It's a Doggy Dog World

by Tommy Greenwald

  “ARRRGGGH!” I screamed. I put up my hands, as much for self-defense as anything else.

  PLUNK! The ball nestled comfortably right in the netting of my stick. I stared at it in disbelief.

  “Nice save!” Mr. Knight came jogging up with a big grin on his face. “Hey, boys!” he hollered at the rest of the team. “Looks like we found ourselves a goalie!” He turned to me. “Well done, son,” he said, giving me another whack on the back.

  This time, it didn’t hurt at all.

  I HADN’T BEEN BACK to the Northport Animal Rescue Foundation (otherwise known as Northport ARF!) since the day we adopted Abby, but it was like I’d never been away.

  As soon as my dad and I walked in that night, all the dogs started wagging and woofing in their cages, begging me to say hello. Abby, meanwhile, was walking around like she owned the place, greeting everyone like a long-lost friend. The staff was really happy to see her, because they love it when one of the rescues winds up in a good home.

  “She thinks she’s the mayor,” said my dad.

  I nodded. “She kind of is.”

  We were trying to figure out where the obedience training class met when I heard a voice behind us.

  “There she is!”

  I turned and saw someone walking toward us, and realized it was the guy who first pulled Abby out of the cage for us when we picked her out.

  “Hey!” I said.

  My dad shook his hand. “Good to see you again,” he said, and I realized neither of us knew the guy’s name.

  “I’m Shep,” he said, helping us out.

  Shep looked at me closely. “Yo, dude, no offense or anything, but didn’t you used to have … like … a thing on your face?”

  I touched my cheek. “Oh, yeah,” I said. “That was gross. It’s gone now.” Shep was asking about my blotch, which was this weird rash that popped up on my face right before the first day of school. Luckily it went away, after my mom got me some medicine and after I made some friends. I think both helped.

  My dad laughed. “Hey, Shep, remember when I picked Abby up for the first time, and she sneezed on me?”

  Shep chuckled. “I sure do, man. But you took her anyway, which I gotta say was pretty impressive.” He bent down to pet Abby. “So how’s my little girl doing? Still sleeping the day away?”

  “Yup!” I said. “She’s awesome! She likes to sleep or hide under the porch during the day, and at night she gets really active, and she helped catch a jewelry thief a few months ago, and she helped catch a cookie thief a few days ago, and she hates garlic and has enormous fangs and goes through the window every night—”

  PROFILE

  Name: Shep

  Age: As old as you have to be to have long gray hair and a long white mustache

  Occupation: The best job in the world—dog shelter guy

  Interests: Why would he need any? He’s the dog shelter guy.

  “Whoa, slow down there, chief,” Shep said. He looked down at Abby fondly. “I do remember she was quite a character, back when we had her. Has a lot of interesting habits, that’s for sure.”

  “And also a lot of naughty ones,” added my dad. “Which is why we’re here.”

  “I get that,” Shep said, nuzzling Abby’s ear. Abby purred with happiness. (Hey, dogs can purr too, you know.)

  FACT: If you want a dog to like you, scratch her ear. If you want a dog to love you, give her food. If you want a dog to worship the ground you walk on, give her food while scratching her ear.

  “You guys ready to get started?” Shep said. “The rest of the class is already outside.”

  “Actually, I’m not staying,” my dad said. “I need to go pick up my daughter. I hope that’s okay?”

  Shep frowned for a second. “Oh, yeah, no problem-o. Well, for sure, it’s not all that common for a child to go through dog obedience training without an adult present, but if it’s all good with you, then it’s all good with me.”

  “It’s all good with me,” my dad said, who looked like he was trying to figure out if Shep was the coolest guy he’d ever met, or someone he shouldn’t necessarily be leaving his son with. “Jimmy can handle it, and I’ll be back to pick him up in an hour,” my dad said. “Abby is his dog, and they’re great with each other.”

  I beamed. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “It’s other things she needs to work on,” he added.

  “Meaning what, exactly?” asked Shep.

  “Meaning, she chews up everything in the house, she wanders the neighborhood at night, she growls at people sometimes—”

  “Only bad people,” I interrupted.

  My dad sighed. “Well, you wouldn’t want to be on the wrong end of those fangs, is all I’m saying.”

  “We can work on all of that, except the fangs,” Shep said. He bent over and petted Abby, who was starting to look a little bored. “I’m going to take this cute little girl out to the yard with the other trainees. We’ll get started in a minute.”

  Shep started to leave with Abby, then turned back.

  “Inside every dog is a sweetheart just waiting to come out,” he said. “Sooner or later, they all come around.”

  My dad sighed. “Sooner would be good.”

  THE OBEDIENCE TRAINING took place in a large circle in the yard behind the shelter. It looked kind of like a circus ring. There were a bunch of other dogs there, pulling their owners all over the place with their leashes. I noticed a giant Saint Bernard furiously digging a hole in the middle of the yard. “Stay away from that one,” I whispered to Abby. “He looks like a bad influence.”

  Shep walked into the middle of the circle. “Okay, everyone, please listen up.” All the humans turned around and paid attention. All the nonhumans did not.

  “Tonight you begin a special journey with your dog,” Shep continued. “A mythical journey of understanding. Of shared consciousness. Of mutual respect. Of—” He suddenly stopped. “Yo, what’s that dog up to?”

  Everyone turned and saw the giant Saint Bernard rolling around in the hole he had dug a few minutes before, which was deep enough to bury a small car in. Then the dog jumped up and started digging another hole right next to the first one.

  “Sir?” Shep called to the dog’s owner, a man wearing way too nice a suit to be hanging out in a dog shelter. “Can you please control your dog?”

  The owner tried to smile but failed. “If I could control my dog, would I be here?”

  I looked down at Abby. Suddenly, things didn’t seem so bad. Abby might have been naughty, but at least she wasn’t 120 pounds of naughty.

  “Good girl,” I told her. “You’re being very well-behaved.”

  Abby took that moment to decide she was going to join the big bad Saint Bernard in the hole-digging party. She shot off like a spring, nearly separating my right arm from my body in the process.

  “Abby!” I hollered, as I was going along for the involuntary ride. “Abby, stop!”

  She didn’t.

  FACT: In a tug-of-war between a dog and an eleven-year-old boy, it’s pretty easy to predict who’s going to win.

  In about twenty-eight seconds, Abby and the other dog made the shelter’s yard look like the surface of the moon. Craters were everywhere.

  The man in the suit looked at me. “There’s nothing Thor likes more than digging holes,” he said.

  “Thor! Cool name.”

  The man nodded without smiling. “What’s your dog called?”

  “Abby,” I said, slightly apologetically. For some reason, I thought Abby’s name was a little lame.

  “Cute little Abby,” the man said, confirming my suspicions. “What’s she in for?”

  “My parents are tired of her destroying all my mom’s expensive stuff,” I said. “How about you?”

  “This dog is the one thing in my life I can’t control, and I want to change that.” Then the man did smile, showing his super white teeth. “And I tend to get what I want.”

  Meanwhile, the two dogs had started exploring each ot
her’s … uh, well you know … anyway, it was a little awkward until Shep came over.

  “Abby. Thor. Dudes. Give it a break.” Shep had to be by far the most relaxed dog trainer in the whole world.

  But Abby didn’t stop. Instead she grabbed Thor’s collar and started running around in circles. Thor, who weighed about three times as much as Abby, spun around slowly, looking down at the smaller dog. I think he was laughing inside.

  “Seriously, Abby?” Shep asked, but Abby wasn’t really in a listening mood at that point, because that’s when she noticed the bin where the treats were, which I guess were used as rewards for dogs who actually obeyed orders.

  Abby sprinted over to the bin and knocked it over. Biscuits and other assorted doggy delights went flying everywhere, which made the other dogs start howling, because they wanted in on the action. All of a sudden it sounded like an audition for So You Think You Can Bark (which is a TV show that doesn’t exist, but it should).

  Shep finally looked like he’d had enough. He walked over and scooped Abby up.

  “Come with me, young lady,” Shep said as he led Abby up onto a small stage in the front of the yard. “We’re going to settle you down, and fast.” Then he held his hand in the air. “Follow your star,” he commanded.

  Abby was squirming like she was stuck in quicksand.

  “Settle,” Shep whispered soothingly. “Now follow your star.” He looked out at the class. “This is an exercise that teaches both coordination and cooperation,” he explained.

  Everyone else stared at Shep as he slowly repeated the phrase over and over again, each time a bit slower, while raising his hand in the air. It seemed like he was hypnotizing Abby. “Follow your star … Follow your star … Fol … low … your … star …”

  Finally, after about the twentieth time, Abby stopped wriggling around. Her head stayed high, with her eyes focused on Shep’s hand as it went up in the air. Slowly Shep lowered his hand, but Abby’s head stayed in the air, like she was actually following a star. She was completely still.

  “Rest,” Shep said, and Abby lowered her head.

  “Wow,” I said.

  Thor’s owner started clapping. “Very nice, very impressive,” he said. “Can you do that with my dog?”

  Shep looked up at the man. “I’m sorry, can you tell me your name again?”

  “Swab,” the man said. “Ned Swab.”

  Shep sighed. “Right. Well, Mr. Swab, as long as you just let me do my job, everything will be terrific. I’ll get to all the dogs eventually.”

  PROFILE

  Name: Ned Swab and his dog, Thor

  Age: Over ten (Mr. Swab); Under ten (Thor)

  Occupation: Whining (Mr. Swab); Digging (Thor)

  Interests: Doing what they want (Both)

  Mr. Swab looked mad. “We were here first,” he snapped. “That’s not exactly fair.”

  Shep quickly decided it wasn’t worth arguing with the guy. “You got it, brother,” he said. Then, under his breath, I heard him mutter, “There’s one in every crowd.”

  The other trick Shep taught the dogs that first night was Drag and Drop, where each dog walks to a box that has one Frisbee and ten steak bones in it. The dogs are supposed to ignore the bones, grab the Frisbee, and drop it at Shep’s feet. After each dog did it successfully, Shep rewarded them with Bury the Bone, where the dogs got to take one of the bones, chomp on it, then dig a hole in the yard and bury it. Of course, Thor and Abby loved that part.

  All in all, it was pretty amazing how quickly Shep was able to get the dogs to do whatever he wanted. “Remember, dogs are like people—the more they do something, the happier and more comfortable they are with it,” he said. “We don’t want obedience to be a random event. When something happens often enough, it becomes more than a coincidence. It becomes a pattern.”

  Watching Abby go through her paces, I started looking forward to the great report I was going to give my parents. As the class was finishing up, though, I heard Mr. Swab say “Bury the bone!” to Thor. Thor immediately started digging another giant hole.

  “Sir, what are you doing?” Shep said. “I told the dogs to rest.”

  “I needed to make sure she knows who’s the boss,” Mr. Swab said. “That would be me, not you.”

  Shep shook his head but didn’t say anything.

  Abby immediately decided to join Thor in his digging. I shrugged apologetically at Shep, but he just smiled.

  “It’s not your fault, little man,” he said. “But I’ll tell you a secret: Sometimes the owners need more training than the dogs.”

  “STOP TALKING WITH YOUR MOUTH FULL!” Irwin barked at lunch the next day.

  “But I don’t want the fish sticks to get cold,” I explained.

  Baxter reached over to my tray, grabbed a fish stick, and shoved it in his mouth. “There. Enough about the fish sticks.”

  FACT: Some people complain about cafeteria food, but that’s just because they haven’t discovered the completely delicious taste of fish sticks drenched in tartar sauce.

  Irwin eyed Baxter nervously. “Jeez, take it easy.” Baxter still had a few of his old bully habits, which scared Irwin a little. It was kind of like an old wart Baxter couldn’t quite get rid of.

  I got back to the business at hand. “So anyway, yeah, like I was saying, Abby’s going to obedience training. She chewed up one too many of my mom’s shoes.”

  “You mean, like dog reform school?” Irwin asked.

  I nodded grimly.

  “Abby is great,” Baxter said, “but she’s not necessarily as super special as you think she is.”

  “Yes, she is,” I said, in a tone that said This is not up for discussion.

  So we stopped discussing it.

  “Daisy is coming over to my house after school,” Irwin announced.

  “I thought we were going to the Boathouse,” I said.

  “I thought you said you had lacrosse practice,” Irwin said. I suddenly got the feeling that Irwin was going to use my joining the lacrosse team as a way to spend time with Daisy without me.

  “We can go to the Boathouse for, like, an hour before we have to go to practice,” I told Irwin.

  Baxter sighed. “Seriously, you two need to stop arguing over Daisy—it’s so annoying.” He looked for more food to steal from my tray, but my plate was empty.

  “I need to go get some more chocolate milk,” I said, getting up just as Chad Knight was walking by.

  PROFILE

  Name: Chad Knight

  Age: Not sure, and I would never have the nerve to ask him

  Occupation: Best athlete in the whole school

  Interests: Being cool without even trying

  We all froze.

  Everybody froze for Chad Knight.

  “Yo, Jimmy,” Chad said.

  “Yo, Chad,” I tried to say normally, like I said “Yo, Chad” every day.

  FACT: People like Chad Knight don’t usually talk to people like me, unless absolutely necessary.

  Baxter jumped up. “Hey, Chad. What’s going on?”

  “Not much,” Chad said. Then he looked back at me. “Nice work in practice yesterday, Jimmy. Bring some of that to the game against Northport.”

  I blinked. “Um, okay.”

  Chad smacked my arm. “Cool. See you later.”

  Chad walked away, leaving Baxter standing there. He slowly sat back down, trying not to look embarrassed. Meanwhile, once the shock of seeing Chad talk to me started to wear off, Irwin slowly got his voice back.

  “Yo, Jimmy,” he said, imitating Chad. “Nice work in practice.”

  “Knock it off,” I told Irwin.

  Irwin laughed and shook his head. “Whatever. That was weird. Does he think you’re actually good at lacrosse?”

  Baxter wasn’t laughing, though. “Can we talk about something else?” he asked. I realized the idea of Chad praising my lacrosse skills didn’t exactly make Baxter happy.

  Irwin took a bite of his peanut butter sandwich (he always brou
ght lunch from home, because his mom didn’t trust cafeteria food) and took approximately two minutes to swallow it. Then he said, “The coolest kid in our grade just talked to Jimmy, and you want to talk about something else?”

  “Yeah, I do,” Baxter said. “Anything else.”

  But there wasn’t much else to talk about, so we all ate silently until a voice said “Hey!” and we all looked up.

  Daisy was coming over to sit with us, which we expected.

  But she had someone else with her—Mara Lloyd. That was unexpected.

  “I thought Mara could sit with us today,” Daisy explained.

  “Uh …” said Irwin, which is exactly what I was thinking. Mara was one of Daisy’s friends, but I’d never really talked to her before.

  PROFILE

  Name: Mara Lloyd

  Age: The same as the rest of us, I think

  Occupation: Daisy’s non-CrimeBiters friend

  Interests: Non-CrimeBiters stuff

  “Hi, you guys!” Mara chirped. She was very chirpy. “What are you guys up to?”

  “Uh …” I said, which was probably exactly what Irwin was thinking.

  “Hey, Mara!” said Baxter. He had a lot of swagger, probably left over from his bully days. But like all bullies, the swagger only covered up the same insecurities the rest of us had. Which is why he then said, “Uh …”

  “Are you guys talking CrimeBiters business?” Daisy asked. She turned to Mara. “Most lunches are spent talking about the CrimeBiters,” she explained. “It’s our gang and it’s really fun. You could maybe join if you want.”

  Wait, what?!? My skin started to get hot with panic. I didn’t even know Mara! Neither did the other guys! There’s no way we could just let some random girl into our gang! It might change everything! It might ruin friendships! It might—

  “Oh, ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” Mara squeaked. She was also very squeaky.

  FACT: Chirpy, squeaky girls make me nervous. As do non-chirpy, non-squeaky girls. Okay, fine, all girls make me nervous.

  “That’s okay!” Mara went on. “I’m not really interested in joining your silly club! Thanks anyway, though!”