Bailey's Story by W. Bruce Cameron Read Free Book Online

starting to get dark out there, Todd was beside me. He yanked a thick curtain that smelled of dust across the glass.
    I couldn’t see the boy! I barked in frustration. Todd smacked at my rear end with an open palm. “No! Bad dog! No barking!”
    I whined and backed away, as alarmed by the flare of rage and the tone of his voice as I was by the pain from my hindquarters. Had I been a bad dog? But I’d been trying to get to my boy! When he called, I was supposed to come!
    â€œTodd?” a woman shouted from somewhere in the house.
    Todd glared at me. “You stay here. You stay, ” he ordered. He backed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
    I paced around the room some more, confused. I knew the word “Stay.” I knew what it meant. But I didn’t like it much … and the boy was calling me! How could I find him? It wasn’t right, being here in this room. I was becoming more and more sure about that. But the door was shut, and the window was covered, and Todd had certainly seemed angry when I’d barked …
    A click came from the door, and I whirled around.
    The door was eased open just a little, and in the narrow crack along its frame I could see Linda’s face. She thrust a hand into the room. It was holding a soggy cracker.
    â€œHere, Bailey,” she whispered. “Good dog.”
    I liked her voice, I liked her words, and most of all I liked that cracker. I was at the door in three steps, and I slurped the cracker out of her sweaty hand.
    Linda opened the door wider and beckoned to me. I bounded down the hallway after her until we reached the kitchen. Todd’s voice came from the living room. “What? What do you want ? No way. I’m not doing that.” A woman’s voice mumbled. “I don’t care. I’m busy,” Todd snapped.
    Linda and I had reached the door to the outside. She pushed it open and the cool night air flowed in. I sniffed it in gratefully and leaped onto the grass.
    Then I turned to look back for a moment. Linda stood in the doorway, looking both relieved and miserable. For a moment I wished I could bring her with me. She seemed nice, and maybe she’d bring some crackers along with her.
    Then I raced off into the night to find my boy.
    Mom’s car was down the street, and the boy was leaning out of a window, calling, “Bay-leeeee!” I took off after it as fast as I could. The taillights flashed brightly, and a moment later Ethan was out on the street, running to me. “Oh, Bailey, where have you been?” he said, burying his face in my fur. “You’re a bad, bad dog!”
    I knew that being a bad dog was wrong, but the love pouring off of the boy was so strong. I couldn’t help feeling that, right now, being a bad dog was somehow good.
    *   *   *
    I was so glad to be back home that I didn’t even check the gate to the backyard for a few days. When I did feel adventurous again and managed to slip out, I stayed away from Todd’s end of the street. And if I ever saw or smelled him playing in the creek, I was careful to slink into shadows or dash behind some bushes before he could see me.
    I was learning new words every day. Besides being a good dog, and sometimes a bad dog, I was told that I was a big dog over and over. It seemed to be a good thing, mostly, so I wagged when I heard it. I also noticed that I had trouble arranging myself comfortably on the boy’s bed.
    Then there was the word “snow.” The first time I heard it, I thought Ethan was shouting “No!” and I didn’t understand. I didn’t even have anything in my mouth! And I certainly hadn’t lifted my leg. I’d already decided doing that inside the house was more trouble than it was worth.
    But Ethan threw on his coat and hat and boots and dashed outside, yelling at me to follow. That’s when I discovered that “snow” meant the world outside had