Seated behind the wheel, her father was almost as sad, but his tone was firm. “We’re being sued, Savannah — for far more money than we could ever hope to come up with. I can’t even blame Electra’s owners, really. They stood to make millions if their dog broke the record with a fourth Best in Show. And thanks to Luthor, that’s never going to happen. That poor beagle now has a tail that wags like an organ grinder’s crank.”
“But they’re not going to drop the lawsuit just because he’s not our dog anymore,” Savannah protested. “He still did what he did, and they still lose all that money.”
“We’ve been through this a dozen times,” Mrs. Drysdale said wearily. “What’s done is done. We can’t straighten Electra’s tail. But how would it look to the judge if we didn’t at least try to make sure Luthor can’t harm another dog?”
“Luthor’s more important than any old judge!” Savannah said tearfully.
“Is he really?” he father asked harshly. “That judge has the power to decide if we lose our home; if we can afford food, or to see doctors when we’re sick; if you and your brother can go to college; if your mother and I can retire someday. We all love Luthor. I love Luthor. But he is just a dog.”
Savannah pressed her face into Luthor’s short coat. The big Doberman, sensing her anguish, began to whine softly.
“See how upset he is?” she sniffled. “He’s sorry. I don’t know what made him do such a thing.”
“Yes, you do,” Mrs. Drysdale said firmly. “Even you and all the love you’ve given him cannot overcome the guard dog training he had as a puppy. Someone made a vicious dog out of him, and that will always be a ticking time bomb inside Luthor. We can’t run the risk of it going off again.”
“He isn’t vicious,” Savannah murmured brokenly. “He’s good.” But even she could not explain what had happened at the mall. She was convinced that the Doberman had meant no harm to Electra. When she looked into those big, beautiful liquid-brown eyes, she saw no anger, no malice. The question remained: What had set him off?
And then there’s the little matter of a 7.8-million-dollar lawsuit….
“I suppose you know,” she said in a strangled voice, “what happens to him if nobody adopts him.”
Her parents were silent.
Savannah gave in as she’d always known she’d have to. It would take the end of the world for her to turn her back on Luthor. But this was the end of the world. The Drysdales were facing ruin. If there was any way she could help to prevent the coming disaster, she had to grasp at it. Her shattered heart felt that Luthor would understand.
Her father popped the locks. “Maybe you should stay in the car, sweetheart. I’ll take him in.”
Savannah opened the door and stepped to the sidewalk, drawing Luthor behind her. “I’ll do it, Dad,” she managed bravely. “He’s my responsibility. I brought him into our family, and I owe it to him not to leave his side till he’s out.”
The Doberman could tell something was awry, yet followed her to the door, loyal to the bitter end. Every step was a hammer blow to Savannah’s heart.
I’m using his devotion against him, tricking him inside.
She had never felt lower in her life.
For a wild half-instant, she actually considered running away — not just from the pound, but from Mom and Dad, too. She and Luthor would live as fugitives. Surely Electra’s owners would drop the lawsuit knowing that it had cost the Drysdales their daughter.
The insane impulse vanished as quickly as it had appeared. What would they eat? Garbage? Besides, a twelve-year-old girl with a giant Doberman would stand out like a sore thumb. The police would pick them up within hours.
She remembered the noise from when she’d first come to the Cedarville pound to adopt Luthor — the awful, discordant chorus of dogs in captivity, dogs in trouble. She introduced herself, trying not to look at the large wire-mesh kennel she knew was meant for Luthor. If she could have made the trade, she would have gladly crawled in there herself to spare her precious Doberman. This was all her fault. If she had been a better dog whisperer, maybe things would not have come to such a catastrophe.
She assisted the Humane Society attendant in gentling him into the cage. He looked at her so trustingly that her eyes welled up with tears. Maybe that was a merciful thing. She was unable to see the moment that the gate shut and he was locked in there, lost to her forever.
She hated what had happened, but not nearly as much as she hated herself.
From inside the cage, Luthor regarded her questioningly.
“His name is Luthor,” she quavered, “and please be nice to him because he’s the most wonderful friend anybody ever had in the whole world….” She went on, but by that time, she was crying so hard that the attendant was unable to understand her.
It was a miracle that she made it back to the car. Sobbing now, she hurled herself into the backseat and prepared to face life without Luthor.
On the way home, she resisted her parents’ feeble attempts to comfort her. There was no comfort to be had. She had done what needed to be done for the Drysdale family. Luthor was gone and she was never going to be happy again.
“Hey,” Mr. Drysdale said as they swung into their driveway. “Isn’t that Estelle Slovak’s car?”
Savannah sat up and peered out the window. Mrs. Slovak stood on the Drysdales’ porch, accompanied by Ben and also Griffin. And what was that in Griffin’s arms …?
“Cleo!” she exclaimed, jumping from the SUV. “How did you get out of the house?”
“She broke out, that’s how,” Griffin supplied the answer. “Then she broke into my house and set off the alarm. It took two cops to wrestle her down.”
“Something’s wrong with her,” Ben added, Ferret Face looking on from his collar. “I think she’s upset about something.”
Before Savannah could respond, the monkey bounded out of Griffin’s hands, landing with a thud on the roof of the SUV. Wrapping her tail around the antenna, she hung upside down, poking her head into the open car.
The sight of her brought all Savannah’s misery crashing down upon them. “She’s looking for … looking for … Luthor!”
“So?” Griffin was mystified by the depth of Savannah’s emotions. “Everybody knows the monkey and Luthor are best friends.”
“Luthor’s gone!” she wailed.
“Gone?” echoed Ben. “Gone where?”
Eyes streaming, Savannah sobbed out the story of the 7.8-million-dollar lawsuit that had forced the Drysdales to take Luthor to the town pound.
Mrs. Slovak enfolded the distraught girl in her arms. “Savannah, I’m so sorry!”
The Drysdales rushed to join the group hug.
Griffin cast Ben a meaningful glance. Of course they felt terrible for their brokenhearted friend. Savannah loved all animals, but the Doberman was her favorite. She had whispered him back from the life of a guard dog, and he adored her totally and unconditionally, the way a baby loves its mother. On the other hand, a Luthor-less town was a safer town. How many times had Griffin and Ben entered the Drysdale house with a very real fear of being torn limb from limb? And the incident at the mall proved that those fears were not unfounded.
“Sorry, Savannah,” Griffin told her, struggling not to sound relieved. “I know how much he meant to you.”
“Yeah, that really stinks,” Ben added through twisted lips.
At that moment, Cleopatra completed her search of the SUV, coming to the conclusion that her beloved best friend was gone for good. Her screech of lament was painful to the ears, and she flung herself into Savannah’s embrace, chattering her sorrow.
Ferret Face burrowed deep into Ben’s shirt in an attempt to escape the disturbing noise.
Savannah wrapped loving arms around the capuchin. “Thanks, you guys,” she sniffled to Griffin and Ben. “But no matter how sad we are, we have to be strong now — for Cleo.”
“We’ll try,” Griffin promised, hoping his friend would not notice his strangled voice.
“You’re the best,” she said tearfully.
It was only when the Drysdales and Cleopatra had disappeared inside the house that Griffin and Ben let out twin sighs of relief.
“Wait a minute.” Mrs. Slovak wagged an accusing finger in her son’s face. “You’re happy about this?”
“I’m trying not to be,” Ben defended himself.
“You’re practically beaming!”
“At least we held back in front of Savannah,” Griffin pointed out. “We’ll get credit for that, won’t we?”
“You get nothing!” Mrs. Slovak said angrily. “Your friend is devastated, and you two look like you just won the lottery.”
“That dog’s a killer, Mom,” Ben pleaded. “He would have gotten around to me sooner or later. You and Dad would be empty nesters. Ferret Face would be back in the zoo!”
“Don’t you play on my sympathies, Benjamin Slovak.” His mother started for the car. “I’m disgusted with the two of you. Come on, let’s go home.”
As they trudged behind her, the boys looked at each other, shamefaced. There was no sin in being a little bit afraid of Luthor.
But that didn’t give them the right to celebrate Savannah’s tragedy.
4
“Cut it out, Ferret Face!” Griffin hissed into the dark of the room he was sharing with Ben.
For some reason, Ferret Face had taken a liking to the folding cot that was serving as Griffin’s bed. The small animal was a restless sleeper, and when he rolled over, the tickle factor from his fur was almost unbearable.
But Ferret Face was part of the deal at the Slovak house. He was not a pet. He was technically a health care provider. Ben suffered from narcolepsy, which meant he could fall asleep at any time of the day. The ferret’s job was to provide a wake-up nip whenever he felt his host was beginning to doze.
At night, however, Ferret Face was off duty. Which means he’s my problem for the next six weeks, Griffin reflected with a yawn. When it came to keeping people awake, Ferret Face had a natural talent.
Griffin glanced a little resentfully at Ben, who was dead to the world. With his narcolepsy under control by day, he now slept soundly at night. He also snored — not like a buzz saw, but with just enough volume to keep a guy up. Then there was that other noise. He’d been hearing it off and on for hours. It wasn’t a siren exactly, and too drawn out to be an owl. It could have been a machine that needed oiling, but who ran machines at one a.m.? An air conditioner, maybe? It wasn’t that hot yet.
Restless, Griffin got out of bed, noting in annoyance that Ferret Face rolled into the middle of the cot and made himself comfortable.
I’m going to have a battle on my hands when it’s time to get back in.
He opened the window a little and put his ear to the crack.
The noise was clearer now, and there was no mistaking it. It was the loneliest sound Griffin had ever heard. Howling — mournful, heartsick, suffering.
Luthor.
The Cedarville pound was more than a mile away, but the pain in that cry was something you could almost reach out and touch. Suddenly, Griffin found himself swallowing a lump in his throat. Never before had he heard anything so sad, so desperate.
He and Ben had been scared to death of Savannah’s dog, but there was nothing to fear from the source of this terrible lament. The only emotion it aroused was pure pity, and lots of it.
A wave of shame rolled over him. He and Ben had been relieved at the thought of the big Doberman confined to the pound. Pleased, even. Fine, they had sympathy for Savannah. What about Luthor himself? He was a person, too. Well, not really, but he definitely had feelings. The agonized wail that rang out all over Cedarville was the proof of that. It was nothing less than the lament of a lost soul.
A picture appeared in Griffin’s mind: Luthor, drooping in a cage in the dog pound, alone and abandoned. What were the odds that someone would come along who was crazy enough, blind enough, and deaf enough to love him as much as Savannah did? What were the odds that someone would come along at all?
Who would adopt Luthor? A family with young kids? It would be like introducing a fully grown Bengal tiger into your home. And if word got around that Luthor had started the riot that had taken out the fabulous Electra …
Everybody knew what happened to dogs that were at the pound too long. No wonder Savannah had been crying. That had to have been in her mind when she’d left him there.
Dogs who were not adopted were put to sleep — which was a nice way of saying …
He couldn’t even bring himself to finish the thought.
Ben was used to awakening to the feral gaze of Ferret Face. But the next morning the eyes staring down at him were human.
“Good. You’re up.”
There was something in Griffin’s brisk, businesslike tone that made Ben nervous.
“So?” he asked with a wary yawn.
“We’ve got swimming at ten. We’d better hurry if we’re going to make it to the dog pound before that.”
Ben choked. “The dog pound? What for?”
Griffin’s expression softened. “We can’t leave him there.”
“Yeah, we can. And we will! We’ve been dreaming of being rid of Luthor ever since he was the guard dog at Swindle’s store.”
Griffin nodded. “Not this way. If he was adopted by a family from Uzbekistan, great. I’d even buy him a carcass of raw meat to eat on the plane ride over. But if no one adopts that dog — and who would? — he’s going to be put down. We can’t let that happen. We owe it to Savannah. We even sort of owe it to Luthor. Horrible, vicious monsters have a right to live, too, you know.”
Ben looked stricken, but he had a comeback. “Savannah loves animals more than anybody else in the world. If she gave up on Luthor —”
“Savannah didn’t give up on Luthor,” Griffin interrupted. “She was forced into it to save her family from being wiped out. You think she was happy about leaving that poor mutt on death row? She’d fall on a grenade to save a caterpillar! She’s going to be scarred for life — unless we step in and bail Luthor out of the slammer.”
Ben was whining now. “And do what with him? Keep him forever? Not in my house! My mother vacuums the place three times a day because of Ferret Face, and he’s a medical necessity!”
“It won’t be your house,” Griffin promised. “He can stay in our garage.”
“And what are you going to tell your parents when they come back? Or are you hoping they won’t notice an apex predator living in your dad’s workshop?”
“That’s six weeks away,” Griffin scoffed.
“Lawsuits drag on for years!”
“Not if you settle them.”
“You’re talking about millions,” Ben snapped back. “How’s that going to happen — unless Mr. Drysdale robs a bank?”
Griffin was patient. “The lawsuit is for what Electra’s owners are losing because she can’t win the big dog show. So all we have to do to get exactly that much is to win it instead of Electra.”
“How? We’re not dogs!” His eyes widened. “Tell me you don’t mean Luthor!”
Griffin shrugged. “Savannah always said he’s big for a Doberman, but he’s perfect.”
“She’d think he was perfect if he had the head of a chicken and the back end of a Komodo dragon! “
“This is different,” Griffin argued. “Yeah, she’d love him no matter what. But no one knows animals better than she does. His proportions, his coat, his coloring, the way he carries himself — all ideal. That means he has a chance at the dog show. We just have to teach him to behave himself. How hard can it be?”
Ben opened his mouth to let his friend know exactly how hard it could be. At that moment, though, the stress of this argument triggered his narcolepsy, and he slumped back on the bed, fast asleep.
Instantly, Ferret Face was on the job. With a reproachful look at Griffin, he bounded onto Ben’s chest, slithered underneath the pajama top, and delivered a gentle nip at his master’s neck.
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Ben came awake with a start, alert and ready to continue the conversation. “I know you, Griffin Bing,” he said accusingly. “Don’t think you’re putting anything over on me. This is a plan.”
“Maybe,” Griffin admitted. “But it’s also doing the right thing. Do you want that big dumb mutt on your conscience?”
5
Luthor seemed a lot less ferocious than Griffin and Ben remembered him. The Doberman was much cowed by his night at the pound. He was pathetically grateful to see two familiar faces — even if those faces belonged to Griffin and Ben, whom he’d never particularly liked. Meek and obedient, he allowed himself to be clipped onto his leash and led out of the pound.
“I can’t believe it costs a hundred bucks to spring a mutt out of doggie jail,” Griffin complained. “They go on TV and weep for people to adopt an unwanted animal, but when you actually try to do it, out comes the cash register. Good thing my dad left a credit card for emergencies.”
“How could you just lie and say he’s your dog?” Ben challenged. “What if the attendant knew the Drysdales?”
“What choice did I have?” Griffin countered. “If I told the truth, I’d have to adopt him for real, which is even more expensive, and I’d have to have an adult with me. Fat chance of that.”
As they walked, Griffin handled the leash as if it were a brimming mug of nitroglycerin. Ben followed at a safe distance, keeping a wary eye on the Doberman.
“You know,” Griffin commented after a few minutes, “this isn’t as terrible as I thought it was going to be. I mean, Luthor’s actually pretty calm. Maybe it won’t be so hard training him for the show.”
“Oh, yeah, a real breeze,” Ben said sarcastically. “Since we know less than nothing about dogs, it makes perfect sense that we’ll be mopping up the floor with people who’ve devoted their whole lives to them.”
Griffin favored him with an elaborate shrug. “It’s not like we have to teach him to play the piano. I did a little research on the Internet while you were sleeping last night. The contestants don’t perform tricks or have special talents. All they’re judged on is being dogs. Luthor’s been doing that since the day he was born.”