The Misadventures of the Magician's Dog Read Free

Peter thought.
What am I going to say?
    But she didn’t ask. All she said was, “Let’s go, honey.”
    Peter went.

Chapter Two

    The first thing Peter noticed when he entered the Canine Rescue Center was the silence. He had expected dogs barking, but the only sound was the squeak of an overhead fan. In some ways, Peter found the lack of noise more eerie than he would have found barks and growls. Where were the dogs?
    â€œDarn, darn, darn.”
    As one, Peter, his mother, and his sisters turned. The voice had come from a desk piled high with papers—a desk that had no one sitting behind it.
    â€œC’mon,” the voice wheedled now. “Just work. Please work. You know you want to.” A series of sharp bangs followed.
    Celia and Izzy started to giggle. “Umm . . . pardon me?” Peter’s mom said, in her polite voice. “Is someone there?”
    A frazzled-looking young man with a ponytail popped up from beneath the desk. “Oh! I didn’t see you come in. . . . Have you been waiting? I’m sorry. I take it you’re here—of course you must be—for a dog?”
    â€œI’m Grace Lubinsky,” Peter’s mother said, “and this is my son, Peter. Today’s his birthday, and he wants to adopt a dog as his present.”
    â€œWonderful!” the young man said. “We have so many extraordinary dogs here. I think you’ll find . . . Well, it depends what you want. . . . But you’ll find the perfect companion, I know.”
    Peter couldn’t help himself. “What were you banging on?”
    The young man sighed, and the enthusiasm left his face. “Oh. That. Well, the equipment here is all really old. . . . It’s donated, you see. And it’s not working, the computer. I thought . . . Well, I had just about given up, so banging seemed like . . . maybe not a good option, but an option.”
    â€œWould you, um, like me to look?”
    â€œYou know about computers? That would be . . . just excellent, truly excellent.”
    Peter slipped behind the desk.
You’re procrastinating
, his mind told him, but Peter didn’t care. He liked computers, and he didn’t like dogs. Facing him, the monitor was black and lifeless. Peter reached over and pressed the power button on the computer. Nothing. Then he checked the cord in the back, running his fingers down its length until he felt an unexpected rough spot.
    â€œHere’s your problem,” he said, feeling more cheerful than he had all day. “It’s the power cord. It’s been chewed on.”
    â€œRusty!” said the young man, snapping his fingers, as though this explained everything.
    â€œUh . . . ,” said Peter. “It’s not actually rusty. It’s been chewed on. I mean, with teeth.”
    The young man laughed, then patted Peter’s shoulder. “No, no—Rusty is a dog. I had him out here with me yesterday. That rascal—he’d chew through anything. I should’ve checked the cord; I just didn’t think . . .”
    One more disadvantage of dogs
, Peter thought. “You can get a new power cord at any electronics store,” he said. “They don’t cost that much.”
    â€œThank you so much,” said the young man. “Really, thank you. I’m Timothy, by the way. I would have . . . Well, anything you need, please let me know.”
    â€œWell, right now we need a dog,” Peter’s mom reminded Timothy. She was smiling, clearly pleased that Peter had been able to help, but Izzy, waiting next to her, was wiggling with impatience, and Celia was restlessly shifting her weight from foot to foot.
    â€œOh, yes, right,” said Timothy. He hurried to a door in the opposite wall. “They’re through here,” he said, pushing the door open. An