Smells Like Dog (29 page)

“Yes, please.” Then Homer remembered something else. “And could you send some money to The City Public Library? Dog ate a bunch of their magazines.”

“Consider it done.” Zelda tucked the compass into her bag. “I’ll be seeing you very soon.” She hugged Homer and gave Dog’s rump a good scratching. His back legs did their little happy dance.

“You going straight home?” Ajitabh asked.

“I think I’ll pay a visit to the thirty-second floor of a certain office building. I may not be able to ride on an elevator, but I can certainly stick my head into an open window.” She climbed in and started up the engine. Then a smile spread across her wide face. “My oh my, won’t he be surprised!” After a wave good-bye, her ’copter rose into the morning sky and disappeared.

Homer, Ajitabh and Dog climbed into the other ’copter and secured their belts and goggles. This time,
Homer sat up front. “Plenty of fuel,” Ajitabh said after checking the gauge. “Commencing maximum cloud cover.” Homer’s stomach lurched as the ’copter lifted off the ground. Homer wondered if Lorelei was exploring her new lair. And what she would do with that nasty cobra.

When they had cleared The City and had reached flying altitude, Ajitabh reduced the cloud coverage. His dark face and hair came back into view.

“So, Homer, are you ever going to tell me what really happened back there with Madame?”

Homer fiddled with his Swiss army knife. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean, dear boy, is that you are not skilled at the art of deception.” Ajitabh pulled another flight jacket from under his seat and put it on. “You are a terrible liar.”

“I am?” Homer tucked the knife away. “I mean… I didn’t lie.”

Ajitabh raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, so maybe I didn’t tell you everything but I can’t tell you everything because I made a promise to someone.” He stifled a yawn. Even though he’d gotten a full day’s sleep in the tower, the ’copter’s gentle
whirring
was like a lullabye. His eyelids suddenly felt as if they had been painted with cement.

“A good man always keeps his promises,” Ajitabh said with a knowing smile.

Without intending to, Homer fell into a deep sleep. The ’copter ride was much faster than the train, so it was still morning when Ajitabh landed on a hill just behind the Pudding Farm. Ajitabh woke Homer with a gentle nudge.

Homer turned and looked at Dog, who was asleep in one of the back seats. “My dad doesn’t want to keep him,” he said. “I’m going to ask him again, but if he says no…”

“Do not worry,” Ajitabh said gently. “I will give Dog a home. And then you can see him whenever you come and see me. He’ll still be your hound.”

“You’ll take good care of him? He’s very… special.”

“I’ll take good care of him.”

“You’ll remember that he can’t smell? That he needs to be watched so he doesn’t eat anything poisonous?”

“Yes. I’ll remember.”

Dog opened his eyes and sat up. Homer slid into the back and hugged him, long and hard. His heart felt like it might stop beating. He didn’t want to cry, so he jumped out of the ’copter. Ajitabh tossed him the duffel bag and Mr. Pudding’s cap. “When will I see you again?” Homer asked as he stood in the soft, green spring grass.

“As soon as I get word of the next L.O.S.T. meeting,
I’ll come and get you. You’ll need to present yourself to make your membership official.”

“Okay.”

Ajitabh leaned over the side of the copter. “Excellent job and all that, Homer Pudding. You are a true treasure hunter, through and through. Keep the flight jacket and goggles. You’ll be needing them the next time we meet.”

“Urrrr.” Dog stood at the edge of the ’copter and wagged his tail. Ajitabh reached out and grabbed his collar so he wouldn’t jump. Homer couldn’t bear to look at Dog.

In the beginning I said that this would not be a sad dog story. And I said that there’s nothing worse than not knowing if a dog is going to live or die. Well, there’s something that comes close and that’s having to say good-bye to a dog.

“Would you wait, just for a bit, while I ask my father? Just in case he changes his mind?”

“Only for a moment. I can’t risk being spotted.”

Homer tucked the reptile book and cap under his arm, picked up Gwendolyn’s duffel bag, and raced down the hill. When he caught sight of his farm, the red barn with its sagging roof, the little stone house and the red truck parked out front, he ran even faster. So much had happened, it felt as if he’d been gone for a lifetime.

The farm dogs raced up the hill, barking and wagging their tails. Homer petted them as they circled, sniffing excitedly. They couldn’t believe the scents that clung to him—lair water, mutant tortoise, and rat! Mr. Pudding was just leading the goats into the lower pasture when he looked up and saw Homer running toward him. Homer waved uncertainly, a bit afraid that his father was going to start hollering.

He couldn’t remember his father ever looking so tired. The rims of his eyes were as red as Dog’s. His expression was neither one of anger nor happiness. He just stared as if he’d never seen Homer before.

Homer set down the duffel bag. “Dad… I… I…”

Mr. Pudding rushed forward and gathered Homer into a powerful hug. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have put your things in the attic. Don’t ever run away again. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The familiar smell of hay, soap, and engine oil, and the softness of his father’s voice nearly brought Homer to tears. “I won’t run away, Dad. I promise.” Then he held out his father’s cap. Mr. Pudding smiled and set it on his head.

“I’ve been missing this,” he said. “I see you’ve brought back your sister’s things. She’s been right miserable since losing them.” Then he looked around. “So, where’s that dog of yours?”

The words flew out of Homer’s mouth. His lips could barely keep up. “Dad, can I please keep him? He’s a great dog. I promise he won’t get into any more trouble. I’ll fill in all his holes and I’ll make sure he doesn’t drink paint. And I won’t let him sleep on the bed and—”

“Hold on there.” Mr. Pudding rubbed the back of his neck. A goat stuck its head into the duffel bag. Another tried to nibble on the reptile book but Homer pushed it away. “Don’t you worry none,” his father said. “Your mother and I had a long talk. Taking care of that dog will be good for you. And Squeak likes him, too.”

“He can stay?”

“Yep. He’s not much to look at and he can’t herd worth a darn but I’m sure we can find something for him to do around here.” Mr. Pudding took the duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. “So, where is he?”

Homer was already racing back across the field.
Please be there, please be there,
he thought as he pumped his arm. “DOG!” he called. The cloudcopter had landed behind a grove of birch trees, but Homer couldn’t tell if it was still there.
Please be there, please be there.
“DOG!”

“Howooo!”

Dog galloped out of the birch grove, his rope leash dragging behind, his ears flapping like wings. “You can stay,” Homer called out, then he crouched in the grass. “Dad’s gonna let you stay.” Dog licked Homer’s face
and Homer didn’t mind one bit that the kiss was extra slobbery. He pressed his nose against Dog’s soft ear and inhaled the dog scent he’d come to love. Then Homer looked to the sky and waved as a little cloud floated away.

When they’d caught up with Mr. Pudding, Homer remembered his big news. “Hey, Dad, you know that compass that Uncle Drake gave me? Well, it turned out to be a very rare compass and the Museum of Science and Technology is going to buy it and it will be enough money to build a new library.”

“You sold your compass?” Mr. Pudding frowned. “But Homer, you loved that compass.”

“Yeah, but I loved the library, too.”

Mr. Pudding put a hand on Homer’s shoulder. “I’m right proud of you, son. Giving up something you love isn’t an easy thing to do.”

“You gave up something you loved, too, didn’t you, Dad? To run the farm.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“What was it?”

Mr. Pudding stopped walking and turned to look at Homer. “This may surprise you but I was going to go to college to become a cartographer.”

Homer remembered the angry conversation between his uncle and his father. Mr. Pudding had given up his
dream so that he could take care of the farm. So that his older brother could be free to scale mountains and search the ocean floor. It was one of the most heroic things Homer had ever heard.

“Guess you get your love of maps from me,” his father said.

Homer’s eyes widened. At that moment his father looked like a completely different person. Sure, he was wearing his usual overalls, and his cap, and his work boots, and sure, he still had those lines on his face from the long hours that farm life requires, but there was a little sparkle in his smile that Homer hadn’t seen in a very long time.

“You want to look at some of my maps?” Homer asked.

“That sounds nice. I’m sorry I took them away. Let’s get them back onto your walls where they belong.” Then his gaze fell on the book in Homer’s hand. “That something new?”

“Yeah. I got it in The City.”

“Well, you’d better find a place for it on your shelf.”

“I will.”

Picking up a fox’s scent, Max, Gus, and Lulu started barking as they raced across the field. Dog trotted after them, his ears swaying, his saggy skin jiggling, his tail held high.

In the back of his mind, Homer heard Lorelei’s voice.

“You know, Homer, when Odysseus finally got home, the only one who recognized him was his faithful dog. He could smell him.”

Homer laughed out loud.

D
id you know that if you feed lettuce, water bugs, and bits of chopped apple to a tortoise, then it will grow to be a happy, docile creature who wants nothing more than to spend a leisurely day sunning itself on a rock? But if you feed it steroids and nuclear reactor waste, which is what Madame fed to Edith, then it will become an angry, flesh-eating killing machine.

Fortunately, as Edith lay beached, her stomach uncomfortably bloated, the City Park groundskeeper, Morton
Bun, took pity upon her and from that moment on, he nursed her back to health on a strict diet of celery water and saltines. And when she returned to her normal size, she joined the other park tortoises. If you visit City Park, you can find Edith sunning with the others. She’s the one with the extra saggy skin.

And did you know that if steroids and nuclear reactor waste pollute a city park’s lake, then the lake water will turn murky and all the trees around that lake will turn sickly? It’s true. Fortunately, Morton Bun knew that tortoise poop makes excellent fertilizer and he was able to nurse the trees back to health.

As Lorelei had promised, a bunch of boxes arrived at the Pudding Farm a few days later, filled with Uncle Drake’s things. And attached to one of the boxes was a letter that Homer only read to himself.

Unfortunately, there was no L.O.S.T. coin in the boxes.
She must not have found it,
Homer thought. He wanted to trust her. Wanted to call her his friend again. So he pushed any suspicions from his mind.

And on that same day, another letter arrived.

And when Homer and Gwendolyn walked to school the day after Homer’s return, Carlotta joined them.

“Hi, Homer.” Homer peered over the edge of his book:
Rare Reptiles I Caught and Stuffed
. Carlotta swung her lunch basket and smiled. “Where’ve you been? Have you been sick? Did you do your report yet?”