Buster Read online

  A few moments of silence. Dr. Jake watched Tonio for the first, then checked his notes during the next. “Last session, we talked about some tools you could use to fight intrusive thoughts—those ideas that pop into your head, maybe out of nowhere, and spark a worry that can lead to an anxiety attack. Do you remember that?”

  Tonio nodded. “You said that even though they sometimes don’t make any sense, or aren’t based on anything real, my anxiety tells me they’re true.”

  “Right. And you can tell those thoughts, ‘No!’ as soon as you realize what they are. You can try to think about whether something is logical, whether your worry is based in fact, or whether it’s just a thought, and doesn’t have to be true. Do you remember any of your intrusive thoughts since our last session?”

  I hadn’t heard of these before, but I knew exactly what Dr. Jake was talking about, because I’d seen it already: When Tonio had sneezed on first meeting me, he’d had an intrusive thought: I must have sneezed because I’m allergic to dogs. Even though he already knew he wasn’t allergic, his anxiety said it must be true, and he started focusing on it too hard, which started the bad circle. I wagged my tail, proud of myself for figuring it out, and waited for Tonio to tell him about the sneeze.

  But instead he said, “I don’t think I had any this week. Not that I remember, anyway.”

  Dr. Jake wrote a little note on his pad of paper. “Really? Maybe you could start by telling me about one of your panic attacks, and work backward to what might have triggered it.”

  Tonio shrugged. “I didn’t really have any panic attacks this week, either.” My tail stopped wagging. I stopped chewing my ball. That’s what felt different. He was lying.

  “That’s unusual. Are you sure?”

  “Yep. I’m sure.”

  Dr. Jake was clearly surprised. He watched Tonio for a moment before responding. “That’s great news, but let’s talk about some more strategies for the next time you have one.”

  I was too stunned to listen to the rest of the session. Tonio was lying to a doctor! Even I knew he wasn’t supposed to do that. And if he was lying about his panic attack, he might have been lying about everything. That would mean that he wasn’t planning on going new places, wasn’t planning on making friends, AND didn’t really think I could help.

  I was going to have to prove him wrong.

  Dinner was an awkward time for the Pulaski family—or, I should say, dinner was a bunch of awkward times for the Pulaski family. Tonio’s parents loved to cook together; it was a family rule that every day, at least for dinner, Tonio would join them in preparing and eating a meal. They even figured out a meal plan as a team at the beginning of the week, no exceptions.

  But it wasn’t that simple. Tomorrow Grocery, the store Mr. Pulaski owned on Bellville Square, had started staying open late to compete with the big store that had recently appeared on the edge of town. He didn’t like to make his employees work late every day, so to be a good boss, he would often work until midnight organizing produce and gossiping with customers.

  Mrs. Pulaski worked from home designing websites, but her office had so many Do Not Disturb signs on it—and she came out of it so rarely during work hours—that it might as well have been on another planet. If Goggle (Google but for divers) needed a brand-new font for their logo made by hand by tomorrow morning, we’re really in crisis mode here, thanks so much for your help, she would lock herself in her office until it was done.

  And Tonio—well, it was summer, so Tonio had appointments with Dr. Jake and then didn’t leave the house much otherwise. I was trying to figure out how to change that.

  If Mr. Pulaski was going to work nights, then they’d eat dinner early. If Mrs. Pulaski was pulling extra hours designing for Gobble (Google but for Thanksgiving supplies), then they’d eat dinner late. But when both were happening, things got a little weird. Sometimes dinner was at noon. Sometimes it was at nine (if Tonio was still awake). My first unusual “dinner” with the family was at six the morning after it was scheduled to happen.

  “The Gargle account really likes the latest draft,” Mrs. Pulaski was saying. She had finally burst out of her office an hour before, triumphant and hungry, and had woken the rest of us up for dinner. A few sleepy seasonings and a pot of coffee later, she was devouring a pile of steak and mashed potatoes while Tonio and Mr. Pulaski stared at their plates queasily.

  “That’s …” Mr. Pulaski had only come home three hours before. He forgot what he was saying and his eyes drifted closed.

  “Great?” Tonio suggested. Mr. Pulaski nodded, or maybe just nodded off. Tonio secretly dropped a little piece off his plate, and I caught it out of the air. I’ll chew on anything that’s even touched a steak, any time of day.

  Mrs. Pulaski’s fork clinked against her plate. She was staring at Tonio and chewing, deciding what to say. Finally, she said, “I love you, Tonio. Do I tell you that enough?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good. I was reading this summary of a book that looks amazing—a book about kids, I think, but also just about people, you know, and it said that most of us don’t hear nice things enough. That’s probably true.”

  “You just read the summary?” Tonio asked.

  “Yes, but I think that was good advice already.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments before Tonio realized Mrs. Pulaski was waiting on something, because she was making a cartoonish grumpy face. His face reddened, and words tumbled out of his mouth in a jumble. “IloveyoutooMom. Sorry.”

  She looked disappointed for the tiniest second—her eyebrows pulling together and her mouth tugging down—but then she grinned and wiped her face with a napkin. “That does feel great. And I didn’t even have to buy the book! What a deal. Honey?”

  Mr. Pulaski picked his face up off the table. Mashed potatoes held one of his eyes closed. “Mm?”

  “I need to get some sleep. Are you done with your dinner?” Mrs. Pulaski was already picking up the plates while Mr. Pulaski was trying to remember how to nod. “And, Tonio, please take Buster to the dog park today. He tore up a roll of toilet paper yesterday, and I think it’s because he’s been stuck inside.”

  (I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation.)

  Now Tonio was staring at the table, face still red. He wasn’t listening to what his mom was saying, but she wasn’t waiting around to notice. His parents left the room together, and I stood up so I could get a good sniff.

  Tonio was breathing just a little bit harder than normal, through his mouth. His eyes were zoning out, so I could tell he was lost in his head thinking about something. I could hear his heartbeat up this close, too—it was faster than it should be, but not pounding. He wasn’t having a panic attack yet, but he was lost somewhere. Stuck in a thought. I needed to help him out of it.

  I kicked off the floor onto my hind legs, careful not to slip on the tile, and pushed both of my front paws into his stomach. He didn’t do anything the first time, so I bounced off and pushed harder.

  “Ow! Hey!” Tonio’s eyes finally snapped over to me, and his face scrunched up, confused. I kept my paws on his stomach, and after a few seconds of confusion, he leaned over and put his forehead up against mine, his curly hair tickling my ears. “Oh, wow. Thank you. How did you know?”

  (I would like to note, for the Court, that this was entirely within my training as a service dog. This technique is perfectly normal and was not overstepping my position even a little bit.)

  “What happens now?” Tonio asked. “Do you just stay there?”

  I stared at him.

  “Do you want a treat?”

  My ears swiveled on their own and my tail gave two good wags before I forced it to stop. I needed to stay strong. I know what you’re thinking—a Good Dog would have wanted the treat. And you’re right—a regular Good Dog. But as a service dog, I had to stay focused and committed to my work. If I took a treat, I was admitting my job was done. And it wasn’t done.

  But I could smell those goo
d treats in his back pocket … and when he grabbed the bag and started crinkling it, I felt my mouth betraying me with drool. I clamped my teeth shut and turned away when he brought the treat up to my face.

  Tonio frowned. “What’s wrong? You love these.” I did love these. Little packets of chewy something wrapped around a perfect pouch of peanut butter—

  No! I thought. I kept my teeth together and bounced up and back down on his stomach.

  “Oof!” Tonio let out a breath of air. “Go easy. I’m okay, I promise.” He scratched around my collar. “I just … I didn’t even think to tell Mom I loved her back. And what kind of— Who doesn’t—” He stopped, because he was getting lost again. Then he mumbled, “I don’t think I’m a good person. I never notice things like that. Everyone is always so nice to me, and I just hurt their feelings. Even Mom.”

  The whole thing was a big misunderstanding, but Tonio didn’t understand that, and now he was sitting here thinking he was a bad person.

  “Maybe she’s upset in her room right now. I should probably go apologize, or make it up to her, or—what if I haven’t noticed other times, too?” He was back in the same mode from when he told the story, words spilling out like they were out of his control. For a kid who was usually so quiet, it was strange to watch—almost like he was fighting with himself, trying to stay under control and failing.

  I couldn’t just let him stay in the bad circle. I put both paws on his stomach and bounced again, to get his attention.

  He lifted his head up just a little, and his mouth dropped open the tiniest bit. “You’re supposed to notice anxiety, though, right? You stopped me because you could tell I was feeling anxiety.”

  He took one more deep breath. “I don’t know. It’s confusing. I need to ask Dr. Jake.”

  I could feel his heart rate falling, and his breathing going back to normal. He patted me a few more times, and I pulled my legs back down to the ground.

  Tonio stood up and gave a big, long stretch-and-yawn, like I do after a good run—I guess being anxious can wear you out. “You’ve been stuck in here with me for a while, huh?” he said to me. “Mom’s right. We should go to the park.” My tail wagged. He held the treat out again, and my willpower was spent. I snapped it up immediately, and he laughed. “Good boy, Buster. Good boy!”

  I followed him back up to his room and had to resist barking with excitement. Tonio was right: I was a good boy. And so was he! But being good was about to get a lot more difficult, for both of us.

  “So let’s review.” Pronto checked his notes, typed onto a laptop modified for use with paws. “You were adopted by a human who was, by his own admission: a bully, a liar, and someone who made up problems out of nothing. Which part of that was I supposed to take as …” He clicked back in his notes. “Tonio being a ‘good boy,’ as you said?”

  Buster felt his insides boiling at every word out of Pronto’s muzzle. “You don’t get it!” Buster barked. “You didn’t see him!”

  Lasagna placed a paw on Buster’s. “He’s trying to make you mad,” the corgi explained quietly. “You don’t have to fetch just because he’s throwing.”

  Pronto went on. “What we’re seeing is that he made his problems up, and you fell for it. You decided you needed to ‘save’ him, when the only person he needed saving from was himself.”

  “What an interesting point, Pronto!” Lasagna proclaimed with a squeak and a cheerful tail wag. He tilted his head at Buster. “Was Tonio making up his own problems?”

  “No!” Buster barked, frustrated.

  “Okay.” Lasagna subtly twisted his front paws and twitched his ears in the Underspeak for trust me. “It does look like that, though, right? On the outside, it seems like Tonio is worrying about nothing.”

  A small whine escaped between Buster’s teeth. “Yes, on the outside, it can look like Tonio is making things up.”

  Lasagna tilted his head and swiveled an ear in a way that meant but.

  Oh! Buster’s ears shot up and his tail stiffened. “But … the problems feel real to him. Anxiety is like …” He searched for a way to explain to all these dogs. “Anxiety is like if you smelled a cat, all the time, even if there had never been a cat anywhere near you. Your brain would always be yelling, Cat! Cat! Cat! Even though you knew there wasn’t one around. It’s like if there was a part of your brain that kept telling you, every second, that someone had thrown a Frisbee.” Buster nodded, and his tail started wagging on its own. He’d found it.

  “You didn’t see anyone throw a Frisbee, and you know deep down there isn’t one, but every bone in your body is saying, Jump! Catch it! Find the Frisbee! Where did it go?!” He saw some dogs in the crowd nodding, understanding. “You might even get used to it! You might be totally sure, on a conscious level, that there’s no Frisbee. But then maybe you’re really tired, or you had a bad day, and your brain yells, FRISBEE! and before you have a chance to think about it, you’ve jumped up in the air to catch a Frisbee that doesn’t exist, and everyone is looking at you weird, like ‘Why did you just jump over nothing?’ ”

  “I see.” Lasagna looked over at his opponent. “Does that make sense to you, Pronto?”

  “Absolutely not.” The husky made a dramatic exasperated face. “Antonio is a child! He doesn’t have anything to worry about. And he’s certainly not chasing Frisbees.”

  “Not an actual Frisbee!” Buster knew the other lawyer was only pretending to not understand. He hoped that telling more of the story would help convince the judge.

  Bellville Square is the center of all life in Bellville, South Carolina. The center of Bellville Square is the Bellville Bell, which they named the town after. A long time ago, somebody branded the words ring, ring into the side of the bell, which looked neat but accidentally messed it up so it couldn’t really ring anymore. Now it’s just for display. I didn’t know all of this on our first trip to the dog park, but I thought I’d go ahead and warn the Court so you’d understand why everyone in Bellville says “ring, ring” all the time. It was extremely confusing at first.

  “Ring, ring, Antonio! How are you this morning?” A woman in a plaid shirt and big jeans waved at us as we walked through the square toward the dog park. Tonio smiled.

  “Ring, ring, Mrs. Chambers. I’m doing all right.”

  “Looking forward to sixth grade?”

  Tonio didn’t have time to look as horrified as he felt, because he was interrupted by a yell so loud, so sudden, that my whole body reacted.

  “SOMEBODY STOP THAT DOG!”

  I felt a tickle in my hearing off to the side and turned my head just in time to see a puppy flying past, a little tricolor collie, inches from my face. He cocked his head, looked right at me, and winked.

  A big necklace covered in diamonds glittered between his teeth.

  The world sped back up. “Excuse me!” a girl yelled, diving past Mrs. Chambers. She didn’t see Tonio until it was too late, tripped on his tennis shoes, knocked the leash out of his hand, and they both fell onto the sidewalk.

  Before I even had time to think about it, I was chasing the puppy.

  “BACK OFF, GRAMPS!” the puppy barked as he looked behind him, silver chain threaded around his lower teeth. “THE NECKLACE IS MINE!”

  He dodged around Video Garden, out of the square. All four of my legs scrabbled on the pavement as I struggled to turn—I’m not a big dog by any means, more small-to-medium, but sudden turns can still be a challenge.

  As we rounded the corner, I realized I knew this dog. Mozart was his name—I knew him from the shelter I’d been sent to by Dog Court the first time. Which meant the girl was Mia Lin, whose parents ran the shelter.

  There was a fire escape on the back of Video Garden, and he used that to jump onto the roof. I leaped along behind him as closely as possible, and when I got to the top, he ran to the edge of the roof to jump to the next one. “Stop!” I barked. “It’s too far!”

  He glared behind as he picked up speed, fluffy legs pounding the roof as hard as
they could. I went into overdrive as his front legs lifted off the ground. I opened my mouth, ran the last few steps to the edge, and leaped.

  I glided over him, and his head jerked up to look at me. The end of the necklace floated up like it was moving through Jell-O, and I reached out to clamp down on the opposite end of the chain.

  The weight tugged my neck down and slowed my jump. I whipped my head around and flung Mozart as hard as I could. He flopped onto the roof and braced himself against the edge—while I dangled by the necklace over the side.

  “I’m not—nngh—strong enough!” he whimpered. I scrabbled my paws against the roof.

  I kicked my front paw up, up—and finally caught the ledge. With a tug from Mozart and a push on that leg, I rolled up onto the roof, panting.

  “What”—I gasped—“are you doing with this?”

  Mozart pounced on my neck and started biting, but he was too small to do any damage. “Rrr!! RRRR!!!!!”

  “Hey, hey, now! Stop that!” I rolled over and pinned him easily under my front legs. “I just saved your life.”

  “I would have been fine,” he growled. “Leave me alone.”

  I made a big show of flopping my head down over my paws and resting my weight on his side. “We can just sit here all day, then. Until you tell me.”

  A low rumble came out of his throat for a few seconds, but then he sighed and gave up. “Mia said she needed money. So I was getting some.”

  “This isn’t money. This is a necklace.”

  “I know that!” He batted at my face with his front paws. “But I’ve got ways. I was gonna sell it. That store has so many jewels! They don’t need all of ’em.”

  “So you did steal it from a store.” I shook my head. “You’re not acting like a Good Dog.”

  “Like you’re one to talk,” Mozart spat. “Miracle Dog.”

  I winced. Of course, he already knew. Everyone at the shelter did. But it didn’t matter; I was right. “I know you want to help Mia, but right now you’re not helping. If she wanted you to do this, she wouldn’t be yelling at people to stop you, right?”