Lucky Charm (9 page)

“Maybe we could make the party later in the week…” Maeve enthused. “We could have special dog treats for Marty and cool treats for us, too! And pictures. We definitely don’t have enough pictures of Marty. It’ll be a Celebrate Marty day, and we could go to the park and…”

“And whatever we do,” Charlotte interrupted, “we’ll make sure this collar is on tight. Or maybe I’ll buy him one of the halter things so he can’t possibly wiggle out.”

“He is a wiggler.”

“We should have named him Houdini. He is the ultimate escape artist.”

“Maybe that’s how he got away from his first owner,” Maeve said.

Charlotte looked stung.

“I mean, well, I guess not. He had his collar on when we found him.”

Charlotte stared out the window.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Charlotte said. “For a while, I thought maybe Marty might have found his way home. His first home, I mean.”

“Marty would never leave us….”

“But he did.”

“I mean he would never leave us
on purpose
.”

“Here we are girls,” Ms. Kaplan said as she pulled to the curb in front of the Sawgrass Animal Shelter.

The girls tumbled out of the car and raced to the door with Ms. Kaplan following them up the steps.

Inside, Charlotte stepped up to the receptionist desk.

“I received a phone call from you,” Charlotte started out a little timidly.

The girl at the counter stared at her, snapping her gum.

Charlotte continued. “You found a dog matching the description of my dog?”

“Oh, yeah. The little energetic mutt. Follow me.”

The girls walked through the back door into a room with a concrete floor and rows of dogs behind chain link kennels. A large dog lunged at the fence, barking ferociously. Maeve jumped. She fell back against the chain link fence on the other side. The moment she touched it, another large dog jumped up behind her.

“Watch out for that one,” the shelter worker warned, strangely unfazed.

Maeve pulled her arms in to the center of her chest and carefully walked down the middle of the aisle, away from either side of the fences. It seemed every dog in the kennel was barking now. It was a cacophony of soulful baying and shrill yipping. The girl from the front desk walked on as if she didn’t hear a thing. Maeve wanted to cry. She never realized how many lost dogs there were. She tried to get Charlotte’s attention, but Charlotte was anxiously scanning the cages.

In the back of the room, kennels were stacked for the smaller dogs.

Maeve listened for the little familiar snuffling bark that was distinctively Marty’s, but she couldn’t hear anything above the din.

“Here he is,” the girl said, opening the middle cage and bringing out a small, shaking dog.

The little dog was gray like Marty. It had bent ears like Marty. It had big black eyes like Marty. But it was definitely NOT Marty.

Charlotte’s heart sank.

“That’s not him,” she said dejectedly.

“Are you sure?” Ms. Kaplan asked. “He looks…”

Maeve gave her mother a weird look.

“I’ve only seen Marty a few times,” Ms. Kaplan continued, “but I’d swear this is Marty. Perhaps he’s just a little dirty. Maybe after you bathe him you’ll see that it’s him.”

“Mom, believe me. This dog is NOT Marty. If this dog were Marty, it wouldn’t be cowering and shaking. He’d be dancing up a storm, wiggling right out of her hands, and covering both of us with kisses,” Maeve explained.

“Maybe he’s just a little shy, traumatized from being lost,” Ms. Kaplan suggested.

“You want to hold him?” the girl asked and shoved the dog into Charlotte’s arms before she could answer.

The dog cuddled and nestled into the crook of Charlotte’s arm, hiding his face from the rest of them. Just looking at the back of the dog, Maeve had to admit that the dog did look a lot like Marty.

“Oh, Charlotte! Are you sure? He seems to be comfortable with you,” Ms. Kaplan said.

“Well, what’s the verdict?” the girl asked.

“It’s not Marty,” Charlotte said sadly as she pet the shaking, quivering bundle of fur in her arms.

“Well, perhaps it’s not Marty, but it’s still a very nice little dog,” Ms. Kaplan replied. She reached out and stroked the little puppy.

“He’s the only quiet one of the bunch,” the girl said as the other dogs in the kennel yapped and barked.

“How long has this dog been here?”

“He arrived this afternoon,” the girl said, snapping her gum.

“Well…how long has Marty been gone?”

“Since Saturday afternoon,” Charlotte replied, the words catching in her throat.

Maeve had seen that look on Charlotte’s face before and thought perhaps she might burst into tears at any moment.

“It’s not Marty,” Maeve told her mother again.

No one moved, so Maeve took the Marty lookalike from Charlotte’s arms and gave it back to the girl.

“Sorry, I really thought…” the girl began, searching for the right words.

Charlotte hung her head and nodded. “It was really nice of you to call.”

“Let’s not be so hasty, girls,” Ms. Kaplan said, taking the dog from the girl and holding him up in the air. “Look at this little guy’s face. What a cutie. He may not be Marty…but he still needs a home.”

“MOM!” Maeve exclaimed, taking the dog from her mother’s arms and giving it back to the girl. “We came here for Marty. We don’t need a substitute. We’re going to find Marty. Come on, Charlotte,” Maeve said, putting her arm
around her dejected friend as they walked back through the room of barking and yapping.

They could still hear the dogs when they got in the car.

Charlotte was quiet the entire ride home. As soon as they dropped her off and pulled away from the curb, Maeve finally spoke.

“Mom, I can’t believe how you were pushing that dog on Charlotte. She doesn’t want
any
dog. She wants Marty,” Maeve said.

“I know. I was only trying to help, and I felt so bad for that little dog. I hope someone adopts him,” Ms. Kaplan said, glancing in the rearview mirror back at Maeve.

“Not just any dog can replace Marty.”

Ms. Kaplan gave Maeve what was meant to be a reassuring smile. “I know that Marty is important to you girls, honey, but we have to be realistic here. The longer Marty is lost, the less likely it is that we will find him. I hate to see you getting your hopes up and then having them dashed.”

Maeve stared out the window.
Where had that little dude gone?
she wondered.

W
ednesday morning was raw and gray. Charlotte stared out the window for a long time trying to motivate herself to get out of bed. Marty had been gone less than five days, but Charlotte missed him so much it hurt. She never realized how much of her morning was spent with the little guy—walking him, feeding him, and playing with him. Now she felt alone.

As she packed up her backpack, she realized the school week was half over. Tuesday had come and gone with no word about Marty. She glanced at her watch…he had been missing for ninety hours. Heading down Beacon Street, Charlotte hardly heard Yuri the grocer call to her.

“Hey, sad girl. You want apple, no?” Yuri called to her as she passed by the bins and tubs of fruit outside of his grocery store.

Charlotte really didn’t feel like talking to anyone, but to pass by and not say anything would be rude.

“No thank you, Yuri,” she said.

“Sad face tells me that the Marty dog is still missing, no?” Yuri asked.

Charlotte couldn’t say anything. She just nodded her head sadly. She told Yuri how she had built her hopes up so much on Monday night when the Sawgrass Animal Shelter had called. How she was sure that it was Marty. How she had rushed to the shelter and found not Marty, but another poor lost dog, who looked as sad as she felt.

This morning, Charlotte felt so bad that she called the shelter to check on the little dog. The receptionist had told her that the owner had shown up. She could just imagine the happy scene between the timid little dog and the owner. It made her happy to think that the dog was rescued, but it also made her jealous and depressed.

“Come, I have just the thing to cheer you up,” Yuri said, motioning for Charlotte to follow him inside.

He picked up a reddish-orange colored fruit resembling a pear and polished it.

“Here,” he said, placing it in her hand. “Guaranteed to put a smile on your face.”

“What is it?” Charlotte asked.

“What matters the name…? You try.”

Charlotte took a bite. The fruit was juicy and so good. Sweet. Juice trickled down her chin. Charlotte couldn’t help giggling as she grabbed a napkin from Yuri’s hand. The taste stayed in her mouth.

“See! Yuri’s right, no?”

“What is it?” Charlotte asked as she took a second bite. She was ready for the juice this time.

“An Asian pear. Fruit of the gods.”

Charlotte nodded and was glad she had left home fifteen minutes early so she had time to savor the Asian pear.

“See this,” Yuri said. Yuri held up a bone. “This is best soup bone in house. I’ve saved it for your four-legged friend. A celebration bone for his happy return.”

“I don’t know….” Charlotte shrugged. “I don’t know, Yuri. He’s been gone so long. I’m not sure if he’s ever coming back.”

Yuri scoffed. “Dogs have built-in homing device. I’ve heard story of dog traveling halfway across the country. Incredible stories…in United States and also in Russia. Marty is smart one. That I know. “

“Thanks, Yuri. I hope you are right.” She actually had a smile on her face as she continued on her way to school.

Dogstar

The day was as dismal as the weather. Charlotte passed from class to class without really hearing her teachers. Ms. Rodriguez stopped her in the hall and asked her if there had been any word about Marty. Charlotte shook her head and was relieved that all Ms. R did was pat her on the shoulder. She didn’t want to keep her hopes up if Marty really wasn’t going to be found. For the first time since she had come to Abigail Adams Junior High, Charlotte didn’t eat lunch with the Beacon Street Girls. She went to the library instead. She was too sad to make chit-chat with Avery…or anyone else.

Later that afternoon when she got home, she rushed to check the answering machine. No messages. She checked the website. Nothing. She pulled her comforter and a big pillow out onto her balcony and watched the street below. In her
reporter’s notebook, Charlotte wrote down the sensations of eating an Asian pear—juicier than an apple, crisp, yummy. Perhaps she could use them in a poem later.

After dinner, Charlotte checked the website again. This time there was a message! Someone said they had found Marty! Her heart began to pound with excitement. She cautioned herself against getting her hopes up too high again. This might be another false alarm. But she couldn’t help herself. She was excited.

The message was from someone with the screen name Dogstar. Dogstar said that he had Marty penned in his yard because he was extremely allergic to dogs. Dogstar also wrote that he didn’t have a car, so he couldn’t bring Marty to them, but that Charlotte could pick up Marty anytime at the following address: 400 Weeble Street.
What a weird street name
, thought Charlotte.

Of course this would happen on a Wednesday when her father had not one, but two night classes. Charlotte text-messaged her father, hoping that he would check his cell phone between classes.

If only she could e-mail her address to Dogstar. But she promised her father she would never e-mail her address to anyone she didn’t personally know. For now, all she could do was wait.

Charlotte nearly jumped when her cell phone rang. She stumbled over her book bag to reach it and stubbed her toe. All her father could hear was Charlotte groaning. “Charlotte, honey, what’s the matter? Talk to me.”

She was half in pain and half so excited she could barely get the words out.

“Dad! Dad! I stubbed my toe but someone called Dogstar
found Marty! They left a message on the website. Can you come home between classes so we can go get him?”

“Charlotte, I can’t. My next class starts in twenty minutes.”

“Well, then, after class?”

“Charlotte, it’s not going to work. I won’t be home until ten-thirty and that is too late. How about you e-mail the person and tell them that we’ll pick up Marty when I get home from work tomorrow? I’ll even come home early and pick you up at school.”

“Tomorrow? Dad, Marty will be outside. We can’t wait that long.”

“Listen Charlotte, I don’t have time to quibble. Class is about to start. See ya tonight. Bye.”

Before Charlotte could say good-bye, he had hung up. She didn’t even have time to tell him she didn’t have a phone number for Dogstar. Only a street address and e-mail address.

“Oh, darn,” grumbled Charlotte. Well, at least Marty would be home soon. It just couldn’t be another false alarm. Charlotte went back online and was happy to see that the BSG were online too.