number down. I just dialed it directly from the dog tag."
Mom considered some more. "Now where did that tag say he lived? Beahan Road? Hinchey? Wasn't it somewhere beyond the airport?"
"I don't know," Amy said.
"They'll call us," Mom assured her. "Or, more likely, just bring the dog over." Mom had yet to settle on whether to call him Sherlock, which Amy did, or Big Red, which was what his tag said. "What was that boy's name—Sean? Sean knows the way. Sean's family will bring the dog over." She bit her lip. "Unless they moved already. But if they did, surely at least one of their old neighbors knows their new address and will contact them and let them know that their dog is wandering around their old neighborhood.
Then
they'll pick up the dog and bring him back." Mom nodded to convince herself and Amy. "From now on, we'll keep him in the house, only letting him out for walks on a leash, until he's used to us, until he realizes this is his new home." Mom hugged her and said, "Everything will work out, honey. You'll see."
The fact was none of this brainstorming had anything to do with the real problem, and Amy couldn't tell her mother so.
"Or," Mom suggested, "we could ask our neighbors if they noticed anything unusual today."
Like the unfortunate Ed hanging around all morning?
"Oh," Amy said, "that's not very likely."
But Mom with a possible solution was not to be denied. She left a note for Dad that dinner was delayed and marched next door to ask Mrs. Heintzman if she'd seen anything of their new dog.
Mrs. Heintzman hadn't. And neither had Mr. or Mrs. Griggs, nor any of the Rodriguez family, which included three generations, and at least a half-dozen children.
It was only on their way to the fourth house on their street that Mom noticed one of the fliers on a telephone pole. "Looks like this could be our dog's brother," Mom snorted. "Must be spring fever getting into all of them." She took the flier down, to be able
to
show people, to be able to say, "He looks something like this, but brighter eyed and more attractive."
Nobody had seen anything, and eventually even Mom had to give up. "If we don't hear anything from Sean's family by tomorrow night," Mom assured Amy, "we'll put up our own fliers."
Mom was so sure they'd be hearing from Sean's family, she got Amy fidgety, even though Amy knew better. When the phone rang at about eight, she almost knocked Dad over to get to it.
"Amy?" it was a whispered voice, with a lot of crackling going on in the background.
"Minneh?" Amy asked.
"I'm in the hall closet with the cordless phone," Minneh explained, "so my family can't hear. I just wanted to say everything's fine. Sherlock's in our garage. No sign of evil dognappers." She giggled. "Or perverts or drug dealers. I left the window open on my dad's pickup, so Sherlock could sleep on the seat instead of the hard cement floor. And I slipped him some leftover pizza for dinner, and he seemed to like it. He's a neat dog, Amy. He licked my face to thank me and everything. I'll take care of him for you. Gotta go—that's my brother pounding on the door. I guess he's expecting a call from his girlfriend. See you tomorrow."
"See you," Amy said, the first chance Minneh gave her to say anything.
Dad looked her way as she hung the phone back up. "The elusive Sean?" he asked.
"No. Minneh, from school."
"Ah," he said. "I was hoping it was good news."
It had been, in a way, but she couldn't tell him so. At least Sherlock was safe for the moment and being taken care of.
Except that the next moment the doorbell rang. And when Mom opened the door, Amy heard a man's voice announce, "I'm Dr. Franklin Boden from the college, and I'm here to speak to you about my dog."
Questions
Amy walked quietly to the end of the living room, where she could see the entryway and the front door. Her father didn't get up from his chair, where he'd been reading the newspaper, but he pulled his reading glasses closer to the tip of his nose so that he
Mom considered some more. "Now where did that tag say he lived? Beahan Road? Hinchey? Wasn't it somewhere beyond the airport?"
"I don't know," Amy said.
"They'll call us," Mom assured her. "Or, more likely, just bring the dog over." Mom had yet to settle on whether to call him Sherlock, which Amy did, or Big Red, which was what his tag said. "What was that boy's name—Sean? Sean knows the way. Sean's family will bring the dog over." She bit her lip. "Unless they moved already. But if they did, surely at least one of their old neighbors knows their new address and will contact them and let them know that their dog is wandering around their old neighborhood.
Then
they'll pick up the dog and bring him back." Mom nodded to convince herself and Amy. "From now on, we'll keep him in the house, only letting him out for walks on a leash, until he's used to us, until he realizes this is his new home." Mom hugged her and said, "Everything will work out, honey. You'll see."
The fact was none of this brainstorming had anything to do with the real problem, and Amy couldn't tell her mother so.
"Or," Mom suggested, "we could ask our neighbors if they noticed anything unusual today."
Like the unfortunate Ed hanging around all morning?
"Oh," Amy said, "that's not very likely."
But Mom with a possible solution was not to be denied. She left a note for Dad that dinner was delayed and marched next door to ask Mrs. Heintzman if she'd seen anything of their new dog.
Mrs. Heintzman hadn't. And neither had Mr. or Mrs. Griggs, nor any of the Rodriguez family, which included three generations, and at least a half-dozen children.
It was only on their way to the fourth house on their street that Mom noticed one of the fliers on a telephone pole. "Looks like this could be our dog's brother," Mom snorted. "Must be spring fever getting into all of them." She took the flier down, to be able
to
show people, to be able to say, "He looks something like this, but brighter eyed and more attractive."
Nobody had seen anything, and eventually even Mom had to give up. "If we don't hear anything from Sean's family by tomorrow night," Mom assured Amy, "we'll put up our own fliers."
Mom was so sure they'd be hearing from Sean's family, she got Amy fidgety, even though Amy knew better. When the phone rang at about eight, she almost knocked Dad over to get to it.
"Amy?" it was a whispered voice, with a lot of crackling going on in the background.
"Minneh?" Amy asked.
"I'm in the hall closet with the cordless phone," Minneh explained, "so my family can't hear. I just wanted to say everything's fine. Sherlock's in our garage. No sign of evil dognappers." She giggled. "Or perverts or drug dealers. I left the window open on my dad's pickup, so Sherlock could sleep on the seat instead of the hard cement floor. And I slipped him some leftover pizza for dinner, and he seemed to like it. He's a neat dog, Amy. He licked my face to thank me and everything. I'll take care of him for you. Gotta go—that's my brother pounding on the door. I guess he's expecting a call from his girlfriend. See you tomorrow."
"See you," Amy said, the first chance Minneh gave her to say anything.
Dad looked her way as she hung the phone back up. "The elusive Sean?" he asked.
"No. Minneh, from school."
"Ah," he said. "I was hoping it was good news."
It had been, in a way, but she couldn't tell him so. At least Sherlock was safe for the moment and being taken care of.
Except that the next moment the doorbell rang. And when Mom opened the door, Amy heard a man's voice announce, "I'm Dr. Franklin Boden from the college, and I'm here to speak to you about my dog."
Questions
Amy walked quietly to the end of the living room, where she could see the entryway and the front door. Her father didn't get up from his chair, where he'd been reading the newspaper, but he pulled his reading glasses closer to the tip of his nose so that he
Similar Books
