Girls Just Wanna Have Pugs

by J. J. Howard

  I used one of the pushpins on the board to tack up a flyer. It looked great up there—attention-grabbing and fun.

  “Do you think we’ll get bombarded with a lot of clients right away?” I asked my friends hopefully.

  “I don’t know,” Lucy said. “I figured we’d probably start with just one or two dogs.”

  “Yeah, we have to keep our expectations realistic,” Taz said, and I nodded, feeling worried. What if nobody contacted us? I tried to push the thought away.

  To save time, the three of us decided to split up the rest of the floors and meet back at my apartment when we were done. Lucy would do floors six, seven, and eight, Taz would do floors two and one, and I quickly volunteered to do floors three, four, and five, since five was my floor, after all. And okay, maybe I secretly really wanted the fourth floor.

  Still, I told myself as I walked down the stairs, what were the chances that I’d even see Declan?

  I started on the third floor, posted the flyer on the corkboard there, and then went up the stairs to four. I walked into the laundry room and almost ran right into Declan. Which prompted me to drop the flyers I was carrying.

  “Hi!” I said, starting to bend down to pick up the scattered flyers. Declan bent down, too, and we cracked our heads together with a loud thwack.

  We both reeled back, exclaiming, “Ow!”

  “I’m so sorry!” I said.

  “Don’t apologize—we ran into each other,” Declan said, rubbing his head. “I’m going to kneel down now. You”—he put up a palm—“you stay there. Okay?”

  “Okay. Thank you,” I said, feeling awkward as he picked up the scattered flyers, then stood up to hand them to me. “Thanks again,” I said. “And I’m sorry about your brain.”

  “It’s not my best feature,” he joked. But since I still felt embarrassed, I forgot to laugh. “I was going to say that my best feature was my sense of humor, but … maybe not.”

  This time I laughed, rubbing my own head. “I’m sure it is when your audience doesn’t have a super-recent brain injury.”

  Declan let out a laugh. “See, now, that’s funny!”

  I smiled. Making him laugh made me feel much cooler all of a sudden.

  “So, have you found any customers yet?” Declan asked, nodding at the flyers.

  “Well, Sparky, hopefully,” I said.

  I guess she heard her name, because a tiny white pug head pushed up out of the big basket of laundry at Declan’s feet. She gave a short, friendly-sounding bark as though she were saying hi to me. “Oh my goodness!” I exclaimed, dropping down to my knees to pet her silky head and ears. “Declan, she’s just too cute for words.”

  “I know,” Declan said. “I wasn’t going to bring her to the laundry room with me, but she makes this sad face whenever I start to leave her.”

  “Awww,” I said, giving her a kiss on the top of her head. “Of course she does.”

  “I’ll definitely mention Four Paws to my dad,” Declan said. “I’m going to visit my mom in a few weeks, so I’m sure he’ll need the extra help.”

  “Great! And if you don’t mind, maybe you could spread the word on your floor?” I was still scratching Sparky’s ears. She had her eyes closed in puppy bliss.

  “I don’t know anybody yet, but I’ll look out for opportunities,” Declan said. “Hey, Kat, can I ask you something?” he added, suddenly sounding nervous.

  My cheeks for sure turned not just pink but probably red, and my heartbeat sped up. What did he want to ask?

  “Um, sure,” I said, giving Sparky one last pat and standing up to face Declan.

  “I was wondering if you’d mind if I walked to school with you and your friends sometime?”

  Oh! That made sense. What had I been thinking he would ask, anyway? That he would ask me out, like, on a date? I almost laughed at myself.

  “Of course!” I said. “But I have to warn you, my little sister, Micki, comes as part of the package.”

  “I’m happy to meet more people. Even little sisters,” he said with a smile. Then he glanced down at the laundry basket. “I guess I should get back to the laundry here. Don’t want my dad to say I’ve made a hames of it.”

  “You don’t want him to say you made ham?” I asked, frowning.

  “Sorry, it’s just a bit of Irish slang. You’ll get used to it, lass,” he added in his dad’s accent.

  I laughed. “Got it.” I tacked the flyer up on the corkboard, and Declan waved as he carried the basket over to the nearest washing machine. Sparky gave a little good-bye bark.

  I left the laundry room and it took me a full ten seconds to remember where I was going next.

  * * *

  After I hung up the flyer in my laundry room, I decided to make a special visit to the Thompsons and give them their flyer in person. I rang their doorbell, and when Dan opened the door, Meatball heard my voice and came barreling toward me on his adorable short legs.

  “Meatball!” I knelt down right away to give him some petting. He rolled right over onto his back so I would rub his belly.

  “I swear that dog likes you better than it likes me,” Dan said.

  He, I corrected in my head. Not it. “I doubt that,” I said, even though I secretly hoped it was true. I stood up and handed Dan a flyer. “This is a new dog-walking business my friends and I are starting,” I explained. “You can use the app to book appointments for me—um, for any of us—to walk Meatball.”

  “Sure,” Dan said, studying the flyer. “I think Sarah mentioned to me that you’d be doing this. Sounds great. We need all the help we can get.” Behind Dan, I heard a crash, and one of the twins started crying. Dan sighed.

  “Are you looking forward to our walks, boy?” I asked Meatball.

  He looked up at me, his butt wiggling happily, and I swear he smiled.

  Ding.

  I looked up from my homework. Another notification from the Four Paws schedule app had just come through on my phone.

  After a slow start the first week, suddenly Four Paws was being bombarded with requests. It was very exciting. Taz, Lucy, and I were taking several dogs on walks nearly every afternoon. We had all kinds of dogs: Mary-Kate and Ashley, the Yorkie sisters from the second floor; Kekáki, a round little dachshund from the tenth floor; Rufus the labradoodle, also from the tenth floor; Biscuit, who was part mastiff but I wasn’t sure what else, from the seventh f loor; Batman and Robin, the border collies, from the third floor; and Wendy the Westie from the first floor.

  We’d even had requests for early morning walks, but so far I was the only one who’d been willing to get up forty-five minutes early to walk someone else’s dog before school.

  I checked the latest request—it was from Kekáki’s owner, asking if one of us could do a walk tomorrow afternoon. Taz had set up the app so that any one of us could claim a request. I quickly accepted this one for myself. I put my phone down and turned back to my homework, but then my phone buzzed with a text from Lucy.

  Kat I have to turn off the from the app=driving me crazy! Can you just text me if you need me to do a walk??

  I frowned. I kind of got it—the notifications were a lot. But it wasn’t my job to claim walks for Lucy. What if I said yes to one when she ended up having Drama Club, or something with her mom?

  Luce you have to claim the walks yourself. Mute it and check every couple hours if you want. K?

  A few minutes later I got back a sad face emoji followed by a thumbs-up.

  “Kat! Dinner!” Mom called.

  “Coming!” I yelled back. I put my phone in my pocket and ran to the kitchen. “Do you need me to do anything?” I asked Mom.

  “Nope, have a seat. We’re just having a casserole.”

  “Not that tuna one?” I asked.

  “You got lucky. It’s chicken. Now, sit.”

  I slid into my usual chair and took the plate Mom handed to me. I tried to pass it to Micki, but she had her tablet out and was watching some video with the volume off.

  “Mic
k, you know the rules—devices away at the table,” Mom said.

  Micki let out a grumbly sigh and put her tablet aside. She accepted the plate I gave her, then leaned over to me. “I came this close to a yes to eating in the living room,” she whispered loudly.

  “I went to the trouble of cooking, so we’re eating at the table. Like civilized people.” Mom handed me my plate and then went back to scoop up some casserole for herself. I looked down dubiously at my plate. Mom’s cooking was kind of a hit-or-miss thing. At first glance this looked like a miss.

  Mom sat down with her plate, lifted a forkful to her mouth, and then jumped a little when my phone dinged again. “Micki, what did I …”

  I put a hand up. “No—it’s me. Sorry. It’s another notification for Four Paws. We’re having trouble keeping up with demand. Who knew there were so many people who didn’t want to walk their own dogs?”

  “Kat, it’s not about wanting,” Mom chided me. “Your dog walking is taking off because people don’t always have time to spend with the people—or pets—that they love.”

  Hmm. Why had Mom put it that way? Was she feeling guilty? Or was she thinking about Dad, who was still away?

  “I know,” I told Mom. “I was joking.” I took a cautious bite of the chicken casserole. Mmm. It was much better than expected. “We’re just so busy,” I added. “I even have to take Batman and Robin out tonight after dinner!”

  “And after homework, yes?” Mom reminded me, and I nodded. That was the rule. “Maybe you need to recruit another walker,” Mom added, taking a sip of water. “If it’s too much for the three of you to manage.”

  “I could do it!” Micki said.

  “No!” both Mom and I said at the same time. But it was to me that Micki turned her sad eyes and hurt expression.

  “I’d do a good job,” she protested.

  “I know you would,” I said. “You’re just too young for people to hire you to look after their pets. I mean, it’s a lot like babysitting. People’s dogs are like their babies.”

  Micki turned to Mom next. “What she said,” Mom said around a mouthful of chicken.

  Micki let out a frustrated sigh and threw her fork down on her plate. “Can I be excused?”

  “After that thimbleful of dinner you just ate? No, try again. Tell me about your day.”

  “What’s a thimble?” Micki asked.

  Mom sighed. “You use it in sewing. In other news, I am one hundred years old.”

  I let out a laugh, but Micki still looked confused.

  “I only know what thimbles are from Nana,” I explained. “She gave me this little sewing kit when I was your age, and she told me how to use everything in it.”

  “I’ve never seen you sew, Kat,” Mom said.

  I shook my head. “I never did. But I guess I could. I mean, if I could remember where I put that kit.”

  Now Mom let out a chuckle.

  Micki had eaten some more casserole. “Now can I be excused?”

  “Sure,” Mom said. She peered at my empty plate. “You must have been hungry?”

  “It was good,” I told her. “Really good.”

  Mom smiled. “Thanks.”

  * * *

  After I’d helped Mom clear the table and finished my homework, I took the stairs down to the third floor and knocked on the Crowleys’ door.

  “Hi, Kat,” said Mrs. Crowley as Batman and Robin raced over, leaping and barking. I usually liked smaller dogs best, but these two border collies had the sweetest faces. “Here are their leashes. Robin’s a little feisty. Are you sure you can handle both of them at one time?” I knew Taz had walked Batman and Robin last week, but I didn’t know if she’d taken the siblings out separately.

  I considered. “Well, why don’t I try it, at least to go across the street, and if I have a problem, I can come back up and we’ll do one at a time?”

  “Sounds good,” Mrs. Crowley said.

  “Hi, guys,” I said, petting Robin on the head. She had a pink collar, while Batman’s was blue.

  I could see why Mrs. Crowley had warned me—Robin tried to go after everything we passed by, from fire hydrants to other dogs. But Batman seemed to actually calm her down, and she would fall into step with her brother whenever we stopped and I said her name. I decided to make a note for the other Paws: Walk the superhero and the sidekick together.

  * * *

  “Come on, Kekáki!”

  The next afternoon, I was tugging lightly on the leash of my latest client, but he just didn’t want to budge. Kekáki means “cupcake” in Greek, according to his owner, Mrs. Galanis. I guess naming him after a dessert destined him to be a very round little dachshund. His long belly almost touched the sidewalk when we walked. But at the moment, we weren’t walking. Kekáki had just flopped down on the sidewalk and looked up at me with his tongue hanging out.

  I knew from walking Kekáki earlier in the week that the little dachshund was very lazy. I wasn’t even taking him all the way to the dog park, like we did for most of our clients. The park was too far for this little cupcake to walk. But today he was being even lazier than usual, refusing to even make a move toward the nearest patch of grass. I gazed down at him, and he gave me a please-pet-my-belly? look. I sighed and knelt down to give him a few pats. His tail wagged happily.

  I looked across the street and saw Marcel open the door for someone at the Burgundy. A few seconds later, I saw Lucy step outside, walking—wait, why was Lucy walking Meatball?

  “Hey! Good timing. We can walk together!” Lucy called when she saw me with Kekáki. She crossed the street and joined us.

  “I didn’t know Meatball was signed up for a walk today?” I tried to keep my voice casual, but I couldn’t help feeling upset. I knew Four Paws was a business, and you’re supposed to be objective when it comes to business. But I always walked Meatball.

  “Oh, Sarah caught me in the elevator a few minutes ago and asked me.”

  I nodded. “That makes sense. I didn’t think I saw him on the schedule.”

  “Of course not. Otherwise you would have signed yourself up to walk him,” Lucy said, but then she laughed.

  I smiled sheepishly. Lucy was right; I did always rush to claim Meatball for walks. I gave Meatball a kiss on the top of his head before standing up. “I’m sorry. I can’t help playing favorites when it comes to this little guy.”

  “I know,” Lucy said. Meatball strained forward on his leash, clearly eager to get to the dog park. “Should we get going?” Lucy asked. “Sarah said Dan Jr. has an appointment so I can’t be long with Meatball.”

  I gestured down to Kekáki, who had rolled back over onto his stomach and closed his eyes, looking for all the world like he was about to take a nap right there on the sidewalk. “You go ahead,” I told Lucy. “I don’t think any forward motion will be happening with this one anytime soon.”

  “Okay,” Lucy said. “But if you want to switch …”

  “No, don’t be silly. Sarah knows you took Meatball out. We have to be professional. But still, thanks for asking.” I smiled.

  “Sure thing, bestie. Hey, I’ll text you tonight, ’kay?” she said. “Mom’s taking me to a thrift store to find the perfect outfit. Auditions start next week!”

  “Oh, that’s right,” I said. I’d forgotten the fall play was coming up soon.

  I waved to Meatball and Lucy as they trotted off, then returned my focus to my client. The lazy cupcake was almost fast asleep at my feet.

  “Time for desperate measures,” I announced, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the small plastic bag of treats I’d started carrying on my dog walks. “Now, Kekáki,” I said, leaning down, “if you make your business, you can have this entire meaty cookie. Okay?”

  I swear he understood. Dachshunds are very food motivated— and very smart. He lumbered to his feet, ambled over to the grass, and got down to business.

  “Hooray!” I said, giving him his reward. We waited for a few cars to pass, then crossed the street back to our buil
ding.

  “Hard at work, Kat?” Marcel asked me.

  “I sure am,” I told him. “I wish the weather would finally get a little cooler.”

  Marcel pretended to mop his brow. “You and me both!” he said, and I laughed. “Why aren’t you walking Meatball? He’s your favorite, isn’t he?”

  I explained how I’d claimed Kekáki for a walk first, then smiled to myself. I guessed everyone knew Meatball was my favorite. There was no point in hiding it, really. If I could have any dog of my very own, I’d pick one exactly like him.

  * * *

  Once I returned Kekáki, I went back to my apartment. Mom had taken Micki to a pool party; one of the girls in Micki’s grade had a pool in her building’s gym, and it was Micki’s favorite thing in the world. She’d been asking our parents if we could get a pool for the past year, which made me giggle since we lived in a pretty small apartment. The bathtub was definitely as close as Mick was ever going to get.

  I walked around the empty apartment, feeling lonely all of a sudden. Lucy would soon be off shopping for an audition costume, and Taz was with one of her sisters doing some kind of paint night. And I knew Declan and his dad were having dinner with some friends of Mr. Ward’s from work; Declan had mentioned it on our walk to school that morning. He’d been walking with me, Lucy, Taz, and Micki almost every morning, and he’d fit in really easily.

  I flopped into my favorite chair in the silent living room. Even though I missed my friends, I realized there was someone in particular I wanted to talk to. I opened up my phone and started writing a text to my dad. I had so much I wanted to ask him about my new business. Before long, my questions filled almost the entire screen. Then I paused. I knew how busy Dad was on this business trip. And I also knew he’d probably take a long time to write me back, and that when he did he’d just say something short like, Talk when I get home.

  That thought was just too depressing to even consider, so I highlighted the whole text and deleted it.

  Just then our Four Paws app dinged again, for a last-minute walk, and this time I was happy for the distraction. I put my shoes back on and went to get Mary-Kate and Ashley.