Дебора Хоу - Return To Howliday Inn

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little secret, dear friend. I’ve lost my spirit. I’m poor in every sense of the word now, Hamlet. I’m alone. And that’s the worst kind of poor there is.”

Hamlet cocked his head and whimpered. Archie seemed to know right away what he was saying. “Willie? Oh, Willie and I haven’t had a good talk in months. Oh, sure, sure, he’s here, but we just don’t have anything to talk about anymore.”

Hamlet whimpered again.

“You want me to get him?” Archie asked.

Hamlet woofed.

“Really? You want to see Willie?”

The Great Dane panted and woofed some more as Archie’s face seemed to grow younger by the minute.

The residents of the nursing home were getting quite a kick out of this exchange.

“Who’s this Willie you’re talking about?” asked the blue-haired lady, holding—much to my surprise—a purring Felony on her lap. “I don’t remember knowing anybody here named Willie.”

“You’re not talking about William, are you, Archie?” asked a man with thick glasses and an even thicker mustache.

Archie shook his head. “William is a big fellow,” he said. “No, no, I’m talking about Little Willie. Why, it’s no wonder you’ve missed him. He’s only three feet tall.”

I looked at Chester, who had sidled up next to

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me. “I think,” he commented, “we may have reunited Hamlet with a nut case.”

But it was a different kind of case that entered the room moments later—a large suitcase on wheels that was covered with stickers and pulled with considerable effort by Archibald Fenster, the great Shakespearean actor.

Helen and George came in a step behind him to inform us that “someone” was on the way to “see to” the animals. I love hearing things like that. It makes meals sit so easily on the tummy. But they didn’t rush out of the room. This time they stayed and, like the rest of us, gathered around Archie to find out what a traveling case on wheels had to do with the mysterious Willie.

“Let… me … out… of… here!” a tiny, tinny voice demanded.

It sounded enough like Rosebud to make every hair on my body stand up and salute.

“Are you going to behave?” Archie said to the box.

“Yeah, yeah,” said the voice. “Come on, Arch, I been in here for three months. Give me some air, huh?”

Archie looked around the room. Seeing that everyone’s eyes were glued to the case on the floor, he bent down and undid the locks.

“Well, it’s about time!” The voice grew louder as the top opened.

Archie reached in and lifted out …

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[Image: All people, dogs and cat happy and listen with joy.]

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[Image: All people, dogs and cat happy and listen with joy.]

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“A dummy!” said Helen, peering over Archie’s shoulder. “Why, Archie, you never told us you were a ventriloquist.”

“What’s a ventriloquist?” Howie asked Chester.

“Ventriloquists,” Chester explained, “are people who talk without moving their lips and make it seem as if someone else is doing the talking.”

“Like Hamlet and Rosebud,” I added.

Hamlet glanced in my direction and nodded bashfully.

“Say, Arch,” Willie said. The dummy was now seated on Archie’s knee.

“Yeah, Willie?”

“Looks to me like you’re losing your hair.”

“It’s true, Willie. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

“Yeah, that’s a tough decision.”

“Tough decision? What do you mean?”

“Toupee or not toupee.”

We all laughed. And our laughter encouraged them to go on performing. Archie, I later learned, wasn’t really a Shakespearean actor; he just called himself that as part of his act.

“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?”

“Romeo and Juliet,” Chester whispered to me.

“That’s no light, Arch,” Willie cracked. “That’s the sun reflecting off the top o’ your head!”

These guys were funny. More than funny, they were good. I guess I should say that Archie was

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good, since he was doing everything. I had to keep reminding myself that Willie wasn’t real.

After an hour or so of watching them perform, I could see that Hamlet had had a good teacher. No wonder he’d had us all convinced those bones could talk.

Just when they were finishing up—”Say goodbye, Willie.” “Goodbye, Willie.”—I noticed Dr. Greenbriar and Jill standing in the doorway, laughing along with the rest of us. Archie noticed them too. His smiling face grew grim when he saw the words Chateau Bow-Wow on Jill’s T-shirt.

Putting Willie aside, he stood slowly and said, with quiet dignity, “I suppose you have to take them now.”

Dr. Greenbriar nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Felony jumped off the lap of the blue-haired lady. “Goodbye, Boopsie,” the lady called out sadly.

Another woman removed The Weasel from where she had him wrapped around her neck. “You brought back some happy memories,” she told him. “My husband gave me that coat the first year we were married. I wore it to the opera and to the theater. Oh, my, the places we went.” She stopped speaking and stroked The Weasel lovingly. And then she let him go.

One by one, we made our way amid gentle touches and soft goodbyes to the door. Only Hamlet remained at his master’s side. Archie looked down at him.

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Parting is such sweet sorrow,” he said.

Hamlet moaned.

“We’ve got to do something,” Chester whispered to me. “We can’t let Greenbriar take Hamlet. You know what it means.”

“But what can we do?” I asked.

Chester didn’t have an answer right away. And as I watched Hamlet walk slowly toward us and saw Dr. Greenbriar turn to open the door, I couldn’t help thinking it was too late.

And then I saw Chester’s eyes light up and I heard him say, “How hard can it be to talk without moving your lips?”

He rushed around whispering his plan in all our ears. And a moment later, just as we were about to leave the room for good, the residents of the Sunnydale Nursing Home had a paranormal experience.

The air was suddenly filled with mewing and whimpering and barking. And it couldn’t have been us, because our mouths weren’t moving at all.

The old people looked around the room, as if it were suddenly flooded with memories.

“Boopsie?” the blue-haired lady said softly. “Is that you?”

The man with the glasses and mustache looked around him. “Sparky? Are you there, boy?”

“Dusty?”

“Whitey?”

“Is that you, Marco?”

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“Here, Duke.”

“Come on, Lady.”

And as the room filled with names, Dr. Greenbriar turned to Helen and George and said, “Rules were made to be broken. Don’t you think Sunnydale needs a pet?”

Helen and George looked at each other, then at Archie, who was the only one not calling a name. He was looking into their eyes, asking without any words for Hamlet to be saved.

And they said yes.

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Epilogue

THE rest of our week at Chateau Bow-Wow was fairly uneventful. I say “fairly” because everything pales when compared to Rosebud and the emotional reunion of Hamlet and Archie.

Felony and Miss Demeanor were caught trying to break into the food closet the very afternoon we returned from the Sunny dale Nursing Home. And again that evening. And the next morning. And the following afternoon. Where they failed as burglars, however, they did succeed in getting the message across to the management. Our food was finally changed for the better. No more gruel and unusual punishment.

Bob and Linda heard at last from Tom and Tracy—a postcard with a view of a snow-covered mountain. “Dear Bob & Linda,” it read, “Have been mountain climbing in quest of tranquillity and the meaning of life. Forgot to bring stamps. Love,