White Fur Flying

chapter 1

“Once
upon a time there was a wicked queen,” said my younger sister, Alice.

She peered out the window at the house over the field and across the small brook. I looked and saw a woman, her hair piled on top of her head, walking up the sidewalk. She was followed by movers carrying furniture.

“The wicked queen had two children. They were bad children and she often punished them.”

“Alice!” said Mama from the screened side porch. “Can't you tell a pleasant story?”

Alice was the storyteller in the family, some of her stories filled with hilariously mean characters.

“How did she punish them?” I asked.

“Zoe! Don't encourage her.”

I watched my mother through the open door to the porch. She brushed Kodi. She always brushed dogs on the screened porch, then swept all the hair up.

“If I brush them outside,” she had said, “the hair blows around and hangs on the trees and bushes.”

Kodi was a Great Pyrenees, 140 pounds of white fur. May, almost as big, stood waiting for her turn. There was fur everywhere—porch floor, furniture, and on Mama's jeans. Soon May would be adopted into a new family, and there would be other new dogs, one after the other.

Mama rescued Pyrs, as she called them, and found homes for them so they wouldn't be put to sleep. Once, we had five of them in our house. When they lay on the wood living-room floor, they made a huge, deep white rug.

I watched the movers carry a sapphire blue velvet couch into the house along with two matching chairs.

Mama came to look out the window too.

“No Great Pyrs on that furniture,” I said.

“That's for sure,” Mama said. “Not on that beautiful couch and those chairs. There's probably no dogs there at all,” said Mama. “Or cats.”

“And no children,” I said.

We watched a series of tables with carved legs be carried in. And then velvet drapes were carefully lifted by two men.

“She punished her children in the drapes,” announced Alice, making me jump. I'd almost forgotten she was there.

“She rolled them up like burritos, so only their heads showed. They couldn't get into trouble that way.”

Mama couldn't help laughing.

“You have a way, Alice,” she said.

We watched the second pair of bright velvet drapes be carried in.

“I suppose I should be neighborly and invite her over for tea,” said Mama.

“Not in this house, Mama,” I said. “Not during shedding season.”

We watched white fur flying into the room, carried by the summer breezes coming off the porch. Some stuck to Mama's shirt. A clump floated by my nose, so close I caught the satisfying smell of dog.

“You can invite her,” said Alice. “She won't punish you. We don't have drapes.”

Mama put one arm around Alice and one around me.

“No. No drapes,” she said. “Just dogs.”

We watched a wooden carved porch swing being hooked up on the porch.

“We
could
weave drapes from the fur of the dogs,” Alice said. “It would make life much more exciting.”

Before Mama could answer, a long black car pulled up and a man stepped out.

“And suddenly the king arrives,” said Alice in what Daddy called her hushed-wildlife-documentary voice. Usually that voice whispered, “And then the leopard sees its prey.”

Even though it was summer, the man wore a jacket and tie. He opened the passenger door. After a moment a small boy climbed out.

“And the prince!” said Alice, surprised.

The man turned and began to walk up to the house. The boy stood still. Then he turned and stared at our house. He saw us all in the window: a mother, two children, and two huge white dogs. Beside me Kodi's tail began to wag. The boy stared.

Then the man/king turned and came back, taking the boy's hand, pulling him up the sidewalk. The boy kept staring at us until he went up the porch steps and into the house.

“Not a prince,” said Alice. “A prisoner.”

chapter 2

My
father came home just before dinner. He still wore his white vet medical jacket. He carried a large covered cage.

Kodi and May ran up to him, sniffing.

“So, what is this?” asked Mama.

“I saved the life of an African grey parrot today,” said Daddy.

“And did the parrot thank you?” asked Mama.

Daddy took the cover off the parrot cage.

“Did you thank me?” said Daddy to the parrot.

“You cahn't know!” said the parrot loudly in a British accent.

My mother laughed.

“She belongs to a woman going into a nursing home. She can't keep him,” said my father.

“Feisty woman, I'd say,” said Mama.

“What's your name?” asked Alice.

“You cahn't know!” said the parrot.

“Lena,” said Daddy. “Lena is her name.”

“Lena,” repeated Lena.

Kodi and May sidled up closer to the parrot.

“Easy, May,” said Mama. “Sometimes these dogs don't like birds.”

“Easy, May,” said Lena.

Kodi sat and stared.

“Most birds don't talk, do they, Kodi?” said Daddy, scratching Kodi's ears.

“I have a question,” said Mama. “What is Lena doing here?”

Daddy grinned. “This question from you,” he said. “The dog woman. The rescue angel.”

“You got me into it, John,” said Mama. “Remember? ‘The dogs need saving, Claire.'”

“Lena needs saving too,” said Daddy. “Someone has to keep Lena until we find her a home.”

“What do you eat?” I asked Lena.

“You cahn't know!” we all said at the same time. Even Lena. This made Lena laugh. It was a high-pitched, wild sound that made us all laugh. The more we laughed, the more Lena did, and the more we did.

And on and on.

The next day, early, there was morning mist, with sun shining through. I let Kodi and May out into the large fenced-in yard. They ran to the side fence, and I could see the boy from next door standing there. Behind him, the man got into his black car and drove off without a wave.

The boy put out his hand and Kodi nosed it through the fence. The boy smiled, then he looked up and saw me, and his smile went away.

“That's all right,” I called, walking down through the wet grass in my bare feet. “That's Kodi. His real name is Kodiak. And May, who's licking your hand. I'm Zoe. What's your name?”

The boy was silent but still stood staring at the dogs. Kodi's tail wagged and the boy smiled again.

“Phillip! Phillip, come away from those beasts!”

The woman with the piled-up hair stood on her porch.

“It's all right,” I said to her. “They're good dogs.”

“They could bite!” she said loudly, coming down the steps.

She walked across the grass, carefully stepping over the small brook that ran between our houses.

“No, they'd never bite,” I said.

“Never,” said Mama, suddenly standing behind me. “Not when someone is kind to them. Phillip? Is that your name?” she asked.

He nodded.

“He doesn't speak,” said the woman impatiently. “At least not to us. My husband's niece left him with us, and we're keeping him while . . .” She hesitated. “While his parents solve a problem.”

“Well, Phillip, you can visit the dogs anytime,” said Mama. “You don't have to talk.”

Phillip looked at my mother for a long time.

“And you are welcome to visit too,” Mama said to the woman. “I'm Claire Cassidy.”

Mama put out her hand across the fence. The woman took her hand, then dropped it.

“I'm Phyllis Croft,” she said. “We just rented this house for a few months.”

“Welcome,” said Mama. “We'll have tea sometime.”

Mrs. Croft backed up a bit.

“And I have a daughter, Alice, who is probably about Phillip's age. Are you about ten?”

“He's nine,” said Mrs. Croft crisply.

She grabbed Phillip's arm and pulled him away.

“We have errands,” she said. “Nice to meet you,” she added.

“Nice to meet you, Phillip,” said Mama. “And you,” she quickly added to Mrs. Croft.

Mama and I watched them go back up the steps to their front porch. Phillip turned to look at us. All of a sudden he held his hand up in a small wave.

“Well, Kodi. I'm surprised you
didn't
bite that woman,” said Mama.

Kodi wagged his tail.

“I feel sorry for Phillip,” I said.

Mama sighed. “I do too.”

“Alice is right. He
is
a prisoner,” I said. “Mrs. Croft is mean.”

Mama seemed thoughtful.

“I wonder . . . ,” she began.

I looked up at her, waiting.

“I think she's scared,” said Mama.

“Scared of what?”

Mama smiled slightly. “Dogs. She's scared of dogs. And I think . . .” She stopped.

“What?”

“I think maybe she's scared of Phillip.”

Mama and I stood at the fence for a moment.

“You cahn't know!” a voice came from inside our house.

“Let's go,” said Mama, smiling. “Lena's awake.”

As we walked, I turned to look at the Crofts' house and saw Phillip in the window, watching us.

I smiled.

He smiled too.

chapter 3

“He
doesn't speak?” asked Alice.

“No,” I said.

“No,” said Lena.

“Why?” asked Alice.

I shrugged.

“Okay,” said Alice. “I can talk.”

I smiled.

“You sure can,” I said. “You and Lena.”

“He doesn't have to talk,” said Alice.

“That's what Mama said.”