And I was going to do something about him.
Both times I’d met Baxter, CJ had picked me up so that I never got a chance to show him who was boss. Now was the moment! I lunged forward with all the strength in my body, but my leash yanked me back.
“Max, no!” CJ screamed. “Max, stay!”
I knew she was talking to me, but I didn’t know what she meant. And it didn’t matter, not at that moment. I’d go back to being CJ’s dog in a minute, but first I needed to teach Baxter exactly who was in charge in this alley.
I shook my head and twisted sideways, pulling against the leash, and to my delight my collar slipped off right over my head. CJ gasped in horror and lunged to grab me, but I dodged her reaching hands and shot as fast as I could straight at Baxter.
The big dog didn’t even turn to notice me! That wouldn’t do at all. I couldn’t teach him that I was the leader if he ignored me.
I nipped his back foot hard. Mid-bark, he whirled to face me.
His face loomed above me, and bubbles of saliva frothed among his strong white teeth. A few lines, marked with beads of blood, showed up along the shiny black surface of his nose.
I leaped up as high as I could and nipped his nose, right where the red lines were. It wasn’t that hard a bite—I only wanted to teach him, not hurt him. But he jumped back with a yelp of pain, and that’s when a small gray form darted past us both. Sneakers raced for the mouth of the alley, where CJ was still standing with my leash dangling from her hand.
Jillian was next to her. I wondered when she’d gotten here, but I didn’t have much time to think of it. I wasn’t done with Baxter.
CJ was shouting at Baxter to get back, to get away, that he was a bad, bad dog. And it was true! He was! I growled as loudly as I could, dropping my head low to the ground. I stepped forward one pace, then two. If Baxter knew what was good for him, he’d go away.
And he did. Still growling, shaking his head resentfully, he backed up a few paces down the alley. I stopped advancing and stood still, letting him know that he could stay there, but he shouldn’t come any farther toward me.
“Baxter!” yelled a new voice. “There you are!”
Baxter’s owner came running along the alley toward his dog, swinging a leash in his hand. I turned my head to take a quick look back at CJ. I knew she was upset and frightened; I’d been able to hear it in her voice. I could take care of her now.
Duke was standing between me and CJ. He was right behind me, as he’d been all morning at the dog park. With my attention fixed on Baxter, I hadn’t even noticed he was there.
The Great Dane put his nose down to sniff me, and I sniffed back. Then I walked between his stilt-like legs, right under his belly, to where CJ was running to scoop me up. She grabbed Duke’s leash, too, pulling him away from Baxter.
Jillian had picked up Sneakers and was holding the cat in her arms. Sneakers seemed to be holding her, too. All four of her legs were spread wide to cling to Jillian, and her claws were out so she could grip her tightly.
Jillian’s face was very white. CJ’s, too. I could feel CJ trembling a little. But it was all right now, and I hoped she’d realize it soon. I’d taken care of everything.
“Hey, your cat scratched up my dog!” Baxter’s owner said, striding down the alley toward us with Baxter on his leash.
“My cat? My cat? My cat scratched your dog?” Jillian demanded.
She had a lot more to say, with words like “lawyer” and “Animal Control” and “co-op board” and “eviction,” but CJ and Duke and I didn’t stay around to listen. CJ pulled on our leashes and got us inside, which was too bad—I was ready to teach Baxter his manners again. With his owner at his side, he seemed to have found his courage once more, and he was growling.
Some dogs need a lot of lessons, and it looked like Baxter was one of them.
CJ delivered Duke to his apartment and talked to the owner there for a little while. Then we both went back home. She collapsed on the couch, holding me tightly, until I squirmed in her arms to remind her that snuggling was all very well and good, but I needed to breathe as well.
She was still trembling, though, so I licked her ear and cheek and as much of her face as I could manage, trying to tell her that she never had to worry about dogs like Baxter, not when I was there to protect her. And I’d always be there to protect her. I was meant to be her dog.
The door opened and Jillian came in, with Sneakers still in her arms. She stood still for a moment or two, looking at us, and then came and sat down on the couch next to us.
Sneakers shook herself out of Jillian’s hands, leaped off the couch, found a spot of carpet that she liked, and began to wash herself all over.
“Don’t worry,” said Jillian. “I’m reporting that jerk to the co-op board. Either that dog will be out of here, or he will.”
CJ nodded.
“That little dog…” Jillian said.
CJ wiped at her face. “Max,” she said.
Jillian nodded. “He ran right at that horrible beast. I couldn’t believe it. I’ve never seen a dog as brave as that.”
CJ hugged me. “I know. Max is the toughest dog I ever met.”
“You have to be tough to make it in New York,” Jillian said. “And I guess I’d be pretty ungrateful if I said he couldn’t stay, wouldn’t I?”
CJ sat up straight, and some of her fear and worry fell right away. I could feel it. I must have done a good job of comforting her.
“You mean it?” she asked Jillian.
“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Jillian said. She looked at me thoughtfully and put her hand out toward my face.
“Gentle, Max,” CJ told me.
I looked around for a treat. Jillian tentatively rubbed behind my ears.
“I don’t really know much about dogs,” she said. “But I have to admit it—New York is where this one belongs.”
* * *
I took us all to the dog park again the next day, and the day after that it was one of those mornings when CJ had to pack her backpack and rush away. Jillian was home, though, tapping away on her flat plastic tray, and she even took me out to pee halfway through the morning.
I would rather it had been CJ, but I made the best of it.
CJ came home in the afternoon, and Stella was with her. Today Stella had on sandals that laced all the way up to her knees. The girls said hello to Jillian and got my leash, clipping it onto the brand-new collar that Jillian had bought for me. Then I took them both outside for a good long walk.
CJ and Stella were busy with the papers again, tearing them down from walls and signposts and trees. It was a strange game, but if it made them happy, I didn’t mind.
And CJ was happy. I could see it in her face and hear it in her voice and feel it coming off her body in waves.
“But you know, if Jillian hadn’t changed her mind, the posters would have worked,” Stella said.
“I know. I actually got a call this morning and had to tell him Max already found a home,” CJ said.
“Plus someone from my mom’s work was interested, too,” Stella added. “She said, ‘Who could resist the adorable little face in that drawing?’ I said you were good at drawing animals! No way, don’t blush like that. I heard the teacher tell you this morning how good that sketch of Sneakers and Max is. And you know what? Jenna heard, too. Did you see her practically turn green?”
They laughed together as CJ pulled down another paper, crumpled it up, and tossed it into a trash can. Then Stella stopped by the side of the street and waved her hand at the passing traffic.
“See, that thing on the top of the cab, with the numbers?” she said to CJ. “You have to look for one where the numbers are lit up. Like that one!” She waved wildly and a yellow car came swerving out of the traffic to stop by the curb, right in front of her.
Stella reached for the handle of the back door, but before she could get her hand on it, a man who’d been walking down the sidewalk cut right in front of her. He had a da
rk suit on and a briefcase in one hand, and he pulled the door open.
“Hey, that’s our cab!” Stella said indignantly.
The man ignored her. “Downtown, Columbus Circle, and I’m in a hurry!” he said to the driver of the car.
“We can get another one, Stella,” CJ muttered.
But I was interested in the inside of the cab. It smelled intriguing. Lots of people had been there, sitting on the seat, and some of them had been eating food.
I jumped forward, and my leash slipped out of CJ’s hand as I dodged around the man with the briefcase and leaped up into the car. After a short scramble, I was up on the seat.
The man was still standing by the door of the cab, looking stunned. He was in between me and my girl, and I didn’t like the way he was standing. I lifted my lip from my teeth, just to show him I meant business. Nobody had told me to be Gentle, Max right then.
“Hey, get that dog out of there!” the man said, turning to CJ.
Stella ducked around him and sat on the seat beside me, sliding over to make room for CJ. “Good dog, Max!” she said, so I let her. “Come on, CJ!”
“I’ve got an important meeting!” the man said angrily.
“I’ve got an important dog!” CJ said, and she ducked past him, too, and sat down on the seat of the car so that I was between her and Stella. Stella leaned over both of us to grab the door handle and slam the door shut.
In the seat ahead of us, the cabdriver was shaking his head and laughing. “I don’t usually let dogs in here, but I’ll make an exception for that one,” he said. “I’m afraid he’ll chew my arm off if I don’t! Where are you girls headed?”
“The Brooklyn Bridge!” said Stella. “We’re going to walk across. My friend needs to see the sights. And her dog, too!”
I settled myself on CJ’s lap and propped my front feet up against the window as the car moved out into the traffic. CJ put the window down a little for me so that I could get my nose up to the crack and sniff as hard as I could.
Air rushed into my nose, packed with all the delicious city smells. I wasn’t sure where we were headed, but it was going to be wonderful.
There was a lot of this city left to explore, and I was ready to lead the way.
* * *
Over the next few weeks I got used to the idea that CJ would leave me alone in the mornings. Jillian usually took me out at least once, and after that I’d rest or sniff around the apartment or sometimes curl up with Sneakers until my girl came back.
Then we’d go out. I loved going out with CJ. Sometimes Stella would come with us. We walked all over the sidewalks, and went to a lot of parks and in a few more cars. I got used to being tucked into CJ’s bag when we’d go down the steps and ride in the rattling, swaying subway.
Then, one morning, CJ didn’t pack up her backpack full of her papers. But she didn’t take me out so that I could lead our pack to the dog park either. That was strange.
Instead, CJ stayed in her room, pulling shirts and pants and T-shirts out of a dresser, shaking them out and folding them. A blue T-shirt slipped out of her hands and landed at my feet. I loved the smell of CJ’s clothes, so I seized the T-shirt in my teeth and gave it a good shake.
“No, Max, I need that!” CJ said, reaching down.
A game of tug-of-war with my girl! Excellent! I pulled back on the T-shirt and let CJ tug me about the room. “No, Max!” she said again, but she was laughing. I had learned that “No, Max!” did not mean anything bad when CJ was laughing, so I braced my feet on the rug and pulled harder.
CJ groaned. “Max, really,” she said. Now she wasn’t laughing, so I stopped pulling and cocked my head to look up at her. She twitched the T-shirt out of my mouth and put it in the suitcase that she had open on the bed.
I was interested in that suitcase. It had all of CJ’s attention, which was obviously wrong. I was her dog, and she was supposed to be paying attention to me! I put my front paws up on the bed and whined and barked a few times, until CJ gave in and picked me up.
“Okay, but just for a few seconds,” CJ said.
She set me on the bed and I poked my nose into the suitcase, which I liked very much. It was full of CJ’s clothes and smelled like CJ.
“All packed?” asked a voice from the doorway.
Jillian stood there, leaning on the doorframe and looking in.
“Almost,” CJ said.
Jillian nodded and walked into the room. “What about all this stuff?” she said, stopping at the desk.
The desk was covered with CJ’s papers and paints and pencils. “I’m going to put that away next,” CJ said.
Jillian stood still, looking down at the desk. “Hmmm. This one, too?” she asked.
CJ turned away from the suitcase to look at the paper that Jillian had picked up. I took the opportunity to jump into the suitcase and burrow under a gray sweatshirt. I loved how soft it was, all over my body, and how much it smelled like my girl.
“Oh, that’s a good one,” CJ said to Jillian. “One of my best. I made a sketch of Max and Sneakers sleeping all curled up like that, and I finished it in watercolors at the school.”
“Yes, it’s a good one,” said Jillian. “How much?”
“What?” CJ asked. She sounded shocked.
I stuck my head out from under the sweatshirt to see if my girl needed me. But nothing seemed to be dangerous, so I burrowed back under the sweatshirt. A sock was right under my nose, and it had not been washed since the last time CJ wore it. It was delectably smelly. I chewed on it contentedly.
“How much?” I heard Jillian say again. “For the painting. You’re an artist, right? Artists sell their work. How much would you sell that painting for?”
“Uh…” CJ sounded as if she had no idea what to say. “Jillian, I mean … you’ve been so nice, letting me stay here and all. And letting Max stay, too. If you want the painting…”
“No way. Don’t do that.” Jillian shook her head. “You did work, right? Work should be paid for. You didn’t walk those dogs all summer for free. You don’t do art for free, either. How does two hundred dollars sound?”
“Two hundred dollars!” CJ gasped. “Jillian, I can’t take that!”
“Then I can’t take the painting. Which is a shame, because I really want it.”
“Oh. Well. I … I just…”
“It’s a deal, then?”
“Um. I guess. It’s a deal.”
“Good. Here you go. I’m going to put it on the mantelpiece for now, and get it framed later. We’d better leave in about half an hour if we want to beat the traffic over the bridge.”
“Okay. Okay. Thanks, Jillian.” I could hear in CJ’s voice that she was smiling. “Thanks. For everything.”
CJ came back over to the suitcase. “Two hundred dollars, Max! Can you believe it?” she asked. “Max? Max, where did you go?”
I heard my name, and I poked my head up to reassure my girl that I was here to take care of her. But the sweatshirt still covered me completely. I shook my head hard, but I couldn’t get the sweatshirt off.
Then CJ plucked the soft gray cloth off my head. She stood looking down at me with the sweatshirt in one hand and several small slips of paper clutched in the other.
With her sock still in my mouth, I looked up and wagged. Maybe we’d play some more tug-of-war.
“Oh, Max!” CJ groaned.
14
After all of our fun games with her clothes and the suitcase, I could not understand at all what CJ did next. She shut me in a pen, just like the people at the shelter used to do! Except that this pen was smaller and made of plastic, with only one tiny opening in front, covered with wire mesh.
Then she did something even stranger. She picked up the pen and carried it!
The whole thing rocked and swung in her hand, and I braced my legs on the slippery plastic floor, trying to keep myself from sliding. I barked, trying to let her know what a ridiculous mistake she had made, locking me in here.
“I know, Max, I kn
ow,” she said. “Don’t worry, it’s not for long.”
But she didn’t let me out.
CJ put me, still in the pen, inside the back of a car. That made me remember traveling from the shelter to the park where I had finally found CJ and turned her into my girl.
And I started to worry.
Worrying was not something I was used to doing. I was Max! I knew how to be Gentle, Max when CJ wanted me to be, but I could also teach humans and even dogs like Baxter to respect me. I didn’t have to worry. I could take care of myself, and my girl, too.
But I did not care for the way the car hummed and vibrated as it started up. This was not like riding in cabs, on CJ’s lap. I was locked away, far from my girl, and the unsettling feeling of moving in a way I didn’t choose, to a place I couldn’t even see, made me start to feel like that tiny puppy again. The last time I’d been in a vehicle that moved like this, I’d been separated from my mother and my sisters.
That had turned out all right, because I’d found CJ. But what was happening now? Would there be another separation coming? Would something take me away from my girl?
I hated that idea. I barked. When that didn’t work, I growled.
When that didn’t work, I whined.
“Oh, Max!” I heard CJ say. “I had no idea he’d hate the car so much. He didn’t mind riding in cabs. I guess it’s being in the carrier. It’s okay, Max, sweetie. You’ll be out soon.”
But even her voice didn’t truly help. Nothing helped. I needed to be in her lap, to feel her hands on my fur, to lick her face and sniff her scent and know that she was always going to be my girl. Until that happened, I could not stop complaining.
At last—at last!—the car pulled to a stop. I heard something bang. Then CJ lifted my pen out of the back and unlocked the door.
Trembling, I leaped out and threw myself on her. “Shh, Max, shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, holding me in her arms, stroking me from my ears to my tail. “It’s all over now. We’re home.”
Max's Story Page 9
