Full Speed Ahead: My Journey with Kit

I take Buddy from Kit’s arms, and Inky growls again, giving me an idea. I thank Uncle Hendrick for the invitation, but say my dog and his dog won’t get along, so we’d better just take the suitcase and go. Kit catches on right away and agrees.

Uncle Hendrick grumbles about that preposterous puppy, but gives in. One more flea-ridden addition to the Kittredge menagerie won’t be noticed. The suitcase hasn’t arrived; he’ll send it by taxi when it does.

Uncle Hendrick walks us to the door, says goodbye, and shuts it behind us, clearly glad to have his time back.

Kit grins. What a sourpuss. She never thought she’d say it, but thank goodness for Inky and Buddy. Let’s go home.

Back at the Kittredge house, we climb to Kit’s attic bedroom, where Grace is waiting. Kit starts polishing her shoes. I pull a book off her shelf, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, and say I love the movie.

Kit looks puzzled. Movie? I catch myself. It hasn’t been made yet. I mean the book, I say, especially the part where Dorothy taps her heels together and says, “There’s no place like home.” Kit laughs, closes her eyes, and bonks the heels of her brown Oxford shoes together three times, reciting the line.

Before I get far into the book, Stirling appears with a pencil sketch he drew for Kit, of Buddy and me gazing at each other. He’s caught Buddy’s impish look perfectly. Kit thanks him, and he blushes.

Kit pulls out a box of old newsletters she, Stirling, and Ruthie used to make. As I dig through it, I ask Stirling for one more sketch, this one of Kit, Buddy, and Grace. He agrees and gets to work while Kit goes back to polishing her shoes. Watching them together, I miss my own good friend, Izza.

The newsletters announce that Stirling and his mother are moving in with the Kittredges, advertise a wagon-owning kid to haul away leftover lumber, and seek a handyman to fix a sleeping porch so it fits two. A funny advice column reports that Rotten Roger has been stealing a girl’s lunch every day. Kit’s advice is to pack him a bag of dried-up leaves instead, with a note reading, “I have a hunch you’ll munch and crunch this lunch a bunch!”

I’m still laughing when Mrs. Howard calls up the stairs for Stirling. Buddy bolts toward her voice, and to my surprise she kneels down and hugs him, her face shifting from tense to happy.

Mrs. Howard admits she thought my dog was a bother at first, and was wrong. I realize I’d misjudged her, too. She sets Buddy down reluctantly, and Kit, Stirling, and I trade knowing looks: Buddy has completely won over Mrs. Howard’s heart.

Mrs. Howard calls Stirling in for his cold medicine, and Kit’s mother needs her in the garden. I keep the book and ask to stay and read. Kit says sure. Once they’ve gone, I settle into the reading chair, but I can’t stop thinking about home. Like Dorothy, who loved Oz but still longed for Kansas, I’m suddenly overwhelmed with missing Mom and my friend Isabel.

I find a scrap of paper and write a note:

I set the note on the book, then fold Stirling’s sketch of Kit, Buddy, and Grace into my pocket. I don’t have magic slippers to knock together, but I do have the camera. I click it, and the next thing I know, I’m home.