Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Not Growing Up (12 page)

I licked my lips. “It was all about the tartar sauce.”

And just like that, we were off and running, telling stories about the gross food, the boiling hot classrooms in the winter, the time there was the leak in the gym and the whole floor got warped, the time a mouse ran across the stage of the auditorium during a school assembly, which made everyone scream until Mrs. Sleep chased the mouse all the way to the art room, where she trapped it in an old shoe box, took it outside, and set it free in the woods behind the school while everyone cheered.

We told stories, and laughed and laughed, and suddenly it felt like things were going to be okay. Middle school was great, but high school would be great, too. And I bet the stories would end up being just as amazing.

Hannah was in the middle of telling everyone about the time her school bus got stuck in the mud during an intense rain storm, which meant all the kids had to walk back to school while it was pouring, when Moose suddenly started making this weird wheezing sound.

We all looked down. “What is it, boy?” said my dad. He looked concerned.

Moose kept wheezing. “Dad,” I said, “we should take him home.”

“Good idea.” Moose was lying down, so my dad tried to get him to his feet. “Come on Moose, let's go. Let's go home and get some treats.” But Moose wouldn't get up. His legs were trembling, and there was a little bit of drool coming out of his mouth.

My mom bent down and looked into Moose's eyes. They were glassy. “Moose isn't well,” said my mom. “We need to take him in.”

Tears sprung to the back of my eyes. “Take him in? What does that mean? Take him in where? I have graduation in an hour!”

“I'll go,” my dad told my mom. Then he looked at me. “I need to take him to the vet, just to see what's going on. I'm sure it's nothing. I'll meet you guys back here.”

“I'm coming with you,” I told my dad, without even thinking about it. “I'm coming with you and Moose.”

He shook his head. “Not a good idea. I don't know how long this will take. You can't miss graduation, Charlie Joe. I'm sorry. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Katie, just letting me know that she was there for me, whatever I decided to do.

“No,” I said. “I don't care about graduation. I'm coming with you to take care of Moose, and that's final.”

Megan put her hand on my other shoulder. “Charlie Joe, I'm sorry what I said about you feeding Moose too much human food,” she said. “This has nothing to do with that.”

“But it might!” I said, my voice cracking a little. “It might.”

My dad sighed, while my mom bent down and hugged Moose. She smiled up at me and nodded.

“Okay, Charlie Joe,” she said. “Go on with Dad. Just get our dog healthy and get back here as soon as you can, okay? We need you here. Both of you.”

“I will,” I said, as I hugged her and Katie goodbye. “I promise.”

We finally got Moose to his feet and into the car. “You'll be okay,” I kept repeating. “You'll be okay.”

I think I was trying to convince myself more than him.

 

FLASHBACK!!

After months and months of begging, pleading, whining, moaning, groaning, and occasionally whimpering, young Charlie Joe Jackson realized that the only way he was going to end up getting a dog was by asking nicely.

“Mom? Dad?” he said one day, in his sweetest, most loving voice. “I was wondering if perhaps someday we might be able to possibly get a wonderful young dog that would complete our family in a most delightful way?”

Well, he probably MEANT to say it that way. But, since he was only in kindergarten at the time, it probably came out more like, “I want a dog! NOW!!!!”

Charlie Joe's older sister, Megan, also wanted a dog, although she was much more polite about asking than Charlie Joe was. She was much more polite about
everything
than Charlie Joe was. Which was fine with him. Charlie Joe wasn't much interested in politeness.

What neither of the children knew, however, was that their father also wanted a dog. Mr. Jackson always had dogs when he was growing up, and had decided that it was time to take the plunge as an adult. He was ready!

It was Mrs. Jackson who was the last hold-out.

Charlie Joe loved his mother very, very much. He thought she was just about perfect. Why only “just about?” Because the only thing that she lacked was a desire to get a dog. Unlike her husband, Mrs. Jackson had not grown up with dogs. She did not consider herself a “dog person.” She worried about shedding, and pee stains, and loud barking at all hours of the night.

“Who will take care of it all day long?” she said. “I will, that's who.”

They all tried to argue with her, of course, but it was no use. Mainly because she was right.

Then, one day, a miracle happened. Charlie Joe was having his usual after-school bowl of cereal when his mom came into the kitchen.

“Patty Gibson called me this morning,” she said. “She heard about a beautiful lab who needs a home because the man who owns him just got married, and his new wife is allergic.”

Charlie Joe looked up at his mom, but didn't say anything. He didn't have to. She knew how her son felt. There wasn't anything he could say at that point that would have made a difference. It was up to her. So Charlie Joe waited. Hoped, and waited.

“I just talked to Dad on the phone,” she added. “The good thing is that the dog is about two years old, and fully housebroken.”

“That's good,” Charlie Joe said, trying to stay cool.

His mom sat down. “The dog is going to be brought over here tonight. We'll see how it goes for a week or so, and then make a final decision. No promises, okay?”

Charlie Joe nodded. “Okay,” he said, as calmly as possible, which wasn't easy, since he was screaming with excitement on the inside. “What's his name?”

“Oh jeez,” said his mom. “I forgot to ask.”

It took about twenty years for the next three hours to go by. Finally, at six-thirty, the doorbell rang. The whole family ran to open the door.

Charlie Joe didn't even notice the human who was standing there. All he saw was a huge yellow head staring up at him. With two huge brown eyes. And a tail the size of a baseball bat, smacking into the door frame.

“This is Moose,” said the person who was standing there.

Charlie Joe bent down and scratched Moose's ear. The dog gave out a soft, happy groan. “Hey, Moose. I'm Charlie Joe. Wanna come inside and play?”

And they were off and running.

For the first few days, Moose was a little wild. He was probably pretty nervous, because he was in a new place. And when Charlie Joe's mom tried to take Moose for walks, he nearly tore her arm off because he was so strong! But after a few days, he calmed down and even started taking short naps. Every night at dinner, the family would gather around and watch in amazement as Moose polished off his bowl in about three monster bites.

“He enjoys eating,” said Charlie Joe's mom, in the understatement of the year.

Then one night, after they'd had Moose for about five days, Charlie Joe's mom tucked Charlie Joe into bed and started reading him a story, just like she did every night. It was a funny story about a skunk that smelled like roses, which made all the other skunks make fun of him. But the rose-smelling skunk ends up becoming friends with a little girl, who saves the skunk family from being kicked out of their home, so the rose-smelling skunk ends up being a hero.

It was one of little Charlie Joe's favorite stories.

Halfway through the story, he felt something brush up against the blanket. It was Moose, coming to say hi.

“Is Moose allowed on the bed?” Charlie Joe asked his mom. “Just for tonight?”

She nodded. “He must want to hear the story, too,” she said.

“Come here, boy!” said Charlie Joe, and the big dog jumped up, put his giant paws on the pillow, and licked Charlie Joe's face with a big SLURP!

Moose slept on Charlie Joe's bed for the next nine years.

 

14

5:20 pm

The only thing dogs
hate more than finishing their dinner is going to the veterinarian.

Which is why Moose, who had been lethargic and groggy during the whole car ride, suddenly sprang to full attention when we pulled into Dr. Dixon's parking lot.

There's no way I'm going in there
, he said, without having to actually say it.

“Come on, Schmoo,” I said, using one of Moose's many nicknames. “This is important. We need to make you all better.”

Finally, we were able to talk Moose into going inside. He started to tremble a tiny bit as soon as we walked through the door. I think I might have been trembling, too.

“Well, hello!” said Dr. Dixon, in her incredibly friendly way. The weird thing about vets is that no matter how kind they might be to your animal, or how nice or awesome they are in general, you never want to see them. Because if you're with them, that means something's wrong with your pet.

Dr. Dixon was like that. She was one of the nicest people I'd ever met. But I was sorry to see her, as usual.

“What's going on, big fella?” she said, leaning down and scratching Moose's ear. Then she tried to give him a biscuit, but he wasn't interested. “Hmmm,” she said. I knew what that meant. Dogs are all about food. If they don't want to eat, you know something is really wrong.

“I'm going to take him inside for a quick look,” Dr. Dixon said. “Why don't you guys stay here for just a minute?”

“Can't we go with you?” I asked.

“Not quite yet,” the doctor said. “Don't want to make him too nervous.”

“He's nervous without me!” I petted Moose, to calm myself down as much as him.

“Just let Dr. Dixon do her work,” said my dad.

She led Moose into the next room. He went without complaint. I guess he trusted her.

For the next several minutes, I stared up at the TV that was playing in the waiting area, but I wasn't really watching it. There was one other person there, a woman sitting with a cat on her lap. The cat had one of those cone thingies around its neck, and he didn't look too happy about it. If the only thing that was wrong with Moose was that he needed a cone around his neck, I'd be the happiest person in the world.

My dad looked nervously at his watch. “We're going to be late,” he muttered, mainly to himself.