I didn’t like Melinda’s college boyfriend from the first. Something about his nervous smell, his tentative touch. And the way Melinda introduced us. “Oh, I see you’ve met Max. Don’t mind Max, he can be ... you know ... a pest.”

A pest! That’s crazy. I was just so happy to see her. In the past, Melinda loved my displays of affection. Now I didn’t even get a nuzzle. She just pushed me away after an off-handed pat.

But I’m not one to sulk. I slipped into the kitchen to see how preparation for the Thanksgiving feast was coming along. Everything smelled wonderful! Of course Mama hadn’t even started the baking yet. That would be tomorrow, on Thanksgiving proper, but the big bird, basting in its marinade, looked so tempting. The giblets for stuffing sat on low simmer, fragrant as all get out, and I couldn’t help but drool. That got me shooed out pretty quick. “No taste for you, young pup. Go out and play.” Well, okay, I could wait. I could bide my time.

I had to beg Melinda to come out with me. Alas, the boyfriend came too. And boy did he dawdle. “Max can be such a nuisance,” Melinda said when I tried to urge them on. So slowly they strolled, every six or seven steps stopping to hug or kiss or stare at each other with big dopey eyes. I tried to move things along, to push my way between them—they just clung tighter. But I’m strong. I bulled my way in, almost toppling them in the process.

Finally Melinda relented. “Okay, Max, how about a game of catch?” Now that was more like it. Melinda took the rubber ball from her jacket pocket and tossed it. Melinda throws like a girl, but there’s something really charming and graceful about her awkwardness. With a twisting leap, I caught the ball, no problem. “Good, Max!” Melinda exclaimed. Ah, she was getting into the spirit at last. But then, instead of making the next toss herself, she handed the ball to Roger—that was the boyfriend’s name—and he flung it. Roger had a strong arm, but not accurate at all. The ball soared over my head. Like a shot, I was after it. The ball hit the sidewalk and skittered off like a scared rabbit, but I showed it my moves, and in no time, before Roger and Melinda’s kiss could even get started, the ball was back in Roger’s hands again. “Try this for size,” Roger said, and this time he flung the ball across the street. That was a big no-no, but I didn’t hesitate.

The car squealed something awful, like a het-up she-cat getting what-for from a big Tom. I paid the sound no mind. It was Melinda’s gasp that caught my ear. I whirled around, and the look of dread in her eyes touched me to the core, the way no speeding automobile ever could. But then when Melinda saw I was all right, she slumped into Roger’s arms. Heartbreaking. Okay, if that’s the way they wanted to play it ... I took the ball into old man Grady’s backyard, and then on to the widow Tuttle’s, and then into the woods. “Come back, Max,” I heard Melinda call. I just kept going. Let them come and get me. See if they got their ball back anytime soon. And soon enough I’d worked my way deep into the dark forest. Jays squawked. Squirrels scurried. And then I was all alone.

I stopped, waiting for Melinda and Roger to catch up. I waited and waited. No one came. Maybe they were lost. I set about searching, exploring the different paths. I saw a sleepy owl waiting for mice to come out, but no sign of Melinda. I ambled along the creek. Nothing. Seriously worried, I hurried home. And there they were, sitting by the fire, sipping cocoa and listening to Dad talking about stock prices as if I’d never been missing. Who in their right minds would be interested in stock prices? Roger was, apparently. Melinda looked at me and rolled her eyes. For a moment, I thought she’d get up and show me how happy she was that I was safe and sound, but instead she settled herself against Roger’s shoulder and sighed.

Sometimes I do sulk! I’d been waiting months for Melinda to come home from college, and now here she was with no time for me. Her boyfriend was ruining everything! At least I’d have her to myself tonight. Or so I’d thought.

Melinda and I had shared a bedroom since ... well, since before I can remember. I was so excited! Long before bedtime I curled up, waiting for her. At last I heard her footsteps. What a comforting sound! My whole body tingled in anticipation.

“Max!” she said, almost as if surprised to see me. “Max, what are you doing here?”

In answer, I cocked my head and gave her my most rueful grin, one she’s never been able to resist. In a minute I knew we’d be bouncing all over her bed, wrestling and cuddling and burrowing our way into sweet and blissful sleep. I could almost feel her soft hands caressing me. I could almost hear her sweet voice cooing in my ear.

It didn’t happen that way. “You’re going to be a good boy tonight, aren’t you Max?” she said. I nodded energetically, and she smiled and sat on the bed and for a moment let me nuzzle her leg, but when I tried for more, she said, “Oh, Max,” and pushed me away.

I stood guard outside her room, and a good thing, too, because wouldn’t you know it, not too many minutes past midnight, who should come skulking along the hallway but Roger. He started to offer his hand. Fat chance! A soft snarl and a steady malevolent glare was all it took to send him hightailing it back to the guest room. Yes, Melinda had been right to post me sentry. A bit later I heard Melinda’s covers rustling, and I knew she was missing me. At last, the rhythmic sighs abated. My sweet Melinda—asleep if not content. I stood stiffly alert all night, proud to do my duty.

Morning found me mighty groggy. And the aroma of the turkey roasting nearly did me in. I guess I wasn’t quite in my right mind, but now that I knew Roger couldn’t be trusted, I dogged him mercilessly. “Max really likes you,” Mama said. I yawned, but I didn’t let down my guard.

At last it was time for the Thanksgiving feast. Dad at the head of the table did the carving. Mom sat at the foot. Along one side were the neighbors, Mr. Grady and Mrs. Tuttle, as usual, and opposite them Roger and Melinda. Naturally I sat in my usual spot next to Melinda—perfectly placed for her to slip me the usual Thanksgiving treats. I realized I hadn’t had breakfast. Come to think of it, I hadn’t had dinner, either. I was starved. And everything smelled so good! I could hardly keep my mind on the Thanksgiving prayer. Dad’s words drifted around the room like so much smoke. I was dizzy with hunger. But not so out of it not to notice that Roger and Melinda were holding hands under the table.