Molly's Story

by W. Bruce Cameron

  “Thank you,” CJ whispered. “Thank you.”

  “All right,” the man said. “But keep your promise.”

  CJ nodded frantically, still holding me tightly. The man got into the van and drove away.

  CJ held me tightly. “Oh, Molly,” she whispered. “Oh, Molly, I guess we’d better go home.”

  I could feel her heart beating hard in her chest, and it didn’t quiet down as we walked back to the house. It thudded as we walked up the porch steps. CJ glanced down at the papers that were still scattered across the boards of the porch, bent to pick one up, and looked at it.

  She stood there for a little while, holding me close, with that paper in her hand. Then she opened the door and stepped inside.

  “Clarity? Is that you?”

  Gloria came into the living room from the kitchen and then stopped, staring at me. Staring at CJ and me, together.

  I wagged. I was willing to go over to Gloria and say hello, but CJ held me tightly. In fact, it was a little uncomfortable, but I was willing to put up with that to be next to my girl.

  “What is that?” Gloria demanded.

  “This is Molly. She’s my dog.”

  It wasn’t just CJ’s heart beating hard now. She was shaking all over. I burrowed my head under her chin, trying to get as close to her as possible, to let her know I would always be there to look after her.

  “No. It is not,” Gloria said. “Out! Take it out of here!”

  “No!” CJ jerked her chin up.

  “You cannot have a dog in my house!”

  “I’m keeping her!”

  “You can’t make any demands like that just now. Do you know what trouble you’re in? A truant officer came to my door! You’ve been missing so much school they came out here to arrest you!”

  CJ set me down. I sat on her feet.

  “Did you even bother to read this?” CJ asked. She waved the paper at Gloria. “It doesn’t say anything about arresting me. But it does say you have to come to court with me.”

  “Well. Well!” Gloria stood up straighter and stared down at CJ. “And I will tell them you are completely out of control.”

  “And I’ll tell them why!”

  I could tell that CJ was more angry than frightened now. Her voice said it, and so did her hands, tightened into fists by her sides.

  “What do you mean, why?”

  “Why I was able to skip so much school! You go on trips all the time and leave me here. Without any adults. What do you think a judge in court will think about that?”

  “I don’t believe this. You asked to be left alone. You hated the babysitter I found for you!”

  “I don’t think a judge will care about that,” CJ said firmly, and I could tell that Gloria was the one who was anxious now. I looked around nervously to see what the threat was, but all I saw was the living room—couch, fireplace, coffee table, bookshelf. It looked the same as always.

  “Unless,” CJ said in a low voice. “Unless you let me keep Molly.”

  I heard my name. I looked up at my girl’s face.

  “What on earth?” Gloria demanded.

  “If you let me keep Molly, I won’t tell anybody about your little trips,” CJ told her. “Not the judge. Not the principal. Not anybody. I’ll say I told you I was going to school, but I was actually skipping. I’ll say it wasn’t your fault.”

  “It wasn’t my fault!” Gloria said indignantly.

  “And Molly will help keep me safe,” CJ added. “When you go away. Again. If I have Molly, I won’t mind. I’ll never tell anybody, no matter how long you stay away for.”

  “A dog? In my house? I can’t believe this, Clarity. You know how I feel about dogs.”

  “And you know how I feel about Molly. So what do you want me to do?”

  Gloria threw out her hands, one to each side. “Fine. Fine! But I’m not doing a bit of work to look after that thing.”

  She turned around and walked back into the kitchen.

  CJ let out her breath in a long, shaking sigh. She sat down and pulled me onto her lap. I was happy to get on with the business of kissing her chin and letting her pet me from nose to tail.

  “Oh, Molly,” CJ whispered. “I guess we won.”

  That night I got to cuddle in my girl’s bed again. I was so excited that of course I had trouble sleeping, but CJ put her hand on me and petted me slowly and gently until I got drowsy. I leaned against her and felt my love flowing into her, and hers flowing into me.

  I woke up later because I could hear someone walking down the hall. Gloria.

  The door from CJ’s bedroom to the hallway was open a little. Gloria pushed it open a bit more. Then she stood there, staring in at me on the bed.

  I wagged. Just a little. I did not want to wake up my girl.

  Gloria didn’t seem happy to see either of us. She just stared at me from the darkened hallway.

  7

  After that day, CJ and I never played Be Quiet under the stairs again. I was very glad about that.

  Most days, CJ did go away for much longer than I thought necessary. She would put her backpack on in the mornings after she’d fed me and herself, and she’d bend down to pet me and kiss me on my head. “I have to go to school, Molly,” she’d say. It got so that I’d whimper a little when I heard the word “school.” I knew it meant my girl would be leaving me.

  I usually stayed in CJ’s room while she was gone, since her smell was strongest there. But Gloria would let me out into the backyard whenever I needed to go there. And in the afternoon, CJ would be back again, to scoop me up and cuddle me and take me to the park or in the yard for a good long run and lots of playing.

  Some days she didn’t do school, and then we could be together all the time. Sometimes we stayed home, but more often we visited friends. I loved it best when we went to see Trent and Rocky. CJ must have liked that best, too, because we went there more than any other place.

  It was good to get a chance to play with my brother. Rocky and I would tear around Trent’s backyard or inside in his room, wrestling until we both collapsed with exhaustion. Then I’d lie on top of him for a while, holding his leg in my mouth out of sheer affection.

  CJ was happier at Trent and Rocky’s house than she was at home with Gloria. I could tell. She smiled more often and laughed more loudly, and her body was more relaxed as she sat on the floor of Trent’s room. It made me so happy that sometimes I’d have to leave Rocky and run over to fling myself on her lap and roll over so that she could rub my belly.

  “You think maybe she’s a schnauzer-poodle?” CJ asked Trent one day as she rubbed. “A schnoodle?”

  “I don’t think so,” Trent answered. He was sitting on the floor a little ways from CJ, playing Tug on a Sock with Rocky. “Maybe a Doberman-poodle.”

  “A doodle?”

  I liked the sound of that word. I wagged harder.

  “Or a spaniel of some kind,” Trent said.

  “Molly, you could be a schnoodle, a spoodle, or a doodle, but you’re not a poodle,” CJ said, holding me close and kissing my nose. I wagged harder.

  “Hey, watch this,” Trent told CJ. “Rocky!” Rocky sat up straight and looked right at his boy. “Sit! Sit!” Trent said. Rocky lowered his rear end to the ground, his eyes on Trent the whole time.

  I watched my brother, baffled. What had happened to our excellent game of I’m Faster Than You Are?

  “Good dog!” Trent said, and Rocky jumped up. I figured our game was back on and chased him under the bed.

  “I’m not teaching Molly any tricks,” CJ said. “I get enough orders in my life.”

  “Are you kidding?” I heard Trent say as I stuck my nose under the bed and got ahold of Rocky’s dusty tail. “Dogs want to work. I got this book; that’s what it said. Watch. He likes it. Rocky!”

  Rocky squirmed out from under the bed, twitched his tail out of my mouth, and gave his attention back to Trent.

  “Sit!” Trent said again. Rocky sat.

  Anything my brother
did, I could do. I put my rear end on the floor, too, and waited for somebody to tell me I was a good dog.

  “Look, Molly figured it out by watching Rocky! You’re such a good dog, Molly!” Trent exclaimed. “You, too, Rocky. Good dog!”

  Rocky and I both wagged for being good dogs. Then Rocky rolled over for a belly rub, so I put my teeth on his throat.

  “Hey, so…” Trent said.

  Rocky froze and then wiggled out of my grip. I’d felt it, too—a sudden whiff of fear from Trent. I looked up alertly. Rocky pushed his muzzle under Trent’s hand, while I checked on CJ.

  She was sitting on the floor, leaning back against Trent’s bed. Whatever Trent was afraid of, it wasn’t bothering her.

  “There’s that dance at school. You know?”

  “Saw the posters,” CJ said. She didn’t sound interested.

  “Maybe … I don’t know … do you want to go?”

  “Nah. Who’d ask me?” CJ laughed.

  Trent’s face was growing red. Rocky wiggled his whole body under his boy’s hand to see if that would help.

  “Well, I just did,” he said, not very loudly.

  “What? No, are you kidding? You don’t go to a dance with your friends,” CJ said, laughing. “That’s not what it’s for.”

  Trent picked up Rocky and held him close to his face. “Yeah, but…,” he mumbled into my brother’s fur.

  “But what? You go with a girlfriend, that’s what you do. Ask somebody pretty. What about Susan? I know she likes you.”

  “No, I’m…” Trent put Rocky down in his lap. “Pretty? CJ, come on. You know you’re pretty.”

  “Goof.” CJ laughed again. “Okay, show me what else you’ve taught Rocky.”

  Trent was frowning and looking at the ground. “I haven’t taught him anything else,” he said.

  CJ stared at him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. So what’s up with the truant stuff?” he asked CJ.

  Now Trent wasn’t scared anymore, but he wasn’t happy, either. I knew he’d be better soon, though, since Rocky was with him. I flopped down next to CJ and rolled onto my back, presenting my belly to be rubbed.

  CJ scratched. I wiggled with pleasure.

  “Oh, it’s such a pain,” she said. “I’ve got detention, but it’s not like regular detention. It’s this weirdo kind of art class instead.”

  “Seriously? You skip school and get to go to art?”

  “Yeah, bizarre, huh? It’s after school, and it starts next week. But I can’t miss a day. Not one! If I do, no more art class, and they pull me out of regular classes, too. I have to sit in some room with a computer and learn all by myself.”

  “Well, I hate to say I told you so, but—”

  “So don’t!” CJ jumped up. “Let’s take the dogs for a walk.”

  Walk! I knew that word! It was a wonderful word! Rocky and I both tore around Trent’s room in a frenzy of happiness.

  A few days later, CJ took me on another walk right after she got home from school. I was glad, but for some reason CJ seemed in a hurry. Normally, she was very nice about letting me sniff for as long as I wanted, unless I found something deliciously dead. Then she always pulled me away. I never understood why.

  But this time she walked briskly, and I only got whiffs of other dogs and squirrels and mouthwatering pieces of trash from the tufts of grass as we passed.

  “Come on, Molly. We can’t be late!” CJ insisted.

  I didn’t understand why we were in such a rush, but at least she was taking me with her. “There’s the art building,” she said, and she broke into a quick jog. I stayed close at her side.

  She pushed open a door, and smells wafted out at me. Some were sharp and made my eyes sting. Some were chalky and dusty. Some were rich and almost seemed like something to eat—but not quite. Some smelled like the dirt in the yard after it had rained.

  I stood still, my nose working as hard as it could to sort out all the new smells as CJ talked to a tall woman who came to greet her.

  “Um, it’s all right to bring my dog, right?” CJ said. She was nervous. I pressed close to her leg. “I called and asked. I talked to someone in the office and she said okay, as long as she behaves. She’s really good.”

  “I’m sure she is,” the woman said. “Hi, CJ. I’m Sheryl. Welcome. Why don’t you take a seat? We’ll get started in a minute.”

  CJ sat down at a table and took off her jacket, tossing it over another chair. I stayed by her side a bit and then wandered off to explore.

  There was a sink, and another doorway that led (I could tell by sniffing underneath the closed door) into a hallway. There was a desk where Sheryl was pulling open drawers to find something. And there were a lot of tables. Kids were sitting at each one. “Aw, cute dog!” one of them said, and soon hands were coming out from all directions to pet me. I licked a lot of fingers and even lapped at a few faces that came down close to mine.

  I thought CJ and I would probably like the art building just fine.

  After that, we did art building three times a week. CJ would sit at a table and draw, or stand at an easel and smear paints on its surface. I liked the smell of the paints, but not of the turpentine she’d used to clean her hands afterward. I wouldn’t let her pet me until the smell had worn off a little.

  That was all right, though, because there were plenty of other kids there who wanted to stroke my back or rub behind my ears. “Hi, Molly!” they’d call. “CJ, I brought a treat for Molly. Can I give it to her?” “Hey, Molly, come here!” I loved hearing so many different voices call my name. I’d wander among the tables while CJ worked with her paints and pencils, and I’d collect all the attention I could.

  There was one boy who never petted me, though, even though he sat at CJ’s table. He looked at CJ a lot. I noticed that, because I looked at her a lot, too. But the way he did it seemed different from the way I did. I looked at her because she was my girl, and I needed to be alert to everything she did. He looked at her as if he were angry with her, even if she was just sitting quietly, rubbing a pencil on a sheet of paper.

  I heard Sheryl call his name often. “Shane, can you get started, please?” she’d say. “Shane, show me your progress. Shane, keep your attention on your own work.”

  I didn’t mind that Shane never petted me, because I didn’t like the way he smelled. Sometimes there was a sour, smoky odor on his hands and breath. But even when that scent wasn’t there, he smelled of anger and frustration and, way underneath, of fear.

  Dogs who are frightened are usually the ones who snap at you for no reason, even if you’re just trying to play a fun game of It’s My Ball and You Can’t Have It. I tried to stay away from Shane.

  One time, right after we got to the art building, Sheryl called CJ up to the front of the room. Of course I went with her. “Up here,” Sheryl said, smiling.

  CJ lifted me up to the top of Sheryl’s desk. There was a bright red pillow there, and a soft, dark green blanket. CJ plopped me down on the blanket.

  “Perfect!” Sheryl said, reaching out to pet me. I licked her. Her fingers tasted like clay. “Look how her black fur just glows against those colors. Will she stay there, do you think?”

  “I think so,” CJ said. “If I sit nearby.”

  “Good. Then you sit at this end of the desk. Everyone else ready? I can’t wait to see the Molly portraits you’re going to come up with!”

  CJ settled down in a chair close by me. “Stay there, Molly,” she said to me.

  I wagged to hear my name. Then I peered over the edge of the desk. It seemed like a long way down, and even though I wanted to walk around the tables and get petted by all my new friends, I didn’t feel like jumping.

  Besides, the pillow was very soft, and the blanket was cozy, and CJ was nearby. I curled up contentedly, tucking my tail under my nose.

  “Perfect,” Sheryl said softly from behind me. “Okay, everyone, paint!”

  The room got very quiet. There was just the sound of brushes lickin
g across paper. It was soothing. I began to drift into a half-asleep, half-awake state. If CJ said anything I’d perk right up, but for right now a snooze seemed best.

  “You brought in a dog?” I heard a man’s voice say.

  I twitched one ear but didn’t bother to sit up. The voice was coming from far away, in the doorway that connected the art room to the hallway.

  Sheryl’s voice, from the same place, answered it. “That’s Molly. She comes every week.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise?”

  “Nobody’s allergic. I checked. And everybody loves her.” Sheryl laughed a little. “Honestly, nobody’s missed a day this semester, and I think it’s because of Molly.”

  The man’s voice chuckled. “Maybe we should have dogs in the regular classrooms, too. Everything going well? No problems?”

  “None so far.”

  “How about…” The man’s voice trailed off.

  Sheryl lowered her voice, too, but I was still able to hear easily. “Shane? I don’t know. He comes to every class, and he does the work—well, eventually. But it’s pretty clear he’s only here because he has to be.”

  “That’s true of a lot of them, though, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe the first few times. But most of them really come to enjoy it. Shane, though … I’m not getting through to him. Not the way I want to.”

  “But he’s not causing trouble?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle,” Sheryl said.

  I could hear the man’s footsteps going away down the hall. Sheryl walked among the tables. I opened one eye to check on CJ, who was bent over her paper, frowning with concentration. Then I closed both eyes and went to sleep for real, happy to be with my girl.

  8

  It was a shame I couldn’t stay with my girl all day, every day. But whenever she was doing school, I was stuck at home with Gloria.

  I tried to show Gloria that, even though CJ was my girl, I was perfectly willing to be friendly to her, too. But it was pretty clear that Gloria didn’t want that. If I came close to ask for an ear scratch or a back rub, she’d push me away. If I stood near the back door to go out, she’d sigh with impatience before she opened it, and she often forgot to let me back in. I’d have to bark very loudly to remind her.