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The boss drives in silence and I spend most of the trip taking a nap in my wire crate, which is bolted down behind the front seats of the van. When he slows down, I stand and peer out through the windows.
Cars line both sides of the street in front of the Franklin’s house. Many of the homes have colored lights and the Franklins have those, too, plus a spotlight that lights up the driveway where the tall, skinny form of Kenny, Tanya’s older brother, vigorously waves at us. The boss stops and rolls down the window.
“Mama had me save this space for you,” Kenny says, gesturing at the area behind him. “Did you bring the rat?”
The boss makes a choked sound, and then pulls in behind Mr. Franklin’s old pick-up.
“You stay here,” he mutters to me. But as he’s shutting the door, Kenny asks incredulously, “You leaving the Dude behind? Do you want Mama to come after you?”
So, with a groan, the boss gets me out of my crate.
Molly’s already inside, working her way toward the hallway, when we squeeze through the front door into the crowd filling the little house. Whoa. Noise and scent overload. A whiff of ham cuts through all the perfumes and body odors. We edge past a large black man holding a paper plate that sags in a promising way under its pile of food.
The boss says, “Excuse me,” several times as we make our way to the dining room where Annie leans against the wall, holding a plate in one hand and a plastic glass in the other.
I usually have free run of the Franklin home, but the boss doesn't unclip the leash. So I stand beside him, panting from the heat. “Should have left Doodle in the van,” he says. “No room for a flea here, much less a dog.”
“You know Mrs. Franklin would never forgive you,” Annie says.
“Did I hear my name?” Mrs. Franklin comes in from the kitchen carrying a tray with a platter of ham and a bowl of greens. She's wearing high-heeled round-toed shoes and a brightly colored dress made of a thick drape-like fabric that makes her look even larger than normal. She dabs at beads of sweat on her forehead with a napkin. “You got it. Leave Doodle home and you'd better stay home yourself! Right, Doodle?”
She leans down to pat me, her hands smelling like ham and garlic and, curiously, peppermint. “If we ever get rats, we'll have you come stay with us.” She peers down at me. “That dog get any food?” Does she even need to ask “Mr. Dogs Shouldn't Eat People Food?” The boss shakes his head.
“Well, Doodle, you come with me.” She takes the leash from the boss's hand. “Okay if I put him out back for a bit?”
“That'd be great!” he says, with the first real enthusiasm he’s shown since the pageant.
Soon I'm outside in the brisk winter air, working on a dish that contains not only ham, but baked beans, a couple of those baby hot dogs that people like to serve at parties, a piece of biscuit, and even a tiny bit of cake. Have I mentioned that I love Mrs. Franklin? I lick the bowl clean, take a tour of the yard, marking several spots as a warning for trespassing cats (their scent is all over the place) and then settle down in the grass for a nice nap. The night air is cold, but nothing my fur coat can’t handle. Much better than being in the noise and heat inside.
The sound of the back door opening wakes me up. Yellow light spills from the little mudroom off the kitchen. A boy steps outside. I work my nose and recognize all the different odors that make up his scent. Takes me a moment to remember. One of the kids onstage with Molly. The one with the peanut butter candy. I sniff harder. No candy that I can detect, although I might not be close enough. He's holding a paper plate filled with cake, though.
Pudgy, with short straight-up hair, the boy's wearing baggy pants and those fat-soled shoes like the ones Kenny wears to play basketball. But this kid doesn't look like he plays basketball or any kind of sport. He glances around, then stuffs a big forkful of cake in his mouth. I lie still in the grass beyond the little patio. I've had enough socializing for the evening, frankly.
He sets down his plate on the flat part of Mr. Franklin's grill, pulls out a phone and taps on it.
“Grady?” says a voice through the phone. “You gonna play?”
“Don't know,” the boy says. “I'm stuck at this stupid party and I'm not sure when we'll leave. Might be another hour.”
“We might have lost by then.”
“I know. I'll try, but—” he sighs “—you know how Mama is at things like this. She could stay all night shooting her mouth off. I'll text if I can get away.”
He pockets the phone with another huge sigh, and stands staring into the darkness. Still doesn't see me. Animals have better night vision. Everyone knows that and besides, according to the boss my black coat blends with the dark and makes me, in his words, freakin’ invisible. Sometimes, though, I've noticed that Molly or the boss seem to see things before I do in the daylight. Not sure why that is.
He's finishing the last mouthful of cake, when the door opens again. Hey, it's Molly! She flips a switch on the wall by the door and the whole patio is flooded with light. I jump up to greet her. The boy lets out a muffled cry and backs away.
“Oh, hey, Grady,” Molly says, bending over me to clip on the leash. “Didn't know you were out here.”
“Got hot inside,” he says, his eyes fixed on me. “That the rat dog?”
Molly sighs. “Yeah.”
“My mama’s looking for him. Wants to take his picture.”
When Molly doesn’t answer, Grady says, “He bite?”
“Doodle?” Molly laughs, looking astonished. “No.”
“Except rats?”
Molly frowns slightly. “Well, yeah. But any dog will chase a rat. Doodle loves people.”
Not exactly true. I like most people—there are exceptions—and know how to be polite with the rest.
Grady edges closer. He sucks in his lower lip, and sets down his plate again. I can smell his sweat, sour with tension. “Can I pet him?”
“Sure. Like I said, he's nice.”
Grady pats my head a few times in quick, fearful movements that I don't enjoy, but I stand still. “Dogs kind of make me nervous,” he says. He pats me a few more times.
“Here,” Molly says. “Do this.” She strokes me under my chin.
Grady tries it. “Soft,” he says, relaxing a little.
“See? He likes it. It's his favorite thing.”
True, but mostly when Molly or the boss or Annie do it. Not so much with Grady.
He strokes me some more, then straightens up. “You know a lot about dogs?”
Molly says, “Yeah, sort of. We got Doodle for my dad's bed bug business, and I've been taking lessons with Annie—she works for Doodle's old trainer and she's teaching me to be a trainer.”
Grady appears to be impressed. ““Never been around dogs much. But my daddy has two dogs—hounds—so I need to get more used to them.” He falls silent for a moment. “If I go stay with him in Alabama, that is . . .” His voice trails off. “But I've always wanted to be better around them.” He bites his lip. “Dogs, I mean.”
Molly studies him a moment, then holds out the leash. “You want some practice? You can lead him around the yard.”
Grady hesitates, then takes the leash gingerly as if it might be hot.
“Put him on your left side and say heel,” Molly says.
“Heel?” Grady's voice makes it a question rather than a command, but I know the drill. I walk with my nose even with his knee as we circle the yard a couple of times.
“He’s doing it!” Grady sounds delighted. “This isn’t hard.”
We switch directions and circle the yard a couple more times, until, from the front of the house comes a sudden swell of voices, followed by that of car doors slamming and engines roaring to life.
Grady stops. “Sounds like everyone's leaving.”
“Yeah, that's why I came to get Doodle.”
“Good. Maybe I can finally get out of here.”
Molly glances at him, annoyed. “It's a great party. The Franklins worked really hard to have everything per—”
“I didn't mean that.” Grady throws up a hand, tightening the leash. “I just need to get home. . . . Got this game, a tournament.” He shoves the leash into her hand. “Um, thanks.” And with that he hurries through the door.
We follow him inside, where it’s still hot but much less crowded. Mr. Franklin, busy loading dishes into the dishwasher, nods at us. In the dining room, we pass Derrin and Tyson, Tanya’s oldest and youngest brothers, who are carrying armfuls of food to the kitchen. All of Tanya’s family, except Mrs. Franklin, are, according to the boss, tall and thin as beanpoles, with dark curly hair much like my own except Mr. Franklin’s is gray.
"Molly, there you are!" Annie crosses over to us, holding a half-eaten piece of cake in one hand and wiping crumbs from her mouth in the other. "You about ready? I don't want to be too late to check on the dogs."
We walk to the front door where Mrs. Franklin and Tanya stand, waving at people as they walk away.
“Great party,” Molly says. “Thanks!” She touches Tanya's arm. “And you were wonderful! Sorry about Doodle and the rat.”
That again?
Tanya laughs, throws her arms around my neck and whispers in my ear, “It’s okay, Dude.”
Mrs. Franklin bends down to pat my side. “Nothing to be sorry for. He has a nose and knows how to use it.”
Exactly.
She straightens up, her broad shoulders slumping a little, the creases in her dark face shiny with sweat. “Tell your daddy to come back in a sec before he leaves. Got leftovers for him.” She turns to Annie. “Could you use any? Got enough to eat for a week, even with my boys who can eat twice their weight at any meal.”
“Sure,” Annie says, looking pleased. “If you don't need them. Molly and I will be holding down the fort at Miguel's. He left for Florida this morning. Now we won't have to cook.”
I’d forgotten that we’re going to Miguel’s. I love his place. Lived there for a bit after Miguel rescued me, while he trained me to be a bed bug dog.
“I'm going to help her run the kennel,” Molly says.
“For money,” Annie adds emphatically. Molly flushes a little at this. She's been excited about the prospect of earning money—something to do with Christmas and gifts.
Annie heads back to the kitchen for leftovers while Molly gives Mrs. Franklin a hug. Then Molly and Tanya and I walk out into the chilly night air, beyond the circle of light around the porch, into the circle of light flooding the driveway. The boss is leaning against the van.
“Mama wants you to go in and get some leftovers,” Tanya says. “She has a ton.”
Molly adds, “And I need to get my backpack from the van.”
“Okay.” He tosses the keys to Molly and goes back to the house.
Molly opens the van door and retrieves her backpack. Just as she’s closing it, a sudden motion, coupled with an unusual scent, startles me. Something flashes in my face. I growl in surprise. At first I think it's lightning, which is strange because I can't smell clouds or that distinctive electrical smell that usually accompanies thunder and lightning. I blink trying to see through the light, but it's too bright to see around it.
Then I hear Grady's voice, in an anguished whine. “Mama, stop. You're blinding them.”
The flashes stop. As I blink my way back to being able to see, I sort out the scent. Some kind of perfume. Flowery, with some vanilla and cinnamon in it. Kind of like cookies and roses combined, but in a way that isn't overpowering like most perfumes.
A tall woman wearing pointy-toed high heels, tight jeans, and a form-fitting sweater stands holding a camera that's about twice as big as the one Molly usually carries. She has long hair that flows down her shoulders in big curls.
“Sorry if that was a bit bright,” the woman says, not sounding a bit sorry. “I'm Madison Greene, Grady's mom?”
Grady emits a faint groan.
“Hey, Grady.” Tanya gives a little wave. Molly nods at him.
“I also happen to do a video blog for States of Affairs, called the Low Down News?” She makes it sound like a question. When neither Molly nor Tanya say anything, she says, “Anyway, I just had to get a picture of the star of the pageant.”
“Yeah,” Molly smiles over at Tanya. “She did great.”
The woman seems taken aback for a second, then glances over at Tanya. “Oh my yes, you did do a wonderful job on that solo, bless your heart. One of my favorite carols. But I meant the dog. The great hunter. Was that a rat he caught?”
Molly nods.
“Well, goodness gracious, he was quick.” She gives me a broad smile and pats me on the head, something I think I’ve mentioned I never like. “I was just wondering—a dog!” She chuckles. “Don't usually see dogs in nativity programs.”
Just as I've said! No mention in any of the songs either, not that I care about that.
“He was supposed to be a sheep,” Tanya says. “Because his hair is curly. And he's black.”
“Black?” Madison raises her eyebrows. “Why would that matter?”
“Well, it doesn't really matter,” Tanya says, “but we thought—Mama and me—it'd be nice to have a black sheep. You know. ’Cause black can be as beautiful as white? And anyway, Doodle's our favorite dog in the world and Molly and I thought it'd be fun to have him in the pageant.”
“I get it,” Madison says in a sugary voice—the same kind of high, fake tones people sometimes use for babies. “And bless his heart, his coat is very black and very curly.” She touches my back, then rubs her fingers together. Then she squats down, leaning in to Molly. “His name's Doodle?”
Molly nods again.
“What a cute name.”
She stretches out the word so it sounds like key-ute, something she does with a lot of her words.
“Well Mr. Doodle, you gave us all some fine entertainment! Keeping the world rat free!”
“But he's not just cute.” Tanya strokes my back in the way I like. I lean into her. “He has a job. He's a bed bug dog, so he uses his nose all the time.”
“Oh, a working dog. Impressive. But, bed bugs. Goodness!” She crinkles her nose while continuing to pat me on the head. I try not to flinch, but frankly I don't like this woman. She laughs again and turns to face Molly. “And your name?”
“Molly.”
“Molly what?”
“Hun—”
Just then, the boss and Annie walk up, both carrying large paper sacks. I sniff with interest. Even through Madison's perfume, I recognize the contents. The leftovers.
What's going on?” the boss asks, his voice polite but not especially friendly.
Madison jumps to her feet and holds out a hand. “Madison Greene. From States of Affairs. The Low Down News?” Again, she acts as if she expects the boss to know this, but he gives her a blank look as he shifts the sack to one arm and takes the extended hand.
Her smile stiffens a little. “It's a video blog? The biggest in the region?”
Another faint groan from Grady.
Madison flicks a hostile glance at her son.
“Sorry,” the boss says apologetically. “Don't get online much.”
“I'm also Grady's mom.”
“He's goes to my school,” Molly adds when the boss shows no sign of understanding. “Mr. Robertson's class.”
The boss looks over to Grady in surprise. “I had you pegged as older.”
“Just one grade up. I'm big for my age,” Grady says apologetically. “Plus, I have an August birthday and my daddy kept me back a year from starting school. Thought I could play football.” His mouth twists down.
Madison doesn't seem to notice. “Thank heaven he decided not to! I don't want to worry about my baby getting his head crushed on the field.” She puts an arm around Grady's shoulder and pulls him to her. He recoils like a dog being patted on the head. “Know what I mean?”
The boss nods, not looking at all sure. “Oh. Right.” A pause, then, “I'm Josh Hunter.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Hunter.” Madison leans towards the boss, energy radiating from her like scent from a skunk. She tilts her head a little, and pushes a lock of hair from her face. She's the type of person Miguel, my old trainer, calls a charmer. He never means it as a compliment, and there's an insincerity under all Madison's smiles that makes me nervous, even though her scent is pleasant. And maybe the boss, too, because he rubs his beard, a sure sign of tension for him. But he no longer seems to be annoyed. In fact, his face flushes slightly. Maybe because of her scent, which really is quite interesting.
“Josh Hunter,” she says. “So nice to meet Molly's father.” Madison turns to Annie. “And you're her mother?”
“No!” the boss, Annie, and Molly all say at the same time, and immediately all look embarrassed, like a dog who mistakenly barks at a family member.
Annie's the first to speak. “I'm Annie Harmon.” She extends a hand to Madison, who gives it a brief shake, then turns back to the boss.
“Annie's a good friend to all of us, Doodle included,” the boss says.
I wag my tail at this because it's true. Annie has the best treats in the business and she's never harsh with us dogs.
“And I work with Doodle's trainer,” Annie says.
“I'm, um, a single parent,” the boss adds.
Madison's eyes widen and a smile lifts the corners of her mouth. “Well, bless your heart. A single parent! That's a tough gig for anyone. I know.” She casts a glance at Grady, who shuffles his feet and looks even more miserable. “I hope I didn't intrude.” Another big smile as she gently touches the boss's arm. I feel Annie stiffen beside me. “I was just getting some pictures of Mr. Doodle and Molly here. Our friend Doodle stole the show.”
The boss sighs. “I'm afraid so.”
“Oh, no, no, no. Believe me, he was the highlight of the pageant.” She glances at Tanya. “Well him and—what's your name again, sweetheart?”
“Tanya Franklin,” Tanya says, still stroking my back.
“Him and Tanya here.” She glances up at the boss much in the way a dog will look at someone holding an exceptionally tasty liver treat. “And did I understand, uh, Tanya correctly that y'all have a bed bug business?”
The boss rubs his beard. ”Hunter Bed Bug Detection, yes. Detection only. We don't do the treatments.”
The front door opens and Mrs. Franklin calls out. “Tanya. Got to get to bed. School tomorrow.”
With a sigh, Tanya says, “Gotta go.” And then, as if remembering something, dips her head at Madison. “Nice to meet you. Thanks, everyone, for coming.” She hurries toward the door, still being held open by her mother.
“Back to bed bugs,” Madison says, and then chuckles. “Can't believe I said that. You use Doodle here to find bed bugs? That must be fascinating. . .”
The boss starts to tell her about the business, but this time it's Annie who touches his arm lightly. “Sorry to interrupt, but I promised Miguel I'd only be gone a few hours. You know how he is about leaving the place untended.”
“Sure.” The boss hugs Molly. “Have fun. Call me in the morning.”
I follow Annie and Molly to Annie's small SUV halfway down the block.
Madison and the boss are still leaning into each other, deep in conversation, as we pull away for the long drive out to Miguel's.