Chapter 13

Ferb had lots of things on his mind as he sat in the kennel. The other dogs around him were happily playing with toys alone or with workers. Some of the animals were chewing on bone treats or filling themselves with dog food.

But Ferb sat quietly with his tail around his feet. After only the first hour, the workers had learned to realize that Ferb was the single dog in there who couldn't care less about squeaky toys and playful shenanigans. So they just left him alone to his thoughts.

Of course, the first thing Ferb missed was Phineas. He hadn't seen his brother for so long, it felt. Phineas was the only one who understood him as a dog, and without him there to matter-of-factly point out that Ferb still had a human's mind... Everyone treated him as nothing more that someone's pet.

The second thing Ferb missed, as he sat awkwardly with his dog-feet under him, was himself. He missed his usual "freakishly long legs," as Phineas had put it. And if being a dog had taught him one thing, it was how irreplaceable opposable thumbs are. Each time he looked down and saw nothing but paws at the ends of his arms, Ferb felt a pang of regret. It escalated when he remembered that Monday was approaching quicker than he had expected.

Ferb's dog-ears perked up. He had heard a quite peculiar sound that he first thought was his imagination. It started with a jingling bell that was attached to the front door. Then it continued with a muffled conversation behind the wall. Finally, Ferb could make out the voice.

"I don't get why we're checking in here, Nerd," a very familiar voice complained.

"We're looking for a dog, right?" the high-pitched sound of his friend replied. "This place has lots of dogs."

Then Ferb caught sight of the two teens, one husky and one thin, coming into the room. Ferb leapt off his feet and pushed himself against the cage bars.

"Guys! Baljeet! Buford! It's me, Ferb!" he yelled as his friends started looking around casually.

"But this is where people put their pet dogs." Buford pointed out. "Why would he be here?"

Ferb kept trying to get their attention through as loud of barks he could manage, but it seemed as though they could not hear or distinguish him against the rest of the roomful of loud, playful dogs.

"Why didn't you complain about it on the way over here?" Baljeet mentioned. "We're here NOW, so we might as well go ahead and check."

Starting to survey the room, Baljeet gave an uneasy laugh. "Though I have no idea how they even let us back here. I can't believe they actually bought your... Tick Inspectors story."

"Don't underestimate the persuasion powers of Buford," Buford replied.

"Guys! GUYS! It's me, I'm right down here!" Ferb pleaded at them. Buford elbowed Baljeet beside him.

"Well Phineas said we're looking for a brown dog." Buford had tossed a finger towards Ferb. "That one is barkin' at you like there's no tomorrow."

"Phineas also said his hair would be green at the roots," said Baljeet, also turning to look at Ferb. He paused for a second.

At this, Ferb had spun around and pressed his fluffy side against the bars, letting the fur come through. "Yes, yes it's me, guys! You can go ahead and check."

"Well, go on," Buford pushed. "Check and see if he's green."

But Baljeet had scrunched his hands up near his chest as he stared down at him. "But... but what if it's not him, and he takes my finger off!"

"Fine, then. Let me do it," Buford conceded, dropping down to the floor. He drew out his thick fingers and sorted through the fur.

Baljeet had appeared beside him, and squinted his eyes as he couldn't help but lend his own fingers to search through.

"Hey, look!" Baljeet exclaimed with a jump back and a point. "Green fur!"

Then he bent over and gasped at the dog in the cage. "Are you Ferb?"

Ferb turned his head over his shoulder to look at them, and nodded with exaggeration.

"We found him, Buford," Baljeet reacted. "We just found Ferb!"

"Well yeah, but how do we get him out?" came Buford's response. "Think of something, Smart Guy. The cage is locked."

"Maybe there are keys around here, somewhere," Baljeet started, as he searched around the walls.

"What are you doing?" one of the workers noticed. "That's not your dog."

"We're umm," Baljeet explained, standing up straight and stiff beside Buford. "We're umm, the Tick Inspectors."

"Tick Inspectors?" the worker replied with doubt. "You're like, sixteen."

"We're seventeen," Buford retorted, but stopped himself. He corrected, "But... we just wanted to look at this one dog."

"Only the dog's owners are allowed back here," the employee stopped them, leading them out the door.

"Wait, let them back! They're my friends!" Ferb called out, attempting to press himself against the bars as he watched them pushed out.

Baljeet leaned back and shouted, "Don't worry, Ferb! We'll find you again!"

The thick door was closed behind them, and after a second of staring and breathing, Ferb retreated back to the middle of the cage and sat down on the blanket. The loud sounds of the other dogs in the room around him gave no help to his predicament.

After only two seconds of seeing his friends again, he had once again been left alone in an unfamiliar place. He had been that close to going home.

Once Martha was finished with her shopping, she stopped by to pick up her dog on her way back to the apartment. Though Ferb kept a watchful eye for escape during the ride, no opportunities presented themselves.

When he heard the front door lock behind him, Ferb came to the realization that leaving the house of Martha and David might not be as easy as simply running away. They were coming to expect that he would be their pet from now until the end of his life.

Kind, though they were, Martha and David were not his family. Ferb didn't need to be getting belly rubs, he needed to be in high school. He needed to be studying for tests, doing homework, and doing teenager things. He didn't need to be waiting for the next time he was fed.

Right now, he needed to be spending summer vacation with his brother. And instead, he was cooped up in the house of a couple in need of a dog. They needed a dog who wasn't Ferb.

"Is that any better?" Martha asked gently. "Go ahead and eat, buddy. I don't want you to starve."

A bowlful of glop was set in front of him as Ferb stared at it. He felt his stomach growl loudly.

You're hungry, Ferb, he heard himself think. You haven't eaten anything. It can't be that bad.

He tried not to breathe in the smell as he opened his mouth. He closed his eyes, stuck out his tongue, and poked the pinkish mass. But then he caught a whiff, and recoiled backwards in disgust.

"No, no, I'm sorry. I honestly gave it a try," Ferb apologized as he eyed it from a distance. "But I just can't get myself to do it, no matter how hungry I am."

Martha watched him as he backed away. She frowned.

"How about these, huh?" she suggested as she pulled out a colorful foil bag of dog treats. "These were Sammy's favorites."

"You know the funny thing is," Ferb commented as he looked up at the bag. "Is that regular dogs like those because they taste MORE like fish than their food does. Which, regrettably, is precisely the reason why I would rather not have them in my mouth."

"Well, we've got 'speak' down like a charm," Martha observed. "Can you roll over?"

"Yes, Martha, I can," Ferb explained. "I understand the command perfectly fine. Yet, I don't plan on rolling over."

"There he goes, barking up a novel again," Martha showed to David as he came in the room. She glanced back down at Ferb. "It would be interesting to know what he's trying to say."

"If I could speak English, I would first tell you that I'm sorry, and I have to leave," Ferb made known from his place on the carpet. "And then I would ask you to please find it in your heart to bring me home."