Chapter 49

Harvey

Inside Maggie’s room, Harvey can hear whimpers, sometimes a sob. He paws at the door. He wants to be inside with his Maggie, licking her tears away and burrowing his head so they are nestled side by side.

“Harvey,” Maggie’s mom calls. “Do you need to go out?”

Not even a full bladder will pull Harvey away from Maggie’s door. He sits, resolute, inches away from it. “The last thing I need is you having an accident,” Maggie’s mom mutters as she comes up the stairs and sees Harvey. She sweetens the deal by offering a treat. Harvey’s ears rotate at the word. Treat. He leaves his post and flies down the stairs. Maggie’s mom holds the treat out to him and then tosses it out the sliding doors. He races to retrieve it but is barely over the threshold when he freezes. Ears pricked, tail poker straight. Every hair bristles on his back. Harvey’s nose quivers. The elusive scent! There is a rustle by the fence and Harvey glimpses a flash of tail disappearing under the shed. Finally, he will be able to meet whoever has been coming into his yard.

Harvey leaps across the deck and down the wooden stairs. He flies over shrubs and grass and comes to a stop in front of the shed and starts barking. Unlike the squirrels that make hasty exits as soon as he gets close, this creature stays put.

Harvey edges forward, ready to spring. From under the shed there is a hiss, a nasty, spitting noise that makes every muscle in Harvey’s body go rigid. His instinct tells him something isn’t right. Every nerve in Harvey’s body is on high alert.

Deep from his belly comes a loud, warning bark. Get away! this bark says. Go!

But the raccoon has a warning too. It hisses again from the darkness, growling at Harvey. Its teeth and claws are ready for a fight.

Harvey moves closer. He knows he has to stand his ground. His bark turns vicious, as if he is the bloodthirsty creature. From inside the house, Maggie looks out her bedroom window.

Harvey can’t let up. A staccato drumbeat of snarls and rough barks, the likes of which Maggie has never heard, explode out of him. If she didn’t know her little Westie, she would be scared of him.

The raccoon realizes she is trapped. Her beady black eyes flash in the dark, looking for an escape. There is a sliver of space at the back of the shed where the gravel has sunk. She moves toward it, silently, to evade Harvey. She’s a thief of the night, used to sneaking and skulking. She can get past this yappy dog.

But Harvey’s hearing is keen. As is his sense of smell. The scent of fresh gravel as she unearths it and the rattle of rocks tumbling into the hole make him pause. Only for a second, but it’s enough for him to know that his enemy is on the move.

One black claw, then another, appears at the back of the shed. This is his chance. He doesn’t wait for the rest of her. He scurries under the shed with a savage bark, ready to attack.

“Harvey!” Maggie shrieks when she gets outside, breathless from racing down the stairs. She has seen him go under the shed and knows there must be something under there, but what? Her dad is beside her telling Maggie to stay back. Maggie ignores him and runs to the shed. “Harvey!” she shouts again over the barking. She’s never heard him like this. He sounds like a wild, violent thing; like a guard dog meant to terrify.

Harvey registers Maggie’s voice, but won’t be deterred. He’s a ratter. The raccoon is in his territory and the chase is on. He bares his teeth, muscles tense. He’d tear into the creature if that were in his nature, which it isn’t.

But it is in the raccoon’s.

The opening she’d hoped to squeeze through is too narrow. She is trapped again and now the dog is under the shed with her, snarling and barking. She realizes there is only one chance for freedom and that is attack. She turns to the dog, easily spotted even in the dark thanks to his shiny white coat, and lunges.

Her teeth sink into Harvey’s back. They plunge deep and her claws hold his scrambling legs. A high-pitched yelp pierces the air as Harvey feels a sharp pain. His barking stops.

The raccoon could do more damage. She’s injured Harvey. Badly. But raccoons are survivors, not fighters. She can see her escape route and takes it.

“Harvey!” Maggie is crying now, powerless to do anything from outside the shed. He won’t come at her call. When she hears his yelp, she swears her heart skips a beat. She goes down on her knees to drag him out, but her dad pulls her back. He’s grabbed a shovel and holds it, ready to swing.

“Stay back!”

“He’s hurt!” Maggie screams again. Her heart is pounding when the raccoon slinks out. Her dad chases it with the shovel, but his threats are needless. The raccoon wants out of the yard. It hurries to the fence, climbs a post, and disappears into the night. Maggie stretches her arms as far under the shed as she can, but she can’t feel Harvey. Her mom stands behind her with a flashlight. Maggie’s dad drops the shovel and falls to his stomach, arms reaching out.

Harvey feels hands pawing him. He blinks at a beam of light, but he’s too weak to move. “I’ve got him,” Maggie’s dad says.

Maggie is crying too hard to ask if he is alive. The sound of their fight still rings in her ears.

As gentle as Maggie’s dad tries to be, yanking Harvey out of the hole is no easy task. Maggie stands by watching as a limp Harvey is dragged out from under the shed. He feels nothing but the beat of Maggie’s heart as she holds him tightly.

Harvey shuts his eyes, breathing in her smell, and then goes still.