Buster

by Caleb Huett

  Was the judge?

  She nodded. “You are right, Lasagna. And I’m glad. What about you, Buster? Do you agree with your human?”

  Buster wagged his tail. “I do.” This was a choice he already made when he chose to reveal himself to Tonio and be a Bad Dog. Doing good, even a little bit of good, was better than doing nothing.

  The judge nodded. “Good. Then it’s time to tell you the other option.”

  Tonio watched the tablet screen, startled. “Other option? What does that mean?”

  The judge crossed her paws and shook her head. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but The Farm isn’t real.”

  Buster couldn’t tell if he was dizzy from the teacups, or from this news. “What?! But this whole time, you’ve been—”

  “A perfect paradise for dogs?” The judge shrugged. “A place humans have never been? Have you seen the way they’ve treated this world? They’re everywhere. You can’t escape them at the bottom of the ocean anymore. No, it doesn’t exist.” She sighed. “Not yet, at least. And that’s because we haven’t tried.”

  Giddy energy was beaming from Lasagna. His tail was wagging, and his ears were up as tall and as high as they could go. “I knew it. I knew there was something else going on. Wait until I tell all my lawyer friends, they’ll—”

  Sweetie placed a paw on his face. “What I’m about to tell you goes against official Court policy, canine tradition, and Dog Law, so we have to be extremely careful. Can you keep a secret?”

  “No!” Tonio and Buster both said immediately.

  “Well, you have to, for now. Dogs have been changing the world. We’ve just been doing it quietly, behind the scenes, extremely carefully. The Farm is a program where we send dogs who need to be removed from society, for one reason or another, and train them into agents for the Court. We would like the two of you to be our first human-and-dog team.”

  The clips on a briefcase popped. Lasagna pulled out a folder and set it next to the tablet—holding it down so it didn’t blow away in the rotating wind.

  “This is a contract. If the two of you agree to be ready when I call you—to help the Court when we need it—you can go back home and live your lives like you did before. We’ll handle the explanations and the publicity.”

  “Why us?” Tonio asked. “Why me? I’m not cut out to be … what, a secret agent? I’m not sneaky, or good at anything like that. I just draw.”

  “You’re who I’ve got.”

  It sounded too good to be true to Buster. “How will other dogs feel if we just … go back? And what will you ask us to do?”

  “The official story will be that I’m putting the two of you under strict surveillance, but realized that pulling you both from Bellville would draw too much attention. I’m afraid it won’t make you any more popular, Buster, but it will keep you together.” The judge shook her head. “And as for what we might ask of you, that’s classified. I can’t say anything more. You’ll just have to trust me when I say that we act for the good of Dogkind. And hopefully Humankind, too.”

  Tonio’s eyes fluttered around to the different dogs. He shook his head vigorously. “I can’t do this. No way. Why don’t you ask Mia and Mozart? Or Jpeg? Or … I don’t know. Anyone else?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind already, Tonio.” Sweetie gave him a long look. “You want to do good, right? Even if it’s not perfect?”

  “I don’t know if that’s …” Tonio’s eyebrows pushed together.

  “I think your sharp eyes and tendency toward caution will serve us well. But you don’t have to agree, of course. I can send Buster away, as planned, and send you back home with an officer on your tail. It’s up to you.”

  Buster read over the contract. It was short, straightforward, and stated that as long as they stayed available to the Court, they’d be free to live the rest of their lives without any interference from Dog Court. He and Tonio would get to just be a kid and a dog. He turned to Lasagna.

  “This is real? We can do whatever we want after this?”

  “The Court might not even need you. But it’s the only way they’re going to let you back out into the world.” The corgi’s tail was wagging again. “And it’s some of my finest work, I’d say. Did you see the comma on line thirteen?”

  “Uh, yes?”

  “Perfect comma placement, if I do say so myself. This document is flawless.”

  “Then I’m in.” He looked up at Tonio. What about you?

  Tonio’s hands clenched and unclenched. “What happens if we can’t do what you ask? If we’re not good enough?”

  “As long as you’re trying, you’re safe.” Sweetie pointed to that line of the contract with a claw. “I don’t need you to be perfect, Tonio. I just need you to try.”

  The bandanna was sliding down his forehead. He pushed it back up. “Okay. Then I’ll do it.”

  The judge didn’t have any pens, just an ink pad. She, Buster, and Lasagna all put a paw print on the contract. Tonio did each of his fingerprints in a line. Sweetie closed the folder and slid it toward Lasagna, who picked it up in his mouth.

  “Well then, you’d better go talk to your parents.” Tonio’s eyes widened— Oh, right. They were going to wonder where he’d been all night, and all day. If Skyler had told his parents where he was, he was definitely in trouble. “I need you in Bellville. So your first mission is to not move.”

  Buster’s ears shot up. “That’s not fair!”

  Tonio gasped. “I forgot that— How am I supposed to … ?” He trailed off, lost in thought.

  “You’ll be fine.” Sweetie waved a paw and the teacups began braking to a stop. “I’ve arranged for a car to take you back to Bellville. Talk to your parents, get some rest, and keep doing what you’ve been doing. I’ll contact you when I have more information.”

  Lasagna hopped out of the cup and barked for them to follow, with the folder still in his teeth. Buster looked up at Tonio, who bowed to the judge.

  “Thank you. For everything.”

  “You’re welcome.” She winked as they turned away. “Show me it was worth it.”

  A limousine waited for them outside the park, and Tonio spent the ride staring at the heavily tinted divider, wondering if a dog was driving.

  “Hello?” he called to the front, with no answer. “Thank you for driving us!” The car stopped in front of his house. When he got out and looked back, the car windows were too dark to see inside.

  He finally thought to ask Buster while they were walking up the stairs to the Pulaskis’ home. “Can dogs drive? Do you have special cars or something?”

  Underspeak was hard to do while climbing the stairs. Buster bounded up to the top and answered, Dogs can do anything! I couldn’t smell who was driving, though.

  Tonio checked the many pockets of his shorts for keys. “Have you ever driven?”

  No, but I would. Cars are amazing!

  “Wrong. Cars are scary.”

  You only say that because you’ve never chased one. They run away like cowards!

  “They don’t—that’s not—you’re joking, right?”

  Buster rolled onto his back and kicked his legs up in the air. Yes!!!

  Tonio laughed and scratched at his tummy. “I hope they’re not mad,” he whispered.

  Buster rolled back over and shook himself off.

  Just tell them what I told you to say.

  “Your excuse is pretty complicated.”

  It’ll be fine.

  Tonio sighed, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. Buster lifted his nose to the air and sniffed the sickly sweet fake-flower smell from Mr. Pulaski’s cleaning, the powerful snack food aroma from Mrs. Pulaski’s office, and the calming smell of his own fur, where it survived vacuuming.

  “Hello, my Tonio!” Mrs. Pulaski waved a knife in greeting from the kitchen. “Just in time for dinner!”

  They didn’t even notice I was gone. A pang of shame shot through Tonio.

  Mr. Pulaski peeked around from behind h
er, mixing something in a bowl. “Did you have fun at Mia’s?”

  Tonio blinked. “Uh, what? Where?”

  Both his parents laughed. Mrs. Pulaski shook her head. “Did you just wake up? That’s perfect, because it’s time for …” She used the blunt side of her knife and half a stick of butter to drum unevenly on the counter.

  “BREAKFAAAAAAAAAST FOR DINNEEEEEEEEER!” Mr. Pulaski crowed. “I’m making pancakes; your mom is making eggs.” He turned to Tonio and knelt on the ground with a serious look in his eyes. With the mixing bowl tucked under one arm, he raised his other hand up to Tonio in a desperate gesture. “Join us, son.”

  Mrs. Pulaski snorted. “Join us,” she repeated in a deep voice, “and together we will make the most powerful breakfast this dinner has ever seen!”

  “BUT WASH YOUR HANDS FIRST,” Mr. Pulaski gasped.

  “There is probably dog on them!!!” Mrs. Pulaski agreed. They both cackled with laughter while Tonio stared, stunned. Buster realized he had never seen the two of them awake and relaxed at the same time. Was this what they were normally like? Happy and goofy?

  Tonio was more concerned with how their whole bit had started. “You guys knew I was at Mia’s?”

  “She called us last night. Is everything okay?”

  Every part of Tonio’s body relaxed. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.” He hung Buster’s leash on the wall and went to wash his hands in the sink while Buster found a place in the dining room to watch without getting in the way.

  They put Tonio to work heating sausages in the pan, and Buster’s mouth watered at the smell. Mr. Pulaski asked about Beamblade, and Tonio described the tournament in excited detail—leaving out for now the part Buster played, which was probably best.

  And then, when they were seated and eating, Mrs. Pulaski reminded them: “I got a call from Dr. Jake yesterday.” Tonio’s heartbeat immediately spiked. Oh, right. He said he was going to do that. “How have your sessions with him been going, Tonio?”

  “Do you want me to be honest?” Tonio asked. Buster wagged his tail. Good start.

  Mrs. Pulaski nodded immediately. “Of course.”

  “Will you listen to me?” Tonio asked. “All the way until I’m done?”

  Now it was Mr. Pulaski who said, “Of course.”

  They’ll hear me, Tonio worried, but they won’t understand.

  Then he corrected himself. No. I don’t know that.

  “I’m not going to—I can’t just—” Tonio’s confidence faltered. He wasn’t sure of himself. He hadn’t worked through all his feelings about anxiety, either, and trying to be serious, clear, and confident all at once was too much.

  Buster gave a very tiny ruff from the floor, to get Tonio’s attention. He scratched his ear and circled a paw around his eye. More questions, he said. Follow the mystery. Right.

  “What do you think it means for me to get better?” Tonio asked. “When will you look at me and think, ‘He’s better now!’? Not cured. But better.”

  Mrs. Pulaski said, “We want you to feel happy, Tonio, and not worried all the time. We want you to have a chance to be a kid.”

  Tonio remembered what Dr. Jake had said about the difference between feeling and acting. “Not what I feel,” he told his parents. “What I do. What would convince you I was getting better?”

  Buster’s tail wagged. He’d done it! He’d found the right questions to ask. The Pulaskis needed to know what they were trying to do before anything could get better. They needed real goals.

  Mr. Pulaski started. “Well, you spend so much time in your room. I want you to get out and make friends, like other kids.”

  Tonio nodded. “Wait a second. I’ll be right back.” Buster listened as Tonio ran upstairs, opened his door, ripped a piece of paper, grabbed a pen from his pen jar, and ran back downstairs. He drew lines to start a list and set FRIENDS next to #1. “Okay. I have friends. Mia and Devon. I’ve hung out with Mia a lot, and I think Devon wants to get to know me better.” He added them both to the list. “And Buster’s my friend, too. What else?”

  Mrs. Pulaski continued. “You’d have fewer panic attacks so they’d get in your way less often.”

  Tonio didn’t write this one down. He shook his head. “I don’t think that one counts. I also don’t want to have them, but they don’t always happen for real reasons, or because I’m actually feeling bad. Sometimes they just happen.”

  He’d never said that to Mrs. Pulaski before—and he’d also never spoken to them like this. She nodded slowly. “Okay. Well, I want you to feel safe going outside. Going to school.”

  I can’t go back to school. Tonio was surprised by the sudden power of that thought. He focused. Why? Why can’t I go back? Devon had forgiven him. Mia was his friend now, and she was tougher and cooler than anybody else at school. If they didn’t care, then why should he?

  No! I can’t!

  Why not?

  There was no reason. He couldn’t find a reason. He was scared, but he could handle it. He could tell now that his fear was just anxiety.

  I can.

  Tonio wrote down #2: SCHOOL. “I’ll go back. But I want to go back here, in Bellville. I want to stay here.”

  “Why?” Mr. Pulaski asked.

  Because the judge asked me, Tonio thought. But also for Mia, and my parents, and myself. I want to be here.

  “I do love this town,” he told his parents. “I love the fall festival, and Nice Slice Pizza, and Mrs. Morris’s gnomes, and everything. I’ve had a hard time showing it lately, but I do. I want to stay.”

  Mrs. Pulaski folded her hands on the table. “But none of these things matter if you’re unhappy, Tonio. I’m glad you want to keep trying, I’m glad you’re talking to us, but I hate seeing you so worried and so sad.”

  Tonio looked at his mom’s expression and realized she was probably anxious, too. And anxiety was trying its best to help. To be something good.

  “Everybody’s sad sometimes, right?” he told her. “And anxious. Even other kids. I’m never going to be happy all the time, and I think that’s okay. Right?”

  Buster wanted to jump with joy. Tonio was so smart!

  Tonio’s parents didn’t answer right away, so he continued. “That’s what Dr. Jake means when he says I’m not going to be cured. Not that I can’t get better, but that some people are sad more often, or angry more often, or goofy more often than others. I’m worried more often. And I might always be like that. But it’s not all bad.”

  “That makes sense,” Mr. Pulaski admitted. “I’m sure as heck not happy all the time.”

  “But I want you to be,” Mrs. Pulaski said, but with a half smile that showed she understood she was saying something kind of silly. “I want my son to be happy every moment of his long, long life! I want nothing to ever go wrong for you, ever!”

  Tonio couldn’t help but smile back. “Sometimes stuff is bad! Sometimes I should be worried.”

  “I know, but I hate it.” Mrs. Pulaski folded her arms and fake pouted.

  “I hate it, too.” Mr. Pulaski mimicked her pose and pout.

  Yeah! Buster said. He did his best to look the same under the table, lolling his tongue out and crossing his legs over each other.

  Tonio laughed. “It’s not fair!! But it’s true, I think.”

  Mrs. Pulaski took the paper from Tonio and wrote: #3: TALKING. “You are wise, Tonio, and I don’t know how you got this way. But if you really want to stay, if you think you will be okay, then I need you to keep talking to us like this. Even if it’s hard.”

  Tonio’s eyes widened, and Buster’s tail wagged. Yes! We’re going to get to stay!

  “Okay. I will.”

  “My turn!” Mr. Pulaski took the pen and paper and wrote #4: PLAYING BEAMBLADE WITH YOUR DAD. “This is a very important part of any anxiety treatment. I read it on the internet. Also, I’m better at talking when I’m playing a game!”

  Mrs. Pulaski rolled her eyes. Tonio grinned. “Okay, okay. I’ll play Beamblade with you. I should warn you
, though, I’m a champion!”

  “Good. I love to lose.” He winked at Tonio, who laughed. “And if you’re sure about this, really sure, I’m glad. I don’t think we should leave Bellville, either.” Mr. Pulaski gestured to their plates. “Now … finish your breakfast! It’s definitely cold by now!”

  All three of them were happy to leave the serious conversation behind for a little bit. Tonio dropped sausage for Buster while the family joked, and gossiped, and complained. They finished their food, and the adults collected the dishes to clean in the kitchen. Tonio pushed his chair back and knelt on the floor to give Buster a hug and whisper in his ear.

  “Thank you, Buster. Good dog.” He froze. “Oh, sorry. That’s probably a stupid thing to say, huh? If you’re a person?”

  Not stupid at all. Buster wagged his tail and licked Tonio’s face. You’re welcome, Good Boy.

  There were times when I thought I would never finish this book. It followed me through several new homes, a new state and city, and practically a whole new life. So there are a lot of people to thank. I’m writing this during self-quarantine, so I’m feeling the presence and absence of these folks very deeply, but they keep me going now just like they did when I was trying to complete this story. Buster wouldn’t exist without them!

  First, of course, Austin Jenkins. Thank you for being behind the scenes of everything I create, supporting and listening and always asking, “How can I help?” Even from states away, you’ve remained the reason anything I do gets done. The bounds of your patience and kindness are so-far undiscovered, and you make the world a better place both actively and passively, just by living in it. You’ll probably keep getting two a.m. texts about every one-sentence idea that pops up while I’m washing dishes.

  Also of course, Michael Shillingburg. Even though you “don’t really read” (exposed) I am thankful for your ear, your kindness, and the number of times you’ve talked me through tears. You are a brilliant, talented, and thoughtful person. Thank you for the amazing environment you create in our home, the plants you grow, and the loving way you care for our cats. (And thank you to our cats, Chao and Topaz, for being big babies and keeping us company in the hardest times.)