Bailey's Story Read Online Free Page B

playing, playing, playing.
    â€œBailey!” Ethan would laugh when I got hold of his shirt and tugged. “Here, Bailey,” he would call, and I’d come running to throw myself on top of him. “Bailey, Bailey, Bailey,” he would whisper in my ear at night.
    I loved my name, because of how the boy said it. Whenever he used it, I came to him. That was how I learned my first trick—Come.
    Ethan would call, “Bailey!” and as I trotted toward him, he’d add, “Come!” Then he’d feed me a treat. Excellent! Pretty soon I learned that I was supposed to head for anybody who said “Come,” even Mom or Dad.
    There were other tricks, too. “Sit, Bailey, sit!” Ethan would say. He would climb on top of me, forcing my rear end down to the ground. Then he’d let me have a dog biscuit. That wasn’t quite as much fun as Come, but since the boy liked it, I put up with it.
    Dog Door was another game Ethan liked to play. We’d go out in the garage, a large, bare room that smelled of metal and dirty air and tasty garbage and a sharp scent that I had learned was called gasoline. In the garage, there was a door with a plastic flap in it that led out to the backyard. “Dog Door!” Ethan would call, and then he’d shove me through the flap and out onto the grass. When I’d stick my nose back through the flap, I’d get my biscuit.
    A day came when we played Dog Door a lot. That night, I realized that my legs had grown long enough for me to hop up on Ethan’s bed all by myself. That was a good thing, because the nights were starting to get cooler. I liked the fact that, anytime I wanted, I could get up on that bed and curl up right next to my boy’s warmth.
    The boy loved me. I loved him. From the second we woke up until the moment we fell asleep, we were together.
    And then everything changed.
    *   *   *
    The morning after the day we had played Dog Door so much, the boy was up early, not long after sunrise. Mom was running in and out of various rooms. Everybody seemed excited. I stayed right at Ethan’s heels, excited, too. What were we going to be doing together?
    â€œTake care of Bailey!” Mom called at one point. Smokey the cat glanced down at me from where he was sitting on the counter. It was so unfair that he could get up there where all the good food smells were, and I couldn’t. I gave my new chew toy a good shake just to show him that I didn’t care.
    â€œBailey!” the boy called out, and I heard a funny thumping noise. So I went to investigate. He was dragging my dog bed down the stairs. Why was he doing that? Did he need my help? He carried the bed out to the garage, and I followed him.
    â€œDog door,” the boy said to me.
    I sniffed his pockets. I couldn’t smell any biscuits. What would be the point of playing Dog Door without biscuits? I turned away and started to lift my leg on a bicycle instead.
    â€œBailey!” There was impatience in the boy’s voice, and I remembered how funny all the people in my family seemed to get about perfectly normal things like marking territory with a little urine. I lowered my leg and turned to look at him.
    â€œYou sleep here, okay, Bailey?” Ethan said. “You be a good dog. If you need to go to the bathroom, you go out the dog door, okay? Dog door, Bailey. I have to go to school now. Okay? I love you, Bailey.”
    Ethan gave me a hug and a good scratch under the collar. I licked his ear and his nose. When he headed back inside the house, of course I followed him. But at the door that led into the kitchen, he stopped and shook his head.
    â€œNo, Bailey, you stay in the garage until I get home. Dog door, okay, Bailey? You be a good dog.”
    And he shut the door in my face!
    My boy actually did that! He walked through the door and shut it, so that I was on one side of it and he was on the other. And what were all those words