Movie For Dogs (4 page)

“You mean all I get to say is ‘ha, ha, ha’?” Aunt Alice asked incredulously. “That’s my only line in the whole movie?”

As Bruce had suggested, she was wearing her gardening gloves and a long-sleeved blouse to prevent her from having more contact than necessary with dog hair. She was also wearing a pollen mask, which was nothing at all like the wispy white masks shown in television ads. This one was huge and black, and it covered the entire lower half of her face. She looked like an invader from outer space.

“That’s the dialogue I put in the script,” Andi said, referring to her sheaf of papers. “‘Mrs. Rinkle hauls Bobby over to the toolshed and shoves him in on top of the lawn mower. Mrs. Rinkle (laughing wickedly): Ha, ha, ha!’”

“And for that I went to all the effort of carving a hole in this mask so I could talk?” Aunt Alice said. “What a waste of energy! Please tell me I’m permitted to ad-lib.”

“Of course,” Andi said, because Aunt Alice was obviously disappointed. “Say whatever you feel in your heart when you see those dogs’ pitiful faces. I’m sure it will be perfect.”

Andi was so relieved that Tim’s plan to shoot the roof-busting scene at sunrise had been successful that she would have agreed happily to anything. Shooting at dawn had proved to be an inspiration. Seeing Red Rover’s beautiful head, framed by the orange globe of the early-morning sun, rise majestically over the top of the toolshed had been an unforgettable experience.

“The first dog you shove through the door of the shed will be Bobby,” Andi now explained to Aunt Alice. “That won’t be a problem, because Red does whatever Bruce tells him. You’ll barely have to touch him, and he’ll race in that door.”

“Are you ready, Bruce?” asked Aunt Alice.

“Let’s do it!” Bruce said. He turned to his dog and commanded, “Red, door —
go
!”

Red dashed to the toolshed so fast that Aunt Alice had to leap to pretend to grab hold of him before he went in.

“That was easy,” she said, panting a little from the exertion. “Who’s next?”

“The next one is Lola,” Andi said, consulting her script. “This will be easy, too, since you already know her. It won’t be like grabbing a stranger.”

“Lights! Camera! Action!” Aunt Alice cried before Bruce could open his mouth.
“Ha, ha, ha!”

She snatched up Lola and, holding her as far from her face as possible, began to berate her. “Ha, ha, ha, you pitiful excuse for an animal! This will teach your irresponsible owners to leave you unguarded when dog-hating Mrs. Rinkle is in the neighborhood!
Ha, ha, HA!”

Her voice rose to a shriek as she thrust poor Lola through the door.

Debbie, who was waiting behind the facade to receive the dogs as they came through, snatched Lola up in her arms and cuddled her close.

“Mrs. Scudder, you scared Lola to death!” she cried accusingly. “How could you frighten her like that? She’s always thought you liked her!”

“I do like her,” Aunt Alice said in her normal
voice. “I became quite fond of sweet little Lola when we used her as bait to catch the Gordon boys in their crime spree. But, Debbie, dear, movies aren’t real. I’m playing the part of someone very different from myself. If Lola wants to be an actress, she must get used to that concept.”

Bruce, who had turned off his camera when Debbie’s voice had cut into the scene, stared at Aunt Alice in astonishment.

“How did you do that?” he asked. “You turned yourself into an ogre!”

“You were incredible!” Andi regarded her great-aunt with awe. “Where did you learn to be an actor?”

“It was back when I was a private detective,” Aunt Alice told her. “Part of my job was pretending to be different people. Sometimes I would sit all evening in a nightclub, sipping a cocktail, listening to conversation at the next table. Of course, I drank only soda, because I had to stay sharp and alert, but I got a lot of valuable information that way. Sometimes I’d dress in work clothes and pretend to be a janitor in an office building and eavesdrop on financial discussions. Each assignment was different.”

“You’re a pro!” Andi exclaimed in delight. “This movie is going to be wonderful!”

Aunt Alice sneezed.

“Maybe not,” she said. “I probably shouldn’t have cut a hole in the mask, because the dander from the dog hair is starting to leak in. I’m going to sneeze again — I feel it coming —
At-choo!
”

“Oh, no!” Debbie cried. “And you only just barely touched Lola, who has hardly any hair at all. What’s going to happen when you have to handle the others — Trixie and Frisky and Curly — especially Curly! Curly’s owner never bathes him. Even I sneeze when I’m around Curly!”

“Then, by all means, let’s skip Curly,” Aunt Alice said. “Not to fear, my dears, I shall soldier through. However, I’m afraid that I’m going to keep on sneezing. Is there a way you can work my sneezing into your script?”

They all looked expectantly at Andi.

“I’ve changed the story so much already, I guess I can put in some sneezes,” Andi said thoughtfully. “I’ll rewrite it to say that Mrs. Rinkle isn’t dognapping because she’s evil; she’s doing it for the sake of her health. The neighborhood’s filled with dogs, and Mrs. Rinkle is so allergic to them that
she’s sneezing herself to death. So she decides to collect them all and stuff them into her toolshed.”

“But then she’ll have to pack up and move,” Debbie said. “She can’t continue to live in a house with a shed filled with dogs right there in her backyard.”

“That’s true,” Andi said. “But that makes the story even better. Mrs. Rinkle moves out of the country and abandons the dogs. They’re hungry and thirsty. It’s a life-and-death situation. That’s when Bobby bursts out and frees them. If we’re going to skip Curly, the next dog through the door will be Frisky.”

Bruce started the camera rolling.

“Now it’s your turn, Frisky!”
screamed Aunt Alice, grabbing the trembling animal and flexing her knees to shove him through the doorway.
“You obnoxious, fluffy monster! You allergy-activating ball of dander! In you go — At-choo!”

Bruce had barely finished filming that scene when they heard the whir of skateboard wheels in the alley.

A moment later, Jerry shouted, “Gesundheit! Was that my next-door neighbor, Mrs. Scudder, doing all that sneezing?”

“Jerry?” Aunt Alice turned to glare at the handsome young man who was hanging over the gate and smiling at her angelically. “If I were you, I’d remove myself from these premises. I didn’t press assault and battery charges against your cousin, but I filed a report with the police department, and it’s not too late for me to initiate a lawsuit.”

Jerry just smiled again. “I’ll testify for Connor. I’ll say you tripped over your own feet, and people will believe me. By the way, I talked to Connor last night. He said to tell all of you hi. He can’t wait to come back to Elmwood for another visit.”

“First he’ll have to get out of the detention center,” Bruce said.

“Who said Connor’s in jail?” Jerry asked. “None of the dog owners pressed charges. They were too happy to get their pets back. Connor’s a senior at a private high school in Chicago and he’s doing great. He took the prettiest girl in the school to the senior prom, and they got crowned king and queen. He’s already been offered a scholarship to Harvard. Then he’s planning to go to law school.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Aunt Alice said. “Connor was born to be a politician. He’ll be a senator and then he’ll probably run for president. But
he’s not here now, so he can’t intercede for you, Jerry, and I command you to step away from that gate. The alley is public property, but that gate is not.” She turned back to Bruce. “Now, shall we proceed with the filming?
At-choo — at-choo! Come here, Bebe, you rat-fanged varmint!
”

“Don’t traumatize her!” Andi cried, but Aunt Alice had already snatched up Bebe and was shoving her through the door. Bebe was long and slick, so she slid through easily, and Aunt Alice sneezed again and made a grab for Trixie.

Trixie, who had been featured in
The Bow-Wow News
as a “hero dog,” was determined to uphold her reputation. She barked and tried to bite Aunt Alice’s hand.

“No problem,” Aunt Alice assured the children. “My garden gloves are as tough as rawhide.
In you go, Trixie, you jagged-toothed vixen! How dare you attempt to defend yourself against the mighty Mrs. Rinkle?”

Although the facade they had built blocked Jerry from view, they could hear the sound of his skateboard as he cruised the alley. When Bruce backed off to get a long shot of the toolshed, he could see Jerry’s head whizzing past on the far side of the
fence, going first in one direction and then the other. He was clearly trying to intimidate Red and the other dogs, but because the dogs couldn’t see him, he didn’t produce the emotional effect he was hoping for.

It was midday by the time they completed the scenes that involved Mrs. Rinkle. Aunt Alice, obviously weary, but also looking quite pleased with herself, went home to take a well-deserved nap, and Debbie assembled her cast of extras behind the facade for the grand finale.

Red stood in front of the shed, his whole attention focused on Bruce. He seemed to understand the importance of this final scene and was determined to make his master proud of him.

“Open, sesame!” Bruce shouted, and off Red flew.

He bounded to the door of the shed, stood up on his hind feet, and seized the latch in his teeth. The door flew open, and the dogs behind it poured out. The moment they were out of camera range, Tim and Debbie grabbed them and carried them around to the back of the facade to feed them through again.

“What kind of crazy film are you making?” Jerry yelled.

Now that Aunt Alice was gone, he was back at the gate.

At the sound of the hated voice, Red gave a yelp of terror and fled to his doghouse, but for once, Bruce wasn’t worried about that reaction. Their day’s work was over and he would comfort his dog later.

He turned off his camera and grinned at his sister.

“We got it!” he told her. “This is going to be terrific!”

Bruce could not remember the last time he had hugged Andi. In fact, he couldn’t remember
ever
having hugged her. She was his
sister.
Guys didn’t
ever
hug their sisters!

But this was a special occasion. He hugged her now.

Bruce was right. It
was
terrific. And he finished it not only on time, but three days before the deadline.

That was largely thanks to his photography teacher, Mr. Talbert, who, upon learning that Bruce was preparing an entry for a contest, allowed him to use the editing bay after school hours, along with a student named Kristy Fernald, who also was working on a personal project. Mr. Talbert even stayed after school to help them shift the order of scenes and make voice-overs coincide with the action.

“It’s not often that I have students take on projects of this magnitude,” Mr. Talbert said. “Kristy has been working on hers for over a month, and I’m very impressed with her accomplishment.”

Bruce glanced at the girl who was using the computer next to his. When he saw the footage she was editing, he couldn’t help being surprised. All the
people in her video were either bald or gray-haired, and some were in wheelchairs or using walkers. In general, though, they seemed to be having a good time, especially one group who was wearing birthday hats, pointing at something off camera, and laughing uproariously.

“These scenes are from the Glenn Ridge Assisted Living Facility,” Kristy said in response to Bruce’s unspoken question. “My mom’s a physical therapist there. I told the directors I’d make a video they could show to people who are thinking of moving there. The filming was easy, but the editing’s taken me forever. I’m hoping to get it finished today.”

“That’s nice of you,” Bruce said. “I’m making a movie to enter in Star Burst Studios’
Dogs in Action
video contest. My great-aunt found it online. The finalists will be on TV and people will vote for the winner.”

“The two of you are a credit to our school,” Mr. Talbert said. “Just like Jerry Gordon, who won that young authors competition. We have a lot of talented students at Elmwood Middle School.”

“In the fall you’re going to have another one,” Bruce told him. “My sister, Andi, is going to be starting seventh grade. Andi’s an awesome writer.
She took second place in that contest Jerry Gordon won, and she wrote her story when she was only eleven.”

“Really?” Mr. Talbert seemed surprised. “I read in the paper that the second-place winner was from Elmwood, but I didn’t realize she was your sister. I thought the girl’s last name was Wallace.”

“That was a misprint,” Bruce said. “My sister’s name is Andrea Walker. I haven’t seen Jerry’s story, but it’s hard to believe that it’s any better than Andi’s.”

Bruce completed what he hoped was the final edit of the video the following afternoon, and that evening he and the others gathered in front of the TV in Aunt Alice’s living room for what they referred to as the grand premiere. They considered inviting their parents, but then decided not to, in case there turned out to be problems that needed fixing. Bruce, in particular, was worried that the video would not look as perfect on a TV screen as it had on the computer in the editing bay.

Andi had expected to be excited when the title
Bobby Strikes Back
appeared on the screen, but she had not imagined how intense that emotion would
be. She sat, mesmerized, as the credits began to roll and she saw her name appear at the top of the list.

Then Andi’s own voice began to recite the story that she had spent so many months writing and rewriting:
“Bobby, the old Irish setter, sat by the chain-link fence, gazing into the alley.”
Red appeared on the screen, peering mournfully through the fence, as Andi’s narration continued:
“Bobby’s next-door neighbor, Mrs. Rinkle, had built an iron wall between their houses, because she didn’t want Bobby to see his sweetheart, Juliet. Juliet, who was the only dog Mrs. Rinkle wasn’t allergic to, was ravishingly beautiful. Bobby only had a chance of catching a glimpse of her if she escaped from her yard and fled into the alley. So far that had not occurred, but Bobby clung to the hope that someday it might.”

Bruce’s camera zoomed in on Snowflake Swanson, newly fluffed from her trip to the beauty parlor, her glamorous purple toenails gleaming in the sunlight. It was obvious why Bobby had fallen in love with her. Any male dog would have been smitten with Juliet, whether or not she was winning ribbons at dog shows.

The dognapping scenes were interesting, because in an effort to lessen Aunt Alice’s exposure to the dogs, Bruce had not shown her snatching them. He had filmed the victims romping happily about in their yards, and then, with the help of Mr. Talbert, he had created a special effect that made them suddenly vanish. One moment a yard had a dog in it, and an instant later that dog was gone, as though sucked up by a gigantic vacuum cleaner.

“Wow!” Tim exclaimed. “That’s like something out of a sci-fi movie!”

Then the scene abruptly shifted to the Walkers’ backyard.

“Oh, my!” Aunt Alice said softly as her black-masked image appeared on-screen. She leaned forward and watched with fascination as her alter ego, Mrs. Rinkle, snatched up little pink-skinned
Lola, who yelped in terror.
“Ha, ha, ha, you pitiful excuse for an animal!”
Aunt Alice mouthed in sync with the woman on the screen.
“Ha, ha, HA!
I wish I had made the hole in the mask bigger so I could have bared my teeth.”

“You were perfect!” Andi said. “I don’t think your teeth could have made this any scarier. Oh, here’s the scene where Debbie is grieving for Lola! Debbie, you’re a marvelous griever. Those look like real tears.”

“I sliced up an onion and rubbed it on my face,” Debbie said. “I cry even harder in the next scene, when I’m grieving for Bebe. See? My eyes are bloodshot and my nose is running. That time I used a red onion. They’re stronger than yellow ones.”

That scene dissolved, and Aunt Alice appeared with Frisky.
“At-choo!”
She sneezed so hard that she almost blew the mask off.

“Mrs. Rinkle’s allergies were making her life miserable,”
Andi’s voice informed viewers.
“She knew she could not survive with a shed filled with dogs. So she left them behind and moved to China, where most of the dogs are hairless.”

“We’re missing a part,” Debbie said. “Where’s
the scene where I grieve for Frisky? That was a good one, because I was wearing Mom’s hair extensions. I looked like a Mid-Evil princess.”

“I had to cut that scene,” Bruce said. “There are restrictions on the length of the video. I needed to save time for the finale.
And here it comes!
”

The blue sky onscreen was replaced by a blanket of rose-colored clouds. Then the camera panned down to show a huge ball of fire that was surfacing above the treetops. There was a sound like the breaking of boards (“I got that by snapping a handful of twigs,” Bruce informed them), and Red Rover’s head rose from the top of the shed.

Andi’s voice took up the narrative:
“Bobby stuck his head out through what was left of the toolshed roof, and he felt the morning breeze, and he smelled good smells that he hadn’t smelled for so long that he had forgotten what they smelled like. He wished that he was a basset so he could bay at the rising sun, but Irish setters can’t do that, so he had to make do with singing to the sun in his heart. Then he jumped down to release his friends from captivity.”

At that point Tim, who had been crouching behind the facade, had given Red a great boost. The
dog appeared to literally fly off the roof. Then, with his long ears flapping like wings, he descended slowly (“Mr. Talbert showed me how to make that into slow motion,” Bruce said) and landed gracefully in a bed of Mrs. Walker’s best yellow tulips. Bruce had replaced the sound of his voice shouting, “Open, sesame!” with a stirring chorus of “We Shall Overcome.” Red raced to the door of the shed and lifted the latch, and the dogs poured out in what seemed like an endless stream. Bruce had stepped back with his camera to get a long shot of the exodus, and nobody who was unaware of what was happening behind the facade would have guessed that the same dogs were being sent through that door over and over again.

The music rose to a crescendo, and final credits began to roll.

Red Rover

Snowflake

Lola

Frisky

Bebe

Trixie

MacTavish

Fifi

Foxy

Curly

There had been some discussion about whether to place Curly’s name on the list of credits, since he hadn’t actually been in the movie, but they had finally agreed that they should include him as a courtesy. Poor Curly could not help that his owner didn’t bathe him.

Andi’s voice said,
“The dogs lived happily ever after, and Mrs. Rinkle fell into a volcano in China and was never seen again.”

Then the screen went black.

For a moment they all just sat there, too overwhelmed to utter a single word. Then Aunt Alice began to applaud, and the rest joined in, clapping until their palms stung.

Aunt Alice cried, “Author! Author!” and Andi rose proudly to her feet, feeling as if she were accepting an Academy Award.

“I want to thank everyone,” she said. “The producers, the actors, and, above all, the wonderful photographer, Bruce Walker!”

“That film ran fourteen and three-quarters
minutes,” Tim told them, consulting his watch. “It’s just the right length. We got in under the wire.”

“In more ways than one,” Bruce said. “The deadline’s two days from now and we’ve got to include release forms. Everybody who appears in the film or whose voice is heard has to sign one, so that’s Andi and Debbie and Aunt Alice. Do you think we need to get permission from the owners of the dogs?”

“That might be a good idea,” Aunt Alice told him. “We can’t risk anything that might get this video disqualified.”

“I’ll get the signatures first thing in the morning,” Debbie said. “Now, let’s watch the video again. I want to count how many dogs ran out of that shed.”

“While you’re doing that, I’m going to take an allergy pill,” Aunt Alice said. “Just watching those dogs was enough to make me feel like sneezing. Then, in exactly fourteen and three-quarters minutes according to Tim’s watch, I’m going to take you all out for ice cream. This calls for a celebration!”

“Hooray!” Andi cried. “I’m starving for a strawberry sundae!”