Good Dog McTavish Read online

  1.

  McTavish Falls for the Peacheys

  2.

  Ma Peachey Gives Up

  3.

  Browsing

  4.

  Alice’s Questions

  5.

  Getting Ready for McTavish

  6.

  McTavish Comes Home

  7.

  The Peachey Problem

  8.

  Plan A

  9.

  Plan B

  10.

  Plan C

  11.

  The Peacheys Eat Pizza

  12.

  The Peacheys Pitch In

  13.

  A Most Impressive Dog

  McTavish’s decision to adopt the Peachey family was not the most sensible decision of his life. He could tell at once that they were not one of those easy families, the ones that fit effortlessly into a dog’s life. He could tell that they were a family with problems.

  Whether they’d been traumatized early on or were just difficult by nature, McTavish had no way of knowing. But he did know that adopting them would require patience, discipline, and hard work. His logical mind told him to wait for a trouble-free family, a family with easy natures and cheerful smiles. But there was something about the Peacheys, with their sad little faces, that clinched it for him.

  Oh, McTavish, he warned himself. Are you sure you’re not making a mistake? Beware! This could mean years of heartache and frustration.

  But it was already too late.

  McTavish had fallen for the Peacheys.

  McTavish might never have met the Peacheys if Ma Peachey hadn’t decided to give up being a mother.

  “I give up,” she said. “No more cooking and cleaning and finding lost keys. No more keeping track of your appointments and nagging you to clean up your rooms. No more boring, thankless jobs. I quit.”

  At first, the younger Peacheys rejoiced.

  “No more healthy food!” shouted Ollie, age twelve, punching the air in triumph.

  “No more matriarchal oppression!” crowed Ava, age fourteen, looking up from the book she was reading (The Family: A History of Despair).

  No more nagging to get home in time for dinner, thought Pa Peachey, though of course he would never have said such a thing out loud.

  The youngest member of the family frowned.

  “Ma,” said Betty Peachey, age eight, “are you saying that you’ve . . . resigned?”

  Ma Peachey smiled. “Why, yes, Betty. That’s an excellent way of putting it.”

  Betty looked concerned. “Is that legal?”

  Ma Peachey shrugged. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. But I’m sick and tired of everyone making a mess and expecting me to clean it up. I’m done with cooking meals that get cold because no one’s home to eat them. And,” she said, “I’m tired of having to shout at everyone to wake up, go to bed, put away the laundry, say please, say thank you, clear the dishes, stop fighting.”

  “But —” Betty began.

  Ma Peachey ignored her. “So yes,” she said, “you could say I’ve resigned. For now, anyway. I am taking time out to pursue peace and quiet. From now on, the only person I am in charge of is me.”

  And with that, she gave Betty a kiss on the head, and went off to change into her yoga pants.

  At first, none of the Peacheys really missed being told to clear the table or put away the laundry. But as days turned to weeks and nobody made dinner or washed the clothes — ever — the sense of freedom wore thin.

  The Peacheys ate frozen dinners or takeout every night, wore the same clothes over and over, and arrived late to school and work each day. There was a great deal more squabbling and a great deal more squalor.

  Betty, who was by far the most sensible member of the Peachey family (after Ma Peachey), began to feel that some sort of intervention was required. And so, one Saturday afternoon just before Easter, a family conference was held.

  “Due to the loss of motherly care in our family, I am feeling lost, lonesome, and lacking in love,” said Betty.

  Ava and Ollie snickered, but Betty ignored them.

  “I have a proposal,” she said.

  The rest of the Peacheys leaned forward expectantly. Across the room, Ma Peachey hummed as she worked on her lotus position.

  “We could ask Ma Peachey to come back,” said Betty.

  Ava gasped, Ollie snorted, and Pa Peachey made a tut-tut noise, one that did not commit him to any opinion but that still managed to express disapproval.

  Silence fell.

  “Well,” said Betty at last, “if we are not planning to ask Ma Peachey to come back, I have another suggestion.”

  Once again, the Peacheys all leaned forward to listen.

  “I believe we should get a dog.”

  Ollie imagined a big, handsome, furry creature that might help him be more attractive to girls.

  Ava imagined a large, melancholy dog that would help her look more intellectual.

  Pa Peachey did not want a dog. At all. And he said so.

  A heated discussion ensued, and, in the end, the three Peachey children managed to prevail. They would take a trip to the animal shelter.

  “Not to adopt a dog,” Pa Peachey warned. “Just to browse.”

  “To browse?” Ollie rolled his eyes. “We’re going to browse lonely stray dogs doomed to spend eternity locked up, sad and loveless, in cages?” He turned to Ava and lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “I always said there was something heartless about Pa Peachey.”

  Ava scowled. “Nobody browses homeless dogs. Except perhaps” — she turned to glare at her father — “a sociopath.”

  “Never mind,” said Betty. “We shall go to the shelter to browse, and perhaps, just perhaps, we shall find the dog of our dreams.”

  Ollie rolled his eyes.

  Ava carefully recorded this conversation in a brown notebook. She had hopes that her book, Memoir of a Broken Childhood, would sell for a large sum of money and become an international bestseller.

  Ollie went back to the book he was reading, feeling (perhaps correctly) that the last thing the world needed was another book, particularly one written by his older sister.

  The following afternoon, the Peachey family (minus Ma Peachey, who was working on her warrior pose) assembled at exactly two o’clock and set off in Pa Peachey’s van, which was so full of screws and springs and gizmos and stuff-that-might-someday-come-in-handy that there was barely any place for an actual human to sit.

  Ava complained about the noise the van made, but no one else seemed to hear, partly because it was so noisy in the van.

  Pa Peachey pulled up in front of the Cuddles Home for Unclaimed Mutts (C.H.U.M.) with a little flourish and a spin of the steering wheel.

  He set the parking brake with a loud squeak and shouted “OUT, OUT, OUT” over his shoulder, as if the children had been sitting in the parked van for months.

  All the Peachey children were excited by the possibility that they might soon acquire a dog — even Ava, who was famous for being hard as nails and sentimental as burnt wood.

  “I can’t wait to browse the poor homeless doggies,” Ava whispered to Ollie.

  Ollie imagined the future Peachey family dog, waiting on the other side of that door, locked in a lonely cage. The thought made him feel quite light-headed.

  Betty screwed her eyes shut with longing and terror. She did not want to browse dogs. All she wanted was to choose the smartest, waggliest, most shiny-eyed of all the poor doggies in captivity, take him home, and love him to bits. Maybe then the family could return to a time when Ma Peachey wasn’t doing yoga, Pa Peachey wasn’t angry, and Ava, Ollie, and Betty didn’t feel quite so much like orphans.

  Inside the shelter, McTavish waited quietly, not barking, not making a fuss. Just . . . waiting. Although he hadn’t met the Peacheys, he had a dog’s sixth sense about this family. He had a feeling they might be “the one.”

  Pa Peachey went in first, followed by Ollie, Ava, and Betty.

  Betty was always last. Last was what happened when your parents decided to stop having children once you were born. There was no one less important to tease, annoy, and torment.

  Inside the Cuddles Home for Unclaimed Mutts, a stern-looking woman in overalls greeted the Peacheys. Her name tag read Hello. I’m Ian.

  “Hello, I’m Alice,” she said.

  “Not Ian?” Ava was a stickler for accuracy in the written word.

  Alice/Ian looked confused for a second, then followed the direction of eight eyes and bent her head to peer at the name tag with a sigh.

  “The overalls may say Ian, but please look beyond that. I am not Ian. I am Alice.” She paused to scan the family with a practiced eye.

  The family scanned her back.

  “You are here for a dog,” Alice announced, as if the thought had not occurred to the Peacheys. As if perhaps they had just stumbled into the Cuddles Home for Unclaimed Mutts on a shopping trip, thinking it might be a good place to buy a newspaper and a carton of milk.

  “Yes, we are,” Betty piped up.

  “No, we are most certainly not here for a dog,” Pa Peachey said with a glare at his youngest child. “We are here to determine the lay of the land. We are not in the market for a canine at this moment in time. We are here to undertake an initial foray into the acquisition of a family pet. At some future date. Going forward.”

  Ollie made crazy motions with one finger in the air by his left ear, and Ava turned her hands into quacking ducks.

  “We are here,” Betty said in a soft and clear voice, “for a dog.”

  Despite all the time she spent complaining about being the youngest, Betty often forgot to notice that she held a position of great authority in the Peachey family.

  Alice held up her hand. “I am getting a picture of this family,” she said, looking down her rather long nose and out through her rather thick glasses. “I am getting the picture of a family that is not always in harmony with its desires. Is that what you would call an accurate picture of your family?”

  “Yes,” said Betty.

  “No,” said Pa Peachey.

  “Sometimes,” said Ava.

  “Rarely,” said Ollie.

  Betty sighed. “They are all confused. But I am not. I am here. For a dog.”

  From that moment on, Alice addressed all her remarks to Betty. Who was, it is probably worth restating, not yet nine years old.

  “Good,” said Alice. “Because we have too many dogs and not enough humans to take them home and love them. Now, please sit.”

  Obediently, the Peachey family sat.

  “Now,” said Alice. “I am going to ask you some questions, and I’d be grateful if only one of you answered at a time. You,” she said, indicating Betty. “You seem to be the least lunatic member of the family, so I would like you to answer my questions. If any other person objects, please raise your paw.” She paused. “I mean hand.”

  The Peacheys nodded.

  “Excellent. Question one. Does your home have a fenced yard?”

  “Yes,” said Betty. “Our home has a fenced yard with one apple tree, uncut grass due to arguments about whose turn it is to cut it, and many, many squirrels for a woofy love-dog to chase.”

  Alice checked off box one.

  “Question two. How much exercise does a dog need each day?”

  Betty thought for a moment. “I would take my dog for a walk before school each morning, and Pa Peachey would walk him again at night. Ava and Ollie could take turns walking him after school.”

  Alice tapped her pencil on the desk and nodded. “Question three. What are the four most important things in a dog’s life? You may all confer.”

  They conferred, ignoring one another entirely.

  “Food,” said Pa Peachey.

  “Water,” said Ollie, who had recently learned in biology that you could go weeks without food but only a few days without water.

  “A sense of philosophical autonomy,” said Ava, who always went for the existential option. Which nobody understood.

  When they were done, Betty turned to Alice with quiet dignity. “The most important thing for any dog is love. After that, it’s routine. Then exercise and mental stimulation and — last of all — healthy food.”

  “Thank you, Betty,” Alice said. “You are very wise for a young person. Particularly for a young person who has obviously been raised by wolves.” She gazed sternly at Pa Peachey.

  “And of course a comfy bed,” Betty added. “And not being dressed up in silly clothes, like snow boots. Or little raincoats.”

  “All good answers. And finally, I must ask each of you if you understand the commitment dog ownership entails.”

  “A painfully long one,” said Pa Peachey in a mournful voice.

  “It’s like having another sibling,” said Ava. “That bites.”

  “It can’t be worse than a younger sister,” grumbled Ollie.

  Betty looked at each member of the family in turn. “I imagine that it is halfway between having a friend and a baby,” she said after a moment. “A dog requires a great deal of attention and care but can also be a fine companion. A dog will love you and make you feel happy when you are lonely or low, in exchange for a life of order and kindness.”

  Alice jotted down some more notes. She looked up at last.

  “One of you gets it,” she said, tapping her pencil against the table. “And that may well be enough. I shall have to think about it. But for now, let us go and meet the dogs.”

  She stood and led the way to the kennels at the back. A great barking and whining started up.

  “Oh my,” Pa Peachey said, turning pale.

  The Peachey family began to browse.

  There were hairy dogs and smooth dogs, huge dogs and tiny dogs, lolling drooling dogs and neat-footed dogs as tidy as cats. Some had stripy brown coats, others were black and white, and one was a lovely, fluffy, lemony sort of color.

  Ollie fell in love with a huge spotted beast that looked like a Dalmatian crossed with a dinosaur.

  Pa Peachey cast admiring glances at a loyal Labrador with big amber eyes.

  Ava made cooing noises at a nervous little thing that looked like a wolfhound shrunk in the wash.

  Betty walked from cage to cage, her eyes sometimes filling with tears, her fists balled with determination.

  After nearly an hour of watching the Peachey family browse dogs, Alice looked down and found Betty standing by her side.

  “I would like to adopt every single one of these lovely doggingtons,” Betty said. “But I believe I have found the one special dog for us.” She took Alice’s hand and led her to a quiet crate near the corner.

  “Him,” Betty said, pointing.

  Alice peered at the name on the crate. She looked inside, just to make 100 percent sure.

  “McTavish,” she said at last, and she smiled a small smile.

  “Is that his name?” Betty asked.

  Alice nodded.

  Betty tilted her head and frowned. “What exactly is . . . McTavish?”

  “Well,” said Alice, “he is quite a lot of Scottish terrier, a bit of Jack Russell, a touch of poodle, a trace of Tibetan spaniel . . . and perhaps just a dash of” — she leaned in close to Betty, raised one eyebrow, lowered her voice, and whispered — “Bichon Frisé.”

  Betty giggled. “McTavish,” she said, and knelt down to his level. The dog and the child looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment. A very long moment.

  Betty spoke at last. “I think I would like you to come home with us,” she said to McTavish in a polite voice. “That is, if you think you might like us.”

  McTavish looked at Betty and cocked his head to one side, thinking.

  After what seemed like a very long time , he took one step forward, stuck his nose through the bars of the crate, and swiped Betty’s face with his tongue.

  Alice opened the door to the cage, put a leash on McTavish, and led him through to the Getting to Know You room. She sent Betty to collect the rest of the Peachey family.

  “He’s a bit short,” Ollie said.

  “Is it morally appropriate for one species to own another species?” Ava wondered aloud.

  “McTavish?” Pa Peachey asked, looking worried. “Is he a foreign dog?”

  Betty ignored them all. “He is a perfect dog,” she said. “He is beautiful and intelligent and sensible. We will love and cherish McTavish, and he will become an important and admired member of our family.”

  Alice took pictures on her phone, so the Peacheys would remember their first visit with the newest member of their family. The pictures showed a dog quite a bit longer than he was high, with huge triangular ears that stood up like a bat’s. He had soft brown eyes, a thoughtful expression, large paws, and a wiry golden coat that stuck out in all directions.

  “His first owner was an elderly lady who became ill and could no longer care for him,” Alice told them. “So he has not had a bad start in life. He is four years old, and he knows his own mind. There is no question that he would make an excellent dog for this family. My question,” she said, and she narrowed her eyes a little, “is whether you will make a good family for this dog.”

  “A dog is for life, not just for Easter,” Pa Peachey warned, but no one took any notice.

  McTavish looked at Betty with a serious expression. And then he bobbed his head, took a neat step into her lap, lay down, and sighed.

  “McTavish has spoken,” said Alice.

  Certain matters needed to be settled before McTavish took up residence with the Peacheys. Alice made a visit to the Peachey home.

  “She wants to check that we’re not a front for international dog smugglers,” Ava said.

  Ollie looked up from his book. “Is that even a thing?”

  Ava shrugged. “Everything’s a thing.”

  “We are not a front for international dog smugglers,” Ollie said to Alice. “In case you were wondering.”