“Of course I’m here,” he answered churlishly. “Where’d you think I’d be on a day like this? Out on the golf course perfecting my putt?”
“How did you sleep?” I asked, ignoring his early morning grumpiness. By this time in our lives together, I was used to it.
“Oh, fine. Fine. Why should I let the incessant howling of werewolves disturb my slumber?”
I didn’t take up the issue of werewolves with Chester just then, because I’d finished eating my breakfast and discovered the words “Have a Nice Day!” at the bottom of my dish.
“Chester, does your food dish—”
“If you’re going to ask me to discuss the attack of cutes this place is suffering from, I refuse,” Chester grumbled. “If I wanted my fortune told every time I ate, I could have gone to a Chinese restaurant.” And with that, he let out a great sigh and went back to sleep.
I could tell that any attempts at further conversation would prove futile, so I fell back asleep, too, waiting for something else to happen and wishing I were back home.
BY THE TIME I woke again, the rain had stopped and the something else I’d been waiting for was about to happen. Harrison and Jill were going from bungalow to bungalow opening the doors.
“Okay, animals, let’s go,” Harrison was saying in a bored sort of way. “Exercise time.”
“Thank goodness it stopped raining,” Jill called out. “I thought I’d go crazy if I had to spend another minute working on those charts.”
“There’s still the office to clean,” Harrison said, “and the storage shed.”
“Harrison,” Jill replied, “we don’t have to do it all today.”
“Oh yes, we do,” Harrison answered with some urgency.
Jill put her hands on her hips and looked at Harrison with wonder. “You’re really something, you know that, Harrison?”
“Am I? Gee, thanks.”
“I didn’t mean it as a compliment.”
“Oh.”
“I mean you blow hot and cold. Like yesterday, all you wanted to do was lie around and read your comic books all day. Today, you can’t stop working, and you’re driving me crazy. What’s with you, anyway?”
“Who knows?” Harrison replied. “Maybe I’m getting ambitious. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He smiled in Jill’s direction, revealing the remnants of that morning’s breakfast neatly lodged between his two front teeth.
In disgust, Jill turned away and poked her head inside my door. “Good morning, Harold,” she murmured softly. “I hope you had a good sleep your first night at Chateau Bow-Wow.” I allowed myself to be coaxed out into the muddy outdoors. I wasn’t too thrilled with the condition of the ground, but was happy just to have the chance to stretch my legs and move about.
“Where is that storage shed, anyway?” Jill asked after a moment, continuing her conversation with Harrison as she unlocked Chester’s door.
“Out back,” Harrison answered, pointing to the far corner of the compound. “Right outside the fence near Howard’s bungalow.”
“Oh.”
“But there’s no entrance from here. You have to go around the outside wall,” Harrison went on. “That’s why it’s such a pain to clean.”
Jill groaned. “That’s too bad,” she said, picking Chester up and stroking him. Chester’s face looked like a car accident. Obviously, he had not slept well at all. “Well, I guess we’d better get to it.” She put Chester down and headed for the gate.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Harrison asked.
Jill looked blankly around her, then quizzically at Harrison.
“Lyle,” Harrison said simply. “You didn’t let Lyle out of his bungalow.”
Jill shook her head slowly. “Oh, of course,” she said at last, “I guess I’m just so used to Lyle getting out all by himself, it doesn’t even occur to me to unlock his door anymore.” I watched as she opened Lyle’s door and then walked to the gate, tripping over a small rock that was in her path.
Watching her, Chester dropped his head and moaned.
“All right, everybody,” Harrison called out, “hurry up and enjoy yourselves before it starts raining again.” And then he too went out the front gate, carefully locking it after him.
Chester and I looked back to discover Max bounding spiritedly in our direction. With his natty turtleneck sweater and his square shoulders and jaw, he resembled the captain of a college football team.
I remarked on my observation to Chester, whose only response was a rather anemic, “Yea team. Rah. Rah. Rah.” Then, he added, “If he says anything athletic, I’ll scream.”
Max stopped abruptly before us.
“Want to jog?” he blurted out.
True to his word, Chester let out a bloodcurdling screech and immediately turned on his heels. Max appeared to take it in stride.
“I’m Max,” he said.
“I’m Harold,” I replied politely. “And this is—uh, that was—Chester,” I added, introducing Max to Chester’s retreating hindside.
“Pleased to meet you both,” Max said with a nod to Chester’s tail. He returned his gaze to me. “So, Harold, you want to jog?”
I remembered the one time I’d tried jogging with Pete and Mr. Monroe and had had to be carried home on the back of Pete’s bike.
“Uh … well, no … uh, not really … uh …” I stated emphatically.
“Helps work out your aggressions,” Max countered.
“I don’t have any aggressions,” I said honestly.
Max seemed disappointed. “So you don’t jog, eh?” he asked a little sadly.
“No,” I told him again, disappointed that he was disappointed.
“Well, then, now’s the time to start. Come on.” I could see that Max was not going to be a pushover. I, on the other hand, was and always have been a pushover, so before I could say anything more I found myself trotting, somewhat breathlessly, alongside Max.
“The thing is,” Max said after a moment, “you have to get your exercise when you can around here. They only let us out for a few hours in the afternoon. Of course …” and he looked around him before he continued, “… it’s easy to unlock the doors from the inside. Anybody can do it, Harold. Even you.”
“Oh, thanks,” I said. Or at least, I think that’s what I said. I was having a little trouble getting my words out and breathing at the same time. In a burst, I asked, “Do the others know?”
“About getting out? Oh, sure. Everyone knows how to do it. I’ll show you later. Lyle’s the only one dumb enough to do it when Harrison and Jill are around. The rest of us wait until after supper, when they’ve gone home.”
Suddenly, Max called out, “Taxi! Taxi!” I thought he’d completely flipped.
“Uh, Max,” I said, “I’m not sure how to tell you this, but I don’t think there’s a cab for miles of this place. Besides,” I went on between wheezes, “if you’re getting tired … we don’t … have to … ride. We could … just stop … running.”
“You don’t understand,” Max said, without once stopping to catch his breath, “I’m not calling a taxi. I’m calling Taxi.” He nodded to my right, and I glanced over to see one of the oddest-looking dogs I’d ever encountered, waddling frantically in our direction.
“What kind of dog is this?” I asked.
“Who knows?” Max replied. “I don’t think poor Taxi himself knows for sure. He’s one part of everything, I guess. He’s a good mutt, though. A little on the slow side, if you get my drift, and he tends to be something of a clinging vine, but—”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I don’t know what it is, but some days he sticks to me like glue. Seems to think the sun rises and sets on me,” Max said, without apparent displeasure.
Taxi joined us then, falling into step beside Max. He regarded Max with a look that was one degree away from idol worship. I could see what Max had meant.
“Hi, Max,” he said.
“Hey, Taxi, how’re you doin‘?” Max replied gruffly. “Taxi, I want you to meet Harold.”