—which was about football, and so, in the Bad Hat's opinion, a fine viewing choice.

They were going to watch a third movie, but it was close to dawn, and it would take a while for everyone to get back to their kennels without being seen. So, they made sure that the television was off, the kibble bags were dragged out of sight, and the room looked neat and orderly, as though none of them had ever been in there.

“I liked the movies,” Jack said drowsily from his bed.

Hard to disagree with that. The snacks had been good, too. “Yep,” the Bad Hat said, and decided that he sounded just like a cowboy. All terse, and laconic, and heroically aloof.

“Do you really think Josephine will be happy?” Jack asked.

“Yup,” the Bad Hat said. Did he want to be a cowboy, instead of a villain? Maybe, yeah. Although it was so hard to
choose
.

“That's good,” Jack said, and yawned. “Someday, we will be, too. See you tomorrow, best friend. I mean, colleague!”

In spite of his better instincts, that made the Bad Hat smile. “You bet, little man,” he said.

•  •  •

It was colder the next day, but they were still all eager to run in the meadow for most of the morning. Then, it was time for lunch, and long naps. Thomas came to get the Bad Hat at one point, and brought him to the examination room, for a quick checkup by Dr. K., who reported that his ribs were healing beautifully. The Bad Hat didn't go out of his way to be friendly, but he cooperated with the exam and stood without moving the entire time. He was very glad, though, when it was time to go back to his kennel for another nap.

After supper was over—they had hamburger and yoghurt with their kibble!—the dogs were restless, because everyone could feel a storm coming. It was going to be something called a nor'easter, which the Bad Hat thought was a mighty fancy Yankee way to describe a little wind and
rain. He wasn't sure what the big deal was, but the rest of the animals were edgy, and for once, MacNulty wasn't the only one pacing around.

So far, there was just a cool breeze in the air, and it was drizzling a little, and the Bad Hat had no trouble nodding off.

But, around ten o'clock, the rain really started coming down and the wind intensified. It was a serious downpour now, and the pressure from the wind made the Bad Hat's ears hurt. They all stayed inside the warm, enclosed parts of their kennels, and away from the outdoor runs. The storm was a lot more powerful than the Bad Hat had expected, and he was glad to be indoors.

To make matters worse, right before midnight, the power went out, and it was suddenly completely dark.

“Oh, no,” MacNulty groaned. “No movies or TV tonight.”

That was disappointing, but then again, the Bad Hat felt snug and sleepy on his soft bed. So, it might be okay to have a full night's rest for once. One thing he had learned during the past couple of days was that afternoon naps just didn't make up for gallivanting and hobnobbing all night, every night.

After a while, Thomas and Joan came through the corridor, holding flashlights and battery-powered lanterns. They checked every kennel to make sure that all of the dogs were okay, and stopped to comfort some of the more anxious ones. Matilda was shivering uncontrollably, and by craning his neck, the Bad Hat saw Joan strap her into some kind of little jacket. Once she was wearing it, Matilda wagged her tail and settled down onto her bed.

“That's a ThunderShirt,” Jack said. “Makes bad weather seem less scary.”

Which made no sense. “How does it do that?” the Bad Hat asked.

“I don't know,” Jack said. “One time, during a thunderstorm, I pretended I was all upset, so I could try one on.”

That figured. “Did you like it?” the Bad Hat asked.

Jack thought about that. “Well, it was snug, so that was sort of nice. But then, it got wicked hot, and I had to pitch a fit so they would take it off me.”

These New England animals loved using the word “wicked” to describe things. It was peculiar. But, the image of Jack kicking and writhing and making a scene—in a too-tight jacket—was pretty funny.

After a while, even the really nervous dogs relaxed,
and the Bad Hat fell asleep to the sound of pounding rain and howling winds. Thomas and Joan had left two of the battery-powered storm lanterns in the hall, so it wasn't as dark and spooky anymore.

He wasn't sure what time it was when a violent crashing sound woke him up. Then, something heavy smashed into his kennel so hard that it felt like the whole building shook.

He leaped to his feet, barking out a fierce “Whoa!”

All around him, the other dogs had also woken up. Everyone was asking what happened, and if anyone was hurt.

“I think a branch fell,” Lancelot said. “There's leaves and stuff in my run.”

“There's leaves and stuff in my
water dish
,” Jack said. “Yuck! How am I going to drink it, when it's all gross like that?”

“I think it's a tree,” MacNulty said. “It looks like there's a tree on top of my kennel.”

The Bad Hat peeked out through his swinging door, not sure what to expect. But, it was definitely a fallen tree, and it had pretty much crushed his section of chain link fence. There were so many branches and leaves that he couldn't see into the exercise runs on either side.

“You okay, little man?” he asked. “You okay, MacNulty?”

They both yelled, “Yes!”—which was a relief.

“Looks like you got the worst of it, Bad Hat,” MacNulty said. “Mine isn't so messed up.”

“Mine's okay, too,” Jack said. “Except for my water, which is, like,
ruined
. I hope I can wait until morning, for them to clean it out.” He coughed experimentally. “But, I don't know. I'm suddenly wicked thirsty.”

Such a baby. Weren't Terriers supposed to be tough? “My fence is broken,” the Bad Hat said.

“Wow,” one of the dogs from across the hall said. “You're lucky it only fell outside. Your whole cage could have been smashed, and you, along with it!”

What a comforting thought. The Bad Hat wormed his way through some of the thick, wet branches and saw that the end of his kennel had been torn off completely from the force of the tree landing on top of it. So, the kennel was now open.

Open.

Inviting him.

Beckoning.

“The fence isn't attached anymore,” he said slowly.

“That's okay,” MacNulty said. “They'll fix it in the morning.”

With the fence gone, the wind—and the meadow—smelled even more fresh and tantalizing than usual.

“I could get out,” the Bad Hat said.

In fact, he could get out
easily
. Be free, and independent. He ventured forward a few steps, careful not to let his paws touch any of the sharp metal ends sticking up from the torn chain-link fencing.

“Don't do it, man,” MacNulty said, in a low warning voice.

“Come on, it's right there in front of me,” the Bad Hat said. “Like a
sign
. And I'm an adventurer.”

“Fine, whatever,” MacNulty said. “But, don't be an idiot, too.”

Was he really supposed to resist such a perfect opportunity? The Bad Hat shook his head and climbed over a pile of wet branches.

“What's he doing?” Jack asked nervously. “I can't see anything through the leaves! What are you doing, Bad Hat?”

“He's going to try to run away,” MacNulty said.

No, he wasn't going to try; he was going to
do
it.

“What?!” Jack sounded horrified. “You can't do that, Bad Hat—you're my best friend!”

“This might be my only chance, little man,” the Bad Hat said. “If I stay here, I'll never know what it's like out
there. And, even worse, I might get adopted again. So, I have to go, while I can.”

“But, we might get adopted
together
,” Jack said. “And then, we could always be friends.”

Even if he wanted to be adopted, no one who liked a cute, feisty little Terrier would also want a big, clumsy black dog with an attitude problem.

“It's nice of you to say that, but I honestly don't think anyone is ever going to choose me,” the Bad Hat said. “Don't worry, I'll be okay out there. And I'll really miss you guys.”

As the word quickly spread, more and more dogs were yelling for him to stay, and not to do anything stupid.

What, like “Stupid” wasn't his middle name? “Sorry, guys, a dog's gotta do what a dog's gotta do,” the Bad Hat said.

Everyone was yelling, “No!” or “Stop!” except for Jack, who was yelling, “Don't leave me!” All of which made the Bad Hat feel a little guilty.

Okay, he felt
a lot
guilty. Still, he needed to go find his destiny, and maybe even his purpose in the world. And he couldn't do that here, although it was a fairly pleasant place to be, and he
would
miss everyone.

But, still. This was his chance. And he was a dog, looking
at an open door. They were dogs, too. What did they
expect
him to do? Just ignore it? So, he squirmed through a few more branches, and found himself standing outside, on the wet grass.

“Don't,” Jack said tearfully. “Please don't.”

“I'm sorry, Jack, I just have to go,” the Bad Hat said. “But, I'll never forget you. Say good-bye to Florence and the other cats for me. And thanks for being so nice, while I was staying here.”

Then, he turned and ran across the grass, heading for the woods. Everyone was shouting for him to come back, but he ignored the barking and ran faster.

It felt good to run. He felt strong. He felt fierce.

He was free!

T
he Bad Hat galloped through the woods, splashed across a stream, and raced up the mossy bank on the other side.