A Tale of Two Tails (11 page)

“I'm just saying that your dog is a loser, like you.”

“That will be enough, Mr. McKelty,” Ms. Adolf scolded.

“Fine, I was finished, anyway.” Then the jerk lumbered away, satisfied that his big mouth had done its job.

I could feel my lower lip tremble big-time now, and my blood boil.

“Excuse me, Ms. Adolf,” said a voice from behind me. I didn't even have to turn around because I knew it was Frankie. “Ashley and I would like to enter a dog in the mascot competition.”

“And what is your canine's name?” she asked.

“That would be Cheerio,” Frankie said.

“What are you talking about?” I said to Frankie. “I just withdrew him.”

“We heard,” Frankie said. “So Ashley and I would like to take over Team Cheerio, if that's okay with you.”

“Yeah . . . sure . . . but . . . wait a minute . . . you guys are . . . I mean . . . you left . . . and now you're here . . . and wow, I'm confused.”

“Katherine doesn't need us,” Ashley told me. “She's doing just fine. But you and Cheerio do.”

“Besides,” Frankie said. “We can't let McKelty get away with that attitude. Somebody's got to shut him down. And we think Cheerio's just the dog to do it.”

Ms. Adolf was drumming her fingers impatiently on her desktop.

“Will one of you please tell me . . . is this animal in or out?” she said in a voice that sounded like she was remembering the last time she and Cheerio got tangled up. She was definitely not president of the Cheerio fan club.

“He's in,” all three of us said together.

With that, I threw my arms around Frankie and Ashley, and as we headed out the door for recess, all I could think was how great it was to have friends like them.

I was glad that Frankie and Ashley volunteered to train Cheerio, but there was one big problem, and it was my usual problem. Stanley Zipzer.

“So, Hank,” my dad said at dinner as we were all trying to gag down my mom's newest creation, a meatless medley of grains and legumes from Cameroon that were mashed together to make them look like crab cakes. We weren't fooled, though. Those suckers were evil. I swear there was a dash of well-worn gym sock in there somewhere.

I didn't like the sound of my dad's “So, Hank.” With him, nothing good ever follows “So, Hank.”

“So, Hank,” he repeated, just for emphasis. “Mrs. Aguilar, the director of the senior center, called this afternoon.”

“Oh, you mean Delores,” I said. “She's really nice. She let me Xerox both my palms on the big machine in her office. And in color, no less.”

“Let me remind you that you're there to do community service, not to be fooling around copying your body parts.”

“Just be grateful it was only his hands, Dad,” Emily-the-helpful piped up. “Once he tried to Xerox his butt on the machine in the attendance office, but Ms. Crock caught him just before he pushed the start button.”

“Thanks for supplying that information, Emily,” I said. “I'll be sure to tell Dad about the time you . . .”

I stopped dead in my tracks. The truth was, I couldn't think of a time that she had ever done anything wrong. Wow, what a boring life she leads.

“So, Hank, back to the subject at hand,” my dad said. “Mrs. Aguilar asked if you could be there at three-thirty tomorrow, rather than four. It seems there's a sing-along and she'd like you to make copies of the song sheets. I could bring Cheerio to meet you at three-thirty.”

“I'm glad you brought this up, Dad,” I said as my mom came in carrying a platter of seconds of the phony crab cakes. I don't know why she felt that was necessary, because no one finished the first helping.

“I was thinking that Cheerio has done so well and really learned his lesson that he should be excused from any further community service,” I said.

“Oh, Cheerio, I'm so proud of you,” my mom said, throwing him one of the crab cakes, which he caught like a Frisbee in midair. That dog will eat anything. Doesn't he taste that hint of used gym sock at all?

“I know what you're thinking, Dad,” I continued before my father could say anything. “This is not me trying to talk my way out of anything. I still have lessons to learn, and I would like to do community service for both of us.”

If you're wondering if I had lost my marbles completely, I assure you I hadn't. My goal was to get Cheerio free in the afternoons, so Frankie and Ashley could continue his training in the park. There were only a two days left before the competition, and Cheerio had a lot of catch-up to do. That reminded me that I had to call Mason to tell him he was back on the team. I told Frankie and Ashley that there was no way we could disappoint my little micro-buddy, and they agreed.

“I think Hank has a good point,” my mom said. “From what I hear, Cheerio has brought a lot of joy to the seniors. They couldn't stop talking about him when I was there yesterday.”

My mom had come to pick us up the day before and brought soylami and soystrami sandwiches for the seniors. They actually liked them. I guess when you get older, your tongue stops working.

“It was really mostly Hank's fault to begin with,” Emily said, always happy to hurl an insult in my direction.

For once, I didn't defend myself and kept my mouth shut. Emily's argument was actually helping my case.

“I suppose I don't have any objection to suspending Cheerio's punishment,” my dad said. “But it's a different story with you, young man.”

“When you're right, you're right, Dad. And let me just say, you are righter than right.”

Yay. I had what I wanted.

I couldn't wait to call Frankie and Ashley and tell them that Cheerio was cleared for training. I jumped up from the table, asked to be excused, and pushed my chair in, all in one quick motion.

“Dad,” Emily whined. “He can't leave yet. I was just about to show everyone Katherine's new trick that is sure to win her the mascot contest.”

“No offense, Em, but I have important things to do.”

“Da-aa-aaad,” Emily whined.

“Sit down, Hank,” my mom said. “We're a family and your sister has something to share.”

“That lizard does not live in my family tree,” I said.

“Katherine is as much a part of our family as Cheerio is,” my mom said. “Just like Ralph was.”

Oh, man. She had to go and bring up Ralph, my pet turtle when I was four who disappeared when I was taking him for a walk down Broadway. I'm pretty positive he's living a happy life in the sewer. But I couldn't argue with my mom when she played the Ralph card.

I turned to face the ugly lizard.

“Okay, Kathy. Show us what you got. But please, hurry up. I have an important phone call to make.”

Part of the reason I didn't want to see Katherine's trick was that I suspected she had something really good up her sleeve and I didn't want to get discouraged about Cheerio's lack of progress.

But nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.

Emily took Katherine from around her neck, where she had been wearing her like a scarf, and put her on the dining room table. She held her hand above Katherine's head, and Katherine followed her until her snout was facing the ceiling. Then Emily took a grape out of her pocket and balanced it on the tip of Katherine's snout. When the grape was very steady, Emily took a baton out of her pocket. Well, it wasn't a real baton, but one that she made out of a Q-tip and tin foil. She placed the baton on top of the grape.

And if that wasn't enough, that reptile started walking backward, balancing the grape and the baton on top of her snout.

My mouth fell open so wide, I had to actually take my hand and push my lower jaw back up.

I looked over at Cheerio, who was finishing the last bit of his second phony crab cake, and thought,
You better enjoy that while it lasts, pal, because you really got your work cut out for you.

For the next two days, I went to the senior center and did my community service, which, I have to say, was actually pretty fun. There is something about helping people and putting a smile on their faces that makes you feel really good, even if you are missing your dog's most important two training sessions of his life.

In the evening, Frankie, Ashley, and I met in our basement clubhouse to review Cheerio's progress. Here is a summary of what they told me.

1. He
almost
learned to roll over, but stopped midway on his back and insisted on waving all four of his feet to air them out.

2. He
almost
learned to sit up on his hind legs, but kept falling over because his top part is longer than his bottom part.

3. He
almost
learned to snatch a Frisbee out of the air, but every time he was about to catch it, he'd just sit down and lick his tail.

4. He
almost
learned to walk with his head held high on a leash, but instead he grabbed the leash in his teeth and pulled Mason into the birdbath, at which time the training was over because Mason's mom took him right home to change his clothes so he wouldn't catch a cold. (You can only imagine the steam coming out of Mason's mom's ears.)

5. Ashley made him a rhinestone crown that he
almost
learned to wear, but instead he shook it off his head, grabbed it in his mouth, ran to the bank of the Hudson, and flung it in the river. (I have to say, I'm on Cheerio's side on this one. Come on, he's not a rhinestone kind of guy.)

 

By the time the week was over, Cheerio was as ready as he was ever going to be for the competition, which . . . let's face it . . . was not ready at all.

On the day of the mascot competition, all of the kids at PS 87 gathered on the bleachers that lined the walls of the multipurpose room. Those who had entered a pet in the competition sat in a row of chairs on the stage that were placed on either side of the judges' table.

The judges included Ms. Adolf, who wore (you guessed it) a grey pantsuit. At least, I think it was a pantsuit. I couldn't tell where the pants ended and the jacket started. Sitting next to her was her monster boxer, Randolf Bartholomew Irving Adolf. We all hoped that he had skipped breakfast, and the previous night's dinner for that matter, too. (If you remember, the digestive rumblings that came out of that dog could curl your nose hairs and make your socks go up and down.) Randolf was wearing a starched white collar with a grey bowtie. I guess his favorite color had to be grey, too, if he was going to live in her house.

The other judge was the kindergarten teacher, Mrs. McMurray. Frankie, Ashley, and I figured they picked her because when you're a kindergarten teacher dealing with a roomful of five-year-olds, it's like trying to control a basket full of puppies, anyway. She had really gotten herself into the spirit of the day. She was wearing a sweater with pink and red cats and dangling earrings that were fish—I think they were trout, but I'm not an expert on types of fish. And on her skirt, there was a fluffy white poodle with rhinestone eyes.