My Dog is Better than Your Dog

by Tommy Greenwald

  “Hmmm,” my mom said. “As if one little compliment would make me forget that you got a dog without asking me.”

  “How about two little compliments?” said my dad. “I missed you so much today.”

  She kissed him and laughed. “Now you’re getting somewhere.”

  Mrs. Cragg stared at the necklace. “That is truly magnificent,” she said. “Such beautiful diamonds!”

  “You’re telling me,” said my dad. “I bought it in a moment of madness, back when I thought I could afford it.”

  Mrs. Cragg’s eyes were still on the necklace. “Well, you have terrific taste. It looks simply spectacular on your lovely wife.”

  My mom blushed.

  “Well, gotta go,” said my dad. “Remember, Jimmy, only one episode of STOP! POLICE! tonight.”

  “I’ll make sure,” Mrs. Cragg said, before I could answer. “Too much television is bad for you.”

  Ugh.

  Double frosting wasn’t going to be enough.

  Better make it triple.

  Then a strange thing happened.

  After my parents left, and it got darker out, Abby got a lot less tired and a lot more playful.

  It started when Irwin came over for dinner around seven thirty. Abby sprang out of the closet, jumped up, and started kissing him all over his face.

  “He’s so hyper!” Irwin said, trying to catch his breath. “Holy moly!”

  “He’s a she,” I corrected him, wondering a little jealously why Abby hadn’t yet welcomed me the same way. “Here, girl!” I said. Abby turned, then jumped on me and started kissing me, while wagging her tail like crazy.

  “I thought she was kind of lazy, but I guess not!” I said, relieved.

  It turned out she was just getting warmed up. At dinner, after Abby finished her dog food, she picked up the bowl and ran all over the house with it.

  Mrs. Cragg didn’t like that at all. “STOP THAT DOG! STOP THAT DOG!” she kept yelling.

  Abby basically just laughed at her and kept going.

  It was awesome.

  FACT: In a contest between an adorable dog and an annoyed babysitter, it’s pretty easy to know who to root for.

  Mrs. Cragg started chasing Abby around with her cane in one hand and a big wooden spoon in the other. Abby turned around, grabbed the spoon out of Mrs. Cragg’s hand, and turned that into a toy too.

  “GIVE ME BACK MY SPOON!” Mrs. Cragg hollered.

  As if.

  Misty came out of her room. “Jimmy, calm that dog down!” she ordered. “I’m trying to do my summer reading!” By which she meant, reading texts from her friends about what color lipstick they wanted to try next.

  Finally, Abby dropped the two kitchen utensils. Then she ran to the front door and started barking like crazy.

  “I think she wants to go out,” Irwin said.

  “Wow, you’re a genius,” I told him.

  “Well, you’re the opposite of a genius,” he told me back.

  I put the leash on Abby. “My parents said we could take Abby out if we kept her in the yard the whole time,” I called out to Mrs. Cragg, who was doing dishes in the kitchen. “Be back in a few minutes!”

  “Fine,” she yelled back. I think she would have been happier if I said a few hours.

  The minute we got outside, Abby started pulling on the leash like crazy. Soon, she was dragging me all over the yard.

  “She’s strong for her size,” Irwin observed. I resisted the temptation to call him a genius again.

  “Easy, Abby!” I said. “Slow down!”

  “Woof!” she said back, which I think meant, I’m going to pretend I don’t understand what you’re asking me.

  She pulled harder.

  It was pretty dark by now, but we had the outside lights on, so I could see what she was pulling me toward—a small hole at the edge of the yard, where some creature probably lived. Abby stuck her nose down the hole and started digging and barking. I felt really sorry for the creature down there. It was probably scared out of its wits.

  Or not.

  Because the creature turned out to be a groundhog, and all of a sudden it popped its head up and made this weird angry noise, like, Get off my property!

  Well, Abby didn’t like that. She didn’t like that at all. She lunged forward and growled.

  And when she growled, I saw her fangs for the first time.

  WHOA.

  I always knew dogs had fangs, but these fangs were capital letter FANGS. They were HUGE. And SHARP. And SERIOUS.

  Practically Jonah Forrester fangs.

  The groundhog must have thought so too, because it went back down its hole in about half a second and never came back up. Abby kept growling though.

  “Abby!” I said. “That’s enough!”

  She finally put her fangs away, looked up at me, and wagged her tail. Then she jumped up and gave me a huge kiss!

  “We better go back inside,” Irwin said. I think he was a little surprised by Abby’s unpredictable behavior.

  He wasn’t the only one.

  Irwin and I played with Abby for another half hour. She still had tons of energy. Even though we’d gotten a bunch of dog toys from the shelter, she preferred playing with an empty milk container that she stole from the recycling bin.

  FACT: Dogs like playing with non-toys more than toys.

  When Mrs. Cragg tried to take the milk container away, out came Abby’s fangs.

  “This dog is insane!” screamed Mrs. Cragg.

  Irwin and I laughed.

  “It’s not funny!” bellowed Mrs. Cragg.

  She was wrong.

  Abby kept driving Mrs. Cragg crazy until nine o’clock, when Irwin’s dad came to pick him up. Meanwhile, I was getting tired, my parents weren’t home yet, and Abby was still running all over the house.

  I texted my dad: ABBY IS ACTING KIND OF HYPER. WHAT KIND OF DOG IS SHE?

  Five minutes later, he texted me back: HOME IN TWENTY MINUTES. MAKE SURE SHE DOESN’T BREAK ANYTHING.

  Not helpful.

  I knocked on my sister’s door. She opened it a crack.

  “What do you want?”

  “Abby’s being really weird. She slept all day but now it’s nighttime and she’s got tons of energy. Plus her fangs are huge.”

  Misty rolled her eyes. “What is wrong with you? Newsflash: dogs sleep a lot. And double newsflash: dogs have fangs.”

  She shut her door with a SLAM.

  I played tug-of-war with Abby and the milk container in the TV room for a while more, until Mrs. Cragg yelled from the kitchen, “Jimmy, time to get ready for bed!” I guess her new policy was to not be in any room that Abby was in.

  When I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, I looked in the mirror.

  I couldn’t believe it.

  My facial blotch was smaller!

  It turned out playing with Abby while she made Mrs. Cragg miserable was the best thing that could have happened to my blotch!

  A few minutes later, my parents got home, and I gobbled down my chocolate coconut cake in about three bites. As my parents talked to Mrs. Cragg, she smiled at them as if everything was totally swell. “We had a wonderful evening,” she said, twirling her bright red hair. “Your children are so well-behaved, and that little dog is just adorable.”

  Misty, who had come downstairs to watch TV in the other room, looked up at me and rolled her eyes.

  My mom asked me, “Honey, did you and Irwin have a good time tonight?”

  I was about to say that Mrs. Cragg and Abby didn’t get along, but then I got this bad feeling that my parents would blame the strange new dog instead of the sweet old lady. I didn’t want to risk any bad feelings about Abby. Not on the first day.

  “Everything was great,” I said. “And we didn’t watch TV the whole time.”

  My mom pretended to faint. “It’s a miracle!”

  My dad shook Mrs. Cragg’s hand. “Well, so far so good,” my dad told her. “What do you say we give this a shot? I have to be bac
k in the city for more interviews over the next few days. Would you mind coming in the afternoons for the rest of the week?”

  “Seriously?” Misty yelled from the other room.

  “Not for you,” my mom said. “For Jimmy.”

  Mrs. Cragg smiled at my parents. “I’d be delighted,” she said. “In the meantime, I’ve made some breakfast treats for you to enjoy in the morning. They’re in the fridge.”

  I looked at Abby. She looked at me. I’m pretty sure we were both thinking the same thing:

  We better get used to looking at yellow teeth.

  I asked Dad to let Abby sleep in my room.

  He yawned. “Fine.”

  FACT: The best time to ask your parents for something is when they’re really tired.

  I hopped into bed and picked up my copy of Fang Goodness, my favorite book of all time. Did I mention that already? Anyway, Fang Goodness is the first book in the Jonah Forrester series, the one where Jonah discovers he’s a vampire. But Jonah decides to use his powers for good, so he becomes a policeman in Los Angeles, where no one knows his true identity. I was rereading the part where he goes to a Los Angeles Dodgers game and saves everyone by biting a bad guy who is about to fill the concession stands with poisonous hot dogs.

  Jonah Forrester is awesome. Vampires are awesome.

  I think the last thing I thought before falling asleep was, I hope I meet a vampire one day.

  I remember dreaming about Jonah Forrester taking me out for ice cream and him ordering a strawberry milk shake.

  I remember hearing a whoosh!, like the wind, and then a thwack!, like a door slam.

  I remember rubbing my eyes and looking around.

  I remember checking Abby’s bed and realizing that she wasn’t there.

  I remember noticing that the window was open.

  I remember looking out the window and seeing a small shape scurrying along the driveway.

  I remember thinking it was Abby but then saying to myself, You’re half-asleep, you’re probably just seeing things.

  I remember lying back down in bed, thinking about stuff. How I had a blotch on my face. How I got an awesome but strange dog. How I got a new babysitter. How Dad might get a job.

  And I remember the last thing I said to myself before I fell back asleep: Boy, what a crazy day.

  I had no idea the craziness was just getting started.

  Blotch Report: Seems to have gotten worse overnight. Dad reports it now looks like North Dakota. I looked up North Dakota. It’s the seventeenth biggest state in the country. Only sixteen more to go.

  Oh, and tomorrow’s the first day of school.

  Yay.

  As soon as I woke up, I checked Abby’s bed. She wasn’t there! But then, for some reason, I looked in the closet and there she was, sleeping peacefully, buried in the dirty clothes I’d shoved in the corner.

  I suddenly had this random thought: Jonah Forrester sleeps in his closet.

  Hmmmm.

  I tried to wake Abby up, but she just looked at me, wagged her tail for a second, then went back to sleep. I looked over at the window. It was open. Slowly the whole semi-dream thing came back to me.

  Did Abby really go out in the middle of the night?

  Like Jonah Forrester does?

  Okay, I thought to myself. That’s enough of that.

  I headed downstairs for breakfast. Mom was already gone, as usual. Misty was still sleeping. She liked to sleep a lot during the summer. (I couldn’t wait to see her get up at six fifteen tomorrow for school—that was going be fun.)

  Meanwhile, Dad was looking at himself in the hall mirror, deciding which tie to wear for his big interview later that day. He tried on about twenty before settling on a blue one with purple flowers on it.

  “Whaddya think?” he asked me.

  “I think it’s totally spectacular,” I answered. “I think it’s the best tie ever and you’ll not only get the job but also get a raise and a promotion.” I stood next to him in front of the mirror. “Meanwhile, my blotch is also blue and purple, so we have that in common.”

  “Now, come on,” Dad said. “Mom is bringing some medicine home tonight and that thing will be gone by morning. Just you wait.”

  “What is that gross smell?” I said, changing the subject.

  “Ah, yes,” said my dad. “Those are Mrs. Cragg’s breakfast goodies. Let’s go take a look. She’s going to get you and me off all our sugary treats and onto a healthy diet. Isn’t that great?”

  “No, it’s the opposite of great.”

  When we walked into the kitchen, I had to hold my nose. It smelled like old socks soaked in swamp juice.

  “What is that?”

  “Boiled kelp,” said my dad. “Seaweed. Supposedly it’s delicious. And good for you.”

  FACT: Nothing good for you tastes good. Everybody knows that.

  “For breakfast?” I moaned. “Yeah, no.” I headed to the cabinet to grab some Super Sugar Flakies.

  “Not today, Jimmy,” said my dad. “It’s time to try something new.”

  Wait a second. I’d been eating Super Sugar Flakies ever since I found out that Jonah Forrester ate them to help convince people he wasn’t a vampire. It was my morning routine!

  “Dad, I eat Super Sugar Flakies every day,” I complained. “So do you!”

  “Well, today we’re changing things up.”

  “This stinks.” Luckily, there were some muffins on the table, so I grabbed one and took a bite. Which I immediately almost threw up.

  “Yuck! What’s in that?”

  “Garlic,” said my dad. “Which is also very healthy.”

  “I don’t see a muffin on your plate.”

  “Already had one,” he said, but I totally didn’t believe him. “Now dig in.”

  “Fine.” As I tried to force it down, there was a noise behind me. I looked down and saw Abby, sleepily wagging her tail. She took one step into the kitchen, saw me eating the garlic muffin, and immediately ran to the other end of the house.

  “It’s never a good sign when a dog runs away from food,” I said. “Just saying.”

  My dad sighed. “No Super Sugar Flakies today, and that’s final.”

  As we sat there in silence and tried to eat breakfast, I realized it was stupid arguments like this that probably made him all excited about going back to work.

  It took me about an hour to recover from breakfast.

  I think I brushed my teeth for twenty minutes, but I still couldn’t get the taste out of my mouth.

  FACT: Toothpaste is no match for garlic and kelp.

  Finally, I was ready to get on with my day. Irwin came over, and as usual, I made him watch STOP! POLICE! with me. It was the episode where Hank Barlow goes undercover as a race car driver to break up an international gold-smuggling gang. He gets in a terrible accident and almost dies! But that’s what I love about Hank. He has no fear—he’ll do whatever it takes to fight crime.

  At the end of the episode, I stood up as Hank saluted his captain.

  “Catching the bad guys isn’t just my job,” I said, along with Hank. “It’s my life.”

  Irwin stared at me. “You’re a wacko, you know that?”

  “Takes one to know one,” I said back. Not exactly original, I know, but it was all I could think of at the time.

  We were about to start a second episode when my dad hollered, “THAT’S ENOUGH TELEVISION! GO OUTSIDE, NOW!”

  “He’s nervous about his job interview,” I explained to Irwin. “That’s why he’s yelling.”

  “My mom does the same exact thing when I’m inside on a nice day,” he answered. “But she yells even louder.” That’s Irwin for you. He always has to top you at everything, even if it was about how mean parents could be.

  We went outside and spent five minutes blinking up into the bright sunlight, trying to figure out what to do.

  “Let’s go to the Boathouse,” Irwin suggested.

  “Good idea.”

  The Boathouse was an old aban
doned beach club about a mile away, next to Nash’s Swamp. (It used to be called Nash’s Pond, but over time it kind of dried up and turned into a swamp.) No one ever went there anymore, so Irwin and I always had the place to ourselves.

  “Dad, we’re going to Nash’s Swap!” I yelled. “We’ll be back in like an hour! I’m taking Abby!”

  “Are you sure you can handle it?” he yelled back.

  “Yup!”

  “Okay, great!”

  Nothing makes parents more trusting of their kids than the prospect of getting them out of the house for a while.

  We went to find Abby, who’d gone back to sleep upstairs in my closet. She looked up at us with groggy eyes, then finally agreed to get up—I think just to make me happy.

  Outside, Abby took one look at the sunlight and ran straight toward the crawlspace beneath the house.

  “Not today, Ab,” I said. “We’re taking a walk.”

  As I dragged her out from under the house, I remembered the guy at the rescue center, who told me that she had some kind of eye condition that made her sensitive to light. But then I thought about all her other interesting qualities that made her unlike any other dog I’d ever seen. Like how tired she seemed during the day. And how awake she seemed at night. And how she saw the garlic muffins and ran the other way. And the size of her fangs.

  Especially the size of her fangs.

  At the boathouse, Irwin and I did what we always do.

  Argued.

  Usually, we argued about sports (I liked baseball; Irwin liked football), or girls (which ones in our grade made us the most nervous, and why), or who was better at StarFighters (our favorite video game); but this time, I brought up a new topic.

  “There’s something different about Abby,” I told Irwin, as I tied her to a tree in the shade so we could use the two tire swings.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not sure. She kind of reminds me of Jonah Forrester.”

  Irwin looked at Abby, who had already fallen asleep, then rolled his eyes. “Everything reminds you of Jonah Forrester.”