Ghost Dog Secrets (5 page)

“An Egyptian sun god?” I said. “Is that a good name for a dog?”

“You noticed him in the first place because he was standing in the rain and cold,” Andrew said, “so it's fitting to name him for a sun god. When he starts his new life with his new name, he'll always be warm, like the sun. A cozy, comfy canine.”

“The collie's ghost is cold,” I said. “When she came into my bedroom, I woke up shivering. It felt like an Arctic wind was blowing around my bed.”

“Most ghosts are cold,” Andrew said. “I wonder why the dog ghost is there.”

“Maybe it's Ra's mother.”

“I doubt Ra's mother was a collie. Ra is a German shepherd. He might even be a purebred.”

“No one would pay a lot of money for a purebred dog and then leave him chained to a tree all the time.”

“Maybe the collie's ghost is jealous because you're feeding Ra and she's trying to scare you away. Cold cranky collie.”

“She wasn't trying to scare me off when she came to my room. She wanted me to follow her.”

“Perhaps she's luring you into danger. Maybe she never got any attention and now she's angry because you visit Ra.”

“Oh, great. All I need is a ghost dog that doesn't want me there.”

“She might also be a good dog who's lonely and hangs around Ra because she doesn't have any dog ghost friends.”

“I tried to find information about dog ghosts online and didn't find anything useful. I looked in the library, too, and skimmed through all the books about ghosts, which is why I was late for lunch.”

“Maybe we should rescue the ghost, too,” Andrew said. “They can both stay in the fort.”

“No way. How do you rescue a ghost?”

“The collie's ghost could sleep in your room at night.”

“You're freaking me out,” I said. “I hope the collie's ghost doesn't come again. I only want to help Ra.”

“Dangerous dead dog,” said Andrew, but he smiled as he said it.

I decided to change the subject. “Ra will need a dog bed, and a different collar, and a leash.”

“Let's go to Value Village,” Andrew suggested. “I've seen pet items there, and the prices are less than the pet store.”

We rode our bikes to Value Village. It's a huge store that sells secondhand goods that people have donated. We found a red retractable leash in good condition for one dollar. The collars were all scruffy, though, as if they'd been worn for years and years. Looking at them made me sad. Probably whoever had donated them did it because their dog had died and they couldn't bear to throw the old collar in the trash.

“We could keep the collar he has,” Andrew said.

“It's one of those choke chains,” I said. “I don't like it, and besides, I want him to have a fresh start, with everything chosen by us.”

“So do I,” Andrew said. “Let's wait. Maybe we'll find a good collar at a garage sale.”

We didn't see any dog beds. “We could buy him a blanket, instead of a bed,” I said. “That's what the shelter dogs use.”

We went to the section of the store that sold bedding. The blankets were priced from $4 to $8. The one we liked best, of course, cost $8.

“Why don't we keep one of the donated blankets? ” Andrew asked. “We can go to school early and pick out a blanket for Ra from what's in the bin.”

“People are donating those blankets to help the rescued puppy mill dogs,” I said.

“Ra will be a rescued dog, too. What's the difference?”

“When you ask people to donate to a particular cause, you can't use the donations for something else, even if it is similar.”

Andrew shrugged. I'm not sure I had convinced him, but he agreed we should buy a soft old blanket for Ra to sleep on. We found a tan-and-brown plaid blanket for six dollars that we both liked and that looked clean.

We also bought two bright yellow ceramic bowls for Ra's food and water.

“Yellow, like the sun,” Andrew said.

We carried our purchases to the checkout where the checker rang them up and added sales tax. Even with Andrew paying half, I was left with a grand total of twelve cents to my name.

We took our purchases back to the fort. We folded the blanket, making it the right size for Ra. We hung the leash on a nail that we had pounded into one wall. Originally we had put a picture of our Little League baseball team there, only the team lost every game and we didn't want to look at the picture anymore.

That evening Andrew went shopping with his grandma. I got an excited phone call saying he had purchased a collar for Ra. He showed it to me the next day. It was blue with golden suns on it.

“Perfect!” I said.

“Best of all,” Andrew said, “my grandma paid for it.”

“Didn't she wonder why you wanted a dog collar?”

“I told her our class is collecting things for the animal shelter, to help the rescued puppy mill dogs.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“What?” Andrew said.

“This collar isn't for the shelter.”

“I never said it was. I wouldn't lie to my grandma.”

Andrew may be the smartest kid I know but he isn't always totally ethical. Still, it wasn't as if he had shoplifted the collar. I knew Andrew's grandma had a pampered Pomeranian. If she had known the real reason Andrew wanted a dog collar, she would probably have paid for it anyway.

“I did some research,” Andrew said, “and I learned something interesting about dog ghosts.”

“Such as?”

“Most are friendly, often hanging around the people they loved, but there are a few reports of vicious ghost dogs who appear to be guarding their former homes and who terrorize anyone who approaches.”

“So how do you tell the difference? How do I know if the collie's ghost is friendly or evil?”

Andrew shrugged. “The source didn't say. I guess you know it's vicious if it attacks you.”

“That does a lot for my peace of mind.”

Andrew spoke in an eerie voice. “Ghastly growling ghost.”

“Cut it out,” I said. “Since it didn't try to attack me when I was sleeping, I'm going to assume it's a good ghost.”

The next day, Lexi and Hayley said the Safeway manager was enthusiastic about having the bin in his store.

“He had seen the puppy mill report on TV,” Lexi said, “so we didn't even have to explain.”

“My mom says we can leave for school a few minutes early every morning,” Hayley said, “and pick up whatever is in the bin.”

Mrs. Webster had us make three graphs to record how many blankets, how many towels, and how much dog food we collected. She said every morning the whole class would count the contents of the two school bins, add them to the Safeway donations, and pack them in boxes. Then we'd enter the numbers on our graphs and post the graphs in the hallway outside our room. We also kept a running total of monetary donations. Mrs. Webster put those in a locked metal box which she kept in the school office.

Mrs. Webster said the graphs were a way to keep track of our progress and to let the rest of the classes know the results, but I suspected it was a way to work some math practice into our puppy mill project.

Andrew and I fed Ra again after school. Ra stood up as we approached, but instead of backing away, he stayed where he was as we brought him his food. Andrew watched hopefully for the collie's ghost but it didn't show up.

 

On Friday, Ra came forward to meet us when we brought the food to him. He even wagged his tail! Andrew and I felt like cheering, but we didn't want to startle him. We smiled at each other.

Always before, Ra had watched warily while we put the dishes down, and he had waited until we walked away before he ate. Now he started to eat while we were still standing beside him. I looked at Andrew, who grinned and gave me a thumbs-up. I waited until Ra had finished, then reached down and put my fingertips on his head. “Good dog,” I said softly. “Good boy, Ra.”

He let me run my hand down his back, stroking his fur. I kept talking to him and petting him. Then he let Andrew pet him. We rubbed behind his ears and stroked his back.

“Soon,” Andrew said.

“Soon,” I agreed.

CHAPTER FIVE

A
ndrew's little sister, Wendy the Whiner, went bowling with us on Saturday. She's six, too young to bowl at the alley where we go, but she likes to hang around and watch. If Wendy had her way, she would go everywhere with Andrew and me. Most of the time we said no, but letting her tag along to the bowling alley was relatively painless. For one thing, if we took Wendy, Andrew's mom would drive us and pick us up. Otherwise we rode our bikes. It was only a couple of miles but after bowling for two hours, neither of us felt much like hopping on a bike.

Andrew asked if he could stay at my house awhile afterward.

“I want to stay, too,” Wendy said.

Andrew's mother told Wendy no. She always seemed grateful when we took Wendy with us, and I think she didn't want to push her luck. As soon as she dropped us off, we got ready to go feed Ra.

We were cautious as we approached Ra's yard, watching carefully for any sign that someone might be home. Until now, no one had been there, but we had always gone during the week. Today we heard loud music coming from behind the hedge.

“Uh-oh,” I said. “Somebody's in the house.”

“Do you think we should leave?” Andrew asked.

I hesitated, looking at the thick shrubs around the house. “Maybe we should come back later,” I said, “after dark.”

“I'm not sure I can sneak out after dark.”

“Me neither.”

“I don't really
want
to come here after dark,” Andrew admitted.

We stood on the sidewalk at the edge of the property. Ra had seen us and had stood up. I wanted to feed him but I also wanted to get out of there as fast as I could. I had no desire to meet Ra's owner. If he was mean to his dog he was probably mean to kids, too, especially kids who were trespassing on his property and feeding his dog without permission.

A cloud of cold air billowed around my ankles. When I looked down, I saw the ghost dog standing in the dirt beside us.

“She's here,” I said.

“Who's here?”

“The collie's ghost.”

Andrew's head swiveled. “Where?”

I pointed. “There!”

“I don't see her.”

“Do you feel the cold wind?”

Andrew moved closer to me. “I don't feel anything.” He gave me his laser look. “Are you making this up?” he asked.

“No! The ghost dog is right in front of us.”

“What's she doing?”

“She's floating slowly toward Ra, but she keeps looking back at us.”

Ra watched us, waiting for his meal.

“Ra is hungry,” I said. “I think the collie wants us to feed him.”

“If you want to give Ra his food,” Andrew said, “l'll stand at the end of the driveway and watch the house. If anyone comes, I'll yell and we can both run.”

I poured kibble into a pan and walked quickly to Ra. He wagged his tail as I approached. The collie's ghost stood beside him; her tail wagged, too.

While Ra ate the kibble, I poured some water in the second pan and put it down. I realized I no longer felt the cold air. I looked around.

The collie had disappeared.

As soon as Ra finished eating and drinking, Andrew and I hurried away, relieved that nobody had seen us.

That night the collie's ghost appeared in my bedroom again. I had just gone to bed and was half-asleep, half-awake when the cold air blew across my face. I opened my eyes. The ghost was standing on her hind legs, with her front paws on the bed beside me. Even in the dark, her white fur was clearly visible. As soon as I looked at her, she pawed at the blanket. I didn't hear the scratch of her toenails, but the blanket moved.

This time, I wasn't afraid. I wasn't sure why the ghost had come, but she didn't seem to want to hurt me or even to frighten me. “What do you want?” I whispered. She pawed at the blanket again. I wondered if she could hear me. I wondered if she could bark.

“You want me to get up, don't you?” I said. The dog left the side of my bed and glided to the door.

“I can't go outside with you,” I told her. The dog lifted one front foot and scratched at the door.

I put a pair of jeans on over my pajamas, slipped my feet into my flip-flops, and grabbed my jacket. Then I picked up my camera, aimed it at the dog ghost, and snapped. The flash briefly illuminated the room but did not startle the collie. I opened my bedroom door and looked toward Mom's bedroom. Her door was closed. No light showed under the crack. I put the camera in my jacket pocket.

The collie's ghost was already partway down the stairs. I followed quietly.
I hope I don't regret this,
I thought.

I unlocked the front door, stepped outside, and closed the door softly behind me. When I got to the sidewalk, I looked up at Mom's bedroom window. It was still dark. I turned and walked quickly down the street.

I followed the ghost, but I already knew where she was taking me. I felt like Timmy in one of those old Lassie movie reruns that Mom and I used to watch. I remember snickering at those films and thinking, no dog is that smart. Now I wasn't so sure.

When we reached Ra's yard, he wasn't there. One end of the chain still circled the tree, but the other end lay in the dirt. Ra was gone. Had he broken loose? Was he running through the streets? Is that what the collie's ghost wanted me to know?