Josh Roseman - The Clockwork Russian and Other Stories

“Scared,” Rex whined. “Help.”

Sam tried to speak, but neither Rex nor Lee could understand him. “I’m sorry,” Lee said again. She checked her watch. “Look, I have to go home. You guys stay here, and I’ll sneak out and bring you some food and stuff.” She touched Rex’s shoulder and he tried to lick her hand again. “No, Rex. Don’t do that.”

Rex could tell her heart really wasn’t in the reprimand, though, and she let him lick her a couple of times. She tasted like usual — soap, nail polish, the stink of her two cats — and it helped calm his nerves a little. She smiled at him, then left the clubhouse.

Sam whined at Rex. Rex stretched out on the floor next to Sam and, in a few moments, both were asleep.

The creaking of the clubhouse door woke Sam first, and he nudged Rex with his cold nose. Rex jerked awake. “What!” he barked.

“Shh! It’s me!” Lee’s voice. And she had food.

Food!

Rex didn’t even wait until she put the plate down; he used his paws — his hands — to lift the metal stuff off the top, then dug his face into the cold hamburgers and hot dogs. He’d had better, but he was hungry now.

“Rex, slow down!” Lee hissed. She pushed his head away and yanked the plate out from under him, then slid it across the floor to Sam. “Here. You have to eat.”

Sam sighed, but he did as she said. At first he nibbled tentatively, but Rex remembered how good treats like this had been, back when he had fur and four legs, and it looked like Sam liked them too. He gulped down the burgers and hot dogs, and by then Lee had put a bowl of water on the floor. He lapped it up greedily.

Rex looked at Lee with sad eyes. “Drink.”

She opened a can of soda and brought it to Rex’s mouth. The cold liquid was too sweet, and it made his mouth taste like metal, but after a few sips he realized he enjoyed it. He tried to grip the can, but when he almost dropped it, he realized it would be better to just let Lee hold it for him.

“Okay, guys,” she said when the meal was over, “Ricky is going to say you’re sleeping over at his house. So we have until tomorrow at dinnertime to fix this.”

Sam barked quietly. Rex cocked his head and stared at Lee. “Dog.” He pointed at himself. Then he pointed at Sam. “Human.”

“Yeah, Rex. I know. But for now, you have to remember that you’re Sam. And Sam,” she added, looking down at his furry form, “you have to answer to Rex. At least for now.”

Sam’s large, brown eyes managed to look angry — Rex recognized the same look the big humans at his house got when he pooped on the floor or slept in the middle of the kitchen and made people trip over him. Rex shrank back a little, and when Sam noticed, he got to his feet and came over to Rex. Rex tried to remember what felt good and managed to scratch Sam behind the ears.

Lee giggled, but when Sam gave her that look again, she stopped. “I’m sorry.” She went to the corner of the clubhouse and brought back the clothes Sam had been wearing earlier in the day. She held the bottom part out and told Rex to put it on.

He tried, but fell hard. Lee almost laughed, but stopped when Sam growled and just helped Rex get dressed. “Okay,” she said, “good. At least now people won’t stare.” Next she took out a lantern and lit it, then set it on the table. “I’m going to go through the book until I find a way to undo this. I promise.” The book was already on the table. Rex looked at it, but he didn’t know how to read like Sam and the other humans. He wanted to grab it with his teeth and rip it to pieces, but in his mind that book and his strange situation were connected. Destroying the book meant he couldn’t be a dog again, and Sam couldn’t be a human again.

So Rex sat on the floor near Sam, and Sam put his head on Rex’s leg, and they dozed off together.

The sun was up, but the clubhouse wasn’t warm yet. Rex had an urgent need to go out, and since Sam wasn’t tied up anymore, they walked to the woods together. Sam awkwardly cocked a leg, but when Rex tried to do the same, Sam barked at him.

“Out!” Rex barked.

Sam stopped himself and came close enough to Rex to gently take his clothes in his jaws and tug downward. Rex understood and, together, the two of them got the pants — yes, that’s what they were called, pants — out of the way. Rex looked off into the woods as he and Sam both peed, and Rex even managed to get the pants most of the way up before they went back to the clubhouse.

Lee had woken in the meantime and, as they sat back down on the floor, she took out some food and unwrapped it. Rex didn’t much care for the taste of the brown things with fruit in them, but Sam snapped two of them up without hesitation. “Sorry, Rex. It’s all I could bring. I’ll go get more water, okay?”

“Drink. Tickle. Metal.”

Lee laughed. “Not this early in the morning. Stay here, guys; I’ll be right back.”

Rex stood as soon as she was gone and went back to the table. He growled at the book. “Bad,” he said. “Bad thing!”

Sam trotted over and reared up onto his hind legs, planting his forepaws on the table. He nosed at the book until Rex figured out what he wanted and turned the page. Actually, he turned many of them — at least two paws worth — but Sam didn’t seem to mind. Rex watched Sam’s eyes — his own eyes — staring at the paper, trying to read.

Rex wished he could do more to help, but he was a dog — a dog wearing a human’s body, but still a dog. All he could do was what his human wanted — even if his human had fur and a cold nose.

Lee was gone a long time, long enough for Sam to knock the book onto the floor and Rex to fix it for him. Together, human and dog looked at the pages, helping each other, trying to find a solution to their mutual problem. When she finally returned, she couldn’t stop herself from saying how cute they looked. Sam responded with several loud, unhappy barks.

She sighed and returned to the book, Sam by her side, Rex pacing aimlessly and walking in and out of the clubhouse. Finally Lee said to Sam, “can you take him for a walk or something? He’s getting on my nerves a little.”

Sam barked once, brightly, then went to Rex and nudged the back of his leg. Rex got the message and they headed out into the bright, warm morning sunshine.

Rex was in heaven. Maybe he couldn’t smell or hear everything, but now he could see! Trees, grass, squirrels — squirrels! A squirrel was sitting on a branch, watching him warily. “Squirrel!” he shouted, and leaped for it.

He missed. He fell. He got up and shook himself off, and Sam pushed his body against Rex’s leg, moving him in the direction of the path that led to the street. “Squirrel,” Rex said, a little forlorn, but he did what Sam wanted.

As they walked down the street, the sidewalk warm under Rex’s bare feet, Rex saw other humans he recognized from the clubhouse, or the park, or afternoons at home watching Sam games with his friends. He barked hellos at them, and they said hi to him, but when they tried to ask him what was up, all he could say was “sky.” The first time he did, Sam let out a huffing canine sigh.

Neither human nor dog realized they were in front of their house until one of Sam’s big humans called out. “Hey, Sam, come here a sec!”

Rex trotted obediently up the path. “Hello!”

“Look, Sam, I don’t mind if you spend the night at your friend’s house, but could you at least come home and get your toothbrush? I know it’s summer, but…” She cocked her head. “Sam? What’s wrong?”

Rex had hung his head. The human wasn’t actually scolding him, but her tone was one of annoyance. “Sorry,” he said.