by Coco Simon
“Sure! Let us take a crack at it! It’ll be a whole new area for us,” Alexis said heartily. “Petcakes!”
“Sounds great,” I agreed. “Thanks.”
Mrs. Barnett smiled. “Great. Good luck, and whatever you do, don’t sample the results.”
We laughed again and Alexis and I headed on our way.
Outside, Alexis moaned. “Oh no! What did we just get ourselves into?”
I patted her arm and said, “Product line extension. Isn’t that what you entrepreneurs call it?”
“Oh boy. Why did I ever teach you about this stuff?” she said mock-regretfully. “And how do you even remember it?”
“Steel trap,” I whispered, pointing to my head.
That night at dinner, I brought up Tigerlily.
“You can’t get a cat, Emmy! I’m getting a dog!” protested Jake. “Cats and dogs fight!”
“Like cats and dogs,” said Matt under his breath.
“Ha-ha,” I said to Matt. “Well, that may be true of some cats and dogs,” I said to Jake. “But our cat and dog will get along. Especially because your dog will probably be a puppy, and it makes it easier if they are younger when they meet.”
“Rocky’s not a puppy!” protested Jake.
“Oh, brother. Mom! He thinks we’re keeping Rocky. What are we going to do?”
“But Tigerlily isn’t a kitten, is she, sweetheart?” asked my mom, pointedly ignoring the Rocky issue. She’d gotten tired—we’d all gotten tired—of explaining to Jake that Rocky wasn’t our dog.
Rats. “No . . . she’s not a kitten.” I shook my head. “But she’s young. Maybe a teenager.”
“We’ll discuss it,” said my dad. “It’s a lot to go from no animals to two animals, all at once. And next thing I know, Matt and Sam are going to want something too.”
“I want a snake!” Matt said enthusiastically, looking up from his plate. “A huge one, like a boa constrictor or something. The kind that eats . . . puppies!”
“And teenage cats!” Sam added mischievously.
Jake shrieked, playing right into their hands, but I just rolled my eyes.
“We are not having a snake in this house,” my mother said empathically. “No way, mister!”
Matt laughed. “Just kidding. I want mice, anyway. So cute, so tiny . . .”
My mother moaned. “Not mice, either! No rodents!”
“A tarantula?” teased Matt.
“Very funny, Matthew,” said my mom sarcastically. “Not!”
“So what do you think about Tigerlily?” I pressed.
“Why don’t we go see her tomorrow?” said my dad. “And I’ll talk to the people at ARF about cats and dogs and expenses and everything.” He passed his hand over his face wearily. “What am I getting myself into?” he muttered.
“Great!” I cried, ignoring his fears. “Can the Cupcakers come with us?”
He nodded. “The Cupcakers can come. Of course.”
CHAPTER 6
Emergency!
Katie, Mia, and Alexis came over right after lunch on Saturday. They all were eager to see Rocky and check out what our house was like with a dog in it. All my friends were excited for Jake to get a dog, and they were psyched for me, too. Of course, every conversation with Jake about dogs ended with him exclaiming he was keeping Rocky, and he didn’t understand what all these puppy questions were about. I rolled my eyes so much, they were sore.
Besides the dog viewing, Katie had googled a bunch of doggy cupcake recipes for us to try out. We decided to make two different kinds of batches and let them cool while we went to ARF to see Tigerlily. We would test out one of each kind of cupcake on Rocky when we got home to see which one she preferred.
The first batch was vegetarian. It had shredded carrots and applesauce and oats and other veggie things. The second batch was peanut butter and had a cream-cheese-and-yogurt frosting with crumbled bacon.
“If I were a dog, I’d go for the bacon one,” Matt said, passing through on the way home from a soccer game.
Alexis laughed, teasing him. “Gee, there’s a surprise!” Matt was famous for loving our salted caramel and bacon cupcakes. “I wouldn’t even put it past you to try one of these!”
“Woof!” barked Matt, making Alexis giggle hysterically.
The rest of us rolled our eyes at one another, but we were smiling.
Soon, the cupcakes and frostings were finished, and we put everything on the kitchen counter to come to room temperature while we were gone. There were forty-eight cupcakes and two big bowls of frosting. If Rocky thought they were tasty, we’d drop them by ARF tomorrow as a donation and then make up a new batch of the favorite for the event next weekend.
As we left, my mom was going to do her yoga upstairs, and Jake and Rocky were watching a movie until it was time for him to go to a birthday party. Sam was at work, and Matt had to go shower and meet his study group.
We set out for ARF in a cheerful mood. I was excited to see Tigerlily and hoped to convince my dad that I should get her. I was also hoping I might see Diego at ARF while we were there. Little did I know who I’d end up seeing.
The good news about my dad is that he is a major softy when it comes to animals. His grandparents had a farm when he was growing up, and he used to go out and stay with them. He really loved taking care of their “livestock,” as he annoyingly calls their animals.
The Cupcakers and my dad and I were let into the cat aquarium while a volunteer went to get Tigerlily for us. There was another young family there playing with an adorable black-and-white kitten. It was tiny! But I watched it do what the kitten had done to me the other day—it climbed up the little girl’s leg, and she cried out in pain.
“Kittens are overrated,” I whispered to our group. “I actually think they’re kind of gross, too,” I joked. “Their little claws are so sharp, and their butts are always poopy. . . .”
“Eeeew!” squealed Mia, who is not a cat person at all.
“How can you not like kittens?” Alexis asked. “I mean, seriously, who doesn’t like kittens? What else don’t you like? Rainbows? Birthday parties? Ice cream?”
“Hate ’em.” I grinned.
“Here she is!” announced the volunteer, who arrived with a sleepy-looking Tigerlily in her arms. I was sitting on the floor, and she placed her gently in my arms and Tigerlily nestled right into the crook of my arm and fell back asleep.
“Awww!” said Katie. “She loves you. You’re her mommy!”
“Isn’t she cute, Dad?” I asked, smiling up at my father.
“Adorable,” he agreed. “Will you let me hold her next?”
I snuggled with her for a minute and then handed her over. My dad took her and competently folded her into his arms and began patting her head. She purred loudly, like a machine.
“Boy, you sure know your way around a cat!” I teased.
“Years of practice on the barn cats,” bragged my dad.
“Hey, it’s the Cupcake Club!” Mrs. Barnett said, arriving at the cat aquarium.
We introduced her to my dad, and the timing was perfect. Mrs. Barnett and my dad fell into a serious conversation about the financial and practical requirements of cat (and dog) ownership, and she shared advice with him on how best to introduce two pets to each other. It was interesting to listen to what she said; she knew a lot about animal behavior. I thought she was just an administrator, but it turned out she’d been an animal sciences major in college. She had wanted to be a vet but got married and had kids early and decided not to finish the program. Now, she was going to school at night to finish up her degree and then apply to veterinary school. It sounded like a ton of work, but the way her eyes lit up when she talked about it was pretty noticeable.
The good news about what Mrs. Barnett said was that it was probably better to get the cat first. She advised us to have the cat for two weeks or so, to get her used to the house and all of us, and then we could add a dog. We would need to proceed with keeping them separate at first and gra
dually introducing them, with the dog on a leash, and then after about two weeks, we could let them just interact unrestricted.
Mrs. Barnett explained that if we used the vets at ARF, it would be cheaper than going with a fancy, independent vet. She said Tigerlily had already been spayed, so she couldn’t have kittens, so that was one expense we wouldn’t have to worry about. All animals who were taken in by ARF were spayed or neutered by them, so that they couldn’t produce any more unwanted pets.
Beyond the yearly checkup and shots were the food and cat litter expenses. If we kept to grocery store brands of food and litter, we could keep prices down on those, too. Furthermore, she said if we were planning on letting the cat be an indoor-outdoor cat, it would even cut down on the litter costs because the cat would go to the bathroom outdoors much of the time. Our only additional cost would be flea and tick prevention.
My dad was nodding along. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“It’s really not,” agreed Mrs. Barnett. “I find cats the best family pets. They adapt easily, they deliver a lot of snuggles, and they’re quite easy to care for. And—don’t tell anyone I ever said this because I’m not supposed to admit it, but—you can even leave them alone for a day or two without needing someone to look after them.” She gave us a big wink.
“Sounds like a better choice than a dog,” my dad said with a sigh.
“Well, you just need to find the right dog for your family,” said Mrs. Barnett. “Some dogs are quite low maintenance. Other dogs require a lot of supervision. . . .”
Just then my mom came running into the cat aquarium. Her hair was uncharacteristically wet and up in a bun, and she was in her yoga clothes. “Honey! I need your help!” she called to my dad.
“Mom? Wh-what are you . . . ?” I sputtered.
“It’s Rocky! She ate all the cupcakes and frosting and everything, and she is so sick. . . . We’re through here at the emergency entrance.”
My dad and Mrs. Barnett jumped up and ran to follow her.
The Cupcakers and I exchanged alarmed looks.
“I feel so bad!” I moaned. “Rocky binged on our cupcakes and got sick.”
“They couldn’t be bad for her?” said Katie.
“No, she just ate too much!” said Mia. “Forty-eight cupcakes and two bowls of frosting? Gross!”
“Em, do you want me to keep Tigerlily so you can go see what happened?” asked Alexis, her face tight with worry.
“Sure. Thanks,” I said, and gently handed over the cat and then scrambled out to see what was going on.
They had put Rocky on a gurney and were wheeling her into an examining area. Jake had tears streaming down his face, and my mom looked pretty choked up too. My dad’s mouth was set in a grim line.
Rocky was lying on her side, panting heavily. Every so often she’d convulse a little, like she wanted to be sick, but there was nothing left in her.
The vet and a nurse took over. “Hey, girl, you’re going to be okay! Don’t worry,” the vet said in a soothing voice. “I bet you feel pretty awful right now, though.” She gave Rocky long, slow pats as she examined her. “You are a patient puppy!”
“Yes, she really is,” agreed my dad.
“How old is she?” asked the vet.
“We think she’s about fifteen months,” said my dad.
“We’re only dogsitting her for the weekend,” said my mom. “She’s not ours.”
“Yet!” added Jake.
The nurse smiled down at him.
The vet was stroking Rocky’s abdomen, and she paused, a puzzled look on her face. She kept reaching and re-feeling the same area. “Bill,” she called to the nurse. “Can you bring an ultrasound machine, as well as an IV with a small bag of anti-nausea fluids and some electrolytes, please?”
The nurse nodded and then ducked out of the room as the vet continued her exam, looking in Rocky’s eyes and mouth. I was still stuck on the IV. I do not do well with needles, and I was not going to be able to hang around for this.
“Is she going to be okay?” I asked the vet.
“Sure. This kind of thing is very common. Sweet dog,” she said, smoothing Rocky’s hair away from her eyes. “We’ll get her on some electrolytes . . . like doggy Gatorade,” she said to Jake with a smile. “And a little medication to settle her tummy, and she’ll be fine in no time. She’ll have to take it easy for the rest of the weekend, though. And very plain dry food. No treats,” added the vet.
Rocky lifted her head as she heard the word “treat,” and we laughed.
“There is just one more thing I want to check quickly . . . ,” said the vet as the nurse came back with the equipment the vet had requested.
“This is where I exit . . . ,” I said with a nervous laugh. I did not want to faint at ARF.
“Okay, sweetheart. We’ll come find you when we’re finished,” offered my mom.
Just as I headed out of the emergency area, who did I bump right into but Diego!
“Oh, hi!” he said with a grin. “What are you doing here?”
His rash was noticeably better than the day before, and I saw that he didn’t really duck his head like yesterday, nor was he super–covered up.
I explained about Rocky, and his eyes grew wide. “I’ll have to be more careful when I eat your cupcakes!” he teased.
I swatted him. “Very funny. It’s ’cause she ate too many!”
He looked at me mock-seriously. “That could happen to me too!”
“Well, then, be careful,” I said. “We don’t need you coming in here on a gurney!”
“Speaking of which, I meant to tell you . . . I’m sorry I’ve been so weird and kind of avoiding everyone. I had . . . I got all these flea bites from a new batch of kittens they brought in. And then I put on this cream, and I had an allergic reaction to the cream, and I broke out in this horrible rash all over. . . . It was so embarrassing. I had to miss school. It really hurt.”
“Wow! That’s awful!” I said. “I was wondering. I mean . . .” Ugh. I didn’t want him to know I’d been hurt by what felt like his avoiding me.
“Yeah. That day at the park. I had been looking forward to it, so then I was really annoyed and embarrassed and whatever. I never got a chance to promote it or post any pics from the event. I was so bummed that I missed it. I heard it went really well.”
“Yeah, it did,” I agreed. “Also, I met Tigerlily that day. She’s the cat I’m here to see. I really want to adopt her.”
“Wait, so you guys are getting a dog and a cat? At the same time?”
I nodded. “I think so. More or less.”
“You are so lucky. And that’s a good strategy, by the way. Having them both be new to the house will keep things on a level playing field for them, so they aren’t too territorial.”
“Yup. Want to come see her?” I asked, and he agreed.
“I don’t have any pets,” Diego confessed as we walked down the hall to the adoption area.
“What?!” I was shocked. “I thought you’d be Dr. Doolittle, surrounded by your adoring flock of pets!”
But he was shaking his head. “My dad and my sister are superallergic to everything, so I even have to take off my clothes in the laundry room and put them right in the hamper after I’ve been here.”
“Wow! Crazy!” I said. “I had no idea.”
“Yup. That’s why I volunteer here. My mom finally got tired of me complaining and suggested that if I loved animals so much, I should put my money where my mouth is, or whatever the expression is. So I showed up here, and it’s been great! I think I’ll probably become a vet when I’m older.”
“That’s so cool. You’re lucky to know what you want to be when you grow up.”
He smiled, and his even white teeth dazzled me. “I want to be a professional cupcake taster, actually.”
I laughed. “Welcome aboard!” I said, and we headed in to meet my friends.
We hung out for about an hour, playing with Tigerlily and some of her friends that Diego broug
ht down. He also got us a bunch of toys and some treats, and it was really fun. By the end of the hour, it was clear Tigerlily knew she was mine. She kept returning to me like I was her home base. It was so cute. All I had to do now was officially adopt her.
Finally, my dad poked in his head. “Sorry, gang. You won’t believe the news about Rocky! I can run you home, now, if you’re ready. Em, let’s decide about Tigerlily tonight, and if we’re getting her, it will have to be tomorrow, after Rocky goes home, okay?”
I wanted to whine and stamp my foot and insist that Tigerlily come home with me today, but I couldn’t do it in front of Diego and my friends. Plus, I felt a little bad for my dad. He looked stressed.
“Okay,” I agreed.
“I’ll put her back for you,” offered Diego. “And I’ll check on her all day today and take her out to play tomorrow while I’m here, okay?”
I nodded. “That’s really nice. Thanks so much, Diego.” I gave the kitty a hug and kiss and whispered that I’d see her tomorrow, for sure. I wished I could hug Diego, too. He was so nice.
Instead, I turned to my dad. “What’s the news about Rocky? Good or bad?”
He laughed and turned to face us all. “I’m not sure. Rocky’s going to have puppies!”
CHAPTER 7
Puppies!
My dad called Coach Mike with the news when we got home. I wished I could have listened in. I was sure Mike would be floored by the news. The vet had done an ultrasound and could see four puppies, maybe five, in Rocky’s abdomen. That was a lot of puppies. The way I saw it was as great news: If Jake couldn’t have Rocky, at least he could have one of her kids!
When my dad hung up, I ran out from the family room to get the scoop on the call.
“What did Mike say? Could he believe it?”
My dad shook his head. “He was not very happy about it. They’d been searching everywhere this weekend for a rental that would allow dogs, and they couldn’t find anything down there. They’re really getting stressed, and now this on top of it. I asked him nicely why he hadn’t had her spayed, and he said his wife hadn’t wanted to spend the money, and they thought Rocky was still too young to get pregnant.”
