by Ellen Miles
CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
PUPPY TIPS
TEASER
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
OTHER STORIES BY ELLEN MILES
COPYRIGHT
“Did you see the girl who was explaining her experiment on how mushrooms can save the planet?” Sammy asked. “That was so cool.”
Charles nodded. “She made a whole movie about it and everything.” He sighed. “I don’t think our science fair projects are going to come anywhere close to that,” he said.
Sammy shrugged. “Well, we’re only in second grade,” he said with a grin. “That girl was a senior in high school.”
“Exactly,” said Charles’s dad, from the driver’s seat. He met Charles’s eyes in the mirror. “When you’re a high school senior, you can invent some new way for people to communicate or fly into space. But for now, I’m sure Mr. Mason will be happy with — I don’t know — maybe a project on raising tadpoles.”
Charles and Sammy cracked up. “No, he won’t!” said Sammy. “He made a rule this year: no tadpoles.”
“He said he’ll be happy if he never sees another tadpole again,” Charles added. “He said he’s had six years of tadpoles and that’s enough.” Mr. Mason was always saying funny things. He was the best teacher ever, and Charles really wanted to make him proud by doing a great project for the Littleton Elementary School science fair. That’s why he and his best friend, Sammy, had convinced Charles’s dad to take them to the high school science fair that night after dinner. They’d been hoping to find some inspiration at the fair, but instead, Charles just felt overwhelmed. All the projects were so impressive.
“Did you see that robot?” he asked Sammy. “The one that could shoot a basketball into a hoop? I think the guy who built it is only a freshman.”
“Everybody’s doing robots lately,” Sammy said, shrugging. “I heard Jason is building a robot for our science fair.”
“Yeah, from a kit his dad bought for him,” said Charles. “All that shows is that he can follow directions. That guy tonight invented his whole robot from scratch! I heard he’s going to enter it in a national robotics competition.”
“Robot, bobot, dobot,” sang the Bean from his car seat. “Beep, beep, beep!”
“That’s right!” said Charles, holding up a hand to give his little brother a high five. “Robots say beep-beep.”
“Boop-boop,” said the Bean, laughing his gurgly laugh. “Goop-goop. Zeep-zeep.”
Charles and Sammy cracked up again. Charles was glad Dad had decided to bring the Bean along, even if it meant that they’d had to walk very slowly through the science fair. It was always fun to go places with the Bean, because everyone loved him. He got a lot of attention. It was sort of like having a cute puppy along.
“Lizzie would have liked that exhibit on how to measure dog intelligence,” said Charles. His older sister was a total dog expert. “She would have been impressed by the border collie who knew over two hundred words.”
“I think I’m glad that Buddy isn’t quite that smart,” said Dad. “Your aunt Amanda always says that dogs who are too smart can be trouble.”
Charles laughed. He was thankful that Buddy had been smart enough, and cute enough, and charming enough, to make the whole Peterson family fall in love with him when he first came to them as a foster puppy. Unlike all the other puppies they had fostered, who had only stayed a short time, Buddy had stayed forever, becoming part of the family.
Sometimes Charles still couldn’t believe how lucky he was that he and Lizzie had convinced their parents to be a foster family. He loved getting to know each of the dogs they took care of, and making sure that each one went to the perfect home. It was always sad to say good-bye when it was time to let them go, but having Buddy made it easier. With Buddy in the house, there was always a puppy to play with, to tell secrets to, and to cuddle with under the covers at night.
“I’m thinking mold,” Sammy announced just then.
Charles turned to stare at his friend. “Mold?” he asked.
“Sure,” said Sammy. “I mean, for my science fair project. What could be easier or more fun? I heard about a third grader who did it last year. You take a bunch of different foods and liquids and leave them sealed up in plastic bags on the counter for a week or so, just to find out what grows on them. Some things grow green or yellow mold, some grow long white hairy stuff, and some just get all jellified and gross.” He grinned.
“I’m sure your mom will love that,” said Charles’s dad. He stopped at a red light and turned to smile at the boys.
“She will,” said Sammy. “She’s really into science. I bet she’ll get her microscope out. She’ll probably try to identify every mold. It’s my dad who won’t like it. He’s totally creeped out by moldy stuff. He’s always throwing leftovers out, even before they get old.”
“Uppy!” said the Bean, who had been staring out the window.
“That’s right, we’ll see Buddy soon,” Charles said. He knew that “uppy” was sometimes the Bean’s way of saying “puppy.” “We’re almost home.”
The Bean shook his head. “Uppy!” he said again. He pointed. “Uppy-uppy-uppy!”
Charles leaned over to look, wondering what his little brother was talking about. It was getting dark out, and at first, he didn’t see anything. Then he spotted a tiny white fluff ball, sitting very still in the tall grass on the side of the road. “Dad!” he said. “Pull over! The Bean is right. It’s a puppy!”
“What?” Dad asked. “A puppy?”
“Yes!” said Charles. “And I think she’s hurt.” He watched as the little fluff ball tried to stand. She struggled to her feet, then sat down with one paw up, staring back at Charles with a pleading expression.
Help me, please! I’m all alone.
“Dad!” Charles urged again. “We have to help!”
As soon as the light turned green, Dad took a right turn and pulled the van over. He unbuckled his seat belt and was out of the van before Charles could say another word. Charles and Sammy unbuckled, too. Charles started to get out, but Dad turned around and held up a hand. “Uh-uh, hold on there. I want you two to stay in the van with the Bean.”
“But —” Charles began.
Dad headed toward the puppy. Charles saw him squat down and reach out gently. “Oh, please be okay,” Charles whispered. “Please be okay, little puppy.”
“What’s a puppy that young doing out here all by herself?” Sammy asked. “Poor thing.”
The boys watched as Charles’s dad stood up again, cradling something white and fluffy in his arms. Charles pulled off his sweatshirt. “She’ll need a soft place to lie down,” he said. He folded up the sweatshirt and put it over his knees.
Dad walked up to the van and nodded at Charles to open the door. He leaned over to place the puppy on Charles’s lap. “Be very gentle,” he said. “I think she might have a broken leg.”
Charles looked at the puppy’s front legs and saw that she was still holding one of them up as if it hurt — a lot. He felt his stomach tighten. Very carefully, he stroked the dog’s head with one finger. “You’re going to be okay,” he whispered.
Dad pulled out his phone. “I’m going to call Dr. Gibson,” he said. Dr. Gibson was the Petersons’ vet. She was always ready to help with their foster puppies.
“See?” Charles said to the puppy. “We’re going to help you.” The puppy snuggled into the sweatshirt on Charles’s lap and looked up at him with her big brown eyes.
I know you’re g
oing to take care of me. I trust you.
Charles could tell that this puppy was one tough little girl. She didn’t even whimper as she held up her hurt paw.
She was so cute Charles could hardly resist giving her a huge hug, but he held back. He didn’t want to hurt her leg. Her funny, furry face was white, and her floppy ears were brown. The rest of her coat was spotted brown and white, and her little tail was all brown with a white spot on the very tip. She was smaller than Buddy, but she looked like a sturdy little thing. Charles could tell that if her leg wasn’t hurting, this wiry pup would probably be able to run circles around Buddy.
“Hi, Dr. Gibson?” Dad said into his phone. “I know it’s after hours, but I’ve got a favor to ask —” He stopped short. “Oh, you are?” He paused. “You do? Well — okay, then. I guess we’ll see you in a few minutes.”
He touched the screen to hang up and sat staring at the phone in his hand for a moment.
“Dad?” Charles said. “Let’s get going. This puppy really needs some help.” Even though the puppy was such a brave little thing, he knew she must be hurting. He remembered when he’d broken his ankle, falling off the old swing set in the backyard. It had been painful. Really, really painful.
Dad nodded and started the van.
“What did the vet say?” Sammy asked.
“That’s the funny thing,” Dad said. “Dr. Gibson is at her office, even though it’s after closing time. She didn’t sound surprised at all to hear from me — and she said she had a surprise for us.”
“Weird,” said Sammy. He reached over to stroke the little pup’s face with one gentle finger.
Charles wasn’t really paying attention to the conversation. All he’d heard was that Dr. Gibson was waiting for them. “Come on, Dad, let’s go!” he urged. He could feel the puppy’s small warm body trembling a bit.
“We’re on our way,” said Dad, pulling out onto the road.
Charles wished Dad could put on a siren, the way he did when he drove the fire truck during an emergency. A vehicle with a siren and lights was allowed to go really fast and run through red lights. The sooner they got to Dr. Gibson’s the better.
Even without the siren, it didn’t take long. Soon, they were pulling into the vet’s parking lot. Charles unbuckled as soon as the van came to a stop, and leapt out with the puppy in his arms.
“Easy, kiddo,” said his dad. “Careful with that precious cargo.”
Charles slowed down and climbed carefully up the stairs to the vet’s front door. Dr. Gibson opened the door the moment he stepped onto the porch. “Come in!” she said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Charles heard a whimper and then loud whining from behind Dr. Gibson. The little pup in his arms let out an answering cry as she squirmed and wriggled, trying to get down.
The vet stepped aside so Charles could see into the large dog crate in front of the reception desk.
Charles stared. “Whoa!” he said.
Charles peered into the crate. Staring back at him was a dog who looked a whole lot like the puppy in his arms, only twice as big. She lay curled up on a comfy bed, and tucked in with her were two small puppies who were nearly identical to the one Charles held.
Charles looked at Dr. Gibson. “Is that —”
The vet seemed to read his mind. She nodded before he even finished his sentence. “I think so, don’t you?”
“That’s her mom? And her brothers — or sisters?” Charles didn’t really have to ask. He could tell by the looks of the dog and her puppies, and by the way the mother dog whimpered and whined. As he watched, she stood up and pawed at the side of the crate, whining even more loudly.
“Seems like it’s time for a family reunion,” said Dr. Gibson. “Your pup looks just like her mom and two brothers. I think they’re all some kind of mix, maybe Cavalier King Charles spaniel and — I don’t know what. Chihuahua, maybe?”
The puppy in his arms squirmed harder. “Can they say hi?” Charles asked.
“Of course,” said Dr. Gibson. She went to open the crate. “The mom has been absolutely wild ever since she was dropped off here, an hour ago. I had to put her in the crate, because if she was free, she tried to run out the door every five seconds. I had a feeling she might be missing one of her pups.”
The dog flashed out of the crate, a brown-and-white blur heading straight for Charles. Quickly, he knelt down, holding the little puppy firmly so she wouldn’t jump out of his arms and hurt her leg. The mother dog gently nuzzled and licked the puppy’s face, as if she knew her pup was hurt. The little puppy couldn’t stop whimpering with joy.
Mom! Mom! I’m so happy to see you!
The sound made Charles’s heart melt. It was obvious how excited the two dogs were to see each other.
Now the other two puppies came tumbling out of the crate. They ran, scrabbling across the slippery floor, to see their sister. Again, the puppy in Charles’s arms began to squirm and whine, but Charles held her snugly. “Her leg is hurt,” he told Dr. Gibson. “I don’t want to let her down.”
“Good idea,” said the vet. “Let’s bring the whole family back to the exam room and I’ll take a look at her.”
No leashes or collars were necessary. Charles and his dad and the Bean and Sammy followed Dr. Gibson, and the mother dog and two puppies followed close behind them. It was quite a parade. The puppies scampered clumsily across the floor while the mother dog pranced along delicately, staring up at the third puppy in Charles’s arms.
“This one must be a little adventurer,” said Dr. Gibson as she took the puppy from Charles and set her on the high exam table. “The guy who brought in the rest of the family said he thought he might have seen one puppy running off. He decided it was most important to save the mom, since she and her family were right on the side of the road.”
“I wonder how she got hurt,” Dad said. “Do you think she might have been hit by a car?”
“Anything’s possible,” said Dr. Gibson. “Stray dogs have a tough life, especially young puppies. And at this age, her bones are very fragile and could break easily.” She put her stethoscope to the puppy’s chest and listened carefully, then began to touch her gently all over. When she touched the hurt leg, the puppy let out a tiny squeal.
Charles saw the mother’s ears stand up. She whined softly, as if to say, Be strong, little one.
Dr. Gibson felt the leg carefully, watching the pup’s face closely. “It may only be a sprain and not a broken bone,” she said finally, “but the only way to know is to do an X-ray. That will also help me be sure that nothing else is wrong. Can you all watch the rest of the family while I do that?”
Charles nodded. “Of course,” he said.
He watched as Dr. Gibson lifted the puppy off the table and headed to a back room. The puppy’s mom watched, too — but Charles noticed that she didn’t whimper. “I think she’s happy to know that her puppy is safe,” Charles said.
“Definitely,” Dad agreed. “She doesn’t seem as upset anymore, now that she’s seen her little girl.”
Sammy was holding one of the pups. He stroked his tiny head and murmured softly into his ear. “You’re safe, too,” he said. “You’ve had some big adventures, but you’re safe now.”
Dad held the other puppy, while Charles stroked the mother dog’s side, trying to keep her calm. “What do you think they were doing on the side of the road, anyway?” Charles asked his dad.
Dad shook his head, frowning. “Maybe the mom was a runaway, but I have a feeling she’s a stray, with no home. She isn’t wearing a collar, and look at how you can see her ribs sticking out. The poor thing hasn’t had a decent meal in a long time.”
Charles nodded. The mother dog was very skinny. Her fur was matted in places, and she had a scratch on her face. “You’ve had a tough life,” he said to her. “But maybe things will get better now.”
Dr. Gibson came back into the room, cradling the puppy. “Good news,” she said. “I don’t see any broken bones or other problems, so
it’s probably just a sprain. She’ll need some time to heal, but she won’t need surgery, or even a cast.” She set the puppy down on the exam table and reached for supplies from a cabinet beneath it.
The mother dog gazed up at the puppy but still did not whine. She wagged her little tail as she watched Dr. Gibson wrap the puppy’s leg in purple tape.
“Now what?” Charles asked when she was done. “Is the whole family going to stay here tonight?” He knew there were cages in the back, where dogs could spend the night if they were really sick or had just had an operation.
Dr. Gibson opened her mouth to answer, but just then, someone yoo-hooed from the reception area.
Charles laughed. He recognized that voice. “I should have known,” he said. “You already called Ms. Dobbins.”
“I came as soon as I could,” said Ms. Dobbins as she bustled into the exam room. “Oh! I thought you said there were only two puppies.” She looked at the puppies, then stared in turn at Charles, the Bean, Sammy, and Mr. Peterson. “And how did you all end up here?” She looked bewildered.
Charles’s dad laughed. “You know how it is. Puppies just seem to have a way of finding us,” he said. He explained about how they had picked up the puppy from the side of the road and brought her straight to Dr. Gibson.
Ms. Dobbins nodded. “Good for you.” She approached the puppy on the table and gently held out a finger for her to sniff. Then she turned to Dr. Gibson. “How badly is she hurt?”
Dr. Gibson smiled. “Thankfully, the leg doesn’t seem to be broken. This little girl has good luck.”
“Hmm,” said Ms. Dobbins. “If you consider it good luck to be born on the side of the road.” She shook her head. “We see this way too often at the shelter — a stray dog with puppies. I guess the ones we find really are the lucky ones.”
Charles remembered when his puppy, Buddy, had arrived at Caring Paws, along with his mom and two sisters. “Like Buddy’s family,” he said.
“That’s right,” said Ms. Dobbins. She knelt to pet the mother dog. “Hey there, darling,” she said. “You’ve done a great job with these pups. Now you’re all safe.” She picked up each of the pups and examined them. “Eyes are open, teeth are in — looks like they’re about eight weeks old, and starting to eat solid food. That’s the perfect age for them to leave their mom and go to new homes.” She turned to Dad and raised her eyebrows.
