Webster Page 10

  “Well, finally!” a voice said.

  A British accent. Florence.

  “And what do you have to say for yourself?” she asked, tapping a paw testily on the floor. “Joan and Thomas have been beside themselves with worry.”

  Did they like him that much? Hard to believe. “Um, that I’m powerless to change the tides of my destiny,” he said.

  “Balderdash,” Florence said.

  That was another interpretation, yeah. “What do you want from me?” the dog asked. “I’m bad.”

  “I don’t know about that, but you are certainly obstinate,” Florence said. “And rather willful.”

  Probably. “I’m also really hungry,” he said.

  Florence looked at him with critical, crooked eyes. Then, she turned around clumsily and began stumping down the hall. “Very well,” she said. “Follow me.”

  Didn’t have to ask him twice. “Keep in mind, I’m only stopping by,” the Bad Hat said, as he trailed behind her. “I’ll be on my way after I say hello to everyone.”

  “Oh, no doubt,” Florence agreed. “I daresay you won’t even pause to have anything to eat before you go.”

  What a cruel and awful thought. “I might have a few bites,” the Bad Hat said. “Just to be polite.”

  Florence nodded. “And I’m sure you won’t want to stick around to see a movie, or anything of that nature, either.”

  She was really boxing him into an uncomfortable corner, wasn’t she? “Well, if you think it would be good manners, I will,” he said. “But, that’s it. After that, I am gone, for good. You can count on that.”

  Florence smiled. “If you say so.”

  He did. Emphatically.

  More or less.

  CHAPTER TEN

  They went straight to the den, which was crowded with animals, eating and chatting and looking cheerful.

  “If it isn’t Wayward Webster, the Prodigal Punk,” Benjamin said.

  “You’re back!” Duke said happily.

  Yep. Here he was. “Hi, Benjamin,” the Bad Hat said. “Hi, Duke.”

  Duke shook his head. “No, I’m Marquess now.”

  Seriously? The Bad Hat turned to stare at Florence. “You demoted him? Why?”

  “He didn’t bring you home with him,” Florence said. “That was his assignment, and he failed to complete it.”

  “Well, I’m here now,” the Bad Hat said. “Doesn’t that count?”

  Florence delicately nibbled a piece of kibble, taking her own sweet time, before answering. “I’ll think about it.”

  “That’s really mean,” the Bad Hat said. “You’re like, evil to the core.”

  Florence shrugged, her expression not even remotely perturbed. “I’m a cat.”

  Well, yeah, that pretty much spoke for itself, didn’t it. “He made some very good arguments,” the Bad Hat said. “It’s not his fault that I’m, you know, incorrigible.”

  “True,” Florence agreed, “but what am I going to do, start calling you the Really Bad Hat?”

  Hmmm, he sort of liked that. It maybe even capture his, you know, essence. But, it didn’t exactly come tripping lightly off the tongue, did it?

  The Bad Hat turned back to Duke. “Marquess, you’ve just been upgraded. You’re Duke again.”

  Duke’s eyes glistened with tears. “Really? You wouldn’t joke about a thing like that, would you?”

  “Nope, I’m a dog, we don’t play the game that way,” the Bad Hat said. “You have officially been promoted.”

  “Oh my goodness,” Duke said, sounding as though he was completely overcome. “Wow. This is wonderful news. Glorious news! I have so many animals to thank.”

  Everyone in the room turned, cooperatively, to look at him.

  “Where to begin? Well, I never met my father,” Duke said. “But, I’m sure he was a brave and strong Shepherd, and that I should be proud to be his son. My mother took such wonderful care of me and my brothers. Five pups! My goodness, we were a handful. But she never complained, and she was never cross. Naturally, she always used to call me Lambie-pie. ‘Lambie-pie,’ she would say, ‘don’t mind your brothers when they tease you, because you have such a good heart, and I love you.’ ”

  The Bad Hat had a sneaking suspicion that this was going to be a very long thank-you speech.

  “I know that Lambie-pie is a very common nickname,” Duke said.

  Really? Since when? The Bad Hat glanced at MacNulty, who shrugged.

  “But,” Duke went on, “I still always felt special when she called me that. After the nice people rescued us from the puppy mill, and we went to the service place and everything, my family got separated, and I miss them terribly. And so, I want to thank my dear brothers and mother, along with the lovely rescue people, whose names were—” He stopped. “Well, I’m sure they had very good names, just like Jan and Tim, who are so kind to us here on the farm.”

  Jan and Tim. The Bad Hat didn’t laugh, because everything Duke said was so clearly genuine and spoken from the heart. But, it was hard to keep a straight face.

  “Oh, and the cooking lady!” Duke said. “I can’t forget her! I feel so happy every time I see her. And, of course, I want to thank all of the volunteers, even the ones whose names I don’t know.” Duke frowned. “Which is mostly all of them, I guess. But, still, I love them very much.”

  “Don’t forget to thank the Academy, and your agent,” Benjamin said.

  Duke nodded. “Yes, of course. I want to thank the Academy of—um, Cats and Dogs, and my agent, who I didn’t know I had, but who I’m sure I really appreciate. And I want to thank every animal here at our rescue home, especially Florence and Mad Cap and—”

  “The orchestra has started playing,” Benjamin said, twirling one paw in the air. “You need to wrap it up, so we can go to commercial.”

  “Okay,” Duke said agreeably. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, everyone! And—I really like all of you. I do! And I hope you like me, too. Thank you!”

  Now that the speech was finally over, all of the animals in the room applauded.

  “All right, then,” Florence said, after a moment. “That was a unique diversion. Thank you, Duke.”

  Duke smiled shyly, and ducked his head.

  The Bad Hat looked around the room until he located Jack, who was up on a love seat, with a smug expression.

  “Did you have gravy?” he asked.

  Jack nodded. “With our suppers. For lunch, we had fresh chicken mixed into our food!”

  The Bad Hat loved chicken. “Well, I had fresh chicken, too,” he said. “In fact, I killed it, and ate it raw, right in the middle of Main Street!”

  There was a brief, pensive silence in the room.

  “Yuck,” Matilda, the Spaniel mix, said. “That must have been messy.”

  “And I don’t think this town has an actual Main Street,” Kerry, the sly multicolored cat, said. “So, your story is unconvincing.”

  Foiled again. “Okay, it was fried chicken,” the Bad Hat said. “A drumstick. I found it in a trash can.”

  “Yummy!” Duke said, and the other dogs nodded happily, while the cats all winced.

  He climbed up onto the love seat next to Jack. “You really shouldn’t have abandoned me like that today,” he said quietly.

  “You left me last night, during the storm,” Jack said. “So, now we’re even.”

  Okay, fair enough.

  The Bad Hat was surprised by how glad he was to see everyone—and how happy the rest of them seemed to be to see him. Not that he would be giving up his life on the run or anything, but he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had acted as though they were pleased to have him around.

  “You and Jack were on the news tonight,” Cole said, before the dog even had a chance to tell them about any of the impressive experiences he had had so far.

  The Bad Hat stopped chewing his kibble. “What do you mean?”

  Cole gestured towards Madeline, who was a very large tiger cat. “She saw it on the televisio
n in the kitchen, when she was teasing Monica for scraps.”

  “No. I was helping her cook,” Madeline corrected him.

  Well, whatever. “Did they report that I was impressing and enthralling the entire town?” the Bad Hat asked. Except that sounded awfully cuddly for a Bad Hat. “Or, I don’t know, maybe that I was terrorizing and alarming people? And that all of the villagers now tremble at the very thought of me? And that the police have issued a BOLO?” Be on the lookout.

  Madeline shook her head. “They said that Jack was saving people. A man who was going to drown, and a baby who was playing in traffic—and I forget what else.”

  Figures. “That he was saving them?” the Bad Hat asked.

  Jack looked even more smug. “They said I’m a hero. I’m sure to get adopted now.”

  “A couple of the people said that there was a mysterious black dog nearby, too. They described you as a black Lab with no collar, and asked your owners to come forward, so that you could be reunited with them,” Madeline said.

  Florence looked grim. “And poor Joan and Thomas rushed right over to the news station, thinking that you were actually there, waiting for them. That’s how the reporters made it sound.”

  How ridiculous. “The guy who drowned said Jack pulled him to shore?” the Bad Hat said. “Some tiny little Terrier dragged a huge guy out of the water, all by himself?”

  Madeline nodded. “They interviewed him, and he said he wasn’t sure, but when he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a little Yorkie.”

  Forget ridiculous; that was annoying. And maybe even infuriating. The Bad Hat shook his head with disgust. “But, that isn’t at all how it happened. Not even close.”

  “Well, that’s the liberal media for you,” Benjamin said. “They never get anything right.”

  Seemed that way in this case. “And you’re sure the townspeople aren’t afraid of me?” the dog asked Madeline. “And anxious and intimidated?”

  Madeline shook her head again. “No. They want people to Tweet, or post photos online, and that sort of thing, if they catch a glimpse of you.”

  Well, this was a fine kettle of fish. A total disaster, even. “I may need to relocate,” the Bad Hat said. “Because that’s not at all what I had in mind.”

  “You could start doing really destructive and offensive things,” MacNulty suggested. “Change your reputation.”

  Good idea! The dog nodded.

  “Don’t encourage him,” Florence said. “And if you leave town, Bad Hat, won’t you have to spend a lot of time commuting for your kibble?”

  Oh. Maybe. Yeah. Okay, terrible idea! Completely terrible idea.

  “Of course,” she said casually, “you could just stay here, and then food wouldn’t be an issue at all.”

  Nope. Not a chance. Because, you know, he was wicked smart for a dog. So, the Bad Hat ignored that suggestion completely. “What are we watching tonight?”

  “The fourth episode, and maybe the fifth,” Florence said.

  Yay!

  He enjoyed the show, and was even more pleased when the other animals agreed to change genres and watch an old Western, before everyone went to bed. It actually did have horses, and a saloon, and duels, and a lone stalwart cowboy named Shane, and a hero-worshipping little boy—and was altogether excellent. Perfect, even. In fact, he would have been happy to watch it over and over again, every single night, for the rest of his life. The movie made him think that maybe he was all wrong about his destiny. Instead of being a ruthless outcast or a regular topic in pop-culture gossip columns, he should be a mysterious cowboy, and protect and oversee the villagers he encountered. An aloof, but benevolent and confident figure to be admired by one and all.

  Or, maybe not. It sounded like it would maybe be too much work.

  Benjamin and some of the other cats spent about half an hour debating the ambiguity of the movie’s ending—a conversation the Bad Hat tuned out, in favor of eating more kibble. But, the sun was going to come up soon, so it was time for the dogs to return to their kennels, and for him to venture forth into the world again.

  “I really think you should stay,” Florence said. “You can have plenty of excitement here.”

  Nope. Not up for discussion. He was a wild thing now, who could not survive in the confines of a shelter. The Bad Hat shook his head.

  She sighed. “Very well. But, don’t go far, and please allow Joan or Thomas to catch at least one glimpse of you, so that they will be less worried. And come back here again tonight, so that you can have a proper meal.”

  Those all seemed like reasonable requests. “Will do,” the Bad Hat promised.

  It was nice to have a full stomach, and to have spent a few hours with pleasant comrades. So, the Bad Hat felt rather lighthearted as he dashed across the meadow.

  “Shane!” Jack shouted from his outdoor run. “Come back!”

  The dog laughed, and almost did go back—before he thought better of the idea. Maybe he was watching too much British television, but he didn’t want to start, you know, letting sentiment cloud his thinking.

  “Good-bye, Shane!” Jack shouted.

  “See you at midnight!” the Bad Hat yelled back. “Same time, same place!”

  His leap over the fence was a little ungainly, but he made it without hurting himself. When he picked himself up from the ground, MacNulty was standing there, looking bored.

  “Took you long enough,” MacNulty said.

  Wait—what? The Bad Hat did a double-take. “Where did you come from?”

  “Originally? I’m not sure,” MacNulty said. “Somewhere near North Conway.”

  Correct answer—to the wrong question. The Bad Hat shook his head. “What I meant was, how did you beat me out here? I was running really fast.”

  “Oh.” MacNulty grinned. “Well, I guess I’m pretty fast myself.”

  Greyhound fast, apparently. “Okay,” the Bad Hat said. “But, what are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for you,” MacNulty said.

  Clearly, but—“Why?” the Bad Hat asked.

  “Because Florence and Cole put together an assignment wheel, and I’m supposed to be your buddy today,” MacNulty said.

  The Bad Hat was going to protest, but knew that he would be wasting his breath. “Fine,” he said. “But, you have to keep up, and—don’t cramp my style.”

  MacNulty yawned. “Whatever, Hat Guy. Lead on.”

  The Bad Hat didn’t really have an agenda for the day, other than to wreak havoc and frighten the locals—or maybe help them with their many problems, and also to try to forage for some food. Which were grand and ambitious goals, but meant that they would have to ramble aimlessly for a while, and look for trouble. But, first, he and MacNulty went down to the lake and took a relaxing swim, followed by a nap, on a sun-warmed rock by the shoreline.

  “This is pretty nice,” MacNulty said sleepily. “Wish we had some snacks, though.”

  The Bad Hat definitely agreed with that—snacks would be excellent, right about now.

  After a while, they decided to stretch their legs and explore some more. They were drifting through a neighborhood of small ranch houses, when they came upon a perplexed sheep standing in the middle of the road.

  The Bad Hat stopped, not sure what to make of that.

  MacNulty gasped. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “If you think it’s a sheep, yeah,” the Bad Hat said.

  MacNulty looked happier than any animal he had ever seen before. “Wow! I mean, just—wow.”

  For a Border Collie, this must have been a dream come true. MacNulty seemed to be too excited to form complete sentences, so the Bad Hat looked at the sheep, while the sheep looked back at them.

  “Wow,” MacNulty kept muttering every so often. “Just—wow. Wow!”

  They stood there, in the road.

  Time passed.

  “So,” the sheep said finally. “Aren’t you going to herd me?”

  What? “Wasn’t planning on it, no,” the Bad
Hat said.

  The sheep looked impatient. “I’m lost, and I have no idea how to get home. You are dogs, and I need for you to herd me, so I can get back there.”

  Well, she was yapping at the wrong fella. “Ask this guy,” the Bad Hat said, nodding towards the starstruck MacNulty. “I’m not the right kind of dog. Dogs like me fetch things, and most of us can swim pretty well, and we like to lie on couches. We don’t, you know, work with livestock.”

  The sheep pulled herself up to her full height. “Is that an insult?”

  “No, not at all,” the Bad Hat said quickly. “I only—all I meant is that I lack the proper skills.”

  MacNulty snapped out of his daze. “I can do it! I’ve always wanted to herd.” He hesitated. “Only, how do I start?”

  The sheep rolled her eyes. “It’s really not difficult. You just bark, and range back and forth behind me, and steer me in the right direction. You’re allowed to nip near my hooves, but never actually to touch them, because that would hurt.”

  The Bad Hat had a feeling that they had picked the wrong road to run down.

  “I can do it,” MacNulty said confidently. “I’m sure I can. I must have genetic instincts—I just have to figure out how to access them.” Then, he frowned. “But, we don’t know where you live, so how do we figure out the right direction?”

  The sheep shrugged. “Dogs always know. But, hurry up, please, I don’t want to miss my lunch.”

  She was a mite bossy, in the Bad Hat’s opinion, but he decided to keep that to himself.

  MacNulty moved forward tentatively, and sniffed at the sheep’s feet.

  “Hey, watch the hooves!” the sheep said.

  “I need to get the scent, and then we’ll trace your footsteps back,” MacNulty said.

  “All right, but be careful,” the sheep said, eyeing him with deep suspicion.

  The Bad Hat was too polite to say so, but for the record, sheep smelled kind of rank. He leaned forward to take a few sniffs of his own, in case MacNulty needed backup.

  MacNulty closed his eyes, clearly deep in thought, and then snuffled around the road for a moment.

  “Okay, I’ve got it,” he said. “I’m almost sure I’ve got it. Follow me, and you’ll be home soon.”