The New Kid (12 page)

Carson’s dad got into the act. He cut his Nor Cal T-shirt into strips. “It was only the price of a card,” he explained to Ella. Plus, he didn’t look that good in fluorescent green. He knotted the strips into a climbing rope.

Patrick made a hammock from one leg of his uniform pants.

“That should do it for now,” Ella said.

Carson’s dad provided some snacks, and everyone sat at the kitchen table and devoured them. The boys went out to play catch in the yard, but Genevieve interfered with the game.

Ella and Carson’s dad studied the Carnival Countdown announcement:

It wasn’t easy to take a close-up digital photo of every single rat pup, assign a name to each one, and print out every photo with the pup’s name attractively positioned underneath it.

But they had plenty of help from Patrick and Ella Tapp, who came over several times after day five to help socialize the ratlets.

Carson’s dad wasn’t ready for a lovefest with the baby rats, but he did have a flair for pup portraiture.

Carson and Patrick each took turns holding a pup in the palm of his hand while Carson’s dad zoomed in, careful to get a flattering shot of each one, which wasn’t difficult.

They were all so cute!

Carson really wished he could keep the white one with the perfect bow-shaped black marking. They named it Bosen Nibblenose: Bo for short.

After that black bow tie!

So stylin’!

The bow-tie shape would have been better under Bo’s neck than on the side of Bo’s head but still looked great!

Patrick and Carson researched information about the proper care of rats and how much fun they were to own. Patrick’s mom helped them write up the information.

They worked in Photoshop to design an attractive foldable brochure with Mrs. Nibblenose on the front, surrounded by her large litter.

When Carnival Day arrived, Carson and his dad showed up early and set up a card table with a sign that said:

Before setting up the table, they bought twenty twenty-five-cent raffle tickets from Ms. Pierson at the entrance.

“Thank you so much for taking on this project with the rat adoption,” she told Carson’s dad. “Very, very appreciated, I can assure you.” She rolled her eyes. “Jeepers creepers. Guess Skip Lipman will think twice before accepting any more classroom pets from people leaving the country.”

After they set up the table, Carson’s dad gave him five one-dollar bills to spend and then sat down at the table with his Porsche cap on crooked while Carson prowled around the carnival.

The five bucks was burning a hole in Carson’s pocket. He bought three tickets for the rubber-ducky pond in hopes of netting the rubber ducky with the gold star on the bottom. Ms. Parker was in charge of that one. If you got the gold-star rubber ducky, you could take your pick of prizes!

He gave Mr. Lipman one dollar for a tangerine-flavored sno-cone. His lips would turn orange, but he probably wouldn’t run into Nancy. She told him she wasn’t coming till the afternoon.

Mrs. Crabbly and Mrs. Sweetow were in charge of a booth Mrs. Sweetow constructed, where you tried to shoot a marshmallow through a hole in a piece of plywood with a slingshot. There were branches stapled to the plywood and a few beanbag squirrels in the branches with their mouths open and ratty tails. The sign above it said
SQUIRREL STASH
.

Mrs. Sweetow and Mrs. Crabbly were sitting in folding metal chairs, chatting.

Out of the corner of his eye, Carson saw Mrs. Crabbly’s squirrel pin, flicking its fuzzy tail and then chattering its teeth.

Shelly and Sydney were taking tickets and helping manage the booth. “Have you seen Weston?” Sydney called. “He signed up to help us.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“So far, he’s a no-show,” said Sydney.

A kid with the slingshot walked up close to the shooting line and misfired.

The marshmallow hit one of the toy squirrels, which fell off the branch and flopped onto the ground.

Mrs. Sweetow picked it up and put it back on a branch. “Get up there, you.”

“Not sure, but maybe he’s not showing up,” said Shelly, “because squirrels creep him out.”

Mrs. Crabbly looked over. “They do? What’s not to like about a squirrel?”

The beanbag squirrel plopped onto the ground again, landing on its back.

Everyone was quiet.

Carson checked out the Lily Pad Leap, where you tried to toss a rubber frog completely onto a large green paper lily pad without its legs hanging off.

He could have dominated that game but didn’t play because he was saving his last dollar for more important things: He snuck up on his dad with a pulled-pork sandwich.

“Watch out for drips!” he cautioned. But so what if his dad was messy sometimes? What other dad would sign up to sit at a card table for four and a half hours trying to locate responsible potential owners for baby rats?

People were already flocking to the table. Well, not flocking maybe, but already one interested party had come up to the rat table with her kid and had begun to browse through the rat portraits. “You promise
you will help feed and care for it?” the mom was asking her daughter, who was nodding her head to everything. “And help clean the cage, and put fresh water in the bottle? Look at this little guy! Bo. That’s a cute name! And it has a bow, too! Like a little bow tie, but in the wrong place! Isn’t that one adorable?”

The little girl nodded enthusiastically!

“Shall that be the one we choose?”

“Oh … I’m sorry,” said Carson’s dad before the kid had a chance to answer.

He glanced at Carson. “That one’s already been spoken for.”

The mom and daughter selected their second favorite, and the mom gave Carson’s dad her contact information.

“But only just Bo,” he told Carson after they walked away. “And nobody else. Not any more. I mean it, mister.”

Over the course of the next couple of hours, many families came to the adoption-information table, including several of Carson’s classmates and a few kids from Ms. Parker’s class.

Before the end of the carnival, seven families had
signed up for adoption, and of the seven families, four were taking two.

How lucky could Carson get?

He would be keeping Bo. Bo might enjoy a play pal.

He’d bring that up later.

Well, as it turned out, even luckier! He got the ducky with a gold star and won a raffle prize!

“How did I end up with a plug-in fake aquarium with phony fish in it?” Carson’s dad mumbled to himself as he and Carson headed to the car.

“Dollie contributed it. Put it in the guest room, Dad. Grandma and Grandpa like tropical fish!”

“These aren’t fish! They’re cardboard impostors! Covered with paper and glitter!”

“Well, we won’t have to buy fish food for them. Or clean the tank.”

“I guess that’s a point.”

“Can we get some real fish sometime?”

“That’s a maybe.”

“Can we go fishing at the pond sometime? When Grandma and Grandpa come?”

“You betcha.”

“Did I tell you Wes sleeps with a rubber bass screwed onto a board?”

“It’s screwed onto an actual board?”

“Yup.”

“Soft or hard rubber bass?”

“Medium.”

Carson’s dad took off his Porsche cap and scratched the top of his head. “Wow.” He put his hat back on and stared at Carson, from under the brim.

“There’s one small maroonish-brownish barbecue-sauce thumbprint under the bill of your hat, Dad.”

“There is?”

“Did you tip your hat hello to someone when you were eating?”

“I don’t recall.”

“How about after you were done?”

“Yes, I guess I did say hello to Eva’s aunt.”

“Will she be taking a rat?”

“I’m working on it.”

Nancy reminded Carson: “Stuffed Animal Day is coming up, Carson.”

Carson said he didn’t have a stuffed animal.

Nancy said, “Yes you do. What is it?”

She crossed her arms on her chest and then drummed her fingers near her elbow. “Come on. Spit it out.”

It was hard to lie with a straight face. “I’m serious! I don’t have one, I don’t!”

Whatever Moose was, wasn’t actually that easy to determine just by looking at him.

To begin with, his ears were bald. Carson had
concentrated on petting them quite a bit when he was young.

Then there was an issue with his antlers. There weren’t any. When Genevieve was a puppy, she got out of her crate one afternoon when Carson and his dad were grocery shopping.

The door hadn’t been properly latched.

When Carson and his dad returned, Genevieve was sitting in the crate, with the door wide open.

She was just lying quietly with her small dry nose resting between her paws, looking up at them.

At first, they didn’t know what was wrong.

Then they discovered the rumpled bedspread, sheets, and blankets.

And Moose, lying under the bathroom sink.

They saw the extent of his injuries. Apparently, Genevieve had burrowed under the covers where Moose was sleeping and damaged his tail quite a bit—she ate the tip off it.

She also consumed both antlers.

She devoured his dewlap: the floppy flap of cloth dangling from the front of his neck. Stuffing was coming out.

Off they all went to the Pasadena Animal Hospital. Dr. Tichenal took X-rays of Genevieve and admitted her for observation.

Carson sat Moose up on the counter in the waiting room next to a
WELCOME
sign.

Dr. Tichenal came out and quietly spoke with Carson’s dad about Genevieve’s situation.

Then he listened carefully to Moose’s heart and said Moose sounded good and told Carson that the missing antlers shouldn’t pose a problem. A moose sheds its antlers every year, anyway. And grows a new rack in the spring.

As for the dewlap, he could do without it. It didn’t serve a critical function. He was just as good-lookin’ without it.

Dr. Tichenal poked the stuffing back in and stitched closed the opening in Moose’s neck, stitched up the antler holes, and cropped and repaired the tail.

Carson asked, “Will Moose grow new antlers?”

Dr. Tichenal was honest: “Under this particular set of circumstances, I doubt it.”

He gave Carson a business card from a card holder. It said
Robert Tichenal, DVM
and had a small picture
of a dalmatian jumping over the letters with its tongue hanging out and its ears blown back.

“If you have any further questions or concerns about the moose, feel free to give me a call.”

They went home without Genevieve.

For two weeks after her stomach surgery, Genevieve had to wear a white plastic collar that looked like a satellite dish so she wouldn’t lick the surgery site. She walked backward around the house bonking into the furniture, but afterward she was fine. Good as new.

And five years later, Genevieve still was good as new.

Yay for Dr. Tichenal!

The best veterinarian in the world.

Carson put his hand on top of Genevieve’s head and then fiddled with her silky left ear. “Thank you, Dr. Titch,” he whispered.

Carson knew that not every veterinarian could so skillfully remove antlers from the belly of a puppy or would or listen so attentively for a heartbeat inside a stuffed animal that some scared little kid brought in, but he planned to be one of them.

Carson and Genevieve stood at the living room window, side by side, watching the huge raindrops plop onto the shiny deep-green leaves of the rhododendron plant on the other side of the windowpane. He opened the front door and they looked out. They breathed the cool, dark, damp fresh air. The wind lifted and tossed the branches in the yard. The trees in the distance were still black against the sky, but silver light was filling the air.

Thunder rolled.

His dad appeared behind them. “Would either of you like a cup of hot chocolate?”

“I would! Thanks, Dad.”

“Would either of you like a dog biscuit?”

Genevieve knew a little English.

She woofed.

A cup of hot chocolate did sound good, with a little puff of whipped cream on top.

Soon Carson and his dad were relaxing on the front porch on wicker chairs with flowered cushions, drinking hot chocolate and watching the rain gently falling past the motion light onto the dark lawn.

Genevieve was sitting at attention on the porch boards, head up and tongue out.

The biscuit was long gone.

She was on a leash, the loop trapped under a chair leg, because you never know about a dog and thunder.

It like smelled Montessori school, in the rain. Maybe it was the flowering azalea bushes. Raindrops were pooling in the petals. Carson thought of the honeysuckle bushes that grew on the fence around the Rainbow Ridge yard, where he harvested blossoms in the springtime and drank the nectar.