Quite a Spectacle by Meg Harding Page A

their suitcases were stacked by the door.
    “Did you pack your phone charger?” Max called, chasing Buddy around with his leash. The dog wasn’t having it.
    “I think so.” He bent and rummaged through his bag just in case. The phone charger was nowhere to be found. He backtracked to his bedroom to find it lying right on the end of the bed. Shaking his head he retrieved it and headed back to the door where Max was waiting for him with a very sad looking Buddy. “I feel you, man,” he said, rubbing the top of his dog’s head.
    Max glared at him, and Michael held up his hands apologetically. “I’m done,” he said, “I’m done.”
    Getting from the door to the car was a bit of a challenge. Michael had the bags, Max had the dog, and really it should have all been simple. But Buddy hated cars, and he was a large dog.
    He was tugging on his leash, trying to pull away from the car. When that didn’t work, he tried to run circles around Max, who was forced to repeatedly step over and around the leash, like he was doing a dance.
    Michael went back for Buddy’s bag filled with his dog food and his bowls and his favorite toys. Buddy started howling. Michael loaded them into the car, cutting a wide berth around Buddy.
    His teeth chattered, and he contemplated going in and getting another jacket to wear under his parka. Maybe he should have packed a sweatshirt for Buddy too.
    He watched, very amused, as Max dug his heels into the snow and pulled with all his might. Buddy didn’t budge. His legs were buried several inches deep in the snow, his fur already starting to curl from the flakes landing in his hair. He kept shaking them off, his great big floppy ears flailing around his head.
    Max was swearing at him now, not amused by the display and quickly growing frustrated. “Michael,” he finally snapped, “get your ass over here and make him move.”
    Digging around in Buddy’s bag, Michael pulled out a handful of treats and pushed Max aside. He waved the treats in front of Buddy’s snout. “You want these, boy?” he crooned. Buddy inched closer, and Michael inched back. He dropped a treat in the snow and Buddy scooped it up.
    He repeated this all the way to the car, placing the last treat on the backseat and smiling smugly when Buddy hopped right on up. Max tossed his leash in after him and shut the door. He held a finger up in front of Michael’s face. “Not one word.”
    Michael shrugged and dropped into the passenger seat, buckling himself in to wait.
    It took all of three minutes on the road before Buddy pressed his snout to the window and proceeded to drool all over Max’s freshly cleaned car. Michael watched as the slobber dripped down.
    He watched as Max flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror and his entire face scrunched up in disgust.
    “I can’t roll the window down. It’s too cold,” he said. He acted like he was talking to Michael, but Michael knew he was really trying to convince himself a little drool was better than freezing to death.
    Another ten minutes into the drive, Buddy had gotten tired of the window and was leaning over the back of Max’s seat, his muzzle on Max’s shoulder. Max turned his head just slightly and kissed what he could reach of Buddy’s face. “You’re such a baby,” he said. “Go bother Michael.”
    Buddy didn’t budge. Max sighed and let him drool on his shoulder for the rest of the drive.
    Michael had tried to get his parents to protest his not being there on Christmas day, but they had refused. They thought it was about time the two of them spent Christmas with Max’s parents.
    He gave it one last go as they dropped Buddy off. He widened his eyes and clung tight to his mother. “It’ll be so different. What will you do?” he asked her.
    He could hear his father and Max snorting behind him. His mother ran her hand over his back and patted him. “We’ll manage,” she assured him. “We’ve got your siblings, after all.”
    Max sounded like he was howling,