Chapter Two Of Many

Chapter Two

My eyes snapped open. Today was the day. Today, we were going to get a dog.

Getting up seemed so much easier than usual. It wasn’t unpleasant or cold at all, really. Everything felt alive and warm, even the cold water from the tap as I brushed my teeth.

I helped papa light a few of the fires and helped mama feed my sister at breakfast. In no time at all, we were in the car and heading to town.

I had never been to a kennel before. It smelled worse than I thought. I guess I never thought about it hard enough, but there were lots of cats and dogs there, I shouldn’t have been surprised. The lady at the front was very nice, and asked mama and papa what they were looking for, and papa said “adoption.” She took as around behind the counter and to a special room with big metal doors. The floor smelled like mama’s cleaning spray, and the strange ointment she put on my cuts and bruises. There was a big yellow sign just inside the doors that said “Caution: Wet Floor.”

I followed papa very closely, so closely that I could smell the fireplace smoke on his sleeve. The room was filled with the yelping and howling of dogs, dozens and dozens of them barking as fast and as loudly as they could. I had to cover my ears so I could still think, shuffling as fast as I could to keep up with my parents.

The first cage we passed had a pretty little spaniel in it.

“She’s so pretty!” Meg squealed, hurrying over and practically throwing herself into the cage. “Look at her ears! They look like great big blankets!”

Papa took her hand and pulled her away from the cage. “Careful, Meggie. You have to read the signs,” he said, holding Meg’s hand out to the side until mama took it.

“But I want to pet her!” Meg whined as she was pulled ever farther from the spaniel.

I looked at the front of the cage. The little piece of paper taped to the bars said, “My name is Julie. I’m sweet, and like attention from adults, but I don’t like children. Please keep your fingers away from my cage, because I don’t want to nip them!” Papa pointed at the sign and rolled his eyes, whispering something in mama’s ear. She just shook her head and hurried on to the next cage, my sisters hand clasped tightly in hers.

The next several cages held little dogs that were hardly the size of cats, but weren’t puppies either. Meg nearly burst with excitement each time we passed one, shrieking so loudly that even the dogs stopped barking for a moment to make sure something terrible wasn’t happening. We passed one cage with an old silver and brown dog curled up in the back, his eyes all white and clouded over. His sign said, “My name is Max. I’m a wonderful dog, but I’m old and tired, and I don’t see very well anymore. I like warm places to sleep, and my belly scratched sometimes.”

Mama stopped at Max’s cage. “Oh, the poor thing. Who sends an old dog away from their home? That’s just terrible.”

Papa nodded. “It is. I don’t understand it. Seems like a waste.”

Meg huffed. “Why won’t he come up and see us? How come he is just laying back there?”

“Because he’s old and tired,” mama explained, pulling her on to the next cage. “He doesn’t want to move much.”

I stopped and stared at Max for a minute as papa moved on. His breathing was slow, and he just stared out at me, his feet curled up underneath him on the cold, hard floor.

“Hello, Max,” I whispered.

The tip of his tail twitched a little bit, then fell still again.

“I think you’re a pretty dog,” I said. “I’m sorry you got sent here.”

Max lifted his head and yawned, hollow gaps in his mouth where several of his teeth were missing. He stood up slowly, his legs trembling from the effort, then flopped back down again, facing the other direction.

I frowned. “Fine, then,” I said, turning and marching after papa.

The next cage had a great big dog that yapped and barked louder than any of the other dogs in the metal room. He was as tall as me, and had wispy hair clouding his eyes. His fur was as gray as the metal doors that led into the room. His tail wagged furiously when we drew near to his cage door, and his barking turned into frantic whining as he pressed his nose against the bars on his door and snuffled so loudly that I could even hear it above the noise of the other dogs. The paper on his cage read, “My name is Dyn. I am very sweet, and love kids. I am about seven months old, and I’m supposed to keep on getting bigger! I will require some special care though, so please make sure you ask someone more about me before making any decisions.”

“What do you think of him, eh Wallace?” papa said, pointing at Dyn.

“I think he’s ugly,” Meg said loudly. “He has all that hair hanging in his face. How does he see?”

I glared at her. “Why don’t you go stick your fingers in Julie’s cage?”

“Wallace, be nice,” mama exclaimed, staring at the dog. “Isn’t he a little big, Richard?”

Papa shrugged. “I don’t think so. We have that huge house now. Don’t you think he’ll fit right in?”

Mama hesitated. “Well, maybe for you. But what about...what about when I have to take care of him?”

Papa stuck his finger through the bars and wiggled it. Dyn gave it a lick. “Well, I’m sure that Wallace and I can manage! Right, Wallace?”

I nodded eagerly. I liked Dyn. He reminded me of my friend from back home. He was nice, and sniffed the same way. And besides, he was so big, it was just possible that I could ride him.

“Oh, Richard,” mama sighed. She looked lost for a moment, her hand pressed into her forehead. “Alright, okay. It’s fine. If you’re sure. But I want him well trained,” she warned, pointing her finger at the end of my father’s nose. “Even if we have to hire a professional trainer.”

And that was that. In two hours, all of the paperwork was signed, and Dyn was in the back of the car, panting and drooling over my shoulder as he craned his neck to see out the window.

My heart was racing, my palms were tingling, and I could hardly wait to get home and race around the yard with my new friend. It would be like my old black dog, only there would be no more fence, and Meg wouldn’t be able to interfere.

“Now, we have to be careful,” papa warned from the driver’s seat, glancing back at me in the rear-view mirror. “Remember that he is young, and the lady at the kennel said that Wolfhounds have loose joints. If we let him run too much or take tight corners he will hurt his legs and he won’t grow right. We want him to be healthy, right?”

I nodded. Maybe we wouldn’t run so much. That was fine, we didn’t have to. There were plenty of other things to do that weren’t running, like playing in the mud by the lake.

“And keep him out of the road,” mama added. “And harvest has started, so there will be tractors in the fields. You need to make sure that he stays in our yard, and by the lake. Alright?”

I just smiled. I could be trapped in a single room with him and it wouldn’t matter. I was eight years old, and I had my very own massive Wolfhound. How many eight-year-olds got to say that?

Right now, I thought that I might even be able to smile at my little sister and mean it. Or, I would have, if she hadn’t been complaining about Dyn’s breath all the way back to the house.

We soon arrived home, and I was the first one out of the car. I turned around and grabbed the handle on Dyn’s leash, wrapping it around my wrist as tightly as I could. “Come on, Dyn!” I called to the shaggy giant. “Come on!”

“Take it easy, Wallace,” papa said, hurrying around to my door and grabbing the leash. “He’s probably a bit on the nervous side. It’s a new home, with new people and things. It’s going to take him some time to adjust. Why don’t we take him to his room, alright?”

I nodded glumly and let daddy take the leash. It wouldn’t be long, and we would be able to run everywhere together. Even if it took a few days, that was okay.

“Daddy, daddy?” Meg called suddenly, hurrying around the car to bounce up and down next to him. “Can I stay with Dyn in his room? Please? Won’t he be lonely?”

I stared at her. “But he’s my dog,” I exclaimed angrily. “I’m going to stay with him.”

“Wallace, you have to be nice,” mama said, tossing the strap to her purse over her shoulder as she came around the front of the car. The gravel scrunched loudly under feet. “Dyn is going to be a friend for all of us. Why don’t you two take turns, or sit with him together?”

“I don’t see why you two can’t stay in his room with him for a while,” papa said cheerfully. “He would probably be glad of the company, at least for a little while.”

“Yay!” Meg squealed, skipping beside papa as he led Dyn up the walk towards the house.

I shuffled behind them gloomily. Meg didn’t even like Dyn. She whined about his breath all the way home, and said that he was ugly at the kennel. The only reason she was doing this is because she was jealous, as usual.

“Wallace, can you run to the kitchen and fill a bowl with water for him, please?” papa called over his shoulder. “He’s going to be thirsty, I think.”

I didn’t answer. I just crammed my hands into my pockets and hurried off towards the kitchen.

Meg got to go and sit in my dog’s room with him, while I was left running and fetching things for them. It wasn’t fair. Papa got Dyn for me, not for her. She was stealing him away, just like she did everything else. She cooed for papa's attention when he was reading his stories to me, and not her; she threw a fit if mama happened to set my breakfast in front of me before she put Meg's in front of her. She was doing what she always did, and as usual, it was working, just like the big black dog at our old house.

When I reached the kitchen, I filled one of mama's big mixing bowls with water while they settled in with my dog. I carefully trod my way down the hall towards Dyn’s room, the water lapping dangerously at the edges of the bowl.

When I reached the room, I banged on the door with my shoe. A moment later, it swung open. “Wallace!” papa exclaimed. “Perfect timing. Here, let me get that.”

He reached down and took the bowl of water from my hands. I could see Dyn panting and wagging happily behind him, trying to see who was standing at the door.

Papa turned around and set the bowl on the floor, before exiting the room and closing the door behind him. He faced me and folded his hands in front of him. “Wallace,” he said sternly.

I swallowed. This was how his lectures usually started. Was I in trouble? Had I really done something wrong? I’m the one that hadn’t even been in the room with my own dog yet, I was the one that was running and fetching things for him, how was this fair?

“Wallace, I know your sister can be difficult to manage sometimes,” papa sighed. “But you must remember that she is younger than you.”

“But Dyn is my dog!” I cried angrily. I was glad that I wasn’t in trouble, but it still wasn’t fair. He was defending Meg again, just like mommy always did.

“Yes, he is,” papa said patiently. “Don’t you want to take care of your dog? He needs water, and he needs food, and he trusts you to get it for him. You don’t want him to be thirsty, do you?”

I blinked. “I guess not…”

“That’s what owning a dog is like. They’re fun, and loyal, but you have to be loyal to them, too,” papa said. He smiled at me. “And don’t worry about Meg. Dyn will always be your dog, especially if you are the one that feeds and waters him. He will always come to you, and trust you over anyone else.”

I couldn’t stop a little smile slipping through. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really. Now, let’s go on in, but try and be patient with your sister. Besides,” he winked, “you know she will get bored of him anyway. You know how she is. She’s your little sister.”

I knew it was true. I hated it. I had always hated it. Meg had been following me around, taking my things and copying everything I did for as long as I could remember. Mommy and Daddy always read stories to us about siblings that loved each other and would do anything for each other, but that was not me and Meg. Sometimes I wish that my big black dog had actually bitten her. Maybe then she would have learned not to push her nose into other people’s business.

But he was right, I thought to myself as I opened the door and stepped into Dyn’s room. She wouldn’t last long, and she would be onto the next thing, Dyn vanished from her mind like a faint smoke.