Webster (5 page)

Like getting
away
from here, and starting his new life.

The Bad Hat took a couple of deep breaths, to clear his mind, and looked around some more. There was a tall wooden fence enclosing the entire meadow, which seemed to be pretty secure. He leaned against it experimentally, and gave the boards a hard shove with his shoulder. Which hurt, because the fence was sturdy, and very solid.

Well, okay, he wasn't going to be able to ram his way through it. Maybe there was a good place where he could dig, and—

“Whatcha doing?” a cheerful voice asked.

The Bad Hat glanced up to see Jack panting and wagging his tail. “Um, just thinking,” he said.

“ 'Bout what?” Jack asked curiously.

Escape. Adventures.
Freedom.
“I don't know,” the Bad Hat said. “Some private stuff.”

“Oh.” Jack thought about that. “Okay. Want to play?”

Not really, no. So, the dog shook his head.

But, Jack was running around him in tight circles, barking like crazy, and nipping at his legs.

“Hey!” the dog said. “Knock it off!”

“
Make
me,” Jack said.

Okay, he would worry about escaping later. Right now, there were more pressing matters at hand. The dog began to chase him—Jack was a surprisingly shifty and elusive little guy—and they raced around the meadow together. The Bad Hat would, of course, have been lying, if he had said that he didn't like scuffling and wrestling.
A lot.
Especially when he head-butted Jack, who went flying about twenty feet.

Jack scrambled up, like a shaggy little jumping bean. “Think you're tough, because you're a big guy?”

Yes. “Yes,” the Bad Hat said.

“Yeah, well, if you're tough, I'm—” Jack paused to think. “I'm the Queen of England.”

The Bad Hat shrugged. “Whatever you say, Your Royal Highness.”

Instead of being insulted, Jack looked serene. “I think you're embarrassed, because you're way too big and clumsy.”

Well, you know, he actually
was
kind of clumsy. People were always yelling at him for knocking things over, but he couldn't help it. He had big feet, and long legs, and he just wasn't very graceful.

A Brindle Pit Bull mix named Josephine came galloping over to them. “I get to go today! I get to go!”

Jack nodded. “I know. That is
wicked
excellent.”

Sometimes, the Bad Hat felt as though the rest of the world might be five or six steps ahead of him. He figured he was probably reasonably smart, but he had a lot of—gaps. “Um, where you going?”

“The adoption fair,” Josephine said happily. “I can't wait!”

Nope, he was still out of step. “What's an adoption fair?” he asked.

“Oh.” Josephine stopped romping after a monarch butterfly for a moment. “Well, it's a fair. And people come to our booth and pat us and take pictures. And then, maybe, they adopt us!”

If he asked,
What's a fair?
or
What's a booth?
they were going to think he was an idiot.

Which he maybe was.

“They have it on the village green,” Josephine said. “Or in the gym at the high school, if it's raining. And there's food, and exhibits, and music, and a bunch of people walk by and ask if they can take us home.”

What was a village green? Oh, well, the food part sounded interesting, anyway. “Have you ever been to an adoption fair?” he asked Jack.

Jack nodded enthusiastically. “I got to go to the one in July. It was
so fun
. I know all of the people really liked me, but—” Now, he faltered. “Well, I didn't meet anyone who I thought was interesting enough to take me home.”

There was an awkward silence.

“Well, sure, that makes sense,” the Bad Hat said. “Next time, maybe.”

“That's right!” Jack said, back to his normal cocky self. “They'll be
lining up
for the chance to adopt me.”

For Jack's sake, the Bad Hat certainly hoped so.

“I bet they will,” Josephine said in an encouraging voice. Then, she scampered off to chase the butterfly some more.

“Hey, maybe we'll get adopted together,” Jack said.
“And then, we could live in the same house, and be best friends forever!”

The Bad Hat blinked. “We're best friends?” Since when?

“Of course we are,” Jack said. “Didn't you know that?”

Nope. And, the thought kind of made him shudder.

Jack tilted his head uncertainly. “You
want
to be my best friend, right?”

Well, except for the part where he was a proud and independent loner, destined to wander the world by himself, causing trouble and searching for fame and adventure and all.

“Right?” Jack asked.

The little Terrier's eyes were so full of hope, that the Bad Hat wasn't sure how to answer. He didn't want to hurt the squirt's feelings. “Sorry, little man, that's not really my thing. I've never had any friends,” he said finally. “So, I don't think I know how to do that.” Didn't even want to learn how, for that matter.

“Don't worry,” Jack said. “I can teach you. I have lots of friends. But,
you're
my favorite!”

To the Bad Hat's surprise, hearing that made him feel kind of warm inside. Almost like a normal, carefree
dog. “That's really nice of you,” he said. “But, it's not—could we maybe start off by being colleagues?”

Jack stared at him.
“Colleagues?”

Well, it sounded better than “prison acquaintances.” “Sorry,” the Bad Hat said. “That's the best I can do.”

“You're very strange,” Jack said, “but, okay. For now, we'll be
colleagues
.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“Are colleagues allowed to head-butt each other?” the dog asked.

Jack laughed. “Yes!”

Well, okay, then. That didn't sound too awful. “All right,” the Bad Hat said. “It's a deal.”

“Yay!” Jack said, and dashed away across the meadow. “Catch me if you can!”

Piece of cake. The Bad Hat loped after him, closing the distance in a few long strides. Then, he head-butted him across a bed of bright yellow dandelions.

Being colleagues might actually be fun!

A
fter lunch, several of the animals, including Josephine, were loaded into a big van full of pet carriers. All of the remaining dogs stood in their outside runs to watch.

“We'll get to go next time, I'm sure of it,” Jack said.

Whatever. But, the Bad Hat nodded pleasantly.

“You bet, Jack,” MacNulty said, striding back and forth in the concrete run on the other side of the Bad Hat's kennel. He had so much energy that he paced nonstop most of the time during the day, and the rescue group people seemed to be worried that he might have, like, Dog Attention Deficit Disorder. Border Collie Inactivity Disorder, more likely.

“I'm not going to let them put a light blue ribbon on
me next time,” Jack said. “I think it made me look a little frou-frou.”

The Bad Hat thought that all small dogs, including Terriers, were sort of
innately
frou-frou. “Oh, yeah, don't let them do that to you,” he said. “Have some dignity, little man.”

“I actually looked cuter than a bug's ear,” Jack said, sounding defensive. “I just want to, you know, set a different tone next time. Be sort of outdoorsy and all.”

The Bad Hat nodded. “Get a black leather collar with spikes on it. You'll be awesome that way.”

Jack looked eager. “I bet I will, yeah. Thanks, Bad Hat!”

“No problem. Here to serve,” the Bad Hat said.

Or not.

The afternoon seemed to drag by, although lunch was a definite highlight. Most of the dogs took long naps, and the Bad Hat was quite sure that the cats were all sleeping inside the house. Of course, cats seemed to nap about twenty-two hours a day, so that wasn't anything unusual.

The Bad Hat was really bored. So, he paced for a while, matching his steps with MacNulty's.

“Remember,” MacNulty said sternly. “You and I are only
colleagues
, not friends.”

Great. The dog sighed. “He told you that?”

“Told
everyone
,” MacNulty said.

Super. “Do you like ‘compatriots' better?” the dog asked.

MacNulty shook his head.

Okay, whatever. But, he was still going to keep a polite, professional distance from all of them. “Anyway. How come Pico doesn't have a kennel, like the rest of us?” he asked.

“She has arthritis,” MacNulty said, jittering around. “So, it wouldn't be comfortable for her. She usually sleeps on Thomas and Joan's bed, I think, or by the fireplace, or on the floor in the office. Cole says they took her off the website, but I'm not sure why.”

It was easy enough to figure out
why
. “Because they're keeping her,” the Bad Hat said. “Why else?”

“Oh.” MacNulty paused, holding a front paw and a back paw in midair. “You know, you might be right about that.”

Of course he was right. He was
always
right. Soon, they would figure that out—and worship at his shrine. “They're keeping Florence, too,” the Bad Hat said.

Jack, who was sprawled out in his kennel in the sun, opened his eyes. “What? No way. Florence is unadoptable. You know, because of her zillions of disabilities and medical conditions.”

And the cranky-pants thing. But, he could see the front porch of the house from his kennel, and the truth was pretty obvious. Joan was sitting in a rocking chair, and Florence was on her lap, purring and smacking her with a front paw every so often. Joan would just laugh and keep patting her. The main thing the Bad Hat noticed was that they both looked very pleased with each other.

“The reason Florence is unadoptable is because she
already
has a home,” he said.

MacNulty shrugged. “We all do, sort of. Until we get to go to our real homes with our new families.”

Nope, not in this case. “Florence
is
home,” the Bad Hat said. “Look at them. Joan is her
person
.”

Jack tried to peer around him. When that didn't work, he leaped up and down, to try and see past him.

“Why don't you just ask me to move over?” the Bad Hat suggested.

“Oh.” Jack stopped jumping. “That sure would be easier.”

No kidding. The Bad Hat took a few steps backwards, out of the way.

Jack glanced at the porch. “So, Joan's patting her. What's the big deal? She pats all of us.”

“No, really
look
at them,” the Bad Hat said. “They're a team. They're pretending she's unadoptable, so that she gets to stay here.”

“Oh.” Jack watched as Florence swung a shaky paw at Joan, with surprisingly good aim. “How come when people come to visit, I hear them say, ‘What's wrong with that cat,' and all?”

The trembling and staggering and everything were all sort of startling, at first, but seemed normal, after a while. “I'm just telling you I see love there, little man,” the Bad Hat said. Which made him feel sad, because he couldn't imagine what it would be like to be really
loved
by a person. Not loved, because he was a dog, and the person happened to like dogs and was friendly to him. How would it feel to be loved because someone thought he was truly
special  
? Because he was a
specific
dog? Not that it would ever happen—but, still. Thinking about it made him feel wistful.

And that maybe he should stop drinking the water
here, if he was going to go and think adoption thoughts.

“Well, that's good,” Jack said. “Because this place would fall apart without Florence. She runs the show.”

It certainly seemed that way. And it was good to see that she had a bond with someone who appreciated her. Florence had clearly had a pretty rough time, so it made him feel happy that she was now safe and secure and loved.

If, that is, he was prone to emotion, and cared about stuff like that.

Which everyone knew that he didn't.

At all.

Not even a tiny bit.

•  •  •

The long, lazy afternoon poked along, but everyone woke up instantly and ran outside when the van turned onto the dirt driveway, returning from the adoption fair. An unfamiliar white SUV was trundling right behind it, its tires raising clouds of dust in the air.

“Yo, someone got picked,” Lancelot said quietly.

The other dogs nodded, looking very serious.

Why was he always lost? “What do you mean?” the Bad Hat asked.

“Adopters,” Lancelot said. “They must have picked someone, and they're coming here to fill out the paperwork and get approved and everything.”

“Maybe they'll want two dogs,” Jack said. “And they'll take me, too!”

The Bad Hat could feel a surge of hope racing around the kennels, so all of the other dogs must have been wishing the same thing. He wasn't about to upset them by saying that it was very unlikely, and what did he know, anyway? The people
might
want two dogs. But, he would be careful to look distant and unapproachable, so that they wouldn't be tempted to pick
him
. In fact, he decided to lie down on the cement and pretend to be resting.

The van and the four-wheel-drive car had now stopped in the driveway. Some people were getting out of the car, looking excited. A family. Two parents, and a little boy. But, all of
his
former owners had looked excited, too, on that first day. It had worn off pretty fast.

“They're coming, they're coming, they're coming!” Jack shouted.

Talk about destroying a fellow's much-needed sleep. The Bad Hat opened his eyes. “Who's coming?”