Birdie For Now (4 page)

He was watching TV when Mum groaned.

“What's wrong?” he asked, not re-ally interested.

“They are going to be running a dog training school of some kind right
behind this house,” she said. “Oh, dear. You'll have to keep away from that.”

Hadn't she read the sign He jumped up and ran to look over her shoulder. There was a picture of the tall woman, smiling. She was holding a dog in her arms.

LESLIE HAWKIN TEACHES DOGS MANNERS
, the headline read.

“Read out what it says,” he urged.

Leslie Hawkin, Mum read, from the Riverside Humane Society, was running a summer program for children whose dogs needed to learn some manners. Basic Dog Obedience would be taught, plus tips on grooming and general care for a pet.

“They will learn to brush their dogs' teeth,” she read.

“She must be crazy,” his mother said with a shudder. “When the kids get bitten, she'll be sued pronto.”

Dickon opened his mouth to argue and then knew he should let her forget. But he was so excited that he had to go to his room so she would not guess.

The two of them spent all day Monday unpacking boxes and putting things in new places. If only Tuesday would hurry up and come!

His mother left him a list of instructions when she went to work the next morning. His food was all prepared. He would not even have to make himself a piece of toast. Her cell phone number was written up everywhere. She had set an alarm to ring every hour. When he heard it, he was to check in with Mrs. Nelson. At least he didn't have to go over and spend the day with her. Neither he nor the neighbor lady had liked that idea.

He watched TV all morning. When the programs got too babyish, he began building a Lego wall across his bedroom door. It left room at the side for him to get in, but it let him leave his door open without his mother seeing out the window. She would see his Lego wall instead with its windows and doors, steps and terraces. He was good at Lego when he could do whatever he liked with it.

He took breaks, checking his window view and calling the lady next door whenever the alarm went off. She told him all about Charlie, who turned out to be her pet hedgehog. He went over to see Charlie and was astounded by the tiny animal who, when he rolled himself up, was about the size of a tennis ball.

After Dickon ate half his sandwich and drank his first glass of milk, he settled down cross-legged on his bed and gazed out at the Humane Society yard. Nothing was happening. But he stayed put, watching. His teachers would have been amazed.

“If you'd stop fidgeting and concentrate instead,” Mrs. Abcock had said to him in front of them all, “you might make some progress, Dick. You need to pull up your socks or you'll spend your entire life in Grade Two.”

He looked at his feet. No socks to pull up. And he was out of Grade Two, maybe even going into Grade Four. Mum had not got his school class settled yet.

Where were the dog-training kids?
He stared at his digital watch. It was time. His feet jiggled up and down, up and down, but his eyes never shifted from the windowpane.

Finally, the tall lady he had seen two days before arrived. She set up a card table and put out some papers. Then she, too, waited. At last, a car pulled up and two kids, two dogs and a parent got out. They disappeared into the building. Then the girls came out to the field, leaving the adult inside to register and pay, Dickon supposed.

“Over here, girls,” Leslie Hawkin called to them.

Good. He could hear every word. Wrestling the window wide open had been worth it.

“I'm Leslie Hawkin,” she said. “Now who are you two?”

One girl looked wild and the other tame. The wild one had black curly hair that looked as though it would defeat the toughest brush. Her skin was a warm brown and her shorts were a blinding orange. Her T-shirt had sunflowers all over it. A dog — part
terrier, part something else — bounced around her, almost knocking her off her feet.

The tame girl was shorter with long brown hair. She had pink cheeks and wore white shorts, a pale pink T-shirt and glasses. They both had runners on, but the wild girl had no socks and the tame one's socks just matched her shirt. Her dog was a tiny Manchester terrier.

“I'm Kristin Shortreed,” she said. “I'm eleven.”

“Almost eleven. Her birthday's next Friday,” the wild one put in. “I'm Jody Parr and I've been eleven for a month.”

Their dogs were prancing around like cartoon animals. Leslie frowned.

“Cut it out, Poppet. Settle down,” Jody yelled at her pup. “Sit. I said SIT!”

“She won't, Jody,” the other girl told her in a prissy voice. “Watch Hercules. Sit, Hercules.”

Hercules sat for a split second. Then he sprang up and jumped to lick her hand. His giant name was a joke.

Dickon started to laugh but hushed
so he could hear more.

“So he sits. So what? You can't make him stay sitting, Kristin, can you? Admit it. And he never comes when he's called,” Jody said, shoving hard on Poppet's rump. “Poppet almost always comes.”

“Enough already,” said the teacher. “I need to make a list of your names, your dogs' names and where I can reach you.”

Others were coming outside. A thirteen-year-old boy called Trevor with a golden retriever had arrived while they were arguing. His dog's name was Taffy.

“If they did what we told them, we wouldn't be here,” he said as the girls started up their argument again. “My mum says if Taffy doesn't smarten up, she's going to give her to my cousins in the country.”

“Aw, Trevor, that's awful,” Kristin said. “My mum gets mad at Hercules, but really she likes him better than she likes us kids. He trails after her all day, and whenever she sits down, he's up on her lap in one flying leap.”

Other children came. They had to open and shut a gate to get into the fenced-in area. It wasn't so simple with their dogs bouncing around their feet. Every single kid had a dog on a leash. Some were half-grown puppies, but some looked adult. One was humungous! A couple of the others were big, but not like that one.

Not one was well behaved. They pulled ahead or dragged behind, scratched themselves, jumped up on people or tried to pick fights.

Dickon ran into the kitchen and took down his mother's birdwatching binoculars. She had not yet used them here, but she had hung them carefully on a hook by the kitchen window.

“This,” he murmured, raising them to his eyes, “is a special occasion.”

Every face sprang up, clear and sharp, before him. He could lip-read much better.

Two new girls appeared. Sylvia had a dog called Pippin. Dickon did not know what breed it was, but he liked it.

“My dog is named Brisbane,” said the
other girl. “And I'm Maria Sanchez.”

Brisbane was a chunky yellow Lab. Maria's hair hung in long, skinny braids and her smile was wide.

Taffy began running around Trevor's legs in circles, and all at once she dashed over to sniff Jody's dog. The boy's knees buckled and a friendly free-for-all broke out.

Leslie Hawkin jumped up and sorted out dogs and owners, calling every sinner by name. The animals, even the monster whose name was Tallboy, hung their heads like children caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Dickon shook with silent laughter. Twice he put down the binoculars and jigged up and down in excitement. Two more children arrived, Jake Chang with a Boston bull terrier and Chico whose last name Dickon did not catch. He had a beautiful German shepherd named Fancy.

Last of all came a smallish girl with a big frown on her face. Her dog seemed better behaved than most, but Dickon could tell he was longing to
bounce higher than any of them.

“And whom have we here?” Leslie asked, smiling.

The girl stood straight as a soldier. Just before she spoke, Dickon guessed her secret. She was sure nobody would like her. He knew how that felt. But why was she so certain she would be an outsider?

“I'm Jenny English,” she said in a very English voice. “And my dog's name is Copperkins, but I call him Perkins. He's a soft-coated Wheaton terrier. He's my birthday present. We got him a month ago, just after we moved here from London. I'm twelve.”

“He's lovely, Jenny,” Leslie said, smiling at her. “He looks so well cared for. And happy.”

“Yes,” the girl said. Then she ducked her head and muttered, “We took him to the groomer yesterday.”

“He's neat,” Jody said, grinning at her. “When mine comes home from the groomer, he still looks like a floor mop.”

“Pippin is supposed to be part Wheaton,” Sylvia said. “I got her from the
Humane Society in Toronto.”

Dickon lost sight of them in the crowd then, but not before he saw Jenny give Pippin a measuring look. Jody grinned at her again. And just before Daniel cut off his view he saw Jenny relax a bit and smile shyly back at the wild girl.

Then the teacher walked into the field and blew a loud blast on a whistle. All the dogs, big and small, cocked their heads at the sharp sound.

“Pay attention, everyone. The first class is now starting. Get your dogs and back up until you are spread out in a big circle. Shorten those leashes until the animals cannot get close to each other. Trevor, give Taffy a sharp jerk and tell her ‘NO!'”

Trevor jerked on the leash and Taffy wagged her tail happily. She was not going to obey him.

Dickon leaned forward so far that he slid onto the floor, landing with a flump. He kept his hold on the binoculars somehow. Sighing with relief, he picked himself up.

He climbed onto the bed again and went on watching. His body ached to bounce up and down a few times. His mattress was great for bouncing. But if he did, he might miss something.

Another boy came racing around the building, letting the gate clang shut behind him. His dog was a tri-colored, lop-eared collie. The boy was breathless and red in the face, but the collie looked calm and dignified.

“Hi, Ruff,” Jody called. “Hi, Andy.”

Ruff looked down her noble nose as though the others were mere babies and she was the only adult.

“Sorry I'm late. I'm Anthony Blake,” the newcomer said. “I got held up …”

“After today, I want you all here on time,” the teacher announced. “We must concentrate if we want to make a difference in four weeks. Latecomers will distract the dogs. We'll have a break at two-thirty. We can chat then.”

The children were in their circle now. The huge dog was lying down and Daniel, his master, was doing his best to yank him up again. Leslie walked over.
Dickon missed seeing what she did, but all at once the gangling dog was sitting up with a startled look on his face.

“You have to be firm, Daniel. Tallboy won't understand sweet talk. You have to show him you mean business.”

“Yes, Leslie, I know. But he just …”

“No excuses. If you aren't ready to learn, take Tallboy and go on home,” Leslie said. “He's big, of course, but you are smarter and he is wearing a choke chain. He's young, too, and has not been taught bad habits.”

She returned to her spot. The whistle blew another sharp blast.

Dickon set the heavy binoculars down on the windowsill and shook his fingers.

“Today we won't have time for a whole class,” Leslie said. “I just want to meet you all and check that you have choke chain collars for your dogs.”

“I don't want to choke Hercules,” Kristin protested. “He's so little and he shouldn't be hurt.”

“Me neither,” murmured Maria.

Leslie went over and put a choke collar on Kristin's arm.

“If you put it on properly, it won't really choke your dog. It'll just get his attention. Then you loosen your tug. Like this.”

She jerked the leash. Kristin's mouth opened. Before she could speak, the leash fell slack.

“Oh,” she said, looking down at her arm. There was no mark.

Dickon especially liked Kristin and Jody. Kristin looked calm and friendly, and Jody seemed exciting. Friendly too, but differently. He liked Jenny too. He could tell she was feeling shy. He saw Jody speak to her. She must have made a joke. Jenny glanced nervously at Leslie and then smiled back.

Dickon's throat ached with his yearning to run out and leap into the ring of kids with a dog of his very own. He would instantly belong. It wouldn't matter that the others were older and taller. Everybody in the world was bigger than Birdie Fielding. Except Jenny maybe.

A shriek made Dickon snap to attention.

Taffy had pulled loose and was
running away. Dickon looked to where she was heading and saw the hole in the fence. It was low and not huge, but a dog could wriggle through it. And it led right into Dickon's yard.

“Gotcha!” Trevor caught hold of his dog's tail. Taffy sat down and allowed him to pick up her leash.

Twenty minutes later, all the children were handed juice boxes and the dogs were given water. Then, in no time at all, it was over. Everyone left. Dickon, watching them go, was making a plan.

Tomorrow, before the kids came, he would wiggle through the hole in the fence. He was sure that he would fit. Then he would hang around, at the edge, quiet and interested. He would not fidget or yell. He would take his pill last thing. He'd be a shadow of a boy. If he did it just right, Leslie Hawkin had to let him stay. Jody would take his part for sure. He curled up and began a daydream in which he got a dog, a beautiful big one with brown eyes filled with love. His dog was obedient right away.