Oops, Doggy Dog!

by Deborah Gregory

  I stare glumly at my untouched breakfast, thinking about Eddie Lizard, and how he dissed me so hard. I complain to my mom about it.

  “Welcome to the real world, darling,” Mom says, looking over at my grouchy face. I hope she doesn’t start giving me her told-you-so speech, but I have to admit she was right. She knew there was something slithery about Eddie Lizard, who has turned out to be a frog in a snakeskin suit after all.

  “I just don’t understand why he did this,” I moan out loud, even though I promised not to talk about Eddie Lizard again as long as I live.

  “You’ve just experienced the most popular dish that’s not on the Chinese menu,” Mom says, speaking in her usual riddles. “Hot, cold, and sour soup. They chase, then they disappear like cockroaches in the night. Or in his case—”

  “I know, Mom,” I say, cutting her off. “Hey, did you know that Doktor Lizard dated Drinka Champagne back in the day?”

  “More like aghast from the past is what I heard,” Mom says, like a Missy Know-it-all, sipping her double latte cappuccino with a cinnamon twist like it’s filled with gold. “Turns out he was also married to Mrs. Depooter, one of my very best customers. You know, the one who always has to have tassels, pom-poms, or trapezes hanging from her backside!”

  “I can’t believe he went out with Mrs. Depooter!” I say.

  “Darling, when you’re three hundred years old, you can leave behind quite a trail!” Mom says matter-of-factly.

  “Mom, you don’t believe that hukalaka hookie, do you?” I ask in disbelief, staring at Dad for backup.

  “Bubbles, how can you say that!?” Chuchie shrieks. She believes in brujería, Santería, and other witchcraft shenanigans, just like the twins do. Right about now, though, Aqua and Angie are probably at church, singing “Hallelujah!” Not that I care.

  “Well, I guess Aqua and Angie aren’t gonna set their father up with Drinka Champagne,” I say, shaking my head. “Not after they hear this latest drama.”

  “A former disco queen would be a walk in the park after that high priestess he was dating,” Mom says wisely. “He’s better off without Abala Shaballa, just like you’re better off without Eddie Lizard.”

  “You didn’t want me dating Eddie because you think I’m too young,” I blurt out accusingly. “That’s why you didn’t like him.”

  “I didn’t tell Eddie Lizard not to call, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Mom humphs, throwing a glance at Dad. “I think he figured out how to do that all by himself.”

  Suddenly, like an idiot, I start crying.

  “Cara, what’s the matter?” Daddy says, running over to me. He hates to see me cry.

  “I really liked him, Daddy,” I sob into his arms, bawling like a big baby.

  Everybody gets real quiet while I finish my stupid boo-hoo attack. Then, just as I’m sniffing back the last tears, the doorbell rings.

  “I’ll get it,” Dad says, racing to the door. When he looks through the peephole, he lets out a gasp and mutters, “Non lo credo. I don’t believe it. Come see with your own eyes, cara.”

  I jump up excited, wondering if it’s Eddie Lizard standing there, with the biggest bouquet of flowers he could find in the florist’s shop. I feel my heart pounding as I look into the peephole.

  It’s not Eddie Lizard—what was I thinking?—but it’s something almost as good. I gasp in happy surprise, and hug Dad, giggling. He covers my mouth as he flings open the door and lets out a hearty, “Buon giorno, Esther!”

  “Oh, um, good morning, Franco and, um, Galleria,” Mrs. Brubaker says, clutching a big woven basket covered with a white blanket. “May I come in?”

  “Of course,” Daddy exclaims, stepping aside to let Mrs. Brubaker enter.

  I can’t believe Mrs. Brubaker has the nerve to come over just to show us Buffy’s puppies! One cuddle, and I’ll be hooked on a new pet, if you get my drift. I mean, it’s not fair! I try to smile at Mrs. Brubaker, like I don’t want to whack her and snatch the basket away from her.

  “Would you like some Italian continental breakfast, Esther?” Daddy asks cheerfully.

  “Oh, no, thank you. Well, a cup of your coffee would be wonderful.”

  “Have something to eat. Maybe some grits?” Mom asks.

  “Well, I’ll try one,” Mrs. Brubaker says.

  I try not to laugh. Obviously, Mrs. Brubaker has never had grits before. I see a tiny smile curling up in the corner of Mom’s mouth. “Honey, put a little of everything on a plate for Esther.”

  Toto runs out of the kitchen and makes a beeline for Mrs. Brubaker. “Down, Toto!” I hiss at him, causing him to stop in his tracks.

  “How are you, Dorothea?” Mrs. Brubaker asks Mom, sitting down and carefully holding the basket in place on her lap, like it’s a pot of gold.

  “I’m fine, darling, how are you?” Mom answers, looking up from her paper like everything is hunky-dory, even though I know she probably wants to smush a bagel with cream cheese right on Mrs. Brubaker’s nose.

  “Listen, I’ve been thinking about this whole mess, and I’ve made a decision,” Mrs. Brubaker says. “I’d like you to see the puppies. I mean, they’re all quite adorable.”

  “Yes, I’m sure they are,” Mom cuts in.

  Mrs. Brubaker takes the blanket off the basket, and Chuchie lets out a big gasp. “Ooh, they’re so cute I’m going to faint!”

  “Yes, they are. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve only brought along three,” Mrs. Brubaker says.

  I stand patiently by Mrs. Brubaker’s chair, waiting for her to finish her stupid spiel so I can get my grubby little paws on the furballs. I look at the one with the darkest black eyes and my heart starts to melt. I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to let them go back to Mrs. Brubaker’s safari apartment.

  “Well, I hope this ends our nasty little business,” Mrs. Brubaker continues. “I mean, you didn’t have to take me to court, or act like such a—never mind.”

  “It wasn’t an act, darling, trust me!” Mom snaps back. “And you’re not doing us any favor by simply letting us sneak a peek!”

  “What more do you want?” Mrs. Brubaker shrieks, like she’s on the brink of losing it. “I can’t possibly let you have more than three, Dorothea, you’re being unreasonable!”

  More than three?

  “Are you letting us keep them?” I ask, practically out of breath because my heart is pounding so hard.

  “Why, yes—that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Mrs. Brubaker says in her usual grumpy fashion.

  “Oh, Esther, I’m sorry,” Mom says, getting up. “We thought you were merely parading the pups in our faces so we’d keel over from an attack of Gucci envy!” I can tell from the glint in Mom’s eyes that she is as relieved as I am. Daddy, too. He grabs me by the shoulders and squeezes me.

  “Esther, were you afraid the judge would rule in our favor?” Mom asks.

  “Heavens, no!” Mrs. Brubaker says, getting huffy again. “I just think it was deplorable that you resorted to such measures!”

  Deplorable? I wonder what that means. Probably “disgusting” or maybe even “radikkio.” Whatever it means, I don’t want Mrs. Brubaker getting so upset that she takes Buffy’s “puffies” back to her apartment!

  “Mrs. Brubaker, you made us really, really happy,” I say, trying to take the basket from her.

  “Well, Galleria, I can’t give you the basket!” Mrs. Brubaker says, clasping the handle tightly.

  “But—but you just said!” I stammer. I knew Mrs. Brubaker was pulling another hoax-arama! I stare at the top of her bright red hair, wondering if she’s really a sea dragon—just add water and she’ll sprout wings!

  “I know what I said, but you can’t have the basket!” Mrs. Brubaker says excitedly. “I got it on my last trip to Thailand. You’ll have to get your own.”

  Oh, now I get her drift! “Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Brubaker,” I apologize. “I thought you meant—well, never mind.”

  “Ooooo,” Chuchie says, rushing over to pu
t her paws on a pup.

  “No, I’ll get it, Chuchie,” I snap, nudging her out of the way. I gently pick up a puppy and give it to Daddy. His whole face lights up as he plays with the white, furry ball of fluff who’s so little he almost fits in the palm of Daddy’s hand.

  “They’re so little, Dad,” I coo. “Look, Toto, look at your babies!”

  “Don’t worry, they’ll grow—sooner than you’d like,” warns Mrs. Brubaker.

  I pick up another puppy, and bend down so that Toto can look at his offspring. The puppy tenses up in my hand and makes a whining noise. “Ooh, look, this one has a bigger head than the other one! Don’t be afraid, Biggie,” I tell him, rubbing his nose in my face. Toto starts barking like crazy. “No, Toto, you can’t touch him yet. Not till he’s a little older.”

  “Can I at least hold the other one? Por favor!” Chuchie whines.

  “Of course, Chanel,” Mom says. “Just don’t run off and make a purse out of her fur!”

  “How do you know it’s a she from there?” I ask Mom.

  “She’s right,” Mrs. Brubaker says. “Those two are boys, and that one’s the girl.”

  “Can I have this one?” Chuchie begs, smothering the poor puppy against her chest.

  “Let’s not decide that right now, Chanel, or your mother is going to get a restraining order against me,” Mom jokes. She’s right. That’s all we would need is another “Battle of the Divas.”

  “Let Dorinda have him, Bubbles!” Chuchie says excitedly.

  I suddenly realize that Do’ hasn’t said a word this whole time. Now I see it’s because she’s been biting her lip, not letting herself even hope for a pet of her own. I look at her pleading eyes, and decide it’s time to do the right thing.

  “I see somebody is wagging their tail,” I smile, handing Dorinda her prize pooch.

  “Can he be my dog and yours?” Chuchie asks, snuggling up to Dorinda.

  “Of course, Chuchie—you can come over and raise the woof anytime you want!” Dorinda says, overflowing with puppy love. “I don’t mind sharing. At my house, we have to share everything anyway!”

  Poor Dorinda, I think to myself. She always has to share things. But I have to admit, she doesn’t seem to mind. Maybe I’m just spoiled, being an only child and all. But the thought of her ten foster brothers and sisters pawing over Toto’s puppy makes me shiver.

  “What are we gonna name him?” Chuchie asks excitedly. But before Dorinda can say anything, Chuchie blurts out, “Let’s name him Nobu.” Nobu is Auntie Juanita’s favorite Japanese restaurant in Soho, and it’s owned by Robert De Niro, whom Auntie Juanita has had a crush on since I can remember.

  “Word—that’s cool,” Dorinda says, holding her fluffball like he’s a baby.

  “So, how is your singing group?” Mrs. Brubaker asks, sipping her cappuccino like one of those society ladies with monogrammed hankies. “Oh, Franco, this coffee is divine. You really must tell me your secret.”

  “It will never leave my lips!” Daddy says, grinning from ear to ear.

  I guess Mrs. Brubaker doesn’t really want to know about my singing group, but I decide I’m gonna tell her anyway. “We’re recording a demo.”

  “What, Galleria?” Mrs. Brubaker asks absent-mindedly. Her pink lipstick has come off, and some of it is smudged in the corner of her mouth, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell her.

  “You know, the Cheetah Girls are recording songs for the record company to listen to,” I explain.

  “Oh, I see,” Mrs. Brubaker says, nodding her head, then touching one of the pearl clasp earrings she always wears. “Well, now that everything’s settled, I’d better be going.”

  Nobody tries to talk her out of it. And the minute the door closes behind her, Mom huffs, “What a dog and phony show!”

  Chuchie, Dorinda, and I jump up and down, screaming for joy. Daddy hugs us all, then wags his finger at me, “Cara, you can only keep one puppy!”

  “Dad!” I whine, then look at Mom, and realize this is one battle I’ll never win.

  “Can I use the phone, Madrina?” Chuchie interrupts.

  “Chanel, you don’t have to ask. This is your home, too,” Mom says, coddling the third puppy in her lap.

  Chanel goes into the kitchen, and soon I hear her talking on the phone. She’s probably trying to convince Auntie Juanita to let her have a dog, I figure. Ha! Teaching a chimpanzee to sashay down a runway would be a whole lot easier.

  “Bubbles, here!” Chuchie says, handing me the receiver.

  “I don’t want to talk to her,” I whisper.

  “Take it!” Chuchie demands, shoving the receiver in my face.

  I take a deep breath and get ready for some puppy drama with Auntie Juanita. I’m so surprised when I hear Aqua’s voice that I clam up like I swallowed a canary—even though I was jumping up and down like a Chucky doll just a second ago.

  “Congratulations,” Aqua says, but I can tell by the sound in her voice that she’s just as uncomfortable as I am. “We heard you got the puppies.”

  “Oh. Yeah,” I say, realizing that Chuchie is trying to play peacemaker with this pronto little move of hers. Oh, well. Too late to get out of it now.

  “What are you gonna call them?” Aqua asks.

  “Well, I’m only keeping one,” I tell her, “and I’m gonna name him … Ragu.”

  “Oh, that’s real nice,” Aqua chuckles. “Like the spaghetti sauce, huh? And, um, what are you gonna do with the other ones?”

  “Well, Dorinda’s getting one. That’s really Chuchie’s dog, of course, but it can’t live with her, because, well, you know, Auntie Juanita.”

  “I hear that,” Aqua says. She chuckles for a second, then stops, and there’s a long silence. I ponder what to say next, because I don’t want to hurt Aqua’s feelings.

  Chuchie mouths at me, “Make up with her!”

  I want to tell Chuchie to zip her lip, but Mom is looking right at me.

  I pause for a few more seconds, then blurt out, “Do you and Angie want one of the pooches?” I stare at the receiver in disbelief at what I just said. I decide right then and there to swear off Dad’s cappuccinos. Obviously, they’re making me punchy!

  “Yes! We’d love to have a dog! Porgy and Bess are mighty lonely when we’re gone all day,” Aqua says, sounding like her bubbly, gushy old self. Porgy and Bess are the twins’ beloved guinea pigs.

  “Well, don’t you have to ask your father?” I ask, trying to figure a way out of this dill pickle. But how can I do that when I’ve already made the offer?

  “Hold on,” Aqua tells me, then screams to Angie, “Galleria’s giving us one of the puppies! Go ask Daddy if we can have one!”

  All of a sudden, Chuchie comes over and grabs the phone. “Can he be, like, my dog, too?” she asks, giggling into the receiver.

  I can’t believe how shameless Chuchie is! First she asks Dorinda, and now Aqua and Angie! Judging by the huge grin on her face, I guess Aqua has said okay.

  I grab the phone back from Chuchie, and Aqua tells me, “Daddy said we can have one!” she shrieks in my ear. “Well be right over like a four-leaf clover!”

  It makes me chuckle that Aqua is talking in rhymes, trying to sound like me. You know what they say—imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. And I do feel flattered. It shows me that Aqua really does like me, in spite of everything that’s happened.

  On the spot, I decide to squash our beef jerky once and for all. “Um, Aqua? I’m sorry about all the stuff. The wigs and stuff. And I guess you know about Eddie… .”

  “Thank you, Miss Galleria, but all’s forgiven. And now I gotta get off the phone so we can come on over and get our dog!”

  “Awright, chicklet,” I chuckle, happy that we’re back to being real crew again. Who needs Eddie Lizard? The Cheetah Girls are going back into the studio to finish off the demo that’s gonna get us our big record deal!

  “Come on over,” I tell Aqua. “It’s time for the Cheetah Girls to raise the woof!”


  Oops, Doggy Dog!

  So you think you’re fly

  Just by looking at the sky

  Well think again

  ’Cuz the Cheetah Girls are

  Raising the woof

  No, we ain’t Mother Hen

  Or Chicken Little

  Stuck in the middle

  Of your latest riddle

  Now you know that the Cheetah Girls

  Got more than curls

  We’e got the swerve, the nerve

  To be in the mix and up to tricks

  Hah! These days we’re down with Snoop

  And scooping up puppy poop

  Oops, doggy dog!

  Oops, doggy dog!

  Oops, watch your claws

  I’ll scratch your back

  If you scratch mine

  That’s right, y’all

  We’re in the house awright

  With Toto who put a Mojo

  On little Buffy in fluffy fox next door

  And now there’s more

  As a matter of fact they’re numbering

  Five in the litter

  So don’t be bitter

  That we got three

  That’s right, y’all, we got it going on

  Till the break of dawn

  Hit it, Chuchie, it’s time to raise the woof

  Oops, doggy dog!

  Oops, doggy dog!

  Oops, watch your claws

  I’ll scratch your back

  If you scratch mine

  Chuchie did you feed Nobu?

  Bubbles, did you feed Ragu?

  That’s Miss Ragu, to you!

  The Cheetah Girls Glossary

  Back in the day: Before you were born.

  Beef jerky: Static. Fight.

  Bocheenchando: Spanish slang for “gossiping.”

  Boo-hoo attack: Crying jag.

  Bozo: A jerk. Or a boy who thinks he’s all that, but isn’t.

  Bring in the noise: To perform, sing, dance, celebrate.

  Cara: Italian for “precious one” (girls only; for boys, it’s card).

  Chicklets: Friends, girl members of your posse.

  Compromise: When you try to work out a solution instead of being stubborn about having your way, ’cuz real life isn’t like a Burger King commercial!