Authors: Lois Duncan
The week that led up to Dog Appreciation Day dragged by so slowly that it was as if time had become stuck.
As heartsick as they were that
Bobby Strikes Back
would not be shown, Bruce and Andi were anxious to see the other two videos. Tim and Debbie were equally curious, especially after hearing about Gabby’s unique talent.
“I won’t believe a dog can talk until I hear it with my own ears,” Tim said.
The four of them gathered at Aunt Alice’s house to watch the program. They had invited Kristy to join them, but she said it was going to be shown on the big-screen TV in the recreation room at Glenn Ridge, and she thought that she and Lamb Chop should view it with the residents.
“Mrs. Dotson is terribly excited,” Kristy told
them. “Not everybody’s ninety-ninth birthday party is on national television!”
When they consulted the paper, they learned that the show had been reduced to one hour. Apparently Mr. Donovan had not been able to reach Jerry in time to include him on the program.
Kristy’s video was the first to be shown, and it was very well done. It started with an overview of the Glenn Ridge facility — a comfortable living room, a dining room, a recreation room, a therapy room, a swimming pool, and a library.
Kristy’s voice narrated the virtual tour, describing Glenn Ridge as a “
home for people who can no longer do all the things they did when they were young
.” She continued:
“They need help with some day-to-day activities, but they still want to live full lives. They swim and play games and take classes, and there’s a van that takes them to concerts and movies and the mall. And sometimes they have special guests.”
When Kristy said the word “guest,” Lamb Chop bounced onto the screen, looking like a ball of cotton with wiry little legs.
“This is my therapy dog, Lamby,”
Kristy continued.
“Therapy dogs help people by visiting with
them. That helps tense people relax and can even make their blood pressure go down. The residents at Glenn Ridge love it when Lamby comes to see them. One man told me he feels like she’s part of his family. And Lamby has a wonderful time there. She gets invited to all of the parties and sometimes provides entertainment.”
Then there came the scene that Kristy had been working on in the editing bay, with a group of elderly people laughing and applauding. The camera then focused on Lamb Chop in her grass skirt, prancing around as a white-haired man strummed a ukulele. The camera followed Lamb Chop through other activities. There was a touching scene in which she hopped onto a bed and cuddled with the woman who lay there. After a moment, the woman reached up a fragile hand to stroke Lamb Chop’s head.
“Lamby’s one of a small group of therapy dogs who are allowed to get on the beds of sick people,”
Kristy said.
“That’s because she’s a Maltipoo and people aren’t allergic to her.”
In the final scene, the woman on the bed started singing. Her voice was feeble, but true, and the song was a happy one.
“How much is that doggie in the window?”
she crooned softly.
“The one with the waggly tail?”
Andi’s eyes filled with tears of sympathy as she listened.
Kristy’s video ended, and suddenly, there she was on-screen, being interviewed by Mr. Donovan. He started by asking questions about therapy dogs, which Kristy answered quickly and easily. A therapy dog had to be over one year old, have all its shots, and be able to obey commands, she told him. Even more important, it had to be calm and well-behaved and enjoy socializing with strangers.
“That’s Bebe!” Andi exclaimed. “She could be a therapy dog!”
“So could Lola!” Debbie cried, and then she reconsidered. “Maybe not. Lola doesn’t obey very well.”
“MacTavish is out,” Tim said. “He’s much too rowdy. He’d knock people out of their wheelchairs.”
“Red wouldn’t be right for that either,” Bruce said regretfully. “He’d want to run up and down the halls.”
Mr. Donovan continued his questions, and Kristy told him that a therapy dog’s handler must be at
least ten years old and that any handler under the age of sixteen had to be accompanied by a parent or a guardian.
“That’s no problem for me,” Kristy said. “My mom works at Glenn Ridge, so she’s already there. Any time I bring Lamby, Mom’s in the room with me.”
Then Mr. Donovan asked if Lamb Chop would dance for them.
Lamb Chop didn’t have to be asked twice. She was instantly up on her hind legs, twirling around, swishing her hula skirt in a professional manner, even though there wasn’t any music. When her performance ended, she rushed to Kristy and leapt into her lap, wriggling with joy and self-satisfaction.
Lamb Chop was definitely a ham.
Then there was a break for a dog food commercial.
“I’ve got to admit, your girlfriend’s cute,” Tim told Bruce.
“She’s not my girlfriend!” Bruce said a little too firmly. “She’s just a good friend. A couple of weeks ago, you were calling her Jerry’s girlfriend.”
“I’m not saying that now,” Tim said. “I saw your face while you were watching her cuddling Lamb
Chop. I’m your ‘good friend,’ and you don’t look at
me
that way.”
“She is too just a friend!” Andi said. “She’s Bruce’s friend, and my friend, and Aunt Alice’s. Isn’t that right, Aunt Alice?”
“I’m proud to claim Kristy as my friend,” said Aunt Alice. “Especially after watching her conduct herself on television.”
The commercials ended, and they returned their attention to the TV screen, where the title of Mr. Merlin’s video appeared in gigantic letters —
GABBY TALKS.
Technically, the video was nothing special. There was nothing on it but Gabby. He was sitting in a hard-back chair, staring apprehensively at the person behind the camera.
That person had the voice of Maynard Merlin.
“This is Gabby,” he said. “He’s a stray who turned up on my doorstep one day, and I decided to see if I could teach him to talk. I’d read a book about how to do that, and it didn’t sound too hard — just a lot of time-consuming work. So I adopted Gabby and got him his shots and did the other stuff you have to do for a dog. My apartment became his classroom. Luckily, I had a small inheritance to live
on, so I didn’t have to leave the house to go to an outside job. I was free to work with Gabby from seven in the morning until seven at night, every day of the week. And under my expert tutorage, he did learn to talk. Right, Gabby?”
“Uh-huh,” Gabby said, nodding.
“I already hate that man, and I can’t even see him,” Debbie said. “I just hate the sound of his voice.” She spoke in a whisper so as not to drown out any of Gabby’s comments.
“Okay, Gabby, let’s chat,” Mr. Merlin said. “Tell me about your life before you came to live with me. Was it easy or hard?”
“Harrrr,” Gabby said.
D
was not one of the letters he could pronounce.
“Where did you get your food before I took you in?”
“Garagg cans,” Gabby said, lowering his head in embarrassment.
“Were you happy eating out of garbage cans and living on the streets like a vagabond?” Mr. Merlin asked him.
“Uh-uh,” Gabby said.
“Are you happier living with me, working hard to perfect your verbal skills?” Mr. Merlin asked.
“Uh-uh,” Gabby said again.
“That is not the appropriate answer,” Mr. Merlin said firmly. “The right answer is yes, but since dogs can’t make the ‘s’ sound, you need to say, ‘Uh-huh,’ to indicate that you mean yes. Can you do that, Gabby?”
“Uh-huh,” Gabby said.
“Gabby says yes, he is very happy living with me,” Mr. Merlin said. “Now, Gabby —”
“I can’t bear to watch any more of this,” Andi said. “Poor Gabby is being tortured! Twelve hours a day to teach him to say ‘uh-huh’? Let’s turn off the TV.”
“No, dear,” Aunt Alice said. “This is an eye-opener for all of us. Gabby is doing his best, and we need to see him through this. We also want to know what happened during his interview. That dog came out of the studio and collapsed in a chair. I personally thought he was having a nervous breakdown.”
“Now, Gabby,” Mr. Merlin continued, “why don’t we sing a little song? You do like to sing, don’t you?”
“Uh-huh,” Gabby said, although he didn’t seem to mean it.
“Let’s make it a duet,” Mr. Merlin said. He began to sing in an unpleasantly nasal voice.
“Twinkle, twinkle, little star!”
“Wingle, wingle, liggle are!”
Gabby sang. He was more on key than Mr. Merlin.
“Now, let’s tell our viewers good-bye,” Mr. Merlin said.
“Goowye,” Gabby said with obvious relief.
Mercifully the video was over.
But Mr. Merlin and Gabby were
not
over. There was an abrupt transition to Star Burst Studios, where they were being interviewed by Mr. Donovan. Mr. Merlin was trying to elaborate on the challenges involved in teaching a dog to talk, but Mr. Donovan seemed more interested in what Gabby had to say.
“Are you enjoying your visit to Hollywood?” he asked Gabby.
“Uh-huh,” Gabby answered.
“What part of it have you liked the best?” Mr. Donovan asked.
“Annie Wawar,” Gabby said.
“That’s me!” Andi gasped in delight. “The thing he liked best about being in Hollywood was
me
!”
“I have a request,” Mr. Donovan said. “Do you enjoy receiving requests, Gabby?”
“Uh-uh,” Gabby said.
“He means ‘uh-huh,’” Mr. Merlin translated, shooting Gabby a disapproving look. “Gabby loves requests. What would you like for him to say?”
“What about reciting the Gettysburg Address?” Mr. Donovan suggested. “He probably hasn’t memorized it, but I can recite it for him. ‘Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation —’”
“Gabby can’t recite that, Mr. Donovan!” Andi cried, forgetting for a moment that the man on the TV screen couldn’t hear her. “Gabby can’t make the ‘s’ sound!”
“Or rore uh wenny ear awo,” Gabby began courageously. Then he sighed and lowered his head to his paws.
“Try again, Gabby!” Mr. Merlin commanded angrily. “No one respects a quitter!”
“It’s my fault,” Mr. Donovan said quickly. “I asked for too much. It’s just that the program will probably air sometime around the Fourth of July and I was hoping we might be able to include something patriotic.”
“What about the national anthem?” Mr. Merlin
suggested. “Come on, Gabby, let’s sing it together!” He began to sing:
“Oh, say can you see
—”
“That’s not necessary,” Mr. Donovan said hastily. “Our time is up now. Thanks so much to you both for appearing on our show. This has been an experience that I’m sure our viewers will never forget.
“Our phones are now open for call-in votes. Tune in tomorrow night, and we’ll announce our winning dog. Will it be Lamb Chop Fernald from Elmwood, New Jersey? Or Gabby Merlin from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania? It’s up to
you,
America!”
A phone number appeared at the bottom of the screen.
“Good-bye, everybody in television land!” Mr. Merlin cried, stepping in front of Mr. Donovan to beam into the camera lens. “What do you have to say to those nice people, Gabby?”
Gabby moaned, “Goowye.”
They all called in to vote for Kristy’s video.
That took quite a while, because the phone lines were so busy that it was hard to get through. Then, after all five of them had managed to cast their votes, Andi called in again and voted for
Gabby Talks.
“How can you vote for that dreadful Mr. Merlin?” Debbie demanded.
“I’m not voting for
him
,” Andi said. “I’m voting for Gabby. He’ll feel like a failure if he doesn’t receive a single vote.”
“If you were going to vote for both of them, you might as well not have voted at all,” Bruce said. “By voting for Gabby, you canceled out your vote for Kristy.”
The following evening he was even more disgusted with her when Mr. Donovan announced that the
winning video was
Gabby Talks.
“The vote was extremely close,” Mr. Donovan said, and Bruce glared at Andi.
“Your second vote may have sabotaged Kristy,” he told her. “If you’d stuck with one vote like the rest of us, Lamb Chop might be going to Hollywood.”
“No, she wouldn’t,” said Kristy. She had come over to the Walkers’ house to watch the contest results with them and was curled up next to Bruce on the sofa. “I’d never let Lamby become a professional actor. I’m glad I didn’t have to tell Mr. Donovan that I didn’t want the prize. That would have been so embarrassing after everything he did for us.”
“If you weren’t hoping to win, then why did you enter?” Mrs. Walker asked with sincere interest.
This was the first time that Mr. and Mrs. Walker had met Kristy, and they both seemed surprised that she was sitting with Bruce instead of Andi.
“For the same reason Bruce and Andi entered
Bobby Strikes Back
,” Kristy said. “I had a story I needed to tell. I’m glad I got into the finals, because now people all over the country know about therapy dogs and the valuable work they do. I just wish
that
Bobby Strikes Back
had been shown, too. Then Red might have gone to Hollywood and become a movie star.”
“I’d have said no to that, just like you would,” Bruce said. “I’d never want Red to be under all that pressure. He’s happy just being a normal dog.”
“I predict that incredible Gabby has a great career ahead of him,” Mr. Walker said. “I can picture him in dog food commercials saying, ‘Yum! Yum! Yum!’”
“He would be great at that,” Andi agreed. “He can say ‘y’ and ‘m’ and all of the vowels. ‘Yum’ would be a cinch for him. I hope the directors are good to him and don’t make him try to say anything that has an ‘s’ in it.”
Her heart ached when she thought about Gabby’s stunned expression when Mr. Donovan had requested the Gettysburg Address.
Remember what I told you when we said good-bye,
she called out silently to Gabby, hoping her thoughts would cross the miles between them and enter his mind. It wasn’t unreasonable to think that a dog who could talk might have psychic abilities as well.
The telephone rang. Since it was on a table next to where Andi was sitting, she was the one who answered it.
“I’d like to speak to Andrea Walker,” a girl’s voice said.
It wasn’t a voice Andi recognized.
“I’m Andi Walker,” she said.
The girl said, “Oh.” Then there was silence. Andi wondered if the girl might be talking very softly and was being drowned out by the noise in the Walkers’ family room. Not only was the TV still on, but Mr. and Mrs. Walker and Bruce and Kristy were involved in a spirited conversation about Gabby.
Andi carried the phone into the living room, where it was quieter.
There still was no sound from the phone except somebody’s breathing.
After pausing another moment to give the caller a chance to identify herself, Andi asked, “Who is this?”
The girl at the other end of the line drew a long breath, as if she were preparing to dive into a deep lake and didn’t know what she might find there.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” she said. “First, though, you’ve got to promise that you’ll never give my name to anybody or say where you got this information.”
“I promise,” Andi said readily. “Who are you?”
“My name is Sarah,” the girl said. “I used to be Connor Gordon’s girlfriend. He said he was crazy about me, and I believed him. Then, once he got what he wanted from me, he dropped me flat. On the night of the prom, he never came by to pick me up. I sat there, waiting and waiting, in my beautiful dress that cost me over one hundred dollars, and Connor didn’t show. I called him on his cell, and he didn’t answer. I called his house, and all I got was his mother’s voice on their voice mail. I was scared that he’d been in a car wreck on the way over, so I started calling hospitals. Connor wasn’t in any of their emergency rooms. I was out of my mind with worry!”
“I bet,” Andi said. “Did you ever find out where he was?”
“He was at the prom with somebody else,” Sarah said. “He and his date got crowned king and queen! On Monday, at school, he told me he’d forgotten
he’d invited me and made me feel guilty because I hadn’t reminded him. I was so upset that I threw my prom dress in a trash bin.”
“That was dumb,” Andi said. “You should have returned it to the store.”
“I couldn’t, because I’d sewed sequins on it,” Sarah said.
“Then you should have given it to Goodwill.”
Andi always hated to see things go to waste.
“You’re right,” Sarah said. “I was dumb to throw it away. I’m the stupidest person in the world. I never should have trusted Connor.”
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Andi told her. “Everybody trusts Connor until he stabs them in the back. I’m sorry he broke your heart, but why are you calling me? I can’t do anything about it.”
“Because he’s stabbed
you
in the back, too, and you don’t even know it,” Sarah said. “I was watching the
Eileen Stanton Show
the other night, and I learned about the contest for books about dogs. The boy who won first place looked exactly like Connor, except he was younger and didn’t have a mustache. He had the same last name, so I figured they had to be related. Then some lady phoned in and said
Andrea Walker was the second-place winner and lived in Elmwood, New Jersey. That’s how I was able to find your phone number.”
“Why did you want my phone number?” Andi asked her.
“Because Jerry Gordon did not write
Ruffy Dean Joins the Circus
,” Sarah said. “All he did was change the name of the dog and make up the title. The book’s real title is
Tuffy Bean and the One-Ring Circus.
It’s a very old book. Connor found a copy in a used-book store. He told me it was his mother’s favorite book when she was a little girl and he wanted to give her a copy of the story for Mother’s Day. The book was falling apart, so he asked me to retype it. I’m a very good typist, and it seemed like such a sweet thing for him to do for his mom that I said yes. It took me three weeks to type it. It wasn’t a short book.”
“It sure wasn’t,” Andi agreed, recalling the hefty manuscript that she had worked on for so long. She was beginning to catch the drift of where this conversation was headed, and was both excited and nervous. “So you gave your typed transcript to Connor?”
“I gave him the disk,” Sarah said. “He seemed
so grateful! I honestly thought he was in love with me.”
“Then he dumped you,” Andi said in disgust. “On the night of the prom.”
“I sat there waiting all evening in my beautiful dress,” Sarah said, her voice quivering at the memory. “And my beautiful
shoes.
Did I tell you about my shoes? They’re pink with purple sequins. I glued those on myself to go with the dress.”
“Did you throw those away?” Andi asked.
This time she hoped that the answer would be yes. The shoes sounded awful.
“No,” Sarah said. “I have other outfits they go with.”
Andi restrained herself from pursuing the subject. She didn’t want to know about the rest of Sarah’s wardrobe.
“So Connor tricked you into copying the story,” she said, summing things up. “Then he changed the title and sent the file to Jerry to print out and enter in the contest. Connor couldn’t enter it himself, because he’s over the age limit. Send me the book! That will give me the evidence to nail them!”
“I don’t have the book,” Sarah said. “Connor
took it back. I don’t even remember who the author was. I was concentrating so hard on the typing — all that old-fashioned wording —”
She started to sob.
“Don’t cry,” Andi said. “You were brave and honest to call me. I respect you, Sarah. I think you’re terrific. Really.”
“You do?” Sarah sounded amazed. “Nobody’s ever called me terrific before. Only Connor, when I gave him that disk.”
“I’m not like Connor,” Andi said. “I fib a little, but I never do it to hurt people. I know that’s a fault of mine, and I’m going to correct it. I promised you that I wouldn’t tell anyone you called me, but can we make one exception to that promise? I’d like to discuss this with my private investigator.”
“You have a private investigator?” Sarah asked in astonishment. “I thought you were eleven years old!”
“I was eleven when I wrote my novel,” Andi told her. “I’ve now turned twelve and am much more mature, and I do have a private investigator. She’s totally trustworthy and keeps everything I tell her confidential. Please give me permission to tell
her. We’re in this together, aren’t we, Sarah? You and I are partners on a quest for justice?”
Sarah was quiet for so long that Andi began to worry that she might have fainted from the stress of making this decision.
But Sarah surprised her.
“Go for it, Andi!” she said suddenly. “Tell your private investigator! I don’t want that two-faced slimeball to get away with this! I just wish Connor had gotten arrested when Jerry did.”
“Jerry got arrested?” Andi asked in surprise.
“When he and Connor were in New York together,” Sarah said. “They used fake IDs to try to get into a nightclub. The bouncer recognized Jerry from the
Eileen Stanton Show,
so of course he knew his real age. Jerry’s dad had to drive to New York to bail him out. Connor told everybody about it when he got home. He was so proud that he wasn’t the one who got caught.”
“Connor seems to be able to get away with anything,” Andi said.
“That’s why I don’t want you leaking my name,” Sarah told her. “He’ll twist things around so people will think I’m the one who stole that story.”
“Connor will never know you’re a snitch,” Andi promised. “Thank you for calling me, and I hope you enjoy your shoes. Purple sequins sound beautiful.”
Andi swore to herself that this would be the last lie she would ever tell.
She clicked off the phone, clicked it on again, and punched in Aunt Alice’s number. The phone rang eight times before she remembered that this was bingo night.
When Andi returned to the family room, the TV was off, and Bruce was helping Kristy get up from the sofa. That sight was surprising, since the sofa didn’t sag, and Kristy normally bounced onto and off chairs like a rubber ball. Now, however, she let Bruce take her hand and pull her gently to her feet as if she were the heroine in an old-fashioned movie.
Once she was up, Bruce still didn’t let go of her hand.
“Red and I are going to walk Kristy home,” he said. “I’ll be back in about an hour.”
“An hour!” Mr. Walker exclaimed. “Where in the world does Kristy live — Florida?”
“Now, John,” Mrs. Walker said soothingly. “It’s
a beautiful moonlit night and it’s good for them to walk slowly. We wouldn’t want them running and tripping over curbs, would we? We enjoyed meeting you, Kristy. I’m sorry your video didn’t win, but you seem to be handling the disappointment with maturity.”
“I’m not disappointed,” Kristy told her. “I’m happy for Gabby. This has been a really great evening.”
“You can say that again!” Andi said with so much enthusiasm that everyone turned to stare at her.
She wished she could tell them about the phone call from Sarah.
She couldn’t wait until morning, when she could tell Aunt Alice!