Baby-sitters Club - New York, New York! Part 5

I grinned. "I don't know. But I'm glad it's .gone."

"Boy, look at all those dogs," said Jessi.

Everywhere, people were exercising their dogs. A woman in a jogging suit ran by with her rottweiler. An old man walked slowly by with a pair of ancient ba.s.sett hounds. A younger man, dressed in jeans and a T-s.h.i.+rt, walked briskly holding a bouquet of leashes. At the other ends of the leashes were nine dogs, different breeds and sizes. ("I think he's a professional dog walker," I said to Jessi.) We also saw a couple out walking their tabby cat! The cat looked perfectly happy to be on a leash.

"Oiny," Jessi whispered, giggling.

"What?"

"Oiny. That's something Daddy says. O-I-N-Y. It stands for 'only in New York.' "

I laughed, too.

Jessi and I walked around for nearly two hours. We watched roller skaters weave in and out of tin cans on homemade obstacle courses. We saw people rowing boats on the pond. We saw a long line of people and found out they were waiting to get tickets to something called Shakespeare in the Park. They wanted to see the production so badly that they were going to wait all day. The show didn't begin until the evening. We saw sunbathers and skateboarders and bike riders.

Finally we grew tired, "Let's get ice cream," suggested Jessi.

So we did. We found a stand and each bought a double-scoop cone. Then we headed back to Laine's, licking our cones fast to keep the ice cream from dripping.

We had reached a quieter section of the park, away from most of the activity, when I thought I heard a noise. I stopped in my tracks.

"What is it?" asked Jessi, turning around.

"Shh," was my reply. "Listen."

We listened. And then I heard it again - a pitiful whining.

"It's coming from over there!" I pointed to some shrubs by the path. Then I sprinted toward them. (I dropped my cone.) "Be careful!" called Jessi.

"I will." Delicately, I parted the bushes. I knew that what I was doing could be dangerous. If a sick animal were hiding there, it could bite me. I should have been wearing gloves. But I wasn't. When I peered into the leafy darkness, the only thing that happened was that the animal whined again.

"It's a dog!" I cried. "It's little, but I don't think it's a puppy."

"Is it hurt?" asked Jessi.

"Come here. Come here, boy," I called softly.

The dog crept forward. In the sunlight, I could see that it was dirty and scruffy, but it didn't seem either sick or hurt. In fact, it spotted my ice cream cone, bounded over to it, and began to lick it happily.

"He looks kind of like Louie," I said to Jessi. "He must be part collie." (Louie was this wonderful collie that was our family pet for years. He died not long after we moved into Watson's house. We miss him a lot.) "Hey, boy. Where do you belong?" I asked the dog. I looked for his tags, but he wasn't wearing a collar.

"He must be lost. Or abandoned," said Jessi.

"That does it. I'm taking him home."

"To Lame's?" asked Jessi.

"Well, yes. First. But then I'll bring him to Stoneybrook with me."

"Kristy ..."

"Don't say a word!" I picked up the dog, threw out what was left of the cone, and marched back to the Dakota, Jessi following me. We were across the street from Laine's building when something occurred to me. "I bet the dog won't be allowed in the Dakota," I said. "Lots of apartment buildings don't allow pets."

"What are you going to do?" Jessi wanted to know.

"Sneak him in. You help me. Create a distraction so I can get him by the security guard. Faint or something."

"I am not going to faint/' said Jessi. "I'll ask for directions."

Jessi was great. I have never heard anyone sound more confused. "Lincoln Center is west of here?" she repeated. "And south? Which way is west? . . . I'm a tourist."

When the guard turned his back to point out "west/' I ran by him, the dog safely in my arms. But, uh-oh. Now how was I going to get him by the c.u.mmingses? I was in luck. Laine was at home, but her parents weren't.

As I ran the dog into the guest bedroom, Laine exclaimed, "You can't keep a dog in here! He's not allowed."

"Tell me about it," I replied.

"We'll have to hide him."

"That's what I was thinking. Let's keep him in the guest bedroom. Your parents wouldn't open the door to the room Jessi and Mal are staying in, would they?"

"I guess not," said Laine uncertainly.

"Perfect." I closed the door behind us. Laine and I looked at the dog, who looked eagerly at us. He wagged his tail. I think he smiled.

"What are you going to do with him?" Laine asked.

"Take him home. There are so many people and animals at my house that one more won't matter."

"Are you sure?"

'Til call Mom at dinnertime. . . . Wait," I said. "I just thought of something. I wonder what Jessi - "

At that moment, Jessi entered the room. She looked very pleased with herself.

"What happened?" I asked.

Jessi grinned. "That poor guard is so mixed up! I asked him for all these directions, then I told him I needed them for tomorrow and I walked inside." (The guards knew who we were. They must have thought Jessi was totally ditsy. Oh, well. She had told him she was a tourist.) "Kristy," Laine spoke up, "that dog is going to have to, um, piddle soon. Don't you think we should put down newspapers for him? And get him some food and dishes and toys and stuff?"

"Definitely." I handed over the rest of my souvenir money to Jessi and Laine, who agreed to go shopping while I dog-sat.

When they returned, we played with our new pet for awhile. Finally, I decided it was time for me to call home.

Mom wasn't there, but Watson was. I told him the story of the dog. "So can I keep him?" I asked.

"Absolutely not," replied Watson.

Uh-oh.

Mary Anne.

Chapter 10.

Stacey and I had planned a heavy schedule of activities for Tuesday. We just kept thinking of things to do. Then, while we were walking around, we found other things to do. That's what I love about New York. Stuff is happening all the time. You never know what you'll discover.

"Okay," said Stacey cheerfully as we ushered Alistaire and Rowena outside the Dakota on Tuesday morning. "We're off to the Museum of Natural History."

"To see the dinosaurs!" added Rowena.

"The dinosaur skeletons," Alistaire corrected her. "Just bones, remember?"

"Right. Just bones," repeated Rowena.

"There's also a huge whale I think you'll like," I said.

"A real one?" asked Rowena.

"A model!" said Alistaire impatiently. "We're going to a museum, not a zoo."

Rowena made a face at Alistaire. I was glad to see that. Sometimes children who are too polite and proper are scary.

Before we reached the museum, though, we were distracted by a street fair.

"Cool! Look at that!" exclaimed Stacey, pointing down a side street.

1 saw that two blocks had been roped off. Stalls and stands were set up along both sides of the street. A woman was selling balloons. Kids were walking around with Popsicles and cotton candy. A small Ferris wheel was operating at the end of the second block.

"May we go to the fair? Please?" cried Alistaire.

"Please?" added Rowena.

Stacey and I looked at each other. "Why not?" I said.

"Oh, thank you!" exclaimed the children.

As usual, the Harringtons had given Stacey and me plenty of spending money. The four of us roamed the stalls, examining the "rummage" items for sale. (Rowena wanted to buy a music box, but it cost more than a hundred dollars. "It's a genuine antique," a man a.s.sured us, but I knew better than to buy a hundred-dollar toy without the Harringtons' permission.) "I'm thirsty," Alistaire announced, so we stood on a line to buy lemonade.

Nearby was a man wearing sungla.s.ses and a rain hat. He was looking around the fair. Lots of families had come to the fair, but plenty of people had come alone, too. (I didn't think I would enjoy a fair alone.) When we had paid for our lemonades (and they were expensive, as lemonades go) we walked around some more. Stacey bought balloons for the children. "You can't take them into the museum, though," she warned them.

"That's all right! That's all right!" said Ro-wena. "We'll tie them to something outside and get them when we're done."

Alistaire and Rowena finished their drinks. They rode the Ferris wheel. (The man in the hat and sungla.s.ses watched them from a distance, smiling. I smiled, too. The kids were shrieking with delight.) After their ride, we left the fair.

"How do you like my pet dog?" Rowena asked as the four of us walked slowly toward the museum.

"Your what?" I said. I was holding one of her hands. In her other hand was her balloon. It bobbed along beside us.

"My pet dog," Rowena said again. She pointed to the balloon. "See him? He's on his leash. His name is ... Travis. Travis Balloon."

"My balloon is a cat," said Alistaire. "Fat Cat. He likes to walk on his leash."

"Very nice," I p.r.o.nounced.

"They're not really animals," Rowena whispered to me. "Just make-believe."

"Oh," I whispered back. "Thank you."

Near the museum, Stacey and I spotted a bicycle rack. "We'll tie your . . . pets to the rack/' said Stacey.

"But I think you should know/' I added, "that your pets might be gone by the time we get back here."

"Why?" asked Alistaire.

Why? Because sometimes things are stolen. But how could I explain that to a seven-year-old and a four-year-old? Luckily I didn't have to.

"Because pets run away," Rowena informed her brother.

"Oh. Right."

Whew.

Inside the museum, Stacey, Alistaire, Rowena, and I headed directly for the dinosaurs. Alistaire was awed. "Look at all those skeletons," he said reverently. "How brilliant."

"Bones, bones, bones," sang Rowena. "Is that what we look like inside?"

"No, silly!" cried Alistaire, but I wasn't paying much attention to him. I had just turned around and spotted a man in sungla.s.ses and a rain hat ambling around the doorway to the room we had entered.

"What is that? A new style?" I said aloud.

"Huh?" replied Stacey.

"Every other man I've seen today is wearing a rain hat and a pair of sungla.s.ses. I wonder why this guy is wearing sungla.s.ses indoors."

Stacey shrugged. "Hey, this is New York. Anything goes."

We poked around the museum until the kids grew bored. Then we rode an elevator to the bottom floor and looked around the gift shop. Alistaire bought a T-s.h.i.+rt with a picture of a stegasaurus on the front. Rowena bought . . . That's funny. I can't remember what she bought. Maybe that's because it was in the gift shop that I first felt that creepy sensation of being watched. I looked all around the shop. The only person staring at me was a baby riding in a pack on his mother's back. When I looked at him, he smiled and. drooled. The creepy feeling was not coming from the baby - but it didn't go away.

We ate a quick lunch in the fast-food restaurant near the shop. Then we left the museum. Stacey whispered to me, "Let's go right to the library without pa.s.sing the bicycle rack. Maybe the kids will forget about their balloons."

At almost the same time, Rowena said, "Let's see if our pets are still here."

Inwardly, I groaned. Stacey and I had no choice but to go back to the bike rack.