Tabula Rasa - Mischief

Chapter Twelve

"What if no one recognizes his picture?"

"I don't know, Max. We'll deal with that when we come to it."

Rachel changed into her nightgown.

"Well, I'm thinking about it now. You shouldn't feel like it's your responsibility to take care of him."

She sat beside him on the bed.

"It should be. We're a pack. All of us I mean, not just our family. We spend too much time worrying about ourselves, and not enough looking after each other. We need to spread the word about what happened and use it to bring us together. There are still humans out there who know about us. People should be warned. I think, once he's gained some confidence, Dog will be able to use his experience to help us do that."

The thought of searching out others of their kind and trying to bring them together still unnerved Max. A pack needs a leader. That can only result in fighting. He pushed the thought out of his mind and turned his attention to sleep.

                                                                                  ***

"Why does my dad always make you stay in there?"

Dog considered the boy's question for a few moments.

"I think he is scared of me," he finally said. "He thinks I will hurt people if he doesn't watch me."

"Do you hurt people?"

"No. I would never hurt you or Mr. Tyson or Mrs. Tyson. If you told him so, would Mr. Tyson listen to you?"

The boy groaned on the other side of the locked door.

"He doesn't listen to me. He's always tellin' me to do stuff. 'Do your homework!' 'Go to bed!'"

Jamal did his best to imitate his father's deep voice.

"I know what that is like," Dog replied. "Like when I was hungry, and Mr. Vance would say, 'No, not right now.'"

He said the words slowly, adding extra emphasis to their pronunciation. Despite his best efforts, it really didn't sound very much like Mr. Vance. The boy laughed at the funny voice.

"I wish dad would wake up. There's good cartoons on on Saturday mornings, but we can't watch them together!"

"I wish I could come out too. I'm hungry."

"You're stuck in there without anything to eat?"

"Yes."

Jamal gave this some thought. It wasn't fair for Dog to have to wait for his dad to wake up to have breakfast. Adults usually sleep in really late on Saturday mornings, and they are quite grouchy when woken early. Something had to be done, and he was the only one his new friend could rely on.

"I'll be right back," the boy said, turning to sneak down the hallway.

It would be a dangerous mission. He pushed the door to the bedroom open slowly, holding his breath, worried that it would squeak. All was silent except for his father's rough snoring. Relieved, he tiptoed across the room until he reached the dresser.

Jamal could remember many of his classmates saying that their parents liked to hide things in their sock drawers. He opened the drawer on his father's side and was immediately rewarded with his prize. Wallet in hand, he left everything as he had found it and returned to the locked door.

There were several keys on the keychain he pulled from it, but soon he found the right one. Smiling triumphantly, the boy opened the door to grant freedom to his friend. Dog stayed in the doorway.

"Are you sure it is OK to do this?"

"Uh huh. We can't get in trouble if we don't get caught."

Though still uncertain, Dog was reassured by the confidant smile on the boy's face. He smiled back and followed him as he ran to the kitchen.

Bowls and milk and sugary cereal were assembled. Dog was relieved for a chance to eat without worrying about adhering to good manners. He knew how to eat properly, with utensils, but it seemed like an awful lot of work when there were faster ways to do things.

Jamal watched as Dog buried his face in the bowl, spilling cereal on the table and dragging strands of his long hair into the mess. The boy set his spoon aside and imitated him. When he looked up from his first bite he was surprised to see that Dog was already finished. The mess he wore was more of a milk beard than a milk mustache.

"Wow, I wonder who would win in an eating contest, you or my dad?"

"I do not know. I am always hungry. Maybe he is too."

Dog picked up the box of cereal and held it over his head, trying to shake it directly into his mouth. Bits of dry cereal bounced off of his face, scattering every which way across the kitchen. Jamal snatched one off the table and threw it at him, scoring a direct hit to his chest.

Dog jerked back involuntarily and almost dropped the box. He stared with wide eyes at the boy across the table. Jamal laughed and launched another piece of cereal at him, missing his head by inches. Finally understanding the game, Dog rose from the table and let a devious smile creep across his face. With both hands gripping the box firmly he waved it in a rapid slash through the air, spraying Jamal with a shower of cereal.

Now it was war. Jamal ducked down to use the table as cover, grabbing the cereal that had just been thrown at him for ammunition. Dog didn't bother trying to hide, making him a much easier target. He threw handfuls of cereal haphazardly, missing more often than not. When that ran out he threw the box. It sailed over Jamal's head and bounced noisily off the wall behind him.

A loud cough in the kitchen doorway reminded them that they were not the only people in the house.

Rachel scowled at them over crossed arms with the look of a mother bear woken up from a peaceful hibernation by her rambunctious cubs. She held out her hand and pointed at the closet that was built into the kitchen.

"Sweep this mess up right now, young man."

Her voice was firm, but it sounded more irritated than truly angry. Jamal quickly leapt into action, retrieving a broom from the closet.

"Is dad awake?"

"No."

"Are you gonna tell him?" Jamal asked quietly, pausing to look up at her.

"Not if you clean up the mess and promise to never do anything like this again. The same goes for you," she said to Dog, fixing him with one of her Disappointed Mother Stares.

Dog slumped over and let his eyes sink to the floor, shaking his head back and forth.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry..."

"It's OK," Rachel spoke in a gentler tone. "Just get some paper towels and clean the table."

Dog obeyed. When they were finished she sent them both to their rooms, taking the wallet from the table as she led Dog back and reset the lock. He spoke again behind the closed door.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Tyson. I don't know why I did that. I'm sorry. Is Mr. Tyson going to hurt me?"

"No, you don't have to be afraid of him. I do want you to remember to follow the rules though, OK? You still want to stay with us?"

"Yes, very much! It was so lonely and I missed Mr. Vance even though he was bad and I don't want to have to do that again. I'll be good. I don't want Mr. Tyson to hurt me."

She laughed softly. It was such a pleasant sound; it made him want to find ways to get her to do it again and again.

"Max is all bark and no bite, really. Yes, he would hurt someone if they did anything to me or Jamal, but I know you would never do anything like that. He's afraid of trusting people. He used to have friends who liked to do bad things. They were like Mr. Vance in some ways. He's worried that he'll meet more people like them, so he's always on guard."

"Has he?"

"No. Most people are generally good at heart. It's true that you have to be careful about trusting everything that anyone tells you, but the really bad people are few and far between."

"Thank you, Mrs. Tyson. You're the first woman who's ever been nice to me. All the other ones I met when I was a dog called me names and said I was dirty and they didn't like me."

"I'm sorry to hear that. We'll find some nice people for you to practice talking to while we wait to hear from your family, OK?"

"What if they never find me?"

"Don't worry about it. We won't send you back to living on the streets."

She yawned, then returned to her bedroom. Max stirred in bed when he heard her open his sock drawer to replace the missing wallet. He spoke in a garbled tone without raising his head to look at her.

"What did he get up to this time?"

"Oh, he just got excited watching cartoons and decided throw a box of cereal around. I made him clean it up and sent him to his room."

She listened for a response, but he had already started snoring again.