Max's Story Read online

  I pulled CJ along the sidewalk, my nose down, enjoying all the smells. My ears twitched to the whoosh of cars rushing past, the blasts of music from the windows, the words from the people we passed on the street—sometimes angry, sometimes happy, sometimes calm, always loud enough to be heard over the noise all around us.

  It was marvelous, after a morning in the quiet apartment, to be out here with the sounds and the smells and all the feet on every side. When we got to the hole in the sidewalk with stairs going down, CJ hesitated once more at the top.

  I did not want to hesitate, however. Warm air gusted up, full of smells I had never met before—metal, oil, something warm and mechanical that almost seemed alive in a strange new way. I started down the steps eagerly, towing CJ after me.

  At the bottom of the stairs, CJ stood and fiddled with a machine against a wall for a while, and then picked me up and carried me through a strange sort of gate. Once we were on the other side, she stopped and looked around. There were several staircases here, and hallways that led off in different directions, and people hurrying past.

  “Cute dog!” someone said.

  A woman in a long, rippling dress stopped to smile at us, reaching out to me. “Gentle, Max!” CJ said firmly.

  “Gentle, Max!” usually meant a treat. I looked around alertly for something tasty to eat. It didn’t come, but as I was waiting for it, the lady in the dress gave my ears a quick scratch.

  “Such a sweetie,” the woman said, smiling.

  I looked up impatiently at CJ. Where was my treat?

  “Thanks,” CJ said. She still didn’t remember to reward me for winning the game. I was starting to learn that people do not always remember to play games properly. They’re still better than cats, though.

  “Um, do you know which train I take to get to Central Park?” CJ asked the woman.

  “Try the C line. Downtown,” the woman said. When CJ still looked confused, she pointed. “Use that staircase. But the rule is no dogs unless they’re in a bag.”

  “Oh.” CJ sounded dismayed. “I didn’t know that. Maybe we shouldn’t have…”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” the woman said cheerfully. “You’ve got a backpack; use that. People get quite creative—look over there!” She pointed, and CJ’s head turned. I looked where my girl was looking.

  A man was walking up one of the staircases, and he had a backpack on his back. A beagle with soft, floppy ears was inside the backpack! Its back legs were in the pack, and its front legs and head rested on the man’s shoulder. They both seemed content. The man walked quickly by us without stopping, and CJ’s eyes widened in amazement.

  I stared, too. It seemed like an odd way for a dog to be with his human. I’d rather be walking, pulling CJ along on the leash, leading us wherever we should go. How would that beagle protect his person if they ran into something dangerous?

  But CJ must have thought it was a good idea, because after the woman in the dress waved good-bye, my girl sat down on a bench and put me beside her. Then she took off her backpack, rearranged her papers and pencils and markers so that they all fit in a single section, picked me up, and tucked me inside another.

  This part of the backpack was big enough to hold my whole body, and I wasn’t any too pleased about being in there. It was dark and it shut me in from all the interesting smells around me. I shook my head and barked and scrabbled with my paws.

  “Easy, Max, wait a second!” CJ said. I heard the buzzing sound of a zipper, and then there was a space for me to poke my head out. That was better. I could see and smell what was happening and keep an eye on CJ.

  “Just be good,” CJ told me. “Good Max.” She fed me a few treats and petted me until I finally got the idea that she wanted me to stay in this strange place. It was odd, but I supposed I could do it, for a little while. Since it was CJ who was asking.

  She didn’t put the backpack on her back, like the beagle’s owner had done. I was glad about that. She held me in her arms and carried me down the stairs. There was a cement platform at the bottom, with some other people waiting. We joined them.

  Lower than the platform where we were standing, two metal tracks ran a long distance, disappearing into a tunnel to the right and another one to the left. I kept my head out of the backpack, peering around with interest, and then I perked up my ears and strained my nose, sniffing as hard as I could.

  Something was coming.

  I felt puffs of hot air swirling around me, ruffling my fur. The air smelled even more strongly of what I had first noticed when I had been standing on the sidewalk—something metallic and oily, but different from the cars that whizzed back and forth on the streets. Something dark and mysterious and exciting.

  Now it was arriving.

  It came out of a dark tunnel with a roar and a flash of bright light. I squirmed to get out of the backpack, trying to get a good look at the thing as it rocketed past us, but CJ held me tightly. I even barked at it, wanting it to slow down so I could see it better.

  A few people nearby chuckled.

  Then the thing did slow down to a creaky stop in front of us. Doors slid open, just like the elevator doors. Inside there were lights and people. Lots of people. Some were sitting on brightly colored seats; some were standing and holding on to shiny metal poles. Together the people and the train made up the smell that had so puzzled me. Metal and oil and heat and human beings, all together.

  “Okay, here’s the train,” CJ muttered. She took a deep breath and carried me inside.

  We found a seat next to a window, and CJ set both me and the backpack on her lap. With my rear legs and rump inside the pack, I put my front paws up against the glass as we began to move. This thing called a train, I realized, was something like the car I had ridden in to get to the park where I’d first met CJ. It was moving, like that car, and it would take me somewhere new.

  Meanwhile, I wished I could get my nose out of the window to sniff up the rushing air outside. I could tell it smelled wonderful, of dirt and damp and garbage and small scuttling animals. CJ made a funny little sound when she saw one of those scamper across the tracks, dragging a strange, hairless tail. But I wished I could get out and chase it. It would be even better than the collar of Jillian’s coat.

  The train raced along, rocking us both gently. It stopped and started again and again. After one of the stops, a woman, older than CJ, got on the train and sat down on the seat next to us. She had long brown hair that spilled down around her shoulders and dangling earrings that made fascinating tinkling noises, but I was much more interested in what she had on her lap.

  It was a soft cloth carrier, sort of a cube, with a handle on top and mesh panels on all four sides. And peeking out of one panel was a dog!

  It was a small dog (although, I had to admit it, still a bit bigger than me) with floppy white fur that fell over its face. I squirmed around in the backpack so that I could get my nose closer. The new dog was a female, and she smelled scared. She didn’t like her carrier, I could tell. She didn’t like the rocking and rattling of the train. So she wasn’t in any mood to challenge me or try to tell me what to do.

  I touched my nose to the mesh panel, but the dog inside was so unhappy, she was not even interested in sniffing me back. She just curled up with her muzzle down on her paws, ignoring me. How dull. Looking out the window was more fun, so I turned back to that.

  When the train stopped again, the woman got up without a word and took her carrier and her dog with her.

  “You were a good boy, Max,” CJ said softly to me. “I guess that’s how New Yorkers do it, huh? If you don’t bother people on the subway, they don’t bother you.”

  The next time the train stopped, CJ got up and carried me out. We went up some more stairs and out onto the sidewalk, where Stella was standing, waving wildly at CJ.

  She wasn’t wearing boots today; instead, she had on silver sandals with black stars on them. “See, you did it!” she said happily when CJ and I got to her side. “You rode the s
ubway! Totally like a real New Yorker. And I’m so glad you brought Max! Look, I got some treats for him. Let’s see if he remembers me. Gentle, Max!”

  Stella remembered how to play Gentle, Max better than CJ did. I got two treats from her, plus a reasonably good ear scratch.

  Then CJ set me down and I noticed something. There was a stone wall next to the sidewalk, and a gate in the wall. On the other side of that gate I could smell warm dirt and grass and growing things. I could also smell that other dogs had been through the gate. Lots of other dogs.

  I pulled CJ toward it. “Look, Max knows where we’re going!” Stella said. “I told you he’d like Central Park! And it’s your first real New York landmark, right, CJ? Come on, let’s go!”

  Many of the dogs had left their marks on the gate or the wall. I added my own, on top, as it should be, to tell them all who had been here. Me, Max. Then I led us all through into a park, sort of like the one where I had first met CJ. But bigger. Much, much bigger.

  Paths branched and curved over lawns of smooth grass. There were trees and bushes and garbage cans that I could smell from where we stood. And there were people—walking and running along the paths, riding bikes, pushing strollers. Some stretched out on the grass or sat on benches, reading books or holding papers or tapping on their phones.

  I set off into the park, pulling CJ along behind me. She and Stella kept talking as I sniffed and sniffed. So many dogs had been along this path—too many to keep track of! Some marks were fresh; others were fading. Those dogs were about to meet me, and I had to show them who I was. That I was Max.

  11

  “I don’t know,” I heard CJ say to Stella as I towed her over to a garbage can. “Everybody else is so much better than I am. It was one thing to be good at art back home, but here…”

  A half-full cup of ice cream had landed on the pavement beside the can, oozing chocolate goop into a nearby wrapper smeared with grease and ketchup. Wonderful!

  “Don’t be dumb,” Stella said.

  “Oh, thanks, that’s nice,” CJ answered.

  “No, really. They don’t let you into this program if you don’t have talent! How many times did you apply?”

  “Just this time.”

  “Seriously? I tried for three years to get in before I made it. See what I mean?”

  “Well, maybe— Max! Stop that!” CJ pulled at my leash to drag me away before I’d finished. Oh, well. There were many other interesting smells to investigate.

  I led the girls farther into the park, my nose busy with every step. Sometimes their words drifted to my ears between sniffs.

  When I heard my name, my ears perked up.

  “She said you can’t keep Max? CJ, that’s so unfair! It’s horrible!”

  “I know it is! I know it’s horrible!” CJ said, and her voice wavered. “She just … she doesn’t like dogs at all. She doesn’t get it, how puppies act. And what am I supposed to do about it? It’s not like I can just leave and take Max with me!”

  I hesitated. It sounded like my girl needed me to take care of her … but there was something interesting up ahead. A smell was wafting toward me on a warm breeze that pulled all my attention forward.

  I’d take care of CJ later. After all, I’d always be her dog. Right now, I had to sniff.

  “So I’ve got to find him a new home. I’ve got to. Before next Tuesday!” CJ went on. “Or he has to go back to the shelter.”

  “Poor Max!”

  Poor Max didn’t seem to be the same thing as Gentle, Max. It did not involve treats. So I focused on the smell up ahead. My entire body tensed. My ears tipped forward. My tail went up.

  Dogs. I could smell dogs.

  I charged ahead, pulling CJ behind me. We cut through a little stand of trees and into a meadow where dogs were running everywhere.

  Some of them were chasing Frisbees or balls that their owners had thrown. Some were just racing in big circles, barking with delight. A few were snoozing under trees. This was much bigger than the dog park near Jillian’s apartment, and there were many more dogs. All of them were about to find out that I was Max!

  I quivered and barked until CJ took off my leash, and then I charged straight ahead.

  I heard Stella gasp. “Oh, Max, no!” she cried out. “That’s a rottweiler!”

  “It’s okay,” I heard CJ reassure her. “Max can handle anything.”

  Then I stopped listening to them, because all my attention was focused on the dog heading for me.

  He was huge. His jowly head was the size of my entire body! His muzzle and feet were brown; his body was black and seemed made entirely of muscle.

  He bounded forward, excitement in his eyes, his ears flapping in the wind. I raced to meet him. Just before he got to me, he bowed down on the grass, front legs low, back legs high, stump of a tail wiggling energetically. Everything about him said, “Let’s play!”

  I paused and stood as tall as I could. This brought me to eye level with him, since his chin was on the grass.

  He stayed down in his bow, his tail wagging harder than ever. He knew I was in charge. He knew that I was Max. That was good.

  Now we could have fun.

  I bowed back, and he dashed away, so I chased him. He didn’t run too fast, though, and he kept looking back at me, which slowed him down. That meant I could stay close at his heels. We made a big loop over the grass and doubled back toward CJ and Stella.

  Then the rottweiler flopped down on his back on the grass. I knew what to do! I charged for his face, biting at his muzzle. They were pretend bites; I didn’t intend to hurt him. We were just playing. Even so, I still planned to win.

  He swatted me aside with an enormous paw, and I went tumbling in the grass. I heard CJ cry out, “Oh!” but I didn’t stop. I just rolled upright and charged back at my friend and opponent.

  He was still lying down, so I seized one ear and tugged at it. He rolled. I flopped down on top of his head and tried to wrestle him down. He got up and shook his head, sending me onto my nose on the ground.

  I heard CJ and Stella laughing, but I didn’t stop. “Boy, that’s one fierce little guy!” said a new voice.

  A young man was standing over us with a leash. “Come on, Tigger,” he said, clipping the leash onto the rottweiler’s collar. “Time to go.”

  I stood and barked after my new friend as his owner led him away. I wasn’t done playing! But he didn’t come back, and I was a little tired, so I came over to CJ and lay beside her for a rest.

  Stella and CJ and I played Gentle, Max for a while with Stella’s treats, and as we did, the girls talked.

  “It’s so unfair that your mom’s friend won’t let you keep him. He’s completely adorable!” Stella said, stroking my back after she’d given me a treat. I allowed it. I was busy chewing anyway.

  “He’s not adorable with everybody,” CJ said with a sigh. “But he’s learning. He really is! I wish you could take him.”

  “I wish I could, too,” Stella said sadly, taking her hand away. “My little sister’s allergic to everything. Mom says we can get a goldfish, but who wants a goldfish? I want a pet I can pet. CJ, there’s got to be something you can do. It’s too bad you and Max can’t run away together. Do you know that book about the two kids who run away to the Met? The big art museum? That would be cool, living in an art museum.”

  “I think…” CJ stopped petting me and hesitated for a moment. “Running away isn’t as easy as it sounds in books,” she said at last. “Or I’d do it. I’d take Max and run back home, anyway.”

  “CJ, you can’t just leave art school right in the middle!” Stella said.

  CJ shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t drive, and I don’t have money for the bus, and I’m not about to hitchhike. Anyway, my mom’s not there. She took off for the summer. So the house is all shut up.”

  “Okay, I wasn’t serious about running away,” Stella told her. “Even to the Met. So let’s think. Max can’t stay with you, and he can’t stay with me, and you can�
�t take him home.”

  “There are millions of people in this city,” CJ said glumly, taking a turn with the scratching. “And none of them want Max.”

  “Come on, that’s way too gloomy, CJ. It’s not like you’ve asked every single person in New York! I’ll help. What have you tried?”

  “I put up a notice in the lobby of Jillian’s apartment building,” CJ said. “And one at school. With my phone number. But nobody’s called yet.”

  “I saw that one on the school bulletin board. But CJ, it doesn’t even have a picture of Max! And you only put up two? That’s not enough. We have to get the word out way wider than that.”

  “I asked all my dog-walking clients. But they have dogs already. I mean, obviously. What else am I supposed to do? Back home I’d talk to all my friends, and the teachers at school, and everybody I know. But here—I don’t even know anybody else to ask!”

  “Everybody,” Stella said firmly. “We’ll ask everybody. Posters, for a start. With a photo of Max!” She took out her phone from her pocket, but then she put it back. “No, there’s a better way. CJ, you’ve got to draw a picture of him.”

  “Me?” CJ sounded startled. I perked up my ears and looked around alertly, in case there was a threat to my girl nearby.

  But nothing seemed alarming, so I lowered my head and leaned it into CJ’s fingers for more scratching.

  “Of course! I saw that painting you did a few days ago. Of the brown dog? That’s your dog back home, right?”

  “Yeah. Molly. Jenna said it was ‘cute,’” CJ said with a sigh.

  “Oh, forget Jenna. It was completely adorable! Way better than a photo. Go on, do a drawing of Max right now. And we’ll get it made up into a poster and put them all over the neighborhood. It’ll work. I know it will.”

  To my dismay, CJ stopped scratching in order to get a pad of paper and a packet of long, thin sticks out of her bag. She looked carefully at me and began to make scratching motions on the paper with the tip of one of the sticks.

  Why would anybody want to scratch paper instead of a dog? Since CJ had transferred her attention from me to this strange activity with the sticks, I was ready to do more running and to find another friend to wrestle with. But Stella fed me more treats so I stayed put for a little while.