Tuesday morning, Stacey and Mary Anne headed for the Harringtons’ again, Claud and Mal went to art school, Laine went shopping with her mother, and Dawn barricaded herself in Mr. McGill’s apartment (for the third day in a row).
“Are you going to stay with Dawn again?” Jessi asked me after breakfast.
I shook my head. “I feel guilty, but I just can’t. I’ve spent two days with her. You know what she does over there now?”
“What?”
“She cleans the apartment while Mr. McGill is at his office. Did you notice how neat it was last night?”
“Neater than it was on Saturday,” said Jessi.
“Yeah. Mr. McGill had a nice, half-sloppy bachelor pad. Now Dawn is playing house-keeper. I bet Stacey’s father can’t even find most of his stuff. Dawn keeps organizing things.”
“Poor Dawn.”
“Poor Mr. McGill!”
“So what are you going to do today?” Jessi wanted to know.
“I’m not sure. How about you?”
Jessi shrugged. “I kind of want to go to Central Park, but —”
“Let’s go, then!” I exclaimed. “The weather’s beautiful.”
So we left for the park. The last time I’d been there I was with Stacey, Mary Anne, Dawn, Claud — and a pack of children we were taking care of. Now I could wander through the park like a regular person. No stopping every five minutes to buy a soda, tie a shoe, or look for a bathroom.
“Ooh,” said Jessi as we entered the park. “This is just like last night in Chinatown: I feel as if we’ve walked into another world.”
“I know what you mean. A forest right in the middle of the city.”
“It smells so good. What happened to the car exhaust?”
I grinned. “I don’t know. But I’m glad it’s gone.”
“Boy, look at all those dogs,” said Jessi.
Everywhere, people were exercising their dogs. A woman in a jogging suit ran by with her rottweiler. An old man walked slowly by with a pair of ancient bassett hounds. A younger man, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, walked briskly holding a bouquet of leashes. At the other ends of the leashes were nine dogs, different breeds and sizes. (“I think he’s a professional dog walker,” I said to Jessi.) We also saw a couple out walking their tabby cat! The cat looked perfectly happy to be on a leash.
“Oiny,” Jessi whispered, giggling.
“What?”
“Oiny. That’s something Daddy says. O-I-N-Y. It stands for ‘only in New York.’”
I laughed, too.
Jessi and I walked around for nearly two hours. We watched roller skaters weave in and out of tin cans on homemade obstacle courses. We saw people rowing boats on the pond. We saw a long line of people and found out they were waiting to get tickets to something called Shakespeare in the Park. They wanted to see the production so badly that they were going to wait all day. The show didn’t begin until the evening. We saw sunbathers and skateboarders and bike riders.
Finally we grew tired.
“Let’s get ice cream,” suggested Jessi.
So we did. We found a stand and each bought a double-scoop cone. Then we headed back to Laine’s, licking our cones fast to keep the ice cream from dripping.
We had reached a quieter section of the park, away from most of the activity, when I thought I heard a noise. I stopped in my tracks.
“What is it?” asked Jessi, turning around.
“Shh,” was my reply. “Listen.”
We listened. And then I heard it again — a pitiful whining.
“It’s coming from over there!” I pointed to some shrubs by the path. Then I sprinted toward them. (I dropped my cone.)
“Be careful!” called Jessi.
“I will.” Delicately, I parted the bushes. I knew that what I was doing could be dangerous. If a sick animal were hiding there, it could bite me. I should have been wearing gloves. But I wasn’t. When I peered into the leafy darkness, the only thing that happened was that the animal whined again.
“It’s a dog!” I cried. “It’s little, but I don’t think it’s a puppy.”
“Is it hurt?” asked Jessi.
“Come here. Come here, boy,” I called softly.
The dog crept forward. In the sunlight, I could see that it was dirty and scruffy, but it didn’t seem either sick or hurt. In fact, it spotted my ice cream cone, bounded over to it, and began to lick it happily.
“He looks kind of like Louie,” I said to Jessi. “He must be part collie.” (Louie was this wonderful collie that was our family pet for years. He died not long after we moved into Watson’s house. We miss him a lot.)
“Hey, boy. Where do you belong?” I asked the dog. I looked for his tags, but he wasn’t wearing a collar.
“He must be lost. Or abandoned,” said Jessi.
“That does it. I’m taking him home.”
“To Laine’s?” asked Jessi.
“Well, yes. First. But then I’ll bring him to Stoneybrook with me.”
“Kristy …”
“Don’t say a word!” I picked up the dog, threw out what was left of the cone, and marched back to the Dakota, Jessi following me. We were across the street from Laine’s building when something occurred to me. “I bet the dog won’t be allowed in the Dakota,” I said. “Lots of apartment buildings don’t allow pets.”
“What are you going to do?” Jessi wanted to know.
“Sneak him in. You help me. Create a distraction so I can get him by the security guard. Faint or something.”
“I am not going to faint,” said Jessi. “I’ll ask for directions.”
Jessi was great. I have never heard anyone sound more confused. “Lincoln Center is west of here?” she repeated. “And south? Which way is west? … I’m a tourist.”
When the guard turned his back to point out “west,” I ran by him, the dog safely in my arms. But, uh-oh. Now how was I going to get him by the Cummingses? I was in luck. Laine was at home, but her parents weren’t.
As I ran the dog into the guest bedroom, Laine exclaimed, “You can’t keep a dog in here! He’s not allowed.”
“Tell me about it,” I replied.
“We’ll have to hide him.”
“That’s what I was thinking. Let’s keep him in the guest bedroom. Your parents wouldn’t open the door to the room Jessi and Mal are staying in, would they?”
“I guess not,” said Laine uncertainly.
“Perfect.” I closed the door behind us. Laine and I looked at the dog, who looked eagerly at us. He wagged his tail. I think he smiled.
“What are you going to do with him?” Laine asked.
“Take him home. There are so many people and animals at my house that one more won’t matter.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll call Mom at dinnertime…. Wait,” I said. “I just thought of something. I wonder what Jessi —”
At that moment, Jessi entered the room. She looked very pleased with herself.
“What happened?” I asked.
Jessi grinned. “That poor guard is so mixed up! I asked him for all these directions, then I told him I needed them for tomorrow and I walked inside.” (The guards knew who we were. They must have thought Jessi was totally ditsy. Oh, well. She had told him she was a tourist.)
“Kristy,” Laine spoke up, “that dog is going to have to, um, piddle soon. Don’t you think we should put down newspapers for him? And get him some food and dishes and toys and stuff?”
“Definitely.” I handed over the rest of my souvenir money to Jessi and Laine, who agreed to go shopping while I dog-sat.
When they returned, we played with our new pet for awhile. Finally, I decided it was time for me to call home.
Mom wasn’t there, but Watson was. I told him the story of the dog. “So can I keep him?” I asked.
“Absolutely not,” replied Watson.
Uh-oh.
