Deprivation House by Franklin W. Dixon

contact is considered an act of aggression to canines, and I definitely didn’t want Hairy to think I was getting aggressive.
    As I started to back away, Hairy started to bark. Loud and fast.
    I took another step. Hairy lunged. And he had just enough leash to reach me. He brought me down. Hard.
    Go fetal , I told myself. I covered my head with my arms and curled my legs to my chest. Hairy stoodover me, barking. Half my body was under his.
    I heard footsteps running toward me. Hairy’s barking turned frantic.
    â€œStay back,” I heard Frank call out. “We’re making him more aggressive.”
    I could feel Hairy’s hot breath on my head. He was really panting hard. They’re going to figure out what to do, I told myself. Just stay still.
    â€œJoe,” Ripley called. “I’m moving toward you on the left. I’m not going to get too close. I don’t want to freak out your friend. I’m only going to get close enough to roll some pepper spray into your left hand.”
    I slid one arm away from my head, feeling like a turtle without the protection of its shell. Slowly I stretched my hand out.
    Hairy switched into that low, low growl again. I didn’t look at him. I didn’t want to risk eye contact. But I figured he was giving Ripley a warning.
    â€œI can’t risk getting any nearer. I’m going to roll it now. One, two, three,” Ripley said.
    I flexed my fingers, and a second later I felt a small, cool canister hit them. I cracked my eyes open, adjusted the pepper spray so it was aimed at Hairy—then pushed the button.
    The dog scrambled away with a whimper. I leaped to my feet and got myself well out of the range ofHairy’s long leash. I realized I had Ripley’s pepper spray in a death grip. “Thanks.” I walked over and handed it back. “So, do you routinely carry this stuff?”
    â€œI use it when the paparazzi get in my face,” she answered as Frank, Brynn, and Mikey joined us. Ripley shook her head. “No, I used to use it when the paparazzi got in my face. Now I’ll let them take pictures whenever. I’ve got nothing to hide. I’m nice twenty-four/seven. Almost.”
    â€œAt least you’ll have more clips than I do now,” Frank told her. “You’re a hero again.”
    We both watched for her reaction. “Hey, I guess I am,” she said. “We’ll have to check me out on TV.”
    â€œYou didn’t get bitten or anything, did you?” Brynn asked.
    Ripley slapped her forehead. “I should have asked that.”
    â€œMy long-lost brother should have asked that,” I said.
    â€œI didn’t see any blood,” Frank told me.
    Suddenly I realized everyone else was back to working on their dogs. “The contest is still on. Veronica didn’t call a time out or anything,” I told them. “Come on. I want to see those toothbrushes flying. You still have a chance to win.”
    â€œYou’re sure?” Mikey asked.
    â€œGo!” I ordered. He and Ripley took off. Brynn and Frank didn’t move. “I’m fine,” I told them. “Go.” They went.
    I looked over at Hairy. Poor guy. He had his tail down and was vomiting into the grass.
    A woman with a long gray braid hurried over to him. “Wait,” I called. “He’s not stable.”
    She veered away from Hairy and walked over to me. “Are you the boy who was working with Captain?” The woman gestured toward Hairy.
    â€œYeah, I was,” I answered.
    â€œI’m his trainer. I should have been here today. I let a handler bring him. It sounded like a basic job, and I had to—” She stopped. “That’s not important. What happened exactly? Captain’s never been aggressive with anyone. I let my two-year-old grand-daughter ride him around like a pony.”
    I took another look at Hairy—Captain. He was lying down with his head resting on his