coyotes,” Mendel Rosenbaum offered.
“Ah!” Ben collapsed in the lounge chair in front of the fireplace. “I can barely breathe. I'm
so worried!”
“Well, now that I'm an expert on missing persons,” Seth said, “let's see if we can apply our
newfound knowledge to dogs.” And with that he started a search of the property.
Lars, Sharon, Heidi, Ben, Rita, and Mendel joined in the search. Doctor Mister was found
almost immediately, his muffled but insistent yapping coming from under the house.
He had indeed gotten loose. And clearly followed something small into the crawl space.
“Doctor Mister!” Ben cried in through the hatch, desperate. “Why isn't he coming out?”
72
Astrid Amara
“I can do it,” Seth said, moving to the hatchway. “I used to get our Weimaraner to come to
us all the time.” He called Doctor Mister's name, but the dog didn't come. Seth tried threats. Still
no luck. He scratched at the surface. He made meow sounds.
“You don't know what you're doing,” Lars said, crouching next to the hole with him.
“Here, let me do it.”
“Oh, you're a dog whisperer now?”
“I've trained dogs, you know,” Lars said.
“Who, Buddy, your golden retriever?” Seth scoffed. “Training a golden retriever to come
is like training a cockroach to survive a nuclear winter. It's automatic.”
Lars snorted. “So what makes you an expert?”
“I told you. I had a German dog growing up. They require expert trainers, since they listen
to you fifty percent of the time and the rest of the time they are calculating the pros and cons of
murdering you in your sleep.”
“Well, that's what you get for raising a German dog.”
“Ha-ha.” The two of them were on their hands and knees, calling Doctor Mister with
cheerful tones, excited tones, angry tones. Lars went inside and returned with a chicken leg,
which he pretended to eat loudly.
“You can't give a dog chicken bones!” Ben Berkowitz wailed.
“I'm not giving it to him; I'm luring him.” Lars ripped off a piece of skin and threw it into
the entrance. Nothing happened.
“This is terrible, terrible!” Ben Berkowitz cried.
“Get out here, or I'll sue you!” Lars shouted under the house. This made the Neidlich
sisters laugh, but Doctor Mister was unmoved.
Seth sighed. “Someone has to go under there and get him.”
One of the guests brought out a flashlight, as it was already getting dark. Ben tried to crawl
through the opening, but his stomach proved too great an obstacle for early-twentieth-century
design standards.
Seth cursed into the snow and grabbed the flashlight. “Fine. I'll do it.”
“If he bites you, I'll pay your expenses,” Ben told him.
Carol of the Bellskis
73
Seth rolled his eyes. “Wonderful. Look, just start the celebrations without me, all right? It's
almost dark.”
“We can wait,” Ben said, frantically staring into the dark hole from which his dog's barks
could be heard.
“No, we can't, or Rabbi Chaim is likely to give us another lecture, and I for one won't be
able to stand it.” Seth patted Ben's bulky, down-covered shoulder. “Don't worry. I'll get him out.”
Ben nodded sadly and went into the house.
“Do you want me to hold the flashlight?” Lars offered.
“There's another one in the kitchen drawer by the sink. Can you grab that?”
Lars ran inside, and Seth slithered through the cold entrance. Outside, the ground was
frozen and hard and cut at his jeans and puffy winter coat. But under the house, it was warm
enough to be muddy, and Seth felt his knees and elbows sink into the ground as he crawled,
using his arms, light swinging from side to side.
He paused for a moment. It was dark in here. The pipes overhead were very close.
Touching-his-head close.
It had been a long time since Seth had felt claustrophobic, but he did so now, fear washing
over him instantly, paralyzing him. The house could fall on him. He could get stuck like Doctor
Mister and die. He
“Ah!” Ben collapsed in the lounge chair in front of the fireplace. “I can barely breathe. I'm
so worried!”
“Well, now that I'm an expert on missing persons,” Seth said, “let's see if we can apply our
newfound knowledge to dogs.” And with that he started a search of the property.
Lars, Sharon, Heidi, Ben, Rita, and Mendel joined in the search. Doctor Mister was found
almost immediately, his muffled but insistent yapping coming from under the house.
He had indeed gotten loose. And clearly followed something small into the crawl space.
“Doctor Mister!” Ben cried in through the hatch, desperate. “Why isn't he coming out?”
72
Astrid Amara
“I can do it,” Seth said, moving to the hatchway. “I used to get our Weimaraner to come to
us all the time.” He called Doctor Mister's name, but the dog didn't come. Seth tried threats. Still
no luck. He scratched at the surface. He made meow sounds.
“You don't know what you're doing,” Lars said, crouching next to the hole with him.
“Here, let me do it.”
“Oh, you're a dog whisperer now?”
“I've trained dogs, you know,” Lars said.
“Who, Buddy, your golden retriever?” Seth scoffed. “Training a golden retriever to come
is like training a cockroach to survive a nuclear winter. It's automatic.”
Lars snorted. “So what makes you an expert?”
“I told you. I had a German dog growing up. They require expert trainers, since they listen
to you fifty percent of the time and the rest of the time they are calculating the pros and cons of
murdering you in your sleep.”
“Well, that's what you get for raising a German dog.”
“Ha-ha.” The two of them were on their hands and knees, calling Doctor Mister with
cheerful tones, excited tones, angry tones. Lars went inside and returned with a chicken leg,
which he pretended to eat loudly.
“You can't give a dog chicken bones!” Ben Berkowitz wailed.
“I'm not giving it to him; I'm luring him.” Lars ripped off a piece of skin and threw it into
the entrance. Nothing happened.
“This is terrible, terrible!” Ben Berkowitz cried.
“Get out here, or I'll sue you!” Lars shouted under the house. This made the Neidlich
sisters laugh, but Doctor Mister was unmoved.
Seth sighed. “Someone has to go under there and get him.”
One of the guests brought out a flashlight, as it was already getting dark. Ben tried to crawl
through the opening, but his stomach proved too great an obstacle for early-twentieth-century
design standards.
Seth cursed into the snow and grabbed the flashlight. “Fine. I'll do it.”
“If he bites you, I'll pay your expenses,” Ben told him.
Carol of the Bellskis
73
Seth rolled his eyes. “Wonderful. Look, just start the celebrations without me, all right? It's
almost dark.”
“We can wait,” Ben said, frantically staring into the dark hole from which his dog's barks
could be heard.
“No, we can't, or Rabbi Chaim is likely to give us another lecture, and I for one won't be
able to stand it.” Seth patted Ben's bulky, down-covered shoulder. “Don't worry. I'll get him out.”
Ben nodded sadly and went into the house.
“Do you want me to hold the flashlight?” Lars offered.
“There's another one in the kitchen drawer by the sink. Can you grab that?”
Lars ran inside, and Seth slithered through the cold entrance. Outside, the ground was
frozen and hard and cut at his jeans and puffy winter coat. But under the house, it was warm
enough to be muddy, and Seth felt his knees and elbows sink into the ground as he crawled,
using his arms, light swinging from side to side.
He paused for a moment. It was dark in here. The pipes overhead were very close.
Touching-his-head close.
It had been a long time since Seth had felt claustrophobic, but he did so now, fear washing
over him instantly, paralyzing him. The house could fall on him. He could get stuck like Doctor
Mister and die. He
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