King Tut Helps Ming Stay Weird

by Caryn Rivadeneira

  Turns out, people wanted their dogs to wear vests—and dogs didn’t mind at all.

  Farmers all around put in orders for the dog vests. Everyone loved them. Magazines ran stories about this amazing and handy new invention.

  And then people from cities and towns all over began to call. Could they make vests for dogs that worked in places besides farms?

  They could! And soon, farm dogs, ranch dogs, police dogs, rescue dogs, airport-sniffer dogs, and seeing-eye dogs all across the country wore vests made by the Hund Vest company—owned by Eloise’s grandparents.

  Her grandparents made a lot of money. They built a big house, right in town. Right next to some of the people who used to laugh at them.

  The house had three floors—not including the creepy cellar. Each floor had so many rooms—oh, right—I already told you about this. They built the house we live in!

  Anyway, long story short: The business grew and grew. Eloise’s mom ran the company. They kept making vests but also made leashes and collars and toys. When Eloise’s mom came back from a trip to Egypt with plans to make Egyptian-print collars, like the ancient pharaohs used for their dogs, the country went nuts. The King Tut display was touring the country, and everyone wanted dog collars fashioned with scarab beetles and pyramids like the pharaoh dogs used to wear.

  Eloise was proud of what her family did—but Eloise didn’t want to work for the company. She wanted to teach kids how to paint and take pictures and to understand how important art and creativity and weirdness really are.

  So Eloise became a teacher—and let her brother and sister take over the company. But Eloise got to take over the big house. Her siblings thought it was too old and weird. But Eloise loved it because she felt her grandparents’ creative spirits running through every room. Eloise put the “failed” inventions on display. Sometimes she brought them into school.

  “Maybe no one wanted a pig blanket or a horse skirt, but my grandparents never gave up,” Eloise would tell her students. “They let their creativity run wild—and never stopped dreaming or imagining and working hard. Even when they failed, they succeeded because they kept at it.”

  “People thought my grandparents were so weird,” Eloise would say. “They got made fun of all the time. People thought they were too different and too crazy! And they were weird and they were different. But that’s what made them amazing people. I’m so proud of them. And I’d be proud of them whether they became successes or not.”

  It was a good speech. And Eloise believed it. In fact, because Eloise believed that creativity and hard work could make any dream come true, Eloise began to dream with me.

  On the second day I was at her house, Eloise wondered what my name should be.

  “You look like a mutt,” she said. “But you act like a king. And I found you on the banks of a river. Just like Moses. But that’s not quite right…”

  Eloise looked up at the curio cabinet next to us. In it was the picture of a dog collar her mother had brought back from Egypt. She smiled.

  “What about: King Tut the Mutt?” She asked me.

  What could I say? I barked!

  “But if you’re going to be a king with humble, riverside roots and that weird hairdo, you better be ready to do great things in this world,” Eloise said.

  I was ready. I just didn’t know what for!

  CHAPTER 5

  The big things started just a few weeks later.

  “I just got off the phone with my principal,” Eloise said. She picked me up and held me in front of her face. I got a little bigger over that first summer at my new house, but not much. “Guess what he said.”

  I had no idea so I just licked Eloise on the nose.

  She laughed, scratched my head, and pulled me close.

  “You, King Tut the Mutt, get to come to school with me this fall,” she said. “Maybe not every day. But Principal Jackson agreed it would be good for the students to see how a puppy grows and gets trained. I just have to find a way to tie it into my art lessons, which might be hard…”

  Eloise stared out the window as she always does when she’s dreaming or imagining.

  “Got it,” Eloise said. “If I can train you to sit still, we can work on painting you.”

  So two weeks before school started, Eloise started my lessons. Every day we’d work on learning to sit, lie down, stay, heel, roll over, speak… It was really fun. I loved learning and was good at all the tricks.

  For the first day of school, Eloise asked her brother if the Hund Vest company could make me a special vest for school. Eloise sent over designs. A week later, she opened a package.

  “King Tut!” She called. I was two floors up nosing through a back storage closet, but I heard her clearly. I skidded through the hallways and down the stairs.

  Eloise stood in the front hallway—a tiny gold vest in her hands.

  “Let’s see how it fits,” she said. I lifted my front two paws so she could slip my little legs into the openings and then sucked in my bitty belly while she Velcro-ed the strap. Then I shook. It stayed on.

  “It’s perfect,” Eloise said. “Fit for a King Tut.”

  I must admit: the gold fabric went really well with my white fluffs. Black scarabs dotted the vest. The words King Tut the Mutt, School Dog ran across the back.

  “Scarabs symbolize rebirth or resurrection,” Eloise told me. “And you had a sort of rebirth—from scrappy dog under that bridge to a King going to school.”

  And she was right.

  • • •

  I loved school right away. And the kids loved me.

  I slept in a cozy kennel next to Eloise’s desk for a chunk of the day. But at certain times, Eloise would call me out. The kids would play with me, help train me, or sit and draw me. When they’d paint or draw me, I would stay still like a statue. When they trained me, I helped them learn how to reward me with treats (the best part). And when we’d play, I’d run or tug or fetch.

  Whatever I did, I tried to make them laugh. My ears would flop and bounce, or I’d tumble and roll. The kids would laugh till their faces turned red. I loved that.

  But one boy never laughed. One boy never played with or trained me. Ming would draw me (really well in fact!). But he’d add strange features to my pictures: a unicorn’s horn, a rainbow tail, or he’d set me on top of a pyramid’s point.

  “That’s a weird picture,” Eva would say with a smack of her tongue. Ming would sigh and hang his head.

  When other kids gathered round, Ming stayed in his seat and watched. His eyebrows would scrunch, and he would scribble or draw on his sketchpad.

  Then Ming did something the other kids never did. Ming would suggest something for me to do.

  “King Tut would be a good fire dog,” Ming would say. “She could stay low—away from the smoke.”

  The other kids would disagree—except Luis.

  “Yeah, she might be good at that, Ming!” Luis would say.

  “No, she wouldn’t,” Tina said. “King Tut is too fluffy. Her hair would catch fire.”

  “King Tut would be good on a fishing boat,” Ming would say. “She’s so small. She’d stay out of the way.”

  “No she wouldn’t,” Paul said. “King Tut would try to play with the fish when they flopped around.”

  “King Tut would be good in the White House,” Ming said. “She could sleep on a sofa and help the President relax.”

  “No, she wouldn’t,” Mallory said. “The President is too busy. She’d never get to play. She needs to play.”

  And on and on it went. The students rolled their eyes at Ming. All the time.

  And they got so used to him not coming over to play or being too weird when he did, that they stopped inviting him over. But I never stopped going over by Ming. I knew he was different. I could feel he was lonely. And he knew he was weird. But I liked him for all t
hose reasons. So when Eloise had the kids settled on the floor sketching or hearing about an art project, I’d sneak over by Ming and snooze beneath his desk.

  Ming would lean down to pet me and then get back to work.

  One day, Ming suggested that I would make a good sheep-herder.

  Eva huffed loudly.

  “She would not make a good sheep dog,” she said. “The sheep would trample her. You are so weird, Ming.”

  “Eva!” Eloise said. “That was very rude. Apologize to Ming.”

  Eva said sorry. Ming looked down at his sketchpad as the kids laughed. I ran over to Ming and jumped up so my paws landed on his lap.

  Ming smiled and reached down to pet me.

  I took two steps back. He smiled and reached his hand forward.

  Ming stood up and stepped toward me. I took two more steps back. Ming smiled again and walked forward.

  Soon, Ming was up front with the rest of the kids. I sat. Ming sat criss-cross applesauce. I climbed into his lap.

  “Looks like Ming was right,” Luis said. “King Tut herded him over here.”

  Eloise nodded and thanked Luis for that “observation.”

  But Ming wasn’t done with the suggestions.

  “King Tut would make a good Helper Hound,” Ming said. “I read about them online. King Tut helps me, and she could help other people too.”

  This time, no one laughed.

  Luis was the first to yell, “YESSS!” But the rest of the class quickly joined in.

  “But the Helper Hounds are much bigger than King Tut,” Eva said.

  “That is true,” said Eloise.

  “Every day you say it doesn’t matter that I’m different—or even weird,” Ming said. “I can do or be anything. I belong everywhere. That’s the same for King Tut.”

  Eloise nodded.

  That night Eloise called her sister. Hund Vests made the Helper Hounds vests. Eloise was sure her sister knew Mr. Tuttle, the founder of Helper Hounds.

  Next thing I knew, I was off to Helper Hounds University with the big dogs.

  Mr. Tuttle worried my small size would keep me from doing a good job. But I had survived living under a bridge. And now, I spent my days in a busy classroom. I knew being a Helper Hound would be no sweat.

  CHAPTER 6

  Long story short: I graduated from Helper Hounds University and became an official Helper Hound. Of course, I was the smallest Helper Hound. And, I sensed, the weirdest one. My hair was all scruff. My tail hung kind of wonky. And I was a girl dog named after a boy king. But that was okay. In fact, being a small, weird Helper Hound comes in very handy.

  Although, I had to have my Helper Hounds vest custom made. Know what else comes in handy? When your human “aunt” and “uncle” own the vest company!

  Eloise’s sister dropped off my special vest.

  All the Helper Hounds vests look identical. They are bright red with “Helper Hound” written across them. But my vest had a secret. Underneath, Eloise’s sister sewed “King Tut the Mutt of Hund House.”

  Had I mentioned that was the name of our house? Well, it was. Eloise’s grandparents named it Hund House after the company that made them enough money to build the house.

  From the moment I put my vest on, Eloise and I started going on cases. We helped kids all across the state and country! Sometimes we got on planes. Sometimes we stayed overnight in hotels. Sometimes we just had to drive a couple hours.

  This was the first time we got a request from our own school!

  Turned out, Ming was worried about a “lockdown drill” coming up.

  Who could blame him? Lots of kids get nervous about these drills. It’s scary to imagine what would happen if someone came into school with a gun or threatening words. But when Ming got worried, he had a hard time calming down. He had a hard time listening and doing what he needed to. The kids would say mean things and call him weird—even more than they normally did!

  That’s why his mom hoped I could help.

  “I wish the world wasn’t like this,” Eloise said as she read the email from Ming’s mom. “I wish we didn’t need lockdown drills to practice hiding or fighting. And I wish we didn’t make fun of people who aren’t like us!”

  Eloise pulled me up on her lap and looked right at me.

  “Do you think you can help Ming not feel so afraid? Can you help him relax as he goes through the drill?”

  Eloise asked me this. But we both knew the answer. I could help Ming—for sure!

  “And here’s the harder question,” Eloise said. “Can we help Ming learn that being different is good? That there’s a place for everyone?”

  Eloise looked at my scruff and my wonky tail and smiled at me. “Actually,” she said. “You probably already proved that!”

  The next day, Eloise met with Ming’s homeroom teacher and the principal. I came too. They agreed that on Tuesday—the day of the drill—I would hang out in Ming’s classroom all day. Ming’s teacher, Ms. Hanson, would keep the kennel by her desk. But I could sit by Ming whenever Ming wanted.

  It was going to be a great day!

  Happily, Tuesday came fast. Just after the bell rang and after the students listened to announcements and said the pledge, Eloise knocked on Ms. Hanson’s door.

  “Special delivery,” Eloise said.

  Eloise made the “speak” command with her hand. So I barked. The kids cheered.

  “King Tut is going to hang out with us today,” Ms. Hanson said. “Ming thought she could help us get ready for our lockdown drill.”

  “How will she help?” Eva asked. “What if she barks while we’re hiding?”

  “Great questions,” Eloise said. Eloise pointed to my vest. “She’s got her Helper Hounds vest on today. King Tut is smart. She knows when she’s working as a Helper Hound and when she’s just hanging out at school. She barks much less in her Helper Hounds vest. Plus, we can tell King Tut when to bark.”

  Eloise did the “speak” command. I barked.

  “And,” Eloise said. “I can tell her to shush. I want to teach you all how to do that too.”

  Eloise and I went to the front of the classroom. Eloise called Ming up.

  “Ming,” Eloise said. “Do you remember how to tell King Tut to bark?”

  Ming motioned the command with his hand.

  I barked.

  “Now, try this.” Eloise brought her finger to her mouth. “You can shush King Tut just like you shush a person. I’ll get her to bark and then you try.”

  Eloise made the bark-bark-bark motion. This meant for me to bark my head off. So I did. But then Ming stepped forward. He put his finger to his lips.

  I stopped.

  The kids cheered again. I wagged my tail.

  “But more than that,”Eloise said. “King Tut can help everyone stay calm. That’s one of the most important things!”

  “I don’t know,” said Eva. “This sounds like another one of Ming’s weird ideas…”

  “It doesn’t sound weird to me,” said Luis. “When it storms at home, I feel better when my dog, Petey, is up on my bed.”

  Ming smiled at Luis. Luis reached out a hand. They bumped fists.

  “All right then,” said Ms. Hanson. “Time to get back to actual class. Ming, can you please be in charge of King Tut?”

  Ming nodded and called me over to his desk. He gave me the down command Eloise showed him before she left. Then he handed me my bone. I chewed away on that while Ms. Hanson began her lesson.

  Every once in a while, I felt Ming’s hand on my back. At first, his fingers shook as he scratched me. But then he would settle down. And so did I. I fell into a nice, deep sleep.

  CHAPTER 7

  Who knows how long I would’ve kept on sleeping. I imagine all day. But somewhere in the middle of me dreaming about swimming with otters down by my o
ld creek, the bell sounded. Principal Jackson came over the loud speaker:

  “Attention students: This is a lockdown drill. I repeat: This is a lockdown drill.”

  The classroom door snapped shut and clicked.

  “Okay, students,” Ms. Hanson said. “Just as we talked about. Everyone in the corner please. And stay very still and quiet.”

  I stood up—as did most of the students.

  But Ming stayed frozen in his seat. As kids shuffled toward the corner furthest from the door, I bumped my nose into Ming’s leg.

  Ming still didn’t move. Well, except that his leg bounced beneath the desk.

  “Ming, please,” Ms. Hanson said. “To the corner. You can walk with King Tut.”

  “But I was thinking,” Ming said. “If there were a shooter, wouldn’t the shooter know we hide in the corner? I mean. If the shooter was ever a student?”

  Ms. Hanson sighed.

  “Perhaps,” she said. “But this is the drill. This is what Officer Landry came in and talked to us about. This is how the police say we stay safest.”

  “Stop being so weird, Ming! Let’s go!” Eva whispered loudly.

  “Stop being so mean, Eva,” Luis said. “Don’t worry, Ming. You can do it.”

  Ming nodded. He took a deep breath. Ming reached his hand toward my vest and read: “Helper Hound.”

  “You need to help me,” Ming whispered. “I’m scared.”

  I nudged Ming again with my nose. Then I took two steps back—just like we did in art class. Ming smiled and slid down his chair. I scooted back more. Ming stood up. I scooted two more steps. Ming took two steps. Then I stopped. I moved toward Ming. He bent down to pick me up. Ming scratched my neck as he walked step-by-step toward the corner.

  When we reached the other students, Luis patted Ming on the back.

  “Good job,” Luis said.

  “King Tut helped me,” Ming said.

  “She’s a good girl,” Luis said.

  Ming nodded.

  Ms. Hanson shushed everyone.

  “This may just be a drill, but we need to be quiet,” she said.