Bulldog Won't Budge

  “We were trying to help,” Mercy said, switching instantly into her fake-sweet voice. “We thought if we found a nice home for Meatball, then Eric would feel better about giving him up. Since we know he really wants to, he just feels badly about it.”

  “Who knows why?” Faith interjected. “It’s not like that dog cares if we don’t keep him.”

  “Meatball would care!” I said. “He’d care a lot more than your cats, who don’t like anybody, not even you!”

  Mercy and Faith both looked outraged — and really shocked that I’d said anything back to them. “Ariadne and Odysseus were here first!” Mercy snapped. “This is their home!”

  “It’s mine, too!” I said. “I can’t do anything without those cats coming after me! I want —” I took a deep breath. “I want to keep Meatball.” There. I’d said it. There was no going back now.

  I noticed Tony hide a grin behind his napkin.

  “No!” Faith said. “We already found someone to take him!”

  Mom drew in her breath sharply, and Mercy finally looked a little nervous, like she knew they’d gone too far.

  “First of all,” Mom said, “what is our rule about contacting strangers over the Internet?”

  Faith looked down at her plate and kicked the table leg.

  “I hope you haven’t given this person our address,” Mom said sternly.

  “We haven’t written back yet,” Mercy said, frowning sullenly. “But I’m sure it’s fine. The guy said he was always looking for tough dogs.”

  “Meatball isn’t tough,” I said. I could only imagine what this guy needed “tough” dogs for. “He’s lazy and friendly. And I’m keeping him.”

  “We should get some say, too!” Mercy whined. “Mooom! We don’t want a big smelly dog! Why does Eric get to decide? There’s two of us, and we don’t want him!”

  “Yeah!” Faith agreed.

  “Well,” Tony spoke up at last. “Personally, I like Meatball. Which I guess makes two of us who do want him.”

  Mercy and Faith gaped at him. I looked at Mom. She stuck her fork into a piece of broccoli and pushed it around her plate for a second. Then she looked up and smiled at me and Tony.

  “Actually,” she said, “that makes three of us.”

  Hoo boy. You have never seen anyone madder than Mercy and Faith right then. The funny thing is, if they hadn’t posted the ad — if they had waited a few days like Tony suggested — maybe we would have decided not to keep Meatball after all. It was seeing how awful Mercy and Faith could be that made up my mind. That and picturing poor loyal Meatball all alone in a shelter, waiting patiently for me to come rescue him.

  On the other hand, I think we might have decided to keep him anyway. I guess, despite the snoring, he was kind of growing on me. So all that really happened was that Mercy and Faith got in big trouble for posting the ad. They were grounded for two weeks, which meant they couldn’t go anywhere after school except basketball practice. There was a lot of yelling about plans they’d made — I heard them shouting about George a few times — but Mom was firm.

  When I got back upstairs, Meatball was waiting right inside the door to my room, like he somehow knew what had happened downstairs. His eyes were wrinkled up in his smiley way and his butt was wagging hard enough to nearly knock him over.

  I crouched and gave him a hug around his broad shoulders. He slurped his tongue up my cheek.

  “I guess we’re stuck with each other now,” I said, scratching behind his ears.

  I got up to go to my computer and stopped, thinking. Instead of closing my door, I opened it wider, so Meatball and I could see the hall and the stairs. Meatball immediately lay down across the doorway with his nose sticking out into the hall, like he was guarding the room. He sighed happily, making the beige carpet fibers flutter.

  “Good boy,” I said with a grin. Let’s see Ariadne and Odysseus try to get in here now! Later I noticed that Mercy and Faith both had their doors shut for once. I hoped they were just sulking instead of plotting something new. But after the scene at dinner, I had a feeling they’d be licking their wounds for a while.

  Tony stopped on his way to bed and gave Meatball a belly rub.

  “Thanks,” I said, spinning my chair around. “That was cool, what you did.”

  “You started it,” Tony said with a grin. “You were cool first. Sticking up for Meatball like that.”

  “Well,” I said, “I figure he would have done the same for me.”

  Tony laughed. “Yeah, that’s true,” he said. “Bulldogs are famously loyal. And I think he’s attached himself to you pretty well.”

  “I hope it works out,” I said. “He’s not what I expected a dog to be like.”

  “No dog is,” Tony said. “You’d be surprised. Apart from my Lab, I had a few German shepherds while I was growing up, and they were all different in funny ways. As dogs go, I get the feeling Meatball is one of the good ones.”

  “Snarrgarrgarrrggah,” Meatball agreed, wriggling on his back and batting Tony with one stiff paw.

  “He’s a lot braver than me,” I said. “Maybe I should try to be more like him.”

  Tony made a face. “Not in the drooling sense, I hope.”

  I grinned. “I’m sorry Mercy and Faith are going to be so mad at you.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a line on some WNBA tickets that I think will help smooth things over.”

  “Wow, yeah,” I said. “That’ll definitely help.”

  After he left, I signed in to chat. I felt like a different person. Someone who was brave like Harry Houdini. Someone who said exactly what he thought and fought for what was right and didn’t let a couple of cats — or a couple of sisters — push him around.

  I thought about how Meatball just charged into things with no fear. Like couches with cats on them or other people’s yards. He just lowered his head and braced his shoulders and went for it. He was too excited and optimistic to worry about what would happen.

  I was lucky. During that brief spurt of courage, “Maltizu” was signed on.

  Hey Rebekah, I wrote. What R U doing tomorrow?

  Of course, by the time I got up on Saturday morning, I was a nervous wreck again. What kind of crazy person had taken over my fingers and asked Rebekah to go to the park with me and Meatball? Did I really want her to see him at his most boring? Poor Noodles would probably end up in a boredom coma when she saw how lame Meatball could be.

  But I couldn’t get out of it now. I’d told her I would bring Meatball over at eleven o’clock. Then I’d stayed up half the night reading the book she gave me. Mostly I read nonfiction, like biographies and stuff, but The Power of Three was actually really good. It was funnier than I thought it would be. I didn’t have time to finish it, but I figured at least I could tell her that I started it.

  Mom was reorganizing the pantry when Meatball and I came down to the kitchen. Once a month she has these organizing fits and pulls everything out of a cupboard, scatters it all over the floor, and then gets distracted halfway through and shoves everything back in again. I could tell she was already getting to that stage by the way she was mashing cereal boxes in next to the rice and pasta without even alphabetizing them or anything.

  “I’m taking Meatball to the park,” I said, lifting his leash from the door handle.

  “Call me if you’re not coming home for lunch,” she said, her voice muffled by the stacks of cans around her head. “You can take my cell phone; it’s on the table. I’ll just be here.”

  “Thanks,” I said, putting the phone in my pocket. I was pretty sure I would be home for lunch. I had a feeling I’d be home in ten minutes, when either (a) Rebekah got fed up and went home, or (b) I chickened out and ditched her.

  But there was no way Meatball was letting me wriggle out of this. He didn’t even stop to sniff anything as he barreled along the path to her house. His paws drove into the sidewalk and he leaned forward with this furrowed, determined expression like he was dragging an entire
eighteen-wheeler truck behind him instead of just skinny old me. I swear the soles of my sneakers must have been nearly burned off by me trying to slow him down. It was like water-skiing or dogsledding on the sidewalk, only I didn’t have a sled or skis.

  Rebekah and Noodles were on the porch playing with a squeaky toy shaped like a panda. Rebekah waved as we screeched up to the fence, and Meatball slammed his face into the posts, snorting ecstatically.

  “Come inside,” Rebekah called as we came through the gate. “I’m sorry I’m not ready yet, but I was going to do everything this morning and then Heidi called and was totally freaking out about something and I’m not even sure what it was but I don’t think I helped.”

  “Inside?” I said, trying to get to the point of her sentence. What was the “everything” she was going to do? What was wrong with Heidi? “With Meatball? Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, why not?” she said. “He’s a good dog. Aren’t you, Meatball?”

  Meatball went SNOOOOOOOOOOORT, which for some reason Rebekah decided was a yes. We followed her inside the house and she unclipped Meatball’s leash before I could warn her not to. He bolted off into the living room and I heard a thud, which I guessed was him leaping onto the couch.

  “EEEEEEEEE!!!” went someone in the living room.

  “Uh-oh.” I ran after Meatball with Noodles at my feet yipping excitedly.

  Meatball was, in fact, up on the big blue couch in the living room. He had a small brown-haired girl pinned under his meaty paws and he was licking her face and her arms as she tried to ward him off, shrieking.

  “I’m sorry!” I cried. “Meatball! Bad! Meatball, leave her alone!” I ran over and grabbed his collar, but he was too heavy and determined, and in the end I had to wrap my whole body around him to wrestle him away from her.

  He flopped back against the opposite arm of the couch and went hhaaahhhhaaaahhh snrrrrrrsnrrrrsnrrrr with an enormous grin.

  “I’m so, so, so sorry,” I said, keeping my arms outstretched so he wouldn’t lunge past me again. The little girl was making funny hiccupping noises and I felt a bolt of terror that Meatball had made her cry or set off an asthma attack or something terrible.

  But finally I realized she was laughing.

  “Your dog is crazy!” she giggled, wiping her face with her sleeves. “You’re a crazy dog!” she said to Meatball.

  “Eric, this is my sister, Elisabeth,” Rebekah said, perching in a chair nearby. “We call her Ellie.”

  “Uh — hi,” I said.

  “I’m eight. I’m in third grade,” Ellie said. “I can write in cursive! And add up big numbers! I’m really good at it!”

  “Oh — uh — awesome,” I said. Meatball rested his chin on my shoulder and slobbered a little. Then he sat up and went “RRFF! Rrrrrfff!”

  Ellie giggled again. “He sounds so serious next to Noodles!”

  “Yeah, his voice is much deeper,” Rebekah said.

  “RROOOOFF,” Meatball insisted.

  “He hardly ever barks,” I said. “I have no idea what this is about.”

  “I do,” Rebekah said, nodding at the back of the couch behind me. “He’s saying hi to Carbonel.”

  I twisted around and nearly had a heart attack. A cat was sitting on top of the cushion right behind me, and he looked exactly like Odysseus. He had the same thick black fur and intense yellow eyes and feathery ears. For a moment I actually thought maybe Odysseus had followed me to Rebekah’s like an evil shadow.

  I don’t know if Rebekah saw the expression of terror that must have shot across my face, but she said, “Don’t worry, he’s friendly.”

  Carbonel stretched elegantly, one paw at a time, and then he stepped delicately along the cushion until he was standing over Meatball. The bulldog squirmed around and stuck his squashy face up until he was flat black nose to little pink nose with the cat. Both of their noses twitched as they went sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff.

  “Uh … his name is Carbonel?” I said to Rebekah.

  Her face lit up. “Don’t you know the Carbonel books? He’s the King of Cats! I’ll lend you those next.”

  “I read all the time,” Ellie announced. “See, those are my library books, and those are Rebekah’s.” She pointed to two piles of books on the side table. “The library is my favorite place in the whole wide world.”

  I jumped as Carbonel made a sudden movement beside me. He had dropped to his stomach and was batting at Meatball’s nose with his front paws. But his claws were sheathed, and he was purring. I have never, ever heard Ariadne or Odysseus purr. I guess if they ever do, they stop when I get close enough to hear it.

  Meatball pulled his head back, wrinkling his forehead at the cat for a second. Then he stood up on his back legs and propped his front paws on the top of the couch on either side of Carbonel. The black cat rolled onto his back and batted at Meatball’s loose jowls hanging down over him.

  “Hhrruuff!” Meatball woofed, nosing the cat’s stomach.

  Noodles decided that was quite enough attention she wasn’t getting, and she went “ARRUFF! Ruff! Ruff!” from the floor.

  Rebekah laughed. “OK, wait here,” she said to me. “I’ll be back in a minute.” She ran off to the kitchen as Meatball rolled heavily off the couch and snort-poked at Noodles.

  Left alone, Carbonel sat up and licked his paws for a moment, like Oh, fine, I was done playing anyway. I tried not to be too obvious about watching him, but I couldn’t help feeling like I was about to get clawed.

  “Are you Rebekah’s boyfriend?” Ellie asked out of the blue.

  “Uh — I — no — I mean — no — uh —” I must have stammered about twenty meaningless syllables before Carbonel decided to put me out of my misery and leaped down into my lap. I froze, but he just turned in a circle, poked my knee with his paw, and then lay down in a little ball of black fur.

  “Are you afraid of cats?” Ellie asked. “That’s funny if you are. I like cats.”

  “I like cats,” I said, not very convincingly. Of course, the cats I like don’t usually look exactly like my arch-nemesis. I gingerly patted Carbonel’s back. His ears twitched, and I felt a rumble go through his fur. He was purring!

  “You have a very purry cat,” I said to Ellie.

  “I know,” she said. “He loves everyone.”

  “My sisters’ cats don’t like anyone,” I said.

  Rebekah’s dad poked his head in the door. “Hey there. You must be Eric.”

  I didn’t know whether to stand up and displace Carbonel to shake his hand, or if it would be rude to just keep sitting there. But Mr. Waters waved me down before I could move. “Stay where you are. I’m covered in paint anyway. Tell Rebekah to stop by the garage before you head off to the park, OK?”

  “OK,” Ellie and I said at the same time. He waved again and we heard him clomp out the side door.

  Rebekah came hurrying back in carrying a bulging plastic bag.

  “What’s that?” Ellie said curiously.

  “Eric and I are going for a picnic in the park,” Rebekah said.

  We are? I thought.

  “I made sandwiches,” she hurried on. “You like peanut butter, right, Eric? I’ve seen you bring it for lunch sometimes.”

  “Uh, sure,” I said. “Yeah. Awesome.”

  “Good,” Rebekah said. “Because it’s the only lunch I know how to make!”

  “Dad said to go to the garage before you go,” Ellie announced.

  “OK. Ready, Eric?” Rebekah scooped up Noodles with her free arm and hung her over one shoulder while she grabbed her leash. Noodles was kind of like a fluffy scarf; she was easy to pick up, she stayed wherever you put her, and even if she tried to plant her butt and stay in one place, there was no way she would win.

  Boy, would my life be different with a dog like that. But then, I bet the cats would totally push around a little dog. I’d feel bad if Ariadne and Odysseus were picking on a dog like Noodles. At least Meatball could take care of himself.

  “
’Bye, Ellie,” I said, clipping Meatball’s leash on again. She waved, though her nose was already back in her book. I followed Rebekah out the side door into her driveway. There was a garage set far back at the end, separate from the house. It was surrounded by piles of boxes and mountains of stuff. From inside the garage, I could hear hammering and sawing.

  “Mom and Dad are putting up new shelves. They’re trying to get the garage cleaned up so we can actually maybe put the car in it this winter,” Rebekah explained.

  “Rebekah,” her mom called from the garage doorway. “Would you just check that box and make sure you don’t want to keep anything in there?” She pointed at a big cardboard box over on the side, next to an old tricycle and a pink skateboard with glittery lightning stickers on it.

  “Sure,” Rebekah answered, and her mom waved at me before disappearing into the garage again. Meatball and I followed Rebekah over to the box. Rebekah handed me Noodles’s leash and started digging through the stuff inside.

  Noodles pawed at my leg and tipped her head up so her fluffy ears flipped back as she looked up at me. I crouched down and patted her while Meatball nosed around the box, wheezing. Her fur was really soft, like what you’d think clouds might feel like. She wrapped her front paws around my hand so I could scratch under her chin. Her little tail was swishing back and forth and her soft brown eyes were perfectly round. She couldn’t be more different from Meatball, but the funny thing was, they both had these cute, goofy, openmouthed smiles.

  Something went CLATTER CLATTER around the side of the box.

  “Meatball, leave it, whatever it is,” I said, tugging on the end of his leash. Of course that didn’t budge him even a little. I could see his butt sticking out, and it was wriggling, so I knew he was excited about something.

  “It’s all right,” Rebekah said. “There’s nothing he can break over here. Mom! Are you kidding? You can’t throw out my Guardians of Ga’Hoole books! I love these books!” She started digging paperbacks out of the box.

  “I thought you’d read them all!” her mom called back.

  “So?” Rebekah said. “What if I want to read them again? Or lend them to my friends?”