Begin Reading
Table of Contents
About the Author and Illustrator
Copyright Page
Thank you for buying this
Tom Doherty Associates ebook.
To receive special offers, bonus content,
and info on new releases and other great reads,
sign up for our newsletters.
Or visit us online at
us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup
For email updates on W. Bruce Cameron, click here.
For email updates on Jennifer L. Meyer, click here.
The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you without Digital Rights Management software (DRM) applied so that you can enjoy reading it on your personal devices. This e-book is for your personal use only. You may not print or post this e-book, or make this e-book publicly available in any way. You may not copy, reproduce, or upload this e-book, other than to read it on one of your personal devices.
Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy.
Dedicated to my dog Tucker, who loves his tiny piece of cheese.
1
My name is Lily, and I have a lot of friends.
My best friend of all, of course, is Maggie Rose.
In the nighttime, I sleep on Maggie Rose’s bed, pressed up against her warm legs. I get to lie there until Mom or Dad pokes a head in the doorway and says the word school.
Maggie Rose will groan a little, and then she climbs slowly out of bed and puts on her clothes and goes into the kitchen for breakfast with her brothers. While she’s changing clothes, I lie on the bed, missing her legs and trying to show her that we would all be happier if she just climbed back under the covers.
But she never does that on days people say school. I don’t know why.
I think school must be a place, because one day when Mom said school, Maggie Rose let me ride in the back seat of the car with her. We went to a room with many children her age sitting in chairs. I sat next to Maggie Rose at the front of the room so that everyone could admire what a good dog I could be. I am very good at sitting.
Maggie Rose said, “Hello. My name is Maggie Rose Murphy. I live in Golden, Colorado. I am in the third grade. My father is a game warden for the state of Colorado, and my mother works in animal rescue. She’s a veterinarian. My dog’s name is Lily.”
When she said my name, I looked up at Maggie Rose and wagged. I did not know what we were doing, but all the children were looking at us, and it made me feel very important.
“Lily is a rescue dog for two reasons,” Maggie Rose continued. I wagged again. “The first reason is that she was taken in by the shelter where my mom works, so she was rescued. And the second reason is that most days she goes back to the shelter to take care of all the animals there.”
Maggie Rose started smiling and speaking a little more quickly. “Lily plays with the other dogs and helps them relax and not feel scared. She plays with the cats, too. She loves cats! Sometimes she curls up with the kittens and they sleep together. It helps because then the kittens don’t grow up to be scared of dogs, and they can get adopted into families with dogs.”
She paused and took a deep breath.
“So Lily has a job—a job in animal rescue. On weekends, I sometimes help at the shelter, too. It’s good for the puppies or kittens to get used to kids. Then they’re not nervous around us.”
“Lucky!” one of the children moaned.
I wagged some more. It just seemed like a good idea.
“I have two brothers,” Maggie Rose went on. “One is named Bryan, and he is in fifth grade. One is named Craig, and he is in eighth grade. When I grow up, I want to be a veterinarian. When Craig grows up, he wants to be a baseball player. And I don’t think Bryan will ever grow up.”
For some reason, all the children laughed when Maggie Rose said this even though I had not done anything special. Sometimes people laugh just because they are happy there is a dog in the room.
“My name is Maggie Rose Murphy, and that is my report,” Maggie Rose said. Everyone clapped because I was doing such a good job doing Sit. Then all the children lined up and took turns petting me, which was very nice. Maggie Rose gave me a treat, and that was even nicer.
That was an unusual day. On most days when somebody says school, I don’t get to go to that place with all the children and the treats. Instead, Maggie Rose leaves after breakfast, and I go to Work.
Work is a place just like school is a place. I go there with Mom. There are good treats at Work, and there are also friends: dogs, cats, and other animals in cages. The dogs and cats and the rest of the animals stay at Work for a while and then leave with happy people. I am the only dog who goes to Work and then goes home and goes back again the next day. That makes me special.
I like Work days, even though Maggie Rose gets out of bed before I am ready for her to do that. But the days when nobody says school and when I don’t go to Work are even better.
Then I can spend the whole day with my girl, Maggie Rose. And sometimes we go to the dog park!
The dog park is the most wonderful place I have ever been. Even better than bed with Maggie Rose’s warm legs. Even better than Work, where there are friends and treats.
At the dog park, there are dogs, squirrels, birds, and children. I do not know if all the dogs are there all the time or if they just make sure to be there when I arrive.
I am friends with everyone at the dog park, except the squirrels. It really isn’t possible to make friends with squirrels, because they always run away. I have tried, and it just doesn’t work.
One day at the dog park, I made a new friend.
2
There are some important rules in the dog park. First, one dog should never take a toy away from another dog. Dogs don’t like that. People can take away toys if they want, because they are people. The rule doesn’t apply to people.
Next, a dog should always politely sniff another dog in the butt. If you don’t sniff a dog, it is considered to be very rude. (This rule does not apply to people, either.)
When Maggie Rose first lets me into the dog park, I love to run and run and run. I will wag and bow and sniff all my friends, and I will chase any dog who looks like he or she needs a good chasing.
Most of the other dogs in the park run after the squirrels, but I don’t because we have had many different kinds of squirrels at Work, and I have learned they don’t like to be chased. That makes no sense, but squirrels are squirrels and not dogs. Cats don’t like to be chased, either, so they may be a type of squirrel. I’m not sure about that, though.
Being chased, or chasing, is one of the most fun times to be had, and it is not my fault if squirrels and cats don’t understand this.
After chasing, I usually go over to the water bowl to get a drink. There is an enormous water bowl at the dog park for all of us to share. One time a dog named Boggs sat in the water dish. He is a big dog with a black face. I do not know why he thought he would be comfortable sitting in the water bowl, but once he did, the water smelled like Boggs and no one wanted to take a drink of it.
Fortunately, Maggie Rose came over and put in fresh water, so we didn’t have to drink Boggs-water. We were all grateful for this, but we were nervous that Boggs might sit in the nice new water.
We tried to distract him by going over to the trees on the other side of the park where the male dogs lift their legs and the females squat. At least, that’s why I went and squatted there, so that Boggs would be lured to come over to examine the fresh scent. The other dogs may just have marked the
area because I was doing it.
Anyway, it succeeded, because Boggs naturally needed to spend a lot of time sniffing all the trees and lifting his own leg, and then he had to leave with his person so he didn’t have a chance to put his butt in the water bowl again.
I suppose people can sit in water bowls if they want, but I have never seen anyone do it. I’ve never seen any dog but Boggs do it, either. And he’s an odd animal, anyway, because he never runs after a ball—not when it is thrown by a person, not when another dog has it in his mouth. He may not understand what a ball even is.
On the day that I made a new friend, I was in the far end of the dog park by myself. I like to go there sometimes and think about what a wonderful life I have. I get to go to Work. I get to play with all sorts of animals. There’s the dog park and Maggie Rose. No one has a better life than I do.
Running along the back of the dog park, there is a fence that I can see through. Overhead, there are many trees that drop nuts on the ground. At the base of one of the trees, I saw a little squirrel. I knew that Maggie Rose called that kind of squirrel a chipmunk, but it sure looked like a squirrel to me. It hopped like a squirrel, ate nuts like a squirrel, and it certainly smelled like a squirrel. People make all the rules and can name things whatever they want, but to me, a squirrel is a squirrel is a squirrel.
The chipmunk was busy finding nuts and stuffing them into its mouth. There were so many nuts in there that its cheeks were puffed out in a very silly fashion. No dog would do something so silly, but squirrels have different rules—for one thing, they are allowed to climb trees. (I don’t really like nuts. Some dogs do, but to me it’s squirrel food. I would much rather have a meat treat.)
This chipmunk was so busy making silly cheeks with his nuts that he did not notice that there was a large hawk circling overhead.
At once, I became very concerned. I knew from doing work high up in the mountains with Dad that a hawk hunts little animals. I had seen hawks fly down and grab small creatures the size of a chipmunk. Was this hawk flying around and around the little chipmunk because it was planning to hunt it?
I could not let that happen. Because the chipmunk was in the dog park, it was one of my friends. Maybe not a friend who would chase a ball or wrestle with a stick, but a friend just the same. I could not let the hawk hunt a friend.
But how could I stop it from doing that? Dogs cannot fly any more than we can climb trees. I wondered if I should bark, but my experience with squirrels of all kinds is that they don’t care what dogs do unless we chase them.
But if I chased the chipmunk, that would not help because a hawk can catch a running creature. I stood frozen, afraid for my new little friend.
3
I was still watching the chipmunk and seeing that the hawk was coming closer and closer when suddenly the sky darkened, and I heard the flutter of many wings. It was a big mob of crows! They were all flying straight at the hawk!
It was just like when Bryan and Craig played football, which is a game where children run around with a ball and dogs are not allowed to help, even though putting in a dog or two would make it much more fun. I had learned from watching football that when a child is carrying the ball, the other kids will all chase him and jump on him. That’s what the crows were doing now. They were swooping down and trying to grab the hawk with their beaks!
The hawk was clearly annoyed by all these big black birds that were flying around and pushing it and getting in its way. For some reason, the crows were trying to make the hawk fly away from the dog park and go somewhere else. Maybe there was a hawk park.
The hawk swooped and dove and changed direction, but there were so many crows pestering it, it finally gave up and flew away. The little chipmunk was safe!
Not that it was paying any attention. It was so busy digging for nuts, it had never once bothered to look up at the sky. That’s just one of the many differences between squirrels and dogs: a dog always knows what is going on.
When the crows finally succeeded in driving away the hawk, the sky was clear of any birds. And that is when I saw Casey.
I did not know Casey’s name at the time, of course. That would come later. All I knew was that I saw a crow hopping very strangely on the ground. One wing flapped, but the other one seemed pinched and pressed up against his side. There was something wrong with the crow, because they are supposed to fly, and this one could not.
Helping animals that cannot do what they are supposed to do is the most important thing that Mom and Dad do at Work. Sometimes we help animals who are lost and hungry and just need a warm place and a good dinner before their family comes to get them. Sometimes the animals are hurt and need different kinds of help.
This crow seemed hurt.
I turned and looked across the dog park. Maggie Rose had been sitting on a bench reading a book, but now she was standing and looking at me. Maggie Rose is my person, and she can tell when I am upset.
I turned back to see what the crow was doing and noticed something amazing. The little chipmunk was hopping around with so many nuts in its mouth that they were falling out of its cheeks! I guess chipmunks love making silly faces so much, they will keep stuffing nuts into their mouths until they are nearly ready to burst.
As I watched, I saw the little chipmunk scamper over to a hole under the fence and drop a couple of nuts on the way. That is when the amazing thing happened: the crow with the broken wing hopped over to the nuts, picked them up, and ate them.
I had found out a new thing: crows and chipmunks were friends! This made me happy. I like to make animal friends, too, but I don’t eat nuts, so I did not go over to join in the shared meal.
I turned back to my girl and saw that she was coming toward me with a frown on her face. She saw the crow and put a hand to her mouth.
“Lily,” she called, “what happened to that crow? Is it hurt?”
I wagged and sat, waiting for her to come help the poor bird. She approached slowly, so I knew that she didn’t want to frighten the crow.
Now Maggie Rose was standing beside me. She knelt down and petted my head. “Good dog, Lily. That poor crow has a broken wing!” Maggie Rose held my head in her hand and looked into my eyes. “Lily,” she said, “I’ll go get Mom. You stay here and guard the crow. Watch him, Lily! Keep the crow safe!”
I did not know what Maggie Rose was saying, but I could hear concern in her voice, and I knew it had something to do with the poor crow. Also, she had said the word Mom, and I thought maybe what she was saying was that we needed Mom here to help with the crow and then later give me some treats from her pocket. Mom often had treats.
I was surprised when Maggie Rose turned and ran away. Did she want me to chase her? But the crow was clearly in trouble.
Maggie Rose passed through the double gate to the dog park and ran down the street toward Work. Where was she going? What was going to happen now? Why hadn’t she taken me with her?
But I knew she would be back. Maggie Rose always came back, no matter what. While I was waiting for her, I decided I should make friends with the crow whose wing did not work.
I moved closer to him, but when I took a step, the crow hopped away. I took another step, and the crow hopped again. Even though I am a friendly dog and everyone loves me, this crow seemed afraid of me.
This was ridiculous, of course. Cats are not afraid of me, horses are not afraid of me, and dogs are certainly not afraid of me. Even the little chipmunk hadn’t been afraid—it had been so busy stuffing its face that it had paid me no attention at all. But this crow seemed to think I would hurt him.
With every hop, the crow was closer to the fence. When he reached the fence, I think he felt trapped. He turned and looked at me.
Now, if I went closer, the crow would have nowhere to hop. It would feel like being in a cage.
I decided that the best thing I could do was stop trying to catch up to the crow, just lie down and watch it. Maybe that way it would understand that I was Lily, a very nice dog who had many
friends who were not dogs: cats, a ferret, kittens, and even a bunny rabbit.
Now that I was lying down with my nose pointed toward the crow, he was looking at me very closely. He kept turning his head one way and then the other.
I waited patiently, thinking this would be what Maggie Rose would want. She had never left me alone in the dog park before, so I figured out that I should not do what I usually did—chase other dogs and make sure that Boggs didn’t sit in the water dish. Instead, I would watch this crow.
After some time of just staring at me, the crow with the broken wing took a hop in my direction! I decided it was a very young crow. It wasn’t a baby, but it seemed smaller and somehow smoother than a lot of crows I had seen in the park.
The crow took another hop, then stopped and twisted his head. I waited. The crow took another hop. Clearly, he wasn’t just afraid—he also wanted to understand what I was doing there, just lying in the grass, not moving. Well, if it made him feel calm and curious, I was prepared to lie there all day.
The crow took another hop.
I waited.
4
With every hop, the crow flap- ped one wing, but the other one remained completely still, hanging by its side.
The crow took another hop. Another. And then, suddenly, the crow jumped up and landed right on my back!
Well, this was certainly a strange day. I had never seen a chipmunk feed a crow before. I had never seen a flock of crows save a chipmunk from a hawk before. I had never been left alone in the dog park before. And now, I had a crow on my back—something else that had never happened before.
When a crow is on a dog’s back, the dog cannot easily fall asleep. However, the sun was warm, and I felt myself getting drowsy. Would Maggie Rose mind if I took a little nap while I was waiting for her?
Rescue 01 - Lily to the Rescue Page 1
