22

Cathy

Dad tried to act like he didn’t feel bad about not being at the White House with Larry, but I know him too well. The morning of my party he blew up balloons and hung the piñata and grilled hot dogs and hamburgers, all the while smiling his biggest smile. But I knew he was thinking that he had missed the chance of his lifetime. And then I felt worse because I know he did it just for me.

I was on my way into the kitchen to thank him . . . or hug him . . . or just tell him that I love him. But I was stopped by an “oh, no” coming from the living room, so I ran in to see what happened.

My mother and Richard were staring at the television screen. “R-Richard wanted to check the basketball scores,” my mother stammered. “And when he was flipping through the channels . . .” She couldn’t find the words. She could only point in the direction of the television.

Larry was on TV being interviewed by that famous personality Larry Kane. Larry the Dog was sitting across from Larry Kane and he was wearing his sequined baseball cap turned backward, tilted just so. He didn’t look like my sweet little Larry anymore.

“. . . so the Vice President leaned over and whispered to me, ‘Don’t ever tell the President I told you this. But I came into the Oval Office last week and found him down on the floor. On his hands and knees. Talking to Alex, his Springer Spaniel. Saying, ‘Come on, Alex . . . You can do it. If Larry can do it, you can too.’ But the dog couldn’t—or wouldn’t—say a word. Not even to the most powerful man on earth,” Larry the Dog said, then chuckled.

Larry Kane chuckled with him, then leaned forward with his chin on his fist and narrowed his eyes, like he was going to ask an important question.

“How’d you happen to get the same name as me?” Larry Kane asked with a sly smile.

“Did you ever think that you’re the one who has the same name as me?” Larry the Dog answered with a smug look on his furry white face.

“I think I had the name first.” Larry Kane laughed. “I’m pretty sure I’m older than you.”

“Maybe not in dog years . . .” Larry said.

They went to a commercial. I turned around to see that the whole living room had filled up with all the people from the party. My friends Lily and Abigail and their parents were laughing about everything Larry the Dog had just said. But Dad and Artie were standing at the back of the room saying nothing. And Mom and Richard and I were still standing in front of the television. None of us could move a muscle.

When the show started up again, Larry Kane pressed Larry the Dog further. “So tell me, Larry, what’s up next in your career?”

“It’s hard to say,” Larry the Dog answered. “There were some pretty important people at the White House tonight and I’ve had some very big offers. My agent, Linda, has a lot of plans for me. Truthfully, she thinks it’s time I go out on my own.”

“See,” Richard muttered. “I knew I never liked that dog.”

“Richard, please . . .” my mother shushed him.

“Going out on your own?” Larry Kane asked, knowing he was leading Larry into trouble. “What about your partner, Tom?”

“Tom is great. And I owe a lot to him. But, let’s face it, Linda says I’m where it’s at.”

Larry Kane pushed him. “Are you outgrowing him, Larry? Is his lack of drive holding you back? Do you think maybe the audience pays the high ticket price to see the genius of Larry the Dog and thinks of Tom as just the vehicle that got you where you needed to go?”

“Genius . . .” Larry repeated, taking the bait. “I guess you and my manager Linda are right. From now on, it’ll be ‘Larry the Dog.’ In big bright lights. On my own. And the sky’s the limit.”

I turned around and looked at Dad. He was wearing a fake smile. “Well, that’s it, everybody,” he said. “Time for birthday cake!”

But when he leaned over to light the candles, Mom couldn’t keep quiet. “That ungrateful little dog!” she said angrily.

“I hate to say I told you so,” Richard said.

I tried to make excuses for Larry. “I think it’s because he’s on television and the lights are probably making him a little crazy. He’ll calm down once he’s back here with us. He’ll change his mind.” But even I didn’t believe what I was saying. I was sad because I knew that the dog on TV wasn’t the little doggy I loved anymore. And from the hurt look on my dad’s face, I could tell it was too late for Larry to fix things.