I Catch a Nope
That sounded real impressive when I said it. Then I actually had to do it.
Calling Mrs. O’Leary didn’t always work. Sometimes she was too far away to sense me. Sometimes she was busy doing something else, like digging
holes in the Underworld or chewing on a juicy drakon bone. Years ago, Daedalus had left her in my care, but these days she was her own person. She did what she wanted.
If I thought about her hard enough, though, she might show up. If that didn’t work, I’d need incentives. I grabbed some treats from Hecuba’s stash.
If those failed me, I’d have to go with my last resort. On my keychain, I kept a dog whistle that Leo Valdez had given me. It wasn’t made of Stygian ice like my first one—that had shattered. This one was Celestial bronze and engraved with LEO+PERCY 4EVER , because Leo is a doofus. I tried not to blow that whistle unless I really had to.
The second thing I would need: lots of open space. Mrs. O’Leary usually got excited when she saw me. We didn’t need to wreck the mansion any more than we already had. I grabbed Hecate’s keys, walked across the street, and unlocked one of the gates to Gramercy Park.
I expected a chorus of billionaire angels to start singing when I opened it, but the only sound was the creak of rusty hinges. Inside (spoiler alert), there were trees. Also shrubs, gravel paths, and benches, like a lot of neighborhood parks in New York. Nothing was gilded in twenty-four-karat gold. No diamonds or rubies decorated the flower beds. I wanted there to be a sign on the path welcoming new visitors: ARE YOU NOT
UNDERWHELMED?
In the middle of the park stood the statue of a sad-looking old-timey dude, the name EDWIN BOOTH engraved at his feet. I didn’t know why Edwin
looked so depressed. Maybe he’d lost his hellhound. Anyway, I had the park to myself, so I figured it would be a safer place to call Mrs. O’Leary, rather than on the corner of Third Avenue, where she might trample a taxi.
I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my anxiety about Hecate obliterating me. I focused on Mrs. O’Leary. Come here, girl!
 |
Silence. No rustling in the shadows. No disturbance in the Force. Just me and Edwin Booth standing by ourselves, looking sad.
I held up my bag of doggie goodies and tried again. Treaty treats!
Still nothing.
I wondered if Mrs. O’Leary was at Camp Jupiter in California, where she usually hung out these days. If so, she was probably romping around the Field of Mars, playing with her buddy Hannibal the elephant. I felt bad about calling to her, expecting her to shadow-travel all the way across the country. That took a lot of energy. If she got here at all, she might arrive too tired to help me. Then I’d end up with a massive, snoring pile of cuteness.
But I really needed her help.
Reluctantly, I got out my whistle. I blew it. I couldn’t hear anything because of the high-pitched sound waves or whatever, but the whistle’s inscription lit up in rainbow colors—LEO+PERCY 4EVER . As I may have mentioned, Leo is a doofus.
I thought I was ready for what would happen next. Somehow, it still surprised me. A gust of wind ripped through the park, kicking up funnel
clouds of leaves. The tree branches swayed. Their shadows wove together across the gravel path, turning into a pool of darkness. And out of that
darkness burst Mrs. O’Leary.
A wall of furry black canine crashed into me, knocking me to the ground.
She slathered me with kisses, which was like being wrapped in a wet sandpaper-textured sleeping bag. I made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a crushed grunt.
“Okay, girl,” I said. “I missed you, too.”
Thankfully, she always knew when it was time to stop so I didn’t suffocate or die from a collapsed rib cage. When I got to my feet, I was covered in dog drool and fur, but I was grinning.
I’d missed my dog.
Yes, I wanted to go to New Rome University to be with Annabeth. No doubt about that. But I also felt like part of my heart was already there. I had good friends among the Roman demigods. My half brother Tyson lived there. And Mrs. O’Leary spent most of her time at Camp Jupiter. She liked the food in the mess hall. She liked the elephant. She liked the whole package.
Maybe I should write an application essay about that. I want to go to your university because my dog lives there. Or maybe not.
Mrs. O’Leary gave me one more sloppy kiss across the side of my face; then she started to sniff me, inhaling every scent I had accumulated since we’d last seen each other. She didn’t seem pleased with my life choices.
She backed up, shook her head indignantly, and barked, “WOOF!” Probable translation: Have you been seeing other hellhounds?
“It’s Hecuba,” I explained. “Hecate’s dog. We’re just dog-sitting, and she got away.”
I opened my backpack and pulled out Hecuba’s leash.
Mrs. O’Leary recoiled as soon as the scent hit her nose. She gave me a wounded stare.
“I know,” I said. “She’s not nearly as wonderful as you. But I really need your help finding her.”
Mrs. O’Leary growled.
“Why would I want to find her?” I interpreted. “Well … if I don’t, Hecate will kill me. And Grover. And Annabeth.”
Mrs. O’Leary snorted. I read this as You are a marvel of foolishness, Percy. But fine, I’ll help you.
She snuffled at the leash, sniffed the air, then bounded off through the park.
I was hoping it would be a short chase. Maybe Mrs. O’Leary would lead me to the nearest corner, and we’d find Hecuba asleep behind a bush.
Of course it wasn’t that easy.
Mrs. O’Leary leaped the fence. She raced off down East 20th, bounding over the tops of cars like they were convenient stepping stones. I wasn’t as good at navigating obstacles, but I did my best to keep up, because I really didn’t want to lose two hellhounds in the same evening.
Unlike Hecuba, Mrs. O’Leary was laser-focused. She didn’t stop to pee on trash cans or assault food-truck vendors. She just kept running, pausing only long enough to sniff the pavement and confirm she was on the right trail.
Yeah! I thought. This is going to work!
That’s usually what I say just before something doesn’t work.
I followed Mrs. O’Leary west for a few blocks, then south, then west again. Finally, she ducked into an alley between a tattoo parlor and a Trader Joe’s.
When I caught up with her, Mrs. O’Leary was sniffing around a pile of garbage bags, flattened boxes, and empty fruit crates.
She was wagging her tail, which seemed weird. Given how she’d behaved when she first caught Hecuba’s smell, I doubted Mrs. O’Leary would act so happy if she’d really found her. Also, the trash pile she was sniffing wasn’t nearly big enough to hide a grown hellhound.
I tried to think positive. “What you got there, girl?”
I inched closer. Maybe she’d gotten sidetracked after all by some lusciously scented food waste. She did love Trader Joe’s pumpkin dog treats
—probably because they weren’t available in the Camp Jupiter mess hall, and Hades hadn’t opened a Trader Joe’s in the Underworld (yet).
I reached down to move some fruit crates. From somewhere inside the pile, a small voice yelped, “NOPE!”
I stumbled backward into a crate of rotten bananas.
Mrs. O’Leary didn’t look worried, though. Whatever she was smelling, she was curious about it, and excited.
The thing in the pile yapped again—“NOPE!”—and I realized how small it sounded, how afraid ….
My heart twisted in a knot. I had a sudden overpowering urge to help the nope-yapper. I started clearing away boxes and bags. Mrs. O’Leary guided me, nosing through the trash until we unearthed the source of the yapping.
It was a puppy. A hellhound puppy.
His black fur was matted with gunk. Flies buzzed around his cherry-red eyes. His ears were back, and he trembled with fear. A nasty-looking cut zigzagged across his back, like he’d been attacked by something with claws.
I don’t cry a lot, but I have to tell you, my eyes watered pretty bad.
“Hey, there,” I said as softly as I could. “Hey, buddy. We’re not going to hurt you.”
I crouched so I wouldn’t look so big, which I guess was kind of pointless since Mrs. O’Leary loomed right next to me. “It’s going to be okay.”
I hoped my tone would be soothing, but I was choking up so bad, I could barely talk. I remembered the stories Tyson had told me about how young Cyclopes grew up on the streets, getting harassed by monsters, hiding in alleys, feeling lonely and afraid all the time. I didn’t know if it was the
same for hellpuppies, or how this little guy had ended up here. I just knew I had to rescue him.
Mrs. O’Leary must’ve had the same instinct. As soon as she’d picked up his scent, the whole hunting-Hecuba mission had gone out the window. I
didn’t blame her a bit.
I rummaged through my bag and pulled out one of Hecuba’s treats. I offered it to the puppy, but he flinched when I extended my hand.
I broke the treat in half. I put one part on the ground and gave the other to Mrs. O’Leary, just to show the puppy that it was safe to eat.
Mrs. O’Leary seemed to understand the situation. She lay down so as not to look threatening.
After a few minutes of me just talking calmly and staying put, the puppy inched forward. He sniffed the treat, then wolfed it down.
Then he looked at me with those big red eyes like, More?
We sat there for a long time, until the pup was comfortable enough to eat out of my hand. The poor thing had fleas and ticks, and the hair around his eyes had been eaten by mites, so he had a pale mask, kind of like a reverse polecat. He smelled pretty bad, too, but underneath the stench of garbage and urine I could still catch a whiff of “new puppy.” He couldn’t have been more than six weeks old.
“You want another treat?” I asked him.
“Nope!” he barked, which apparently meant Yes, please, I’ll take the whole bag.
I couldn’t help but smile. “Is that your name? Nope?” He tilted his head, maybe thinking about it. “Nope!” “Okay, then that’s what I’ll call you.”
He crawled right into my lap. He was heavy—like fifty pounds—and floppy, with ridiculously oversize paws that told me he was going to be a
rhino-size hellhound someday. I scratched behind his ears and kept feeding him treats, letting him get used to the sound of my voice.
Meanwhile, Mrs. O’Leary’s eyes were starting to droop. Shadow-traveling took a lot of energy. Hunting down puppies? Also hard work.
Now, lying here calmly and hearing my soothing voice, my OG dog was starting to feel the snooze.
“It’s okay, girl,” I told her. “You did great. Get some rest.”
Mrs. O’Leary grunted. She hauled up her massive body and circled around, making a nest in the flattened cardboard boxes. As soon as she lay down,
she dissolved into shadows, leaving nothing but a hellhound-shaped depression.
That made me kind of sad. She’d been with me for, like, thirty seconds, and now she was gone again. But like I said before, she’s her own person. If
she wanted to dissolve into shadows and reappear back at Camp Jupiter, all comfy and cozy in her usual giant doggie bed, who was I to stop her?
“Nope?” asked the puppy.
“I’m not crying,” I said, wiping my eyes.
The cut on Nope’s back looked infected. I could feel his ribs under his fur. Hopefully, Grover would know some hellhound first aid.
“You want to get out of here?” I asked Nope. “You can meet my friends, have a nice warm place to sleep. We’ll get you all better.”
The puppy half-heartedly licked my hand. He was still trembling, but not as bad as before.
I took that as a yes.
I knew this wouldn’t solve our problems. Hecuba and Gale were still on the loose. The manse was still a wreck. Hecate was still going to incinerate us. In fact, this was the most ADHD move I’d ever made in a career of ADHD moves. I’d gone out to find two missing pets and was coming home with a different dog instead. But anytime you can help a puppy, you should help a puppy. I picked up Nope as gently as I could, draped him over one shoulder like a baby, and started back toward Gramercy Park.
