“Caravicci’s?”
“Sweet! Maybe Uncle Dante will be there. He gives me quarters for the racing game.”
***
Caravicci’s Pizzeria teemed with people, most of whom had either already been to the ball park, as evidenced by filthy team uniforms and sweaty players, or were destined like Maddie and TJ to head that direction after their meal. TJ’s plan for gaming quarters hit a snag when they learned from a gum-popping waitress named Kelli that Dante Caravicci wasn’t due in until four, so Maddie changed a couple dollars into quarters and let TJ have at it.
“I didn’t do so good,” he told her when his quarters ran out, and added with a too-sweet smile, “I bet I could do better if I play again.”
Maddie laughed and tousled his wavy hair, the same burnished gold as his father’s. “You sound like a snake-oil salesman,” she said.
“A snakey what?”
“Never mind. C’mon, let’s scoot.” She picked up the box containing their leftover pepperoni pizza with extra sauce and cheese. “We have about two hours to kill before your game. You want to hit the playground? Or we can go down by the pond and watch the ducks.”
“Could we feed them some of our pizza?”
“The crust, sure. I bet they’d like that.”
Maddie led TJ from the restaurant. He held the door open for a large group of raucous middle-schoolers who plowed into the restaurant, their baseball uniforms dusty and grimy with Georgia red dirt, proof of a hard-fought game. When the last boy tromped through the entrance, TJ let go of the door, opened his mouth to say something, and then snapped it shut, his eyes widening. With his eyebrows arched high and his lips rounded into an O, he looked past Maddie and his face lit up as he pointed to something behind her.
“Look, Miss Maddie, look!” He rocketed off before Maddie could stop him.
“TJ, wait!”
He raced to the end of the walkway and around the corner, and vanished into the alley.
Chapter 6
Maddie loped to the end of the building and caught up with TJ. The boy looked at her with eyes that sparkled, and he pointed toward an overflowing dumpster at the back of the alley.
“A dog. He ran back here. Do you see him? Do you, Miss Maddie?”
She did. And believed she had never before set eyes on such an ugly mongrel.
Isn’t he awesome?” TJ’s expression rivaled that of an art lover staring at the Mona Lisa. “He looks hungry, doesn’t he, Miss Maddie? Doesn’t he look hungry?”
Maddie assessed the animal and agreed he looked malnourished. From his size, she gauged a healthy weight would be somewhere in the vicinity of sixty or seventy pounds, but if he weighed all of forty she’d be surprised. His breed was Mulligan stew.
The dog eyed Maddie and TJ. He crouched beside the dumpster, one pointy ear flopped over while the other stood in a perfect triangle, twitching, as if taking in the sounds around him. He scooted backward until his rear end collided with the dumpster.
A bottle fell from the overflowing bin and crashed to the pavement. Shards of glass exploded outward and the dog jumped, startled, but held his position.
He lay flat on his belly, backside flush against the brick wall of the building. His pink tongue hung from his mouth as he panted.
“Miss Maddie, can we feed him?” TJ’s tone turned pleading and he grabbed one of her hands in both of his. “Please? Maybe he’ll eat the pizza.”
“We should call animal control.” Even as the words left her mouth, Maddie knew she would do no such thing. “Stay right here. It’s dangerous to approach an animal you don’t know. He looks nice enough—” And boy, wasn’t that a stretch? “But he may not be. So you stay put.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Maddie walked down the alley with slow steps, keeping the dog in her sights. About halfway, she set the box of pizza on the grimy pavement and opened the lid, then backtracked to TJ.
“Now we wait,” she said. “Let’s see what he does.”
The dog appeared to push himself outward with his hind legs, using the bricks as leverage. He stretched his scrawny body and inched on his belly toward the pizza box, until his hunger overcame his trepidation. When he stood up and trotted to the pizza, both TJ and Maddie gasped.
“He’s only got three legs!” TJ said.
The mutt dug his snout into the pizza with gusto, and the leftovers disappeared in under a minute. The dog looked up from his serendipitous meal, tail wagging, with pizza sauce smeared over the wiry fur of his muzzle.
“Hey, boy,” TJ said. “Was that good? Huh? Was that good?”
The dog let out a “woof!” and lay down next to the empty pizza box. Every few seconds his tongue lapped at the mangled cardboard.
“What’s wrong with his eye, Miss Maddie?”
Maddie stepped closer and peered at the dog. One eye gleamed amber, the other, well, who knew? His fur buried the view and inhibited inspection.
The dog repeated his stretching routine, bringing him closer to Maddie and TJ by another foot. His tail tapped the pavement a couple times, and his head cocked.
“Are we gonna help him, Miss Maddie?”
“We should probably call animal control,” Maddie said, but the homely animal tugged at her heart.
A rotund man in a two-piece suit called to them from the parking lot of the office complex next door. “Is that mangy mutt bothering you? He’s been hanging around here for days, damned animal. I’ve called animal control three times, but he’s always gone when they get here. Disappears like damned Houdini.”
The man lumbered across the pavement, his gait giving the appearance that his feet might be pinched inside his black oxfords. A narrow stretch of grassy earth, landscaped with boxwoods and daylilies, separated the shopping strip from the office building.
Here, the man stooped to pick something up, his suit jacket flapping against his ample belly. He grunted when he righted himself, shoved his hands into his pants pockets, and joined Maddie and TJ at the mouth of the alley.
“I work for Bright Hills Realty,” he wheezed, winded from his short walk. He indicated the office building with a thrust of his thumb and wiped beads of sweat from his brow with his forearm, heedless of the smear it left on his polyester suit. “This damn dog’s been hanging around bothering customers for days.” He drew his hands from his pockets and hurled a rock toward the mutt, then another. “Git, now! You git!”
“Hey!” Maddie turned on the man as he fired off the second missile. “Knock it off! What’s the matter with you?”
The dog yelped as a rock hit him in the ribs with a sickening thud. Lowering his head, he backed up and slunk behind the dumpster, tail down.
“Listen, lady, I was just trying to help you. That damn dog—”
“Is coming with me,” she said, arms akimbo, “and you’re going to watch your language in front of this child. And if you throw another rock at that poor dog, so help me god, I’ll have you arrested for animal cruelty. Do you hear me?”
“Jesus, lady, I was just trying to—”
Maddie pushed her glasses into position and silenced him with the same stern look she afforded her students when they stepped out of line.
The man’s contrite expression mirrored the one she earned from her kindergartners. “I mean, sheesh. I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t know he belonged to anyone. I thought it was just a stray.”
“Stray or family pet, he doesn’t deserve to be hit with rocks.”
“Fine! Geez, lady. Excuse me for trying to help.”
Maddie glared at his back as he tromped away through the boxwoods, across the parking lot, and into the office building, tripping over himself in an effort to escape her wrath, and muttering the whole way about crazy-ass animal rights fanatics.
“That man wasn’t very nice, but you sure told him.” TJ’s gap-toothed grin filled his face.
“Did the dog run off?”
He shook his head and pointed to the dumpster. “What’re we gonna do?”
&nbs
p; Maddie bit her lip. She dug her cell phone from her purse and scrolled through her contacts, found the one she sought and hit the call button.
“I’m calling the veterinarian.” She smiled when TJ furrowed his brow. “A veterinarian is a doctor who cares for animals. I’m calling the doctor who takes care of my cats.”
TJ’s expression brightened. “Oh, okay.”
“Bright Hills Animal Care—Mr. Jones, please keep your dog on the leash, and Mrs. Simpson, that pamphlet you asked for is right on the counter there—may I help you?”
Maddie cringed at the background noise and hoped the vet could squeeze her in.
“Hi, Darrilyn, it’s Maddie Kinkaid.”
“Hi, Mrs. Kinkaid! Did another cat wander into your yard?”
“Not exactly. I found a dog, and I don’t want to bring him to animal control. Can Dr. McManus see him? I know it’s a Saturday, and I know y’all are probably slammed, but—” Maddie looked at TJ and crossed her fingers. “I’d really appreciate it if you’d let me bring him in.”
“We’re booked pretty solid with drop-offs. Maybe you could keep him till Monday? I can get you in first thing. Hold on, please.” Her voice became muffled when she said, “I’ll be right with you, soon as I finish this call,” and then she boomed, “You still there, Mrs. Kinkaid?”
“The problem is, Darrilyn,” Maddie said, “he’s in real trouble. He’s, ah, missing an eye and a leg.”
There was no comment from Darrilyn, but Maddie still heard the chatter in the background and the sound of a cat meowing.
“Darrilyn? Are you there?”
“So he’s hurt? Been in an accident?”
“An accident? Uh, well, didn’t I say he’s without one eye?” Maddie said. “That he lost a leg?” She cringed at her own words which hovered somewhere between the truth and a lie. TJ regarded her with a laser stare.
“Geez, yes, of course! Get him in here ASAP, Mrs. Kinkaid. I’ll tell Dr. McManus to expect you.”
“Great. We’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Maddie dropped the phone into her purse and glanced at TJ. The boy’s expression was solemn, and if he thought she was on a greased slide going straight to Hell he couldn’t look more sorrowful or accusatory. “You zaggerated. Dad says a zaggerate is like a lie.”
“Well, uh.” Maddie scrambled for an explanation. “In this case, it was less of an exaggeration and more of a, um, a misleading truth.”
“So a zaggerated leading truth isn’t a lie?” His expression cleared and he sounded hopeful, like maybe she wasn’t banging on the Devil’s door after all.
Chagrined with herself, Maddie sighed and changed the subject. “Any ideas about how we can coax Scruffy out from behind the dumpster?”
TJ shrugged. “Maybe he’ll come if we call him.”
Maddie nodded. “Okay. Give it a try.”
“He needs a name first. And not Scruffy. That’s not, you know, it’s not—” TJ frowned and screwed up his face in lieu of a word.
“Not very dignified.” Maddie bit her lip. “What do you suggest?”
“Well, he needs a leg. And one a them eye thingys, like my pirate costume from Halloween. I think we oughta call him that. Pirate.”
“Right. An eye patch. And Pirate is a perfect name,” Maddie said. She laid her hand on TJ’s shoulder. “Go for it.”
“Hey, Pirate,” TJ called out. “C’mere boy. We won’t hurt you.”
The mutt’s front paws appeared around the side of the dumpster, then his snout, followed by the rest of his wiry face smeared with drying pizza sauce. He bellied out, making use of the stretching strategy he had employed before. The tactic proved successful and he used it to his advantage.
“That’s it, boy! That’s it!” TJ knelt down and held out his hands, fingers wriggling. “Please come out. Please come over. We won’t hurt you.”
The dog inched a little farther around the dumpster and whined. He laid his head on his paws and watched Maddie and TJ with his single good eye.
“I named you Pirate. Do you like it? We could call you something else if you don’t.”
The dog inched forward, head cocked, unmatched ears turning like satellite dishes tuning to TJ’s voice.
“I have an idea.” Maddie took TJ’s hand in hers. “Hey, Pirate. We’ll be right back.”
“Miss Maddie, we can’t leave! You zaggerated the leading truth, so we hafta take him to the doctor! You said!”
“We will,” Maddie assured him. “Your dad packed granola bars in the cooler, and I bet Pirate would love to have one.”
Maddie held TJ’s hand as they crossed the parking lot toward her car and had it in mind to ask him if he was part owl, the way he kept swiveling his neck to keep eyes on the alley. Standing beside the Camry, she fished her keys from her purse and clicked the locks open with her remote.
“Go ahead and get into your seat, sweetie. I’ve got a blanket in the trunk that I’m going to lay in the front seat for the dog so he doesn’t dirty up the seats, and then we’ll drive over to the alley and see if we can coax him into the car with a granola bar.”
TJ scrambled into the car and buckled himself in while Maddie rummaged around the trunk, looking for the blanket she was sure she had in there.
“This is crazy,” she mumbled. “What if that animal is dangerous? What if he has parasites? What if he bites? What if—”
“Hey, Miss Maddie! Miss Maddie! You gotta come see!”
“Hold on, sweetheart, I’m still looking for the blanket,” she called to TJ, and then continued berating herself. “What am I thinking, bringing a mangy stray into my vehicle while I’ve got a five-year-old child in my care? I am the worst babysitter ever. Ah-ha!” She spotted the blanket where she had at some point stuffed it inside the cat carrier. She slammed the trunk shut and walked around to the passenger side to lay out the blanket, but stopped short of the mark.
Pirate sat in the front passenger seat, wagging the tip of his matted tail. His doggy lips drew back in a smile and his tongue lolled from his mouth. The pizza sauce had stuck in the fur of his charcoal muzzle and might have given him the appearance of a gruesome killer had his demeanor not resonated such laid-back joy.
“I tried to tell ya,” TJ piped up from the back seat, his words accompanied by a hearty giggle. “He followed us and jumped right in.”
“I can see that.”
Maddie reached out a tentative hand to pet the dog’s head. A flea scampered through the sparse fur at the base of his ear. She yanked her hand back and shuddered.
“This guy has fleas, and whew—” She wrinkled her nose. “—does he ever stink! Let’s go on to the vet so I can get him out of my car.”
TJ chattered to Pirate all the way to the vet and appeared immune to the dog’s eye-watering odor. Pirate rode with his head out the window, ears flapping in the breeze while he panted and thumped his tail. Maddie pulled the vehicle into a parking space and cut the engine, holding up a hand to stop TJ when he unbuckled his safety seat and started to climb out.
“Hold on a sec. We don’t have a leash.” She picked up her cell and dialed. “Hi, Darrilyn. It’s Maddie Kinkaid. I’ve got the dog out in the parking lot, but I don’t have a leash. Would you mind—”
“Trauma victim’s here!” Darrilyn called out to someone and said to Maddie, “Tech’s on his way out, Mrs. Kinkaid. Dr. McManus has a room all prepped.”
“Right. About that. See—”
The phone went dead. Maddie looked from Pirate to TJ and dropped the phone in her purse. Her “zaggerated leading truth” was about to be exposed.
Maddie recognized the veterinary tech as a college student named Keshawn, and she smiled and waved to him in greeting. His shaved pate gleamed like polished mahogany and, at six-feet six-inches tall, he lumbered across the parking lot like Bigfoot. He squatted in front of Maddie’s passenger seat and his weightlifter muscles tested the fabric of his lab coat when he reached out to work his calming magic on Pirate.
“Hey
there, boy,” Keshawn rumbled in a Barry White-esque drawl as he stroked the dog. It earned him a swipe of Pirate’s tongue across his cheek. “Heh, heh,” he chuckled, and Pirate thumped his tail.
Maddie locked up the car and took TJ by the hand. Keshawn looped a leash over Pirate’s neck and Maddie and TJ followed him and the amiable dog into the veterinarian’s office, where Maddie knew she’d be forced to admit to Darrilyn that the situation was less dire than she’d suggested.
“Is this the pooch? Omigod, his poor face!” Darrilyn hurried out from behind the counter and bent to triage Pirate. In spite of a missing leg and the use of only one eye, thanks to his wagging tail and cheerful ambience, he was looking less like a victim by the second. “Wait.” She sniffed. “Is this what I think it is?” She sniffed again and narrowed her eyes. “He smells like the town dump with a side of pizza sauce. Exaggerated a little, didn’t you?”
“Well, I—” Maddie began.
“It was a zaggerated leading truth,” TJ said. “And we had to because he might be sick or something.”
Great job, Mads. You taught a five-year-old that it’s okay to lie. Maddie gulped. The sound of Jack’s reprimanding voice reverberating through her consciousness shot her guilt level sky high. She glanced at TJ and sighed. Time to come clean.
“It was wrong of me to make the dog sound worse off than he is. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have told you the truth right away.” The words were meant for Darrilyn, but Maddie looked into TJ’s earnest eyes as she spoke. “We should always tell the truth, no matter what. So, I’m sorry. The dog was hiding behind a dumpster in the alley outside Caravicci’s, and the man in the real estate office next door was throwing rocks at him.” Darrilyn’s horrified expression eased Maddie’s discomfort and she pressed the advantage, feeling only a little guilty about playing on Darrilyn’s love for animals. “You can see why we couldn’t just leave him, can’t you, Darrilyn? I want to get him off the street, but I don’t want to bring him around my cats until I’m sure he’s healthy.”
The irritated wrinkles in Darrilyn’s face smoothed like chocolate silk. She scratched Pirate behind the ears and said to Keshawn, “Bring this sweet, stinky thing back to room two.”
Love Built to Last Page 10
