Molly's Story

by W. Bruce Cameron

  When I woke up, however, CJ started that same old game up again.

  She carried me down the stairs and tucked me into the small space. I tried to dart out and almost made it, but she slid the box back into place too quickly.

  I sat down, frustrated. Why did my girl keep doing this?

  I was puzzled by something else as well. CJ didn’t go up the basement stairs. She didn’t go out the door into the backyard, either. She stayed on the other side of the boxes.

  I barked to tell her to let me out.

  “No!” CJ said harshly.

  I jumped. My girl had never talked that way to me! I was so surprised that I just sat still, not sure what to do.

  After a few minutes, CJ slid the box aside. “Good girl, Molly!” she said, and handed me a crunchy treat.

  While I was happily eating it, she slid the box back into place. I barked.

  “No!” CJ said.

  And the game went on like that for a long, long time.

  I didn’t like being alone in the space under the stairs, and I could think of other games that were much more fun to play. What about Tug on a Towel? Or Chew on My New Toy? Or even just Lick the Girl Under the Chin?

  But I came to understand that, if I stayed quietly under the stairs, I’d get a treat. If I barked, I’d get a “No!” from CJ.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of it all, or why the rules of the game had changed. But I played it, anyway. It wasn’t as if there were anything else to do.

  After we’d played Be Quiet for far too long, and had a few trips to the backyard for more fun, and had a nap or two, I heard a door upstairs open. “Okay, here she comes,” CJ muttered. “Let’s do this, Molly.” She put me back under the stairs and slid the box into place.

  I sat quietly.

  CJ went up the stairs. I kept sitting. There were footsteps on the ceiling above, and voices talking, and smells of food.

  I kept sitting. Then I chewed on my toy. Then I waited some more.

  It seemed to take forever, but at last CJ came down with praise and my treat, and let me out through the basement door for a long walk up and down several streets. I smelled a rabbit!

  When we got back home, CJ put me back under the stairs, for more Be Quiet. I sighed and whimpered a little. But I was worn out from the long walk, and pretty soon I fell asleep.

  I stirred awake when I heard footsteps coming down the basement stairs. They were heavier than my girl’s, though, and that familiar flowery scent was coming down with them. I knew they belonged to Gloria.

  She sighed and put something heavy down on the floor. “I hate laundry,” she muttered. A metal door opened and, a few moments later, clanged shut.

  “Gloria? What are you doing in the basement?” CJ’s voice, sounding alarmed, came from the top of the stairs. A second later she was clattering down.

  “What do you think?” Gloria’s voice answered. “What else is there to do down here?”

  I waited impatiently for CJ to let me out. I’d been quiet forever.

  “Oh, sure, laundry. I forgot!” CJ said brightly and loudly. “Maybe I can help?”

  I whined and scratched at the box, to remind CJ that I’d been extremely good and was ready for my treat.

  “Well, sure,” Gloria said, sounding a little baffled. “Get that stuff out of the washing machine, then.”

  “Okay! Got it!” CJ’s voice was still loud. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t hear me whining. I tried again.

  “Um, Gloria?”

  “What is it?”

  “I wanted to ask you. About. Um. About my dad?”

  “What about him?” Gloria said shortly. “No, don’t put that in the dryer. It’s silk. It has to line dry.”

  “Okay, sure, got it. I mean, not about him so much. I mean, it’s been a lot of years since the car accident. I don’t think about him so much. Anymore.”

  “Five years,” Gloria said. “Five years of being a single parent.”

  “Yeah, sure. I mean … I was thinking about … didn’t he have relatives?”

  “What relatives?” Gloria demanded.

  “Well, I kind of remember. Wasn’t there a farm? I think I was there, once at least. And a pond? A horse, maybe? Are they still there?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” Gloria said, sounding not much interested. “Your dad’s mom wouldn’t give that place up for a million dollars. I can’t figure out why. A filthy barn with a horse in it, and that smelly pond, and a disgusting dog running around everywhere, even in the house. Why anybody would want to live like that…”

  This game of Be Quiet was going on too long. I sighed with frustration and scratched louder at the boxes. Surely my girl hadn’t forgotten the new rules?

  “So, I was thinking,” CJ said nervously. “Maybe I could visit one day? It’s my grandmother who has the farm, right? I mean, I’d just like to—”

  Something heavy thumped down on a metal surface.

  “Certainly not,” Gloria said. “I can’t believe you’d ask that, Clarity.”

  “But I just want to know—”

  “They treated me horribly. Horribly! You know this.”

  “Well, I know you didn’t get along with them all the time, but—”

  “They tried to tell me I didn’t know how to take care of my own daughter!” Gloria sounded indignant. “How can you even think of this, Clarity? It’s like you have no loyalty at all.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I just wondered, that’s all.”

  “Well, you can stop wondering. And bring those dry clothes up.” Gloria marched up the stairs. A few seconds later, the box that shut me in slid aside and CJ was there, digging a treat out of her pocket for me.

  “That was a close one, Molly!” she whispered. “Oh, girl … you’re a good dog. Good, Molly.” She fed me an extra treat and scooped me up to her face. I licked salty tears from her cheeks.

  Then CJ told me to Be Quiet—again!—and pushed me back under the stairs, which was extremely unfair. I heard her go up the stairs. But she was back down very quickly with another treat, and took me out into the yard for a long time before bringing me back to the basement to sleep.

  In the morning I was quiet some more, and then CJ came down with her backpack on to give me my treat and pet me and kiss me and take me out to the backyard. She was nervous, though; I could hear it in her voice and feel it in her hands as she petted me. “I’m sorry, Molly. I can’t miss any more school,” she whispered. “I have to go. I’ll come back at lunchtime and let you out, okay?” She put me under the stairs. “Be good. Be quiet.”

  In a hurry, she slid the box into place and dashed out into the backyard. Without me.

  I sighed. I napped for a bit. I chewed on my toy, finally tearing it into two pieces. I wished I could show CJ what a good job I’d done.

  Then I napped a bit more. There was nothing else to do. When I woke, I heard Gloria moving around upstairs.

  Did Gloria know I was supposed to be fed treats for playing Be Quiet?

  When I scratched at the box a little bit, I saw that CJ had not pushed it quite as far as she usually did. I scratched harder, and then I put my nose to the crack between the edge of the staircase and the surface of the box. I pushed. The box shifted just a little bit.

  I pushed and scratched some more. Since I wasn’t barking, this seemed okay to do. CJ had never said “No!” to pushing.

  The crack got bigger and bigger. One last shove, and I could get my head through. Then my body followed, and I was out in the basement.

  The basement wasn’t much fun without CJ. The upstairs always smelled more interesting. That’s where the food was, and where the people spent most of their time, so the carpet and furniture all smelled like them.

  I headed up the stairs.

  It was hard work. I had to get my front paws on each step, and then heave and scramble to make my back paws climb up and meet them. But I kept going.

  I could see that the door at the top of the stairs had been left ope
n. Now there was only one step left. I got my front paws up, dug my claws into the floor, hauled my back legs up as well, and I was in the kitchen at last.

  The doorbell rang. I licked up a spot of something sticky and sweet on the floor, listening to Gloria walk through the living room and open the door.

  “Yes?” she said.

  I finished cleaning the floor, I shook myself, trotted toward Gloria’s voice. Maybe she’d just forgotten about the treat. I’d be glad to remind her.

  She was standing in the doorway. I headed across the living room floor to greet her. Air flowing through the open door was full of the fresh scent of grasses and trees and damp earth and all of the small nighttime animals who’d wandered across the yard while it was dark.

  Someone else was standing at the door, right in front of Gloria. “Miss Mahoney?” she said. “I’m Officer Llewellyn. I’m a truant officer.”

  I trotted over to say hello to Gloria and to this new person. The woman on the porch glanced over Gloria’s shoulder at me and then returned to the conversation.

  “Truant officer? What are you talking about?” Gloria asked.

  “I need to talk to you,” the stranger said. “Your daughter has been absent from school too many times this semester.”

  Gloria just stood there, doing nothing, even though I was right by her side, waiting for my treat. I put a paw on her leg.

  She looked down at me and screamed.

  6

  Gloria jumped out onto the porch, and I followed. I wagged my tail at her and the other woman standing there.

  “That’s not a fox!” Gloria yelped.

  The new woman bent down and petted me. She had warm, gentle hands that smelled of soap and also of salty nuts. I licked them happily. “A fox?” she said, confused. “Of course it’s not. It’s a puppy.”

  “What’s it doing in my house?” Gloria gasped.

  The woman stood up. “I can’t answer that, ma’am. It’s your house. Here’s a copy of the citation, along with a notice to appear.” She handed Gloria some papers. “You’ll need to come to court with your daughter. Understand?”

  “What about the dog?”

  I looked up at Gloria and wagged harder at the word “dog.” Maybe she had finally remembered about my treat.

  “What about it?”

  “Take it with you!” Gloria demanded.

  “I can’t do that, ma’am.”

  “So you mean to tell me you’re more concerned about a kid skipping a couple of classes than you are about a woman trapped on her own porch by a dog?”

  “That’s…” The new woman sounded bewildered. “That’s right, yes.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard of!” Gloria cried out. “What kind of police officer are you?”

  “I’m a truant officer, Miss Mahoney. I think you have everything you need now.” The woman turned and walked off the porch.

  “What do I do about the dog?” Gloria yelled after her.

  “Call Animal Control, ma’am; that’s what they do.”

  “All right, I will,” Gloria muttered. She took a step sideways to where a broom was leaning against the wall of the house, and dropped the papers she was holding to grab it. She jabbed the bristly end at me.

  I jumped back, and then leaped forward again, trying to catch the bristles in my teeth. This was a wonderful game!

  “No!” Gloria shouted, real fear in her voice.

  I stopped and looked up at her, tilting my head. I knew that word “no.” But what was it about? Didn’t she like the game? We could play something else if she wanted.

  In one quick movement, Gloria stepped inside and slammed the door shut.

  I stood for a few minutes, looking at the door, but it did not open up again. So I wandered down into the yard.

  It was another nice day. Maybe that rabbit would be out looking for me. I left the yard and trotted down the sidewalk, sniffing at the bushes. It would be more fun to be outside with CJ, of course. Or Rocky to play and wrestle with. But still, this was better than playing Be Quiet under the stairs.

  The air was rich with the fresh, juicy scents of leaves and grass, and sweet with flowers. I could smell where other dogs had left their marks on bushes and signposts, and where cats had rubbed against tree trunks and fences. Squirrels had darted across the grass, and I caught a whiff of the rabbit and followed it to a hole under a porch. When a car whizzed by, it added its own metallic, oily smell. My nose never stopped moving.

  It was pretty clear that the rabbit wasn’t going to come back out, so after I’d sniffed at its hole for a while, I kept moving. A trash can on a corner drew me close. There was food in there! It seemed like forever since CJ had brought me a bowl of crunchy things to eat.

  Just by sniffing, I could tell that there were scraps of bread and bits of meat in the garbage, along with other things that smelled tasty, too. I stood up on my hind legs and stretched my front paws up as high on the can as they could go, but I couldn’t reach anything. I dropped back down, and something crunched under my paws.

  It was a thin, crinkly bag, and it smelled deliciously of salt. I stuck my nose deep inside it, licking hard. There were a few thin, crispy chips at the bottom, and I gobbled them up. The salt made me thirsty even as I ate, and burned my tongue like the ham had, but I couldn’t stop.

  Then I shook my head hard to get the bag off. It went flying. Across the street I spotted a squirrel, perched low on the trunk of a tree, near the ground. It looked excellent to chase. I needed to get over there!

  But I paused at the edge of the curb and peered down at the street. So far I’d gone up steps, but never down. Up seemed easier. I put out a paw, hesitated, and then leaned farther over. Suddenly, I couldn’t keep my balance any longer, and both front legs, followed by my head, came down onto the street. My back legs followed a second later.

  I rolled over, got to my feet, and shook myself. A car came past, and I realized that I was closer to these giant, noisy, strange-smelling beasts than I had been while I was on the sidewalk.

  Across the street, the squirrel scrambled a foot up the trunk. It was getting away! I barked and bunched my back legs under me, ready to sprint.

  Then a big human hand came under my belly and scooped me up.

  “Hey, there, little pup,” a deep voice said. “That doesn’t look safe.”

  I squirmed around to get a look at whoever had picked me up.

  It was a big man with a rumbly voice and a fuzz of black hair on his face. In one hand—the one that wasn’t holding on to me—he had a pole with a loop of shiny rope at the end. But he leaned that against a van that was parked by the curb and used his free hand to rub my ears.

  He smelled interesting, of other dogs and soap, and there was something fresh and minty in his mouth. But right now I wanted that squirrel. I scrabbled with my paws to let him know to put me down.

  “Calm down, now,” he said, and he opened up the back door of the van. There was a strange-looking box in there, made all of metal wire. And a smell wafted out from it that I did not like. It smelled like fear, like more than one dog had been here and had been very, very afraid.

  With one hand, the man opened up the door of the box. Deftly, he plopped me inside.

  Then, as quickly as CJ would slide the boxes to trap me under the stairs, he shut the door.

  I was stuck! I turned in a circle, bewildered. Lots of other dogs had been in this box before me. I could tell. And most of them had been unhappy and frightened.

  How was I going to get that squirrel now? When would CJ let me out?

  “Hey!” a voice shouted.

  The man turned at the sound of footsteps getting closer.

  “Hey!” The second shout was louder. And I knew the voice.

  It was CJ!

  I put my paws up on the cage and barked with happiness. Somehow I knew we weren’t playing Be Quiet now. And my girl was here! My tail beat the air.

  “What are you doing?” CJ gasped, running up to the man wh
o’d put me in here. She looked wide-eyed and frightened. “That’s my dog!”

  “Now wait,” the man said. “Just wait.”

  “You can’t take my dog!” CJ cried.

  I began to get worried. CJ’s voice was high-pitched and anxious, like that of a puppy who can’t find her mother. I could tell she needed me. Why didn’t she just let me out and pick me up?

  “We had a complaint,” the man told CJ. “And this dog was running around loose.”

  I yipped to remind CJ that I was here, and waiting.

  “Complaints? Molly’s just a puppy,” CJ said. “Who complains about a puppy?”

  I yipped louder at hearing my name.

  The man shook his head. “She’s got no collar. No tag. Nothing to say where she belongs.”

  “She belongs with me!” CJ said frantically. “Can’t you tell? Look at her!”

  I tried chewing on the wire, but it hurt my teeth. So I just jumped up as high as I could reach and barked and squirmed and did everything I could to tell my girl to come and get me.

  “Listen, hon,” the man said. “If she’s your dog, you can pick her up at the shelter anytime after noon tomorrow.”

  “But wait! Wait!” Tears were flowing down CJ’s face now. I whimpered, wanting to kiss her sadness away. Why wouldn’t she pick me up so I could take care of her? “She won’t understand if you take her away. She’ll think I don’t care about her. Please, please. I don’t know how she got out, but I promise you it won’t happen again. Promise, promise. Please?”

  The man took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Well … all right, look. Okay. But you need to get her a collar and a tag. And take her to the vet. Get her vaccinated, get her a microchip, and in a few months, spay her. And then get a license. It’s the law.”

  CJ gasped and blotted at her tears. “I will. I really will. Please, please, can I have my dog?”

  The man reached in and opened up the door of the metal box.

  I bounded out into CJ’s arms. I didn’t get a treat this time—maybe I hadn’t been quiet enough. But I didn’t care. It was enough to be close to CJ, to lick at her salty tears, and wag my tail hard against her body.