Max's Story Read online

  Thrilled, I took another two steps forward. Somehow I knew exactly what to do. I’d stand over her, one paw on either side, to show her that there was no mistake. I was Max, and she was just Sneakers.

  Then, without any warning, she changed the rules.

  Suddenly, so quickly I hardly had time to react, she flipped over to her feet. Her lips pulled back, just like mine, to show a mouthful of teeth. That wasn’t fair! She’d been lying on her back—that showed she was giving in. Now she was displaying her teeth—that showed she was ready to fight!

  What did she mean? I was so confused that I paused for a second, and that second was long enough.

  Sneakers’s front paw lashed out and hit the side of my face. Claws pricked and stung. That hurt! I leaped back in astonishment and Sneakers shot over to the kitchen and leaped up onto the counter.

  Unfair! Again! I was so enraged that I raced over to the kitchen, propped my feet up as high as they could go on a cabinet, and barked as loudly as I could.

  Sneakers sat down, wrapped her tail snugly around her back feet, and washed the paw that had swatted me.

  I knew I was making a fool of myself, barking at a cat who didn’t want to come down, but I couldn’t help myself. Finally, Sneakers turned her back on me and began to wash her other paw, and I dropped back down to all fours in disgust.

  I didn’t know why it was so hard to convince Sneakers of what everybody else seemed to understand with no trouble—that I was the one in charge. But I was beginning to feel like it just wasn’t worth trying to teach a cat manners.

  I decided to show her that I didn’t care what she did. I left the kitchen without looking back and headed for CJ’s room.

  It would be nice to curl up on the bed to wait for CJ to come back, but I couldn’t jump that high. Frustrated, I stood on my back legs and stretched up with my front paws. No matter how tall I tried to make myself, I couldn’t reach the top of the mattress. There was not a chance I could climb that high. If only CJ were here to lift me up!

  Frustrated, I scrabbled with both paws at the bed. I didn’t manage to get up on it, but something else happened. CJ’s sky blue quilt began a slow-motion slide off the bed and ended up in a puffy pile on top of my head.

  Buried in soft, warm cloth, I shook my head hard and barked with irritation. I was the boss! I was not supposed to be underneath a heap of material! I went in a circle but encountered nothing but more quilt. It wasn’t very heavy, but I wasn’t very big—it was getting hard to push my way through the soft folds.

  There was quilt under my feet now, too. I trampled on it, forcing it down, and then put my head down and shoved.

  I didn’t get anywhere. It was as if the quilt was shoving back!

  I bit it. That didn’t help at all.

  I pushed forward again, with no luck. Then I backed up a step so that I could push forward with more force.

  My tail sprang free from the soft weight. I took another step backward and my rear legs were out in the open as well.

  Backing up! That was the trick! I took step by careful step until at last my head and muzzle slipped out from under the quilt. Then I stepped on it to make sure it would stay on the ground where it belonged.

  It was soft underfoot and smelled comfortingly of CJ. I turned in a circle, trampling myself a soft nest, and curled up with my nose and tail touching. I rested for a while, chewing on a corner of the quilt now and then, thinking of my girl. I even closed my eyes for a short nap.

  When I woke up, I chewed the quilt some more, until fuzzy white feathers started drifting out. They stuck to my tongue and tasted very strange, so I stopped chewing, got up, and shook my head to get rid of them.

  The feathery taste was still on my tongue, so I headed into the kitchen for a drink of water. Sneakers was still on the counter. She had stretched out for another nap. I never knew an animal who could sleep so much.

  I ignored her. Without even a glance at the cat, I began to sniff around the kitchen floor, smelling CJ’s footprints and Jillian’s, finding some crumbs left over from CJ’s breakfast toast. I stepped around the puddle I’d left on the floor earlier—it’s not terribly interesting to smell your own urine—and sniffed until I got to a cupboard with the most entrancing aroma.

  Food. It smelled like food.

  I sniffed hard at the crack between the door and the cabinet. Then I nudged with my nose, trying to get the door open.

  No luck.

  I scratched with my paw, then with both paws, scrabbling at the painted wood. Sneakers’s head appeared over the edge of the counter, peering down at me. I paid her no attention. I had something more important to do.

  The door didn’t open. I was on one side and the food was on the other—this was not right. Something had to be done.

  I stopped scratching and stared at the cupboard door. Then I put a paw against the wood and pushed.

  The door didn’t open. But I noticed something.

  When I pushed, the door didn’t go anywhere. But when I took my paw off, the door sprang open just a crack.

  It wasn’t open, not exactly. But it wasn’t completely closed, either.

  I tried to force my nose into the crack, but that only shoved the door all the way shut.

  I was so frustrated I sat back on my haunches and growled at the door. That didn’t do any good, either.

  I pushed a paw against it once more.

  Sneakers jumped down from the counter to land with a thump on the kitchen floor beside me. I ignored her and nosed at the door again, once more closing it completely.

  Sneakers sniffed at the door, too.

  I pushed at the door as hard as I could with my paw. The crack appeared again, but it was not any wider.

  Before I could try to work my nose into the crack, however, Sneakers reached out her own paw. It was slimmer than mine, and she shot out those claws that had pricked my face so painfully before. It’s so odd how cats keep their claws inside their feet like that!

  As I stared, astonished, she batted at the cupboard door with her paw and made the crack wider. Wide enough for my nose!

  I shouldered the cat aside and pushed with my whole head. The cupboard door swung open wide, and there inside was the paper bag that smelled so delicious.

  Sneakers seemed to think it smelled good, too. She pushed her head into the cupboard right beside mine. I chewed at a corner of the bag. She sniffed hard, then reached in and ripped at the colorful paper. Her claws made a rent. That meant I could get my teeth into a scrap of paper and yank, twisting my head, even growling a little.

  A chunk of paper tore loose, and I staggered backward. And food came out! Little brown pellets of food rushed out of the bag and cascaded all over the kitchen floor.

  Delicious! Marvelous!

  I had my head down and was gobbling up as much food as I could. Sneakers did the same. Maybe I should have chased her away, but there was so much food—plenty for both of us, really. Besides, those claws of hers were quite sharp.

  We ate together. At last I was so full I couldn’t stuff in another bite. It was a shame to leave so much food all over the floor of the kitchen, but my stomach was starting to hurt. Maybe we could come back and finish up later.

  I slurped a little water from my bowl and headed back to CJ’s room to sleep off that huge meal, curling up on her quilt once more.

  To my surprise, Sneakers came with me. I was too full and sleepy to argue when she found a spot for herself on the quilt and began to make a strange rumbling noise that seemed to come from deep inside her throat. It sounded like a growl, and yet it was full of contentment and satisfaction.

  Cats are very strange, I decided. There is no telling what they mean. And they are frustrating, the way they refuse to understand obvious things, like the fact that they are supposed to do what I want them to.

  But it felt comforting to have her nearby, even so. It reminded me of sleeping huddled in a heap with my sisters and my mother, back in my days at the shelter. And it would have been more
difficult to get that cupboard door open without her, so maybe … just maybe … it would be all right to have her around.

  I yawned.

  Of course I was still the most important animal in the apartment. But Sneakers wasn’t so bad.

  I closed my eyes and settled down for my second nap of the morning. I was so deeply asleep that I didn’t hear the door open and close. I didn’t hear high-heeled shoes clacking across the floor.

  I did hear Jillian’s voice, however, raised in a loud screech. It jolted me into wakefulness. Sneakers jerked up her head as well.

  The door opened and closed again, and a familiar scent reached my nose. CJ! At last! And I hadn’t been at the door to greet her!

  I staggered up—my stomach still hurt a little—and hurried into the living room as quickly as I could. CJ was standing by the closet, and Jillian was in the doorway to the kitchen, talking angrily, waving her hands in the air.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” CJ was saying meekly. “I’ll clean it up. I’m sorry.”

  CJ needed me to protect her! I leaped to her side. It wasn’t much of a leap, honestly. I was so full from that meal and still a bit sleepy.

  But I got to CJ’s side and turned around to show Jillian my teeth.

  “No, Max! Gentle, Max!” CJ dropped to her knees and grabbed me.

  “And now it’s growling at me!” Jillian said, her voice rising to a higher screech. “That’s it. That’s the last straw. I told you dogs don’t belong in this city, but you talked me into giving it a chance. Well, it’s not working out. It’s just not.”

  CJ gasped. She squeezed me to her, a little too tightly, but I didn’t complain. I could tell she needed me.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that!” Jillian said, and then she let out a huge, loud sigh. “Look, CJ. I’m sorry, I am, but you’ve got to see that this is impossible. You’re not here to take care of that thing, and it barks all day, and it pees on the floor, and—”

  “He’s just a puppy!” CJ said, her voice trembling. “All puppies bark. They all pee. They can’t help it!”

  “We had a deal,” Jillian said more sternly. “And now I come home to a mess in the kitchen, and I can see that dog isn’t safe to be around. There’s no way I’m letting it stay here!”

  “I can’t take him back to the shelter. I can’t!” CJ begged. “They’ll put him to sleep!”

  Jillian stood up straighter. “Then you’ll have to find him another home.”

  CJ got up, holding me, and hustled me into her room, where she shut the door on me. How unfair! How ridiculous! I began to bark to remind her that we should always be together. Sneakers shook her head, rattling her collar, and jumped off the bed.

  I heard Jillian’s voice doing more of the angry talking and CJ’s voice doing more of the “I’m sorrys.” I heard a broom rustling across the kitchen floor and food pellets clinking into the trash.

  Then CJ pushed open her door. Sneakers seized the chance to shoot across the room and escape, but I ran to CJ, barking impatiently.

  She was very sad. I had to get to work right away. She sat down on the floor and groaned when she saw the quilt. I scrambled onto her lap and stood up on my hind legs to nuzzle my nose into her neck.

  “Oh, Max,” she whispered. “Oh, Max. I’m so sorry, Max.”

  Her cheeks were wet and salty. I licked at them.

  “She won’t let me keep you. I begged and begged, but she won’t. And she says I’ve only got a week to find you another home. Listen, Max, you have to be nice. You have to be good, or nobody’s going to want you. And if nobody wants you, you’ll go back to the shelter, and then … Oh, please, please, be good, Max. Please.”

  I was glad to hear that I was good. I was glad I could lick CJ’s tears away. I would always be there to do that. I’d take care of her whenever she was sad, or scared, or lonely. I’d be her dog forever.

  But I hoped we’d go outside for a walk soon. After such a big meal, I needed to.

  10

  The next morning Jillian and CJ both left again. I immediately went to the kitchen and pawed at the food cupboard, but this time there was a new plastic contraption on the handle and the door didn’t open no matter what I did.

  Sneakers didn’t come to help, either. She had settled in along the back of the couch for a snooze, so I couldn’t even curl up next to her and feel her warmth.

  Restlessly, I wandered around the apartment. There was a closet near the front door, where Jillian kept her shoes and a few umbrellas. She’d opened it that morning long enough to grab her purse, and it hadn’t shut all the way before she left.

  I nosed it open. There was stuff inside that I hadn’t smelled before, and this seemed as good a time as any.

  I investigated Jillian’s boots and shoes thoroughly. Then I looked up.

  Jillian’s coat was hanging from a hook. I stood on my back legs to smell it properly. It smelled like the street—of car exhaust and dirt and grime and food and people, lots and lots of people, all in a hurry, all with somewhere to go. I loved that smell. I wished I were out in the street right now, with CJ, instead of stuck in here with a cat who just wanted to sleep the day away.

  I took the hem of the coat in my mouth. I gave it an experimental tug.

  It must not have been on the hook very securely, because it came down on my head with a flop that startled me. I remembered how to get out from under something like that, however, and backed away until I was free.

  The coat had a wonderful collar made of soft gray fur. It smelled interesting—better than interesting. Fascinating. It was an animal type of smell, an animal that I hadn’t ever met. But something deep inside me recognized it. It was something that I needed to chase and catch.

  I gripped the fur as tightly as I could with my teeth. I shook my head a little, wrestling with it. It felt good. I braced my feet and began to drag the coat with me across the floor.

  The door banged open.

  “Max, no!” CJ wailed. I dropped the coat and ran to her, wagging. She was back! She’d hardly been gone any time at all, and now she was back!

  Sneakers perked up and leaped off the couch, making a beeline for the door, but CJ kicked it shut before the cat could get there and dropped to her knees to snatch the coat away from me.

  I thought that was unfair. I wasn’t done playing with it! Still, I didn’t intend to complain, not now that my girl was here. She stuffed the coat back in the closet, shut the door securely, grabbed both me and my leash, and hustled me out the door, pushing Sneakers back inside with her foot as we made it out into the hallway.

  That should let Sneakers know who was the more important pet, I thought in triumph. I got to go outside for walks with my girl, and Sneakers had to stay shut up inside, or at most make it out into the hallway. Obviously, dogs were much, much better than cats. I hoped she’d finally get the message.

  As soon as we were outside, CJ set me down.

  “Come on, Max, hurry up,” she muttered. “It’s just a fifteen-minute break. I’ve got to get back to class!”

  I was about to pee on a scraggly little bush when I caught a whiff of a familiar scent. It was a dog—a dog I’d met before. It was Baxter.

  I looked up and saw the big male and his owner walking down the sidewalk. In less than a minute, they’d turn onto the little walkway that led to the door of Jillian’s apartment building.

  Last time I’d met Baxter, CJ had picked me up before I’d managed to teach him to respect me. This was my chance! I sprang toward the street, barking loudly. CJ hadn’t been holding my leash very tightly, and I yanked it right out of her hand.

  Baxter saw me and heard me and smelled me, too. He lunged forward against his own leash. He didn’t bark; maybe he couldn’t, since his collar was so tight now he was breathing with little choking noises. But a low growl was starting deep in his chest, rising in his throat, spilling out between his teeth.

  “Max! No!” CJ shrieked.

  Baxter’s owner laughed as CJ raced after m
e and snatched me up. No fair! How was I supposed to teach Baxter the rules when I was up here and he was down there?

  I squirmed in CJ’s grip, but she didn’t let go. She backed away into a bush, holding me tight, as Baxter and his owner turned onto the walkway. Baxter was still straining against the leash, trying to get to us, and I was wrestling with CJ’s hands, trying to get down to him.

  “That runt needs to learn some street smarts!” Baxter’s owner said. He seemed to think something was funny.

  “Could you take Baxter in, please,” CJ said tightly. “I don’t want to put Max down while he’s here.”

  “At least one of you has some sense!” the man said, and he dragged Baxter, still growling, down the walk and inside the building.

  Once the doors slid shut behind the two of them, CJ put me down. I ran up to the glass door and barked ferociously at Baxter, but he didn’t even turn his head to look at me. What nerve!

  I went back to the bush and finished what I’d been doing. Then I looked up happily at CJ and wagged, ready to go places with my girl.

  But the next thing CJ did was very strange. She scooped me up and rushed me back inside the building! She didn’t even wait for the elevator, but ran up the stairs, holding me against her chest. It was a bumpy, jolting ride.

  Then she unlocked the door and dumped me inside next to Sneakers, shutting the door so quickly neither of us had time to get out.

  I sat back on my haunches and barked with dismay. Sneakers walked disdainfully away and lay down under Jillian’s desk. What had happened to my walk with CJ? Why had she rushed off like that?

  I barked once more and then left the door alone, feeling as if I needed to growl, except I wasn’t sure what to growl at. It wasn’t right that my girl kept leaving me. I’d been through a lot to find her, and now that I had, we were supposed to stay together. Why didn’t CJ realize this? Why did she keep going away?

  I forgave her, though, when she came back later and didn’t seem in such a rush. She petted me and Sneakers both. Then she took my leash and her backpack, and we went outside for a walk—a real walk, this time.