Chapter 18

Harvey

That evening, Harvey presses his nose against the cool glass of the sliding door that leads to the backyard and growls. “What’s out there?” Maggie asks. She bends down to his level, but can see nothing. The days are getting shorter and the neighbor’s fence across the yard is barely visible in the dark. “Do you see a squirrel?”

What Harvey has seen is not a squirrel. It isn’t a chipper, mischievous creature that scampers along branches. It is a slinking, stinking animal; a thief and a brute. It is a raccoon. And this particular raccoon is looking for a place to spend the winter.

Unfortunately for Harvey, she has found it.

 

 

When Harvey is let out in the morning he can smell it. Something feral and familiar. The air is full of it. He has caught this scent before; it is lodged in his scent memory.

Harvey goes into tracking mode. Tail up. Ears perked. He raises his nose into the air. His hair bristles with curiosity, and something else: determination. Something has invaded his territory and he wants to know what it is.

Harvey moves to the fence and sniffs along the bottom, but there is no scent. Harvey raises his nose. Whatever has been in his yard has been up there, crawling along the top of the fence. Slowly, so as not to lose track of the odor, he moves past trees and plants, until he arrives at the shed in the corner.

Harvey has never been fond of the shed. It is in a dark, shady corner of the yard under a crab apple tree. When the fruit falls to the ground, it sits and rots, filling the air with a sour smell. Inside the shed are roaring, spitting machines; their noises leave Harvey running for cover.

But this morning, Harvey has a job to do. He inches closer to the shed and pauses. The scent is all around him now, not just along the fence. The creature! She has been slinking around and the smell is so strong she could be here now. Harvey approaches cautiously. He barks to alert his Maggie.

It doesn’t matter to Harvey that it is barely seven in the morning, or that his barks shatter the neighborhood’s quiet. He is intent on warning Maggie and letting the thing know that it is not welcome in Harvey’s yard.

“Harvey!” Maggie’s mom whisper-shouts from the deck. “Harvey, be quiet!”

Harvey can’t turn around or obey the command. He must continue to bark. It is important that everyone know there has been an intruder. From a few houses over, his barks are echoed by Rosie.

Now two Westies are on the case, followed by Lola, a dog who lives behind them. And farther down the street, Gordie the golden Lab lets out a deep, rough woof. They have all heard Harvey’s insistent call to action.

“What’s going on?” Maggie says, joining her mom on the deck. She’s in her pajamas and still rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

“He’s going to wake up the whole neighborhood!” Maggie’s mom says.

“Harvey!” Maggie calls. “Harvey, come get a treat!” She uses her best cajoling, singsong voice and in a short lull of barking, it reaches Harvey.

“Treat, Harvey,” she says again. “Want a treat?”

With a final rumbly bark, he races across the yard and back to his Maggie, who is on her knees on the deck waiting for him. “Good boy, Harvey,” she says, rubbing his back.

Harvey’s tail wags. He licks Maggie’s warm, sleepy-smelling skin and follows her inside. For the moment, the intruder is forgotten. The scent from outside, though, won’t be. It will lurk in the back of Harvey’s mind until the next time he is outside.