when you were born. But here is what I’ve learned over the years. Undead or alive, you mean the world to me. You’ve shown me that being different is something to embrace, to enjoy. To celebrate.” He winked at Mom. “The second you came into our lives, I knew it wouldn’t just be you who’d be different. It would be us. Our family. So in a family like ours, heck, I’d expect us to have a zombie dog, right? But I do have just one question, one I know you can answer.
“Does he always smell this bad?”
It turned out Mom didn’t need to prepare Dad for Tread, at least not with wine. Since Tread officially joined the family a few days before, he had fit in pretty well. Mom adored him and Dad tolerated him. Not bad for such a big change.
Dad had noticed the biggest problem with an undead dog, the deathly odor. Tread often smelled as if he’d been run hard and buried wet. I searched for a dog shampoo that eliminated lingering post-mortem odor, but settled for one that attacked rotting odors for dogs who rubbed in dead things. Close enough.
Tread’s bath did wonders in masking that post-death smell. And it only took me a few minutes to put his tail back on since I had so much practice.
I pulled the plug from the tub, Tread jumping when he heard the swoosh of water as it drained away.
“Easy, boy, let’s get you out of there and dried off.”
That’s when I learned you never let a zombie dog shake before you firmly wrap him in a towel. I was digging bits of Tread out of the grout, and my hair, for days.
Chapter Seven
The second I saw Anna on our first day of school after winter break, I wanted to tell her all about Tread. Until I remembered Luke’s reaction. If my best friend freaked out over something as minor as reanimating a dead dog, what would my pretty-much-girlfriend think?
For the first week of school I kept it to myself, and not just because I feared her reaction. Just how would I reveal this particular secret?
Maybe I could work it into the weather. “As cold as it is, it’s supposed to warm up nicely tomorrow. Speaking of cold things that suddenly warm up … ”
Perhaps at lunch. “This burger is so raw it could stand up and walk away. And that wouldn’t be the first time I saw dead meat take a stroll.”
Or talking about current events. “There’s a new poll that says most Americans believe in heaven. But you know who won’t be needing it after all?”
But seriously, what thirteen-year-old talks about current events unless they’re part of a class assignment?
Fortunately, sort of, Tread found a nice warm spot on the back burner when I found the NZN newsletter. That became the Number One topic of discussion, so Tread had to settle for Number Two (which reminded me, I needed more poop bags).
If there was a group spreading lies about me and my kind (population two, that I knew of), I’d need someone on my side. I knew Anna would happily wear the zombie team colors, which are black and white because that just makes sense.
I’d texted Anna about the “Say No to Zombies” notice just minutes after I found it. That was a violation of Pine Hollow’s “Keep phones turned off at school” policy, but that rule was so 2004. I could even pocket-text, sending a message without having to look at the keyboard. I was that good.
Anna’s reaction did not disappoint me when we met after school and I showed her the newsletter.
“Where do they get this crap? First, you don’t have sunken eyes. OK, maybe a little in the cheeks. Yeah, kinda gray, but nothing a quick spray-tan can’t fix. But ‘flesh-tearing teeth’? Really?”
Anna examined the NZN propaganda sheet. We were in my garage because I told Anna we made my dad uncomfortable when we hung out in my bedroom. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it would do for now. NZN now, Tread later.
The more she read, the angrier she became. She started to turn red, a color I was physically incapable of becoming. It was awesome.
At the
“Does he always smell this bad?”
It turned out Mom didn’t need to prepare Dad for Tread, at least not with wine. Since Tread officially joined the family a few days before, he had fit in pretty well. Mom adored him and Dad tolerated him. Not bad for such a big change.
Dad had noticed the biggest problem with an undead dog, the deathly odor. Tread often smelled as if he’d been run hard and buried wet. I searched for a dog shampoo that eliminated lingering post-mortem odor, but settled for one that attacked rotting odors for dogs who rubbed in dead things. Close enough.
Tread’s bath did wonders in masking that post-death smell. And it only took me a few minutes to put his tail back on since I had so much practice.
I pulled the plug from the tub, Tread jumping when he heard the swoosh of water as it drained away.
“Easy, boy, let’s get you out of there and dried off.”
That’s when I learned you never let a zombie dog shake before you firmly wrap him in a towel. I was digging bits of Tread out of the grout, and my hair, for days.
Chapter Seven
The second I saw Anna on our first day of school after winter break, I wanted to tell her all about Tread. Until I remembered Luke’s reaction. If my best friend freaked out over something as minor as reanimating a dead dog, what would my pretty-much-girlfriend think?
For the first week of school I kept it to myself, and not just because I feared her reaction. Just how would I reveal this particular secret?
Maybe I could work it into the weather. “As cold as it is, it’s supposed to warm up nicely tomorrow. Speaking of cold things that suddenly warm up … ”
Perhaps at lunch. “This burger is so raw it could stand up and walk away. And that wouldn’t be the first time I saw dead meat take a stroll.”
Or talking about current events. “There’s a new poll that says most Americans believe in heaven. But you know who won’t be needing it after all?”
But seriously, what thirteen-year-old talks about current events unless they’re part of a class assignment?
Fortunately, sort of, Tread found a nice warm spot on the back burner when I found the NZN newsletter. That became the Number One topic of discussion, so Tread had to settle for Number Two (which reminded me, I needed more poop bags).
If there was a group spreading lies about me and my kind (population two, that I knew of), I’d need someone on my side. I knew Anna would happily wear the zombie team colors, which are black and white because that just makes sense.
I’d texted Anna about the “Say No to Zombies” notice just minutes after I found it. That was a violation of Pine Hollow’s “Keep phones turned off at school” policy, but that rule was so 2004. I could even pocket-text, sending a message without having to look at the keyboard. I was that good.
Anna’s reaction did not disappoint me when we met after school and I showed her the newsletter.
“Where do they get this crap? First, you don’t have sunken eyes. OK, maybe a little in the cheeks. Yeah, kinda gray, but nothing a quick spray-tan can’t fix. But ‘flesh-tearing teeth’? Really?”
Anna examined the NZN propaganda sheet. We were in my garage because I told Anna we made my dad uncomfortable when we hung out in my bedroom. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it would do for now. NZN now, Tread later.
The more she read, the angrier she became. She started to turn red, a color I was physically incapable of becoming. It was awesome.
At the
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