The Second Saga: The Adventures of Zelda, #2

by Kristen Otte

  “I think so, why?” Hannah responds.

  “She didn’t greet us when we walked in. She just stayed on the chair,” Ben says.

  “That is a little strange,” she says. “Let’s keep our eye on her today.” Lucy walks over and sits next to me.

  “I’m sorry you aren’t feeling good,” she whispers. My plan is already being foiled. They think I am sick and won’t take their eyes off me. How am I supposed to find the Milk-Bone thief? Lucy and Ben wander away from me into the kitchen.

  “Can I give Zelda a treat to make her feel better?” Lucy asks. I perk up.

  “No, honey, that might make her feel worse. Let’s wait and see. If she seems fine later, you can give her a treat,” Hannah says.

  Oh geez. Now I’ve lost an opportunity for a treat.

  I maintain my lookout on the chair, trying to come up with a new plan. As I brainstorm, Lucy returns from the kitchen and sits on the couch, right on top of the Milk-Bone hiding spot.

  “What is this?” she asks. She digs through the blanket and recovers the Milk-Bone.

  “A Milk-Bone! Zelda, do you want it?” I remain motionless, not sure what to do.

  “How about I put it in your bed for safekeeping?” Lucy says. I nod. The bed is across from the couch, still in view from my spot. I watch Lucy walk to my dog bed. Instead of placing it on top of the bed, she hides it under the pillow.

  “There you go, Z Bug. It’s safe with the others,” she says.

  Wait a minute. With the others?

  I break my stakeout and dash to the dog bed. I rip the cushion off the bed and toss it across the room. Staring at me are three delicious, untouched Milk-Bones. I turn and look at a smiling Lucy, the Milk-Bone thief. I should have known. Lucy is the other mischievous one in the house. I grab one and gobble it up. When I finish eating, the room is empty. Lucy is in the kitchen. I grab the cushion and drag it over top of the two remaining Milk-Bones. Lucy will think I moved the bones or ate them. They are safe here. At least I hope they are safe.

  9

  Zelda and Norman

  When Nate mentions the word ride, I know it will be a good day. I run in eleven circles around him until he grabs me and harnesses me. All five of us load up in his black car and drive away. I bounce around in the back seat from Lucy’s lap to Ben’s lap. Once we get out of the neighborhood, I don’t recognize the busy, fast street; we must be going somewhere new. Watching the cars speed by makes me dizzy, so I find a comfortable spot in Ben’s lap and lie down. When the car slows down, I pop up and look outside. We are driving in a neighborhood filled with houses. Eventually, we pull into a driveway and stop.

  I jump from one side of the car to the other, from the front to back, waiting for someone to open a door. They are so slow. I’m ready to go! Finally Nate grabs me, leashes me, and lets me out of the car. I dash for the grass; the smell overwhelms me.

  A dog lives here!

  And then I hear it—the deep bark of a dog. I halt my lawn exploration and pull Nate toward the door.

  “Zelda, wait!” Nate shouts. We stop, and Hannah opens the front door and heads inside. I lunge for the door again. I don’t want Hannah to go in the house alone. But I can’t move anywhere with Nate holding my leash. The barking stops. I hope Hannah is okay.

  When the door opens, it’s a familiar face, but not Hannah. Next to her is the source of the deep bark. He is brown with some white around his nose, chest, and front paws. He is maybe seven pugs’ worth with a giant wrinkly face.

  He has more wrinkles than I do!

  I sit in awe. I’m pretty sure his head is the size of my entire body.

  “Okay Zelda, do you want to meet Norman?” asks Nate. We walk slowly to the dog. I bark a few times to let him know I’m coming. He whimpers back. I approach him and take a sniff, waiting for a response. He returns the sniff and then looks at me with his big droopy face. I can tell from his eyes and calm demeanor that he is friendly.

  “Good dogs,” I hear someone say.

  I wonder if he will play with me?

  I run toward him and nip at his wrinkles. He follows suit and chases me until we are both yanked back by our leashes.

  “I think they are fine. Want to let them loose in the backyard?” Hannah asks.

  “Sure,” the familiar woman says. I’ve seen her at our house a few times before.

  We are led around the side of the house and through a gate. As soon as we are unleashed, I start running. Norman chases after me and catches me quickly. He is fast! We roll around in the yard. He is surprisingly gentle with his giant mouth. We play all afternoon while everybody else stays inside. I don’t even mind that they left us outside in the cold because we have each other.

  “It’s time to go home,” Nate says. Norman and I are lying in the grass panting and resting. “C’mon, Zelda, time for a ride. Let’s go home,” Nate says again. As I get up, I realize I am exhausted. Norman wore me out, but it was worth it.

  For the next few days, I eagerly listen for the words ride or Norman. I can’t wait to visit his house again. I already know he is my best friend. Tucker and Whitney would rather play with each other than me. Jack Jack spends his time hiding from me or hissing at me. Since the move, I haven’t seen Squeaks, and Nate won’t let me meet the dog behind our backyard fence. But the days pass without mention of Norman or any car trips. I start to lose hope that I will ever see Norman again.

  “What time are your sister and everyone coming over?” Nate asks. I perk my ears up. Ben and Lucy are upstairs. Hannah, Nate, and I are in the kitchen.

  “She should be here around seven,” she says.

  “Is she bringing Norman, too?” he asks.

  “Yep.”

  “This should be fun,” Nate says.

  Norman is coming over!

  I pug sprint throughout the house—to the living room, up the stairs into Lucy’s room, then down the stairs into the living room. When I reach the kitchen, I stop for some water.

  “I think Zelda is excited,” Hannah says.

  “Yes, she is. But she’d better save some energy for when Norman comes over,” Nate replies. He is right. Norman is much bigger than I. I need my rest to keep up. I walk to the couch and lie down. But my excitement level is too high, and I can’t sleep. I find a bone and channel my energy into chewing.

  A few minutes later, I hear car doors slam and then voices. I jump on the top of the couch and look out the window.

  There he is!

  I wait eagerly by the door. When they open the door and let him loose, we go running. We run through the living room and kitchen. Norman slides all over the place, slamming into the kitchen table along the way. I run up the stairs, and Norman chases me.

  “Zelda, want to go outside?” I hear Nate yell. I dart down the stairs for the back door. Nate opens the door, and Norman and I both go running. We sprint in circles around the yard. I use my maneuverability to my advantage, making quick turns to keep Norman off my heels. Eventually I slow a bit, and he rams into me. We tumble and play. I bite his huge lips and ears while he licks my face. We lie together for a few minutes before I realize how thirsty I am. I walk to the door to get a drink inside. I take long drinks of water. Norman waits for me to finish and then drinks the rest of the bowl in two big gulps.

  I need a rest from the chase game, so I wander into the living room with my family and the guests. I lie next to Norman, panting and smiling. A few minutes later, Norman and his family leave. I wish Norman could stay with us, but I understand he has his own family and home. But it sure would be nice to have a friend around every day.

  10

  A Pug Thanksgiving

  When Hannah told me we were going to see Tucker and Whitney, I was super excited. I couldn’t wait to play with them and chase Jack Jack, the cat. Now that I have arrived, my excitement is waning. The house is filled to the brim with people of all sizes—from tiny children to giant men. Anywhere I go, someone wants to pet my head or pick me up. Ben and Lucy are running around with ot
her children; Hannah and Nate are ignoring me. I can’t escape the madness.

  With all the commotion in the house, I follow the lead of Tucker and Whitney. I curl up on the couch next to Whitney, who is between two unfamiliar bodies. I try to fall asleep, but the noise in the house is deafening. It’s no use. I get up and wander toward the kitchen, following my nose. The smell is overwhelming but in the best possible way. I wonder what they are cooking.

  The kitchen is busy with activity; I have to walk carefully to avoid being trampled. My nose leads me in front of the oven. Unfortunately, the oven is in the center of the kitchen, surrounded by moving feet. I take a step back and try to see in the oven, but I am too short to look in the window.

  I see a foot coming toward me, and I jump to the right. I can’t stay in the kitchen any longer if I want to stay in one piece. I walk back to the couch and jump up next to Tucker. From this spot, I have the perfect vantage point of the kitchen. I sit and wait, hoping to see what is giving off the delicious odor.

  Not long after I sit down, the kitchen mysteriously clears. Most of the group vacates to the living room. I leave my spot on the couch, and someone claims my seat moments later. I don’t mind. I’m willing to give it up to figure out what is cooking in the kitchen.

  I walk straight to the oven and stand on my hind legs. The oven is warm to the touch on my paws. I look into the window. The window is dark, but I can make out the outline of something. It is big and sort of round with a pale color. I have never seen anything like it. Honestly, it looks disgusting. I jump back from the oven, disappointed.

  How could something so ugly smell so good?

  I wander around the kitchen looking for scraps. I find a few bits of cheese and crackers under the table before returning to the living room. A spot is open next to Hannah, so I claim it and lie down.

  I can’t sleep with the noise and activity. After what seems like an eternity of trying to fall asleep, I watch Hannah carefully get off the couch and head to the kitchen. I follow her.

  “Is the bird ready to take out?” she asks.

  Bird? That’s one big bird.

  “I think so.”

  “Great! That means it’s almost dinnertime,” she says. “Z, come here.” She walks away from the oven to the other side of the kitchen.

  We watch as Nate’s dad opens the oven door and reaches inside. He pulls out something completely different from what I saw. It is golden brown, almost a pug-color brown. It looks moist and tender. And, oh my, the smell. It reminds me of chicken but yummier. I need to get a piece.

  “The turkey looks and smells great,” Hannah says as Nate’s dad places it on the table.

  Turkey? What kind of bird is a turkey?

  I hop onto a chair in the kitchen and stare at the magnificent cooked turkey bird. While I fixate on it, the rest of the kitchen is a blur. People are moving everywhere and carrying food to the table, to the counter, and back again. They are shouting to one another and laughing, so I sit and wait. The turkey bird is unreachable at the moment, but at some point I know an opportunity will arise for me to take a sample bite. Or two. Or three.

  I watch as Nate’s dad cuts up the turkey bird. I am a little sad watching the giant bird dismantled into bite-sized pieces. But in the long run, I know it’s better for me if it is sliced. It’s a lot easier for me to get my paws on a slice than on the whole big turkey bird.

  All the food, including slices of the bird, is resting on the counter in the middle of the kitchen. It’s impossible for me to reach the counter unless someone lifts me up. Eventually the food will move to plates around the table, and the opportunity will come.

  The seats are filling up around me. Children and adults are staking their claims on chairs. I know it’s only a matter of time before someone sits on me, so I hop to the ground. I look for the kids’ section of the table, the gold mine for scavenging.

  Lucy sits down on the far end of the long table. The table is the longest I have ever seen. You could have twenty pugs sitting on chairs! Sitting next to Lucy is a small boy. He is the lucky winner today; he will be my helper on the turkey quest.

  In a few minutes, the room is quiet and the table is full with people and plates. I sit next to the small boy and wait. He eats for a few minutes and then stops. He backs his chair up.

  “Christopher, you need to eat more before you get up,” a woman says from across the room.

  “But Mom, I’m not hungry,” the boy says.

  “You need to eat the rest of your turkey and potatoes.” The boy looks at his plate. I take my opportunity. I walk over to his far side, hidden from his mom’s view. I put my front paws on his lap.

  “Hi, Zelda,” he whispers.

  This is it. I know it.

  I leap onto his lap. My head is at table height, but I can’t reach the turkey. I put a paw on the table.

  “Zelda, down,” Hannah yells from the far end of the table.

  It’s now or never.

  I put my other paw on the plate and reach for the slice of turkey. I grab for it with my mouth, but as I put my weight on my front paws, the plate flips toward me. The turkey flies to me, and I catch it in my mouth. I leap off the table and onto the ground and out of the way. With the turkey in my mouth, I look up.

  Uh oh.

  The plate is upside down on the boy’s lap.

  I’m in trouble.

  I bolt for the living room, but I slow down when I hear laughter. I stop and turn, setting the turkey on the floor. The table is erupting with laughter; I am okay. I listen to the conversation as I take my first bite.

  “I can’t believe what just happened.”

  “Zelda must have really wanted some turkey.”

  “Christopher, let’s get you cleaned up.”

  “This will be something to remember for years.”

  I savor the turkey. It does remind me of chicken, but juicier. After the first bite, I gobble the rest in seconds.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Zelda,” Nate shouts. The table laughs. I lick my lips and smile.

  11

  Zelda and the Stuffed Animal

  The next weeks pass by quietly. Winter has arrived in dramatic fashion with frigid temperatures and cold winds. The pine tree has appeared in our living room again. I spend most of my days under a blanket, lacking the ambition to move, let alone hide toys from the pine tree or find a new adventure. I haven’t seen Norman for a few weeks; I wish he would come for a visit.

  My family is out for the day, so I await their return in my dog bed. Occasionally a warm breeze blows from the wall behind me. I dream of warm weather, chasing Norman, and hiding Milk-Bones. When I awake, the family is walking through the door carrying a few shopping bags. Lucy carries her bag upstairs.

  “I think that was a successful Christmas shopping trip. We got most of the family done,” Hannah says.

  “Yes, including Lucy,” Ben says.

  “I couldn’t say no to her. She loved the dog; it looks just like Zelda,” Hannah says.

  “You said no to my request for a new video game,” Ben whines.

  “Sorry, dear, Christmas is coming, I’m sure Santa will bring you something you want,” Nate says.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Ben says, sitting down on the couch. Maybe I can cheer him up. I jump up on the seat next to him and give him a big kiss. He smiles and mumbles, “I love you, too, Zelda.”

  That evening, I follow Ben upstairs to bed. He turns into his room, but I head across the hall to my sleeping spot next to Lucy. I jump on the bed. Lucy stirs, which lets me under the covers. I fall asleep instantly.

  When I wake up, light is streaming into the room. Lucy is already up and out of bed. A small fawn pug is staring at me from across the room on top of a shelf. I blink a few times to make sure I am awake and seeing the world right. The pug is still there, looking directly at me from its perch. Is it stuck on the shelf? Maybe it needs help. I start barking.

  There is no response from the pug. Strange. It’s also odd that I don’t smell the
dog, either. How is it camouflaging its odor? I have so many questions. I look around the room to find a path up to the shelf. But there is no way up there. Even with my great pug leaping ability, I can’t make the jump from the bed to the shelf.

  How did it get there?

  I need to get help so it can get down and we can be friends. I walk out of the room. I hear my family talking downstairs.

  “When do we pick up Peach?” I hear as I walk down the stairs.

  “In a week or two, whenever the rescue says she is ready,” Nate says. I have no clue what they are talking about. Don’t they know a pug is trapped upstairs? I start barking.

  “Hi, Zelda,” Lucy says. I bark some more, but the family mostly ignores me. I don’t even know why I try barking anymore; they never understand what I’m trying to communicate. It’s time for Plan B.

  I grab a toy and bring it to Ben. When he reaches for it, I jump backward so he can’t grab it. I do this a few more times to get him excited and playing. Then, I race upstairs hoping Ben or someone else will follow. I stop at the top of the stairs and listen for movement. Nothing.

  “Zelda, c’mon, let’s play downstairs,” Ben yells. The plan failed. I walk back into Lucy’s room and check on the pug. It is still sitting on the shelf. I wander back downstairs. Eventually someone will come upstairs. When they do, I’ll make sure they see the pug.

  After an hour of waiting, Hannah walks upstairs. I walk straight to Lucy’s bedroom and start barking. After a few minutes, Hannah joins me in Lucy’s room.

  “Why are you barking?” she asks. I look at the motionless pug. “Oh Zelda, that’s just a stuffed animal. Leave it be,” she says and walks away. I sit dumbfounded. I have no idea what she is talking about.

  Stuffed animal?

  I jump on Lucy’s bed and wait for the next person to wander up the stairs. Only a few minutes pass before Lucy appears in the doorway.