Smells Like Dog by Suzanne Selfors
He put his arm around Dog’s neck. “You’re the one who found it. One day we’ll be able to tell everyone the truth. But for now we’ll have to find a good hiding place for it. Until we’re ready to use it.”
Dog licked Homer’s face.
Edith moaned again. Homer might have felt sorry for her if she hadn’t been a carnivorous killing machine.
Dawn trickled through the park’s spindly trees. What if Lorelei came back? No telling what she’d do if she caught sight of the book. “We’d better get out of here.”
They were on the wrong side of the chain-link fence so they followed it until they found a loose seam. Homer squeezed through, then pulled the fence open for Dog. Together, they hurried through the park, retracing the steps they’d taken earlier with Lorelei. A street map was posted at the park’s entrance. Homer ran a finger along the map until he found the police station. With Mr. Twaddle dead and Madame la Directeur in the hospital, there was no one to press charges. The police officers would have to let Ajitabh and Zelda go.
Taxis and buses drove past, starting their morning routes. Dressed in overcoats and carrying briefcases, the first wave of office workers charged down the sidewalk. After an eight-block walk, Homer and Dog arrived at the police station just as Ajitabh and Zelda were walking down its front steps. Ajitabh’s face was scruffy with stubble and Zelda’s silver hair needed a good brushing. She held out her long arms. “You’re both safe,” she said, wrapping Homer in a hug. “But you’re soaking wet. What happened?”
What happened? What a question! If Homer had been the original Homer, the writer who had lived so very long ago, he might have spun the night’s events into a ballad that would be sung for centuries. Or he might have written a best-selling novel. But how could he tell the tale without including the lair?
“Um, we got caught in some sprinklers. What happened to you?”
Ajitabh ran his fingers over his mustache, smoothing it into place. “No one from the museum showed up to file trespassing charges. And of course they had no evidence that we were involved in the museum thefts.” He took off his flight jacket. “You’re shivering. Put this on.”
Homer peeled off his wet jacket and slid his arms through Ajitabh’s, which was warm with the inventor’s body heat. If only he had a new pair of pants to change into. And shoes. Dog didn’t seem one bit cold and his fur had already begun to dry.
“I say, you look rather ruffled,” Ajitabh said. “Why didn’t you go home?”
“Well…” Homer zipped up the jacket.
“You didn’t go searching for that lair, did you?” Zelda took a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped a smudge of dirt from Homer’s forehead. “Not all alone. That would have been too dangerous.”
“I didn’t look for the lair.” He hated lying to his uncle’s friends. “But look what I found in… Madame’s office!” He held up the reptile book.
They sat on a nearby bench. Ignoring the honks of passing cars and the stares of pedestrians who had never seen anyone like Zelda, they gazed at the pages of the book. Ajitabh took a sharp breath. “Brilliant spot to hide it, by Jove. Who would think of looking in such a boring book?”
Zelda ran a long finger over one of the map pieces. “Good thing the sprinklers didn’t ruin it.” She tilted her long neck and gazed down at Homer. “What made you look through a book about reptiles?”
“Um, no real reason. I just picked it up. It was kind of an accident.”
Ajitabh and Zelda shared a long look. Then Ajitabh laughed. “Sometimes the best things are found by accident. I discovered that I could make cloud cover only after my self-cleaning teakettle exploded.” He slapped Homer’s back. “Well done, my boy. Well done.”
“Yeah,” Homer said, looking down at Dog, who lay across his shoes. Well done.
“You must keep it safe,” Zelda said. “It’s the most coveted map in the treasure-hunting community.”
“I know.” They were looking at him again, their brows furrowed. The responsibility of protecting the map suddenly overwhelmed Homer, like a math test he hadn’t studied for. He shoved the book at Ajitabh. “You take it.”
Ajitabh held up his palms. “Oh no, my boy. Zelda and I have too many enemies. You, on the other hand, are the perfect person to guard such a map. No one would suspect that Rumpold Smeller’s map would be on a goat farm.” He gently pushed the book back onto Homer’s lap. “But you must keep it secret until the time is right for you to begin your quest.”
“When will that be?” Homer asked.
“Ah, the impatience of youth.” Ajitabh slapped Homer’s back again. “It will be soon enough. Now, we’d best be getting you to your family. No need for you to ride the train. I’ll take you back in the cloudcopter.”
“That’s great, because my train ticket’s completely ruined.” Homer dug the soggy slip of paper from his pocket.
Since Zelda could not comfortably fit into a taxicab or bus, they walked back to the museum. Dog trotted alongside Zelda’s big black boots, his leash secure in her giant hand. Homer held the book tightly beneath his arm. He’d never had so many secrets to keep. It certainly felt as if he’d begun a new chapter in his life, like starting a new grade in school, or moving to a different town, only better.
A janitor was dragging a pair of garbage cans down the walkway just as Homer and his entourage reached the museum grounds. The janitor left the cans next to the curb. Homer spotted his sister’s duffel and rescued it. He also retrieved his father’s cap from the bushes. Then he walked to the fake VIP entrance and grabbed the stuffed squirrel.
“What about the coin?” Ajitabh asked.
“Madame still has it,” Homer said. “I don’t think I’ll ever see it again.”
Ajitabh nodded. “We’ll be sure to get you a new one.”
Both cloudcopters sat undisturbed, camouflaged by fog and shrubbery. Zelda stretched her goggles over her forehead and tied her cloak beneath her chin. Homer felt a twinge of sadness as he realized that he was going to miss her. “I almost forgot,” he said. “Uncle Drake wrote in his letter that you can tell if something is a forgery. Can you tell me if this is a real Galileo Compass or a fake?”
Zelda swept her silver hair behind her shoulders, then removed a magnifying glass from her black bag. She took a long look at the compass. “This is the real thing, Homer. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, and I’m always not mistaken, this is the original. Didn’t Drake tell you?”
“The original?”
“Yes. The first one. Made by Gallileo’s grand-nephew.”
“Wow.” Homer forgot all about being cold and wet. “Can I sell it? Can I get enough money to build a new library?”
“You can get enough money to build two new libraries. I’m sure the Museum of Science and Technology would love to get their hands on this. Would you like me to handle the transaction for you?”
“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 cob
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
“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.
35
Some Final Things
Did 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.