The door swung open, revealing two people silhouetted in the doorway.
“Now!” Walt said. “Wha— Abort! Abort!” Her pounce turned into an awkward hop.
“Walt.” Butterbean stopped with one foot in the air, then overbalanced and landed in a clumsy heap. “That’s a kid. Do I go for the ankles on a kid? That doesn’t seem right.”
“Hold your position,” Walt said. “We need to reassess.”
Standing in front of Bob in the doorway was a medium-sized girl, not a baby, but also not a grown-up. She had long straight black hair, and she gave a little wave when she spotted Butterbean and Walt.
Butterbean blinked. She’d never been waved to before.
Walt narrowed her eyes in suspicion. It was obviously a tactical maneuver designed to make them let down their guard. But Walt was onto her. It wouldn’t work.
“So here they all are,” Bob said, flipping on the lights without even giving the animals a heads-up so they could shield their eyes. Walt hissed. Oscar gave a bloodcurdling scream, followed by some low-level grumbling.
[Êàðòèíêà: img_10]
Bob pointed at Butterbean.
“That’s the dog, there. It’s the biggest problem.”
“Thanks,” Butterbean muttered.
Bob acted like she hadn’t even said anything. “It’ll need to be walked what—two, three times a day maybe? I don’t know, however many times dogs need to be walked so they don’t mess up the carpet.”
“Ten,” Butterbean said seriously. “I need to go outside ten times a day. Maybe twenty.”
“Shut it, Butterbean,” Walt hissed. “Don’t engage with them.”
“Okay, so I’ll walk her three times a day. What’s her name?” the girl asked, squatting down to look at Butterbean.
“Says here…” Bob consulted a crumpled piece of paper in his hand. “Oscar. No, that’s the bird. The dog is Butterbean. He’s a wiener dog.”
“She,” Butterbean corrected. “I’m a she. SHE’S a wiener dog.”
The girl stroked Butterbean’s ear. “Long hair for a wiener dog.”
“I’m a long-haired wiener dog,” Butterbean said. She didn’t know whether this girl could be trusted, but she did appreciate a good ear rub.
“Mouthy little mutt,” Bob said, giving Butterbean a dismissive look. He wasn’t a dog person. “So that’s the dog. And that up there, that’s the bird. Oscar. It’s a mynah bird, so don’t be freaked out if it talks to you. According to this it can say words.”
“Kiss off,” Oscar said in his best out-loud Human voice. He was in no mood. He glared at the girl almost like they were in a staring contest.
“Boy, you’re not kidding,” the girl said, her eyes wide.
Bob didn’t seem to notice. “You don’t need to do much there, just change the food and water and paper, if it gets gross. And that down there is Lucretia.”
Butterbean cocked her head.“Who’s Lucretia?”
The girl broke eye contact with Oscar (who silently cheered himself for winning the staring contest) and looked back at Bob.“Which one is Lucretia?”
Bob pointed at Walt.“That one. That weird-looking black cat with the long nose.”
“I’m an Oriental shorthair, thank you,” Walt said quietly. “And my name is Walt.”
“Huh.” The girl squatted down next to Walt and stared into her eyes. “You don’t look like a Lucretia to me,” she said.
“I’m not. My name is Walt,” Walt said.
“You look more like a… hmm…” The girl cocked her head in almost the same way Butterbean had. “What do you look like?”
“Walt,” Walt said. “I look like Walt.”
“You look more like…”
“Walt,” Butterbean barked.
“Walt,” Walt said again.
“You look more like a… Walt.”
“I like this girl,” Walt said, turning to Butterbean. “The attack is canceled.”
“How’d you DO that?” Butterbean stared at Walt in amazement.
Walt shrugged.
Bob snorted.“Look, kid, I don’t care what you call them, as long as you take care of them, okay? It’s not like they’ll be around long, if you know what I mean.”
The animals got very still.
“What do you mean?” the girl asked.
“Just between us, it doesn’t look like their owner is going to be coming back any time soon. Don’t get too attached or you’re in for heartache.”
“But why?” the girl said.
“Look, she’s got no family, okay? Even if she gets better, she’s probably heading for a home, and these guys? Well, nobody wants to take care of a pack of stinking animals. If it was just one, maybe, but this gang? I’d say they have a week, more or less.”
“A week?”
“Give or take. Then it’s the pound for them. It’s not like they can take care of themselves. So like I said. Don’t get attached.”
“Right.” The girl looked doubtful. “Me, I can take care of myself.”
Bob gave her a strange look.“That’s great, kid. Now maybe you should stop with the jaw flapping and walk this guy?”
“Girl,” Butterbean pouted.
Bob consulted the list.“Hold off just a minute. I almost forgot the last two.”
He disappeared into Mrs. Food’s office.
“Last two?” Butterbean cocked her head again. It was getting quite a workout.
“Clear a space on the table, okay, kid?” Bob called from the office.
“Sure.” The girl looked almost as confused as Butterbean, but she cleared away Mrs. Food’s newspaper and place mats.
“Whoooaaa whooooaaaa!!!”
She had hardly cleared a space when she was stopped short by series of shrieks coming from the office. Tiny, thin shrieks that sounded like someone very small riding a roller coaster. Or two someones.
Bob came in carrying a glass aquarium. The shrieks got louder. They were definitely coming from inside the aquarium.
“Whoooaaa whoooaaa WHOOOAAAA!! YEE-HAW!!” came a tiny voice.
“AIIIIEEEE! MAKE IT STOP!!” came another tiny voice.
Butterbean stared at the aquarium in horror. There were two rats inside, and they weren’t even attempting to hide. One was covering its face with its paws and peeking out through its fingers as it tried to keep its balance. The other was waving its arms in the air and shrieking with glee, like the moving aquarium was a surfboard or a Tilt-A-Whirl.
“WHO ARE THEY??” Butterbean squealed, trying to get a closer look.
“Down, boy,” Bob said, nudging Butterbean aside.
Butterbean toppled onto her back in shock, furious at herself. She had often thought, while she chewed on her rawhide chew or disemboweled a squeaky vegetable, that Mrs. Food’s office smelled like it might have an infestation of some sort. There had been some distinctly ratty odors wafting through the doorway occasionally. Not all the time, but often enough. But then she would realize how unlikely that was, laugh quietly to herself, and go back to her chew toy. Because come on. Mrs. Food’s OFFICE? Infested with RATS? Hardy-har-har. And yet, here was Bob with the cold hard evidence. Butterbean’s whole life was a lie.
“So yeah, these two also. I guess just keep their cage from stinking and give them food and whatever. Looks like they’re good on water, but keep an eye out.”
The girl peered inside the aquarium. The rats stared back at her. They’d stopped acting like they were on their own personal amusement park ride and were watching her expectantly. “Do they have names?”
Bob checked the crumpled paper in his hand.“They didn’t give me names. So just Rat One and Rat Two, I guess. Or call that one Colleen and that one Elizabeth. Who cares? I mean, they’re rats. It’s not like they know the difference.”
“HEY!” said one of the rats (aka Colleen).
“RUDE,” said the other one (aka Elizabeth).
Butterbean slowly turned from the infestation and stared at Walt in horror. Walt, who spent a good amount of time in the office. Walt, who could climb on high surfaces. Walt, who liked to keep secrets.
“Did you KNOW?” Butterbean demanded. “That we had RATS?”