by Ellen Miles
I’m sure most of my readers know that it is never okay to abandon a dog or puppy — or any pet! — the way Louie was abandoned. There are times when people are unable to keep a pet they love. This can happen for many reasons: moving, allergies, a pet who is just not fitting in with the family. In these cases, it’s always best to take the pet to a local animal shelter or foster care family, where it will be cared for until a new home can be found. It was sad to write about an abandoned puppy, but these things do happen. In fact, this story was inspired by something I heard about on the news!
Dear Reader,
Would you like to make cinnamon toast like Liam’s mother did? It’s one of my favorite treats. Here’s the recipe: Toast some bread (raisin bread is especially good!) and spread butter on it. Then sprinkle on some sugar and some cinnamon and let it melt into the butter as you spread it around. Yum!
Be sure to give your dog a treat, too.
Yours from the Puppy Place,
Ellen Miles
“Hi, Misha, hi!” Lizzie Peterson squatted down to pet the wriggly, panting husky. The dog hardly knew her, but like all dogs he was always happy to see a friendly person. She ruffled the thick white fur around Misha’s neck and gazed into his blue eyes. “How’s my handsome boy?” she said.
He grinned a doggie grin at her and wriggled some more, wagging his fluffy tail hard. Lizzie could tell that he was about to jump on her, so she distracted him by standing up. “Sit,” she told him, as she gave a hand signal. Misha sat. Now his tail swept the floor as he wagged, still grinning up at her.
Lizzie laughed. The best thing about her job was the happy dogs. Lizzie, her best friend, and two other girls had a dog-walking business, taking care of dogs for people who wanted their pets to have a little extra attention and exercise. Lizzie loved to help with training, too; she was the one who had taught Misha how to sit, and she was working on the jumping-up issue.
Every day — at least, every school day, her clients’ dogs waited patiently for her to arrive. And when she did, every single dog behaved as if she was the best thing that had happened all day. She was greeted with wags and wriggles, kisses and excited barks. It always felt great.
“It’s so easy to make you guys happy,” Lizzie told Misha, as she looked for his leash. “A few pats, maybe a treat, and you’ve made a new bestie. Now, where do they keep your stuff?”
Misha was not one of Lizzie’s regular charges. Normally, he was on Daphne’s route. Lizzie was covering for Daphne, who wanted her afternoons off because her aunt was visiting from Colorado. “Please?” Daphne had asked. “She’s my favorite aunt and I never get to see her. She wants to take me shopping and to the movies and stuff.”
Lizzie didn’t mind. She liked meeting new dogs, and visiting with ones she had met before, like Misha. She just wished Daphne kept better notes on the dogs she walked. Lizzie checked the index card she had pulled out of her pocket. Misha, it said. Husky, six years old. Pulls on leash. Very strong. Likes to chase squirrels. All of that was helpful, but pretty predictable if you knew anything about huskies. Lizzie also really needed to know what commands Misha knew, whether he was allowed to eat just any dog treats or if he was allergic to wheat or anything else, and … “And where is your leash?” she asked Misha.
Misha pranced to a cabinet near the front door and put a paw on it. Lizzie laughed again. “It’s in there?” she asked. “Are you sure?”
Misha took a few steps back, sat down, and woo-wooed, throwing his head back to let out a few soft, short howls. Lizzie loved the woo-woo that huskies did instead of barking. Once she’d even met someone who had taught her husky how to say “I love you,” in howls. It sounded more like “Wyyy wuuuuuvvvv woooooohhh!,” and it was hilarious.
Lizzie pulled the cabinet door open. “Yes!” she said. There it was, a handsome red-leather leash hanging on a hook. “Good boy. You do know where your leash is, don’t you?” She took the leash out and snapped it onto Misha’s collar. “Great, now we can go.” Lizzie knew she had everything else she might need in her backpack: dog treats (she always carried wheat-free ones just in case), a bottle of water, poop bags, and even a doggie emergency kit, with bandages and other supplies. She had gotten that when she took a course on canine first aid at the community center. There, Lizzie had learned to bandage paws, clean cuts, and even do doggy CPR, helping an unconscious dog with his breathing. So far she had not had to use anything she’d learned, except once when her own puppy, Buddy, cut his foot on a piece of glass.
Poor little Buddy. As Lizzie walked Misha down the street, she pictured her sweet brown puppy looking up at her with the saddest eyes as he held out his bleeding paw. She smiled as she remembered how he’d licked her cheek as thanks after she was done cleaning and bandaging the cut.
Buddy had first come to the Petersons’ as a foster puppy. They had fostered many puppies before and after Buddy, keeping each one just long enough to find it the perfect home — but Buddy was the only one who came to stay. The whole family — Lizzie, her parents, and her two younger brothers, Charles and the Bean — had fallen madly in love with the adorable mixed-breed pup. There was no question that Buddy was their favorite puppy ever.
“But I do like you, too, Misha,” Lizzie told the husky. He was prancing around now, still wearing that silly grin. She knew he was more than ready for his walk. “Let’s go then,” she said, as they headed out the back door together.
“Misha, Misha!” Lizzie heard the sound of girls’ voices. Even before she had come around the corner of the house, they had spotted the dog. Misha heard the voices, too. He strained at his leash, tugging Lizzie toward the sidewalk.
He dragged her straight for two little girls — older than the Bean but younger than Charles — Maybe about five years old? Lizzie guessed. They must have been playing in the yard next door, where Lizzie spotted a swing set.
Before she could even think of the best way to slow him down, Misha tugged her right up to the girls. They laughed and thumped him and petted him and stroked his long, fluffy tail. “Misha, Misha,” they repeated.
Then one of them, with long, shiny dark hair and deep dark eyes to match, stopped to stare at Lizzie. “Who are you?” she asked.
Lizzie smiled. “I’m Lizzie. I’m taking over for Daphne this week.”
“Daphne, Daphne!” they yelled.
“We know Daphne,” said the other girl, who was wiry and strong looking, with red hair and freckles. “We go with her on her walks. Can we come with you? I’m Jeannette and that’s Gloria.”
“If your moms say yes, sure!” said Lizzie. The girls were adorable. “Where do you live?”
“Right there,” said Gloria, pointing to the big white house next door to Misha’s. “And we only have one mom.”
“Oh,” said Lizzie. “Okay, well let’s ask her.” She was surprised that they were sisters. They did not look alike.
They each grabbed one of Lizzie’s hands and pulled her up the front walk. “Mommy, Mommy,” they yelled.
Their mom came to the door. She doesn’t look a thing like either girl, Lizzie thought. She had curly light blonde hair, almost white.
“Hi,” Lizzie said. “I’m Lizzie Peterson. I’m the president of the dog-walking business your neighbor Daphne works for.”
The woman raised her eyebrows. “Funny, somehow I always thought Daphne was the president,” she said.
Lizzie smiled. “Well, we’re all kind of the president,” she said. “Anyway, is it okay if your girls walk with me? I’m just going around the block, and I’m used to watching little kids.”
“How about if I come along?” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Allie. Allie Bauer.”
“Great,” said Lizzie. “Next stop is to pick up Ruby.”
Allie shook her head. “Nope, next stop is Cuddles.”
Lizzie checked the sheet Daphne had given her, with all her clients’ names and addresses. “I don’t see a Cuddles,” she said.
“Oh, Daphne doesn’t walk her,” said
Allie. “We all just love to visit her. Right, girls?”
“Cuddles, Cuddles!” yelled the girls.
Allie and Lizzie laughed. “They sure do love that puppy,” Allie said.
Then Lizzie heard noises. A bark, a whimper, a whine. The puppy was not far off, and she must have heard the sisters calling her name. “Let’s go,” said Lizzie.
Ellen Miles loves dogs, which is why she has a great time writing the Puppy Place books. And guess what? She loves cats, too! (In fact, her very first pet was a beautiful tortoiseshell cat named Jenny.) That’s why she came up with the Kitty Corner series. Ellen lives in Vermont and loves to be outdoors with her dog, Zipper, every day, walking, biking, skiing, or swimming, depending on the season. She also loves to read, cook, explore her beautiful state, play with dogs, and hang out with friends and family.
Visit Ellen at www.ellenmiles.net.
Don’t miss any of these other stories by Ellen Miles!
Angel
Bandit
Baxter
Bear
Bella
Bitsy
Bonita
Boomer
Bubbles and Boo
Buddy
Champ
Chewy and Chica
Cocoa
Cody
Cooper
Daisy
Edward
Flash
Gizmo
Goldie
Gus
Honey
Jack
Jake
Liberty
Lola
Lucky
Lucy
Maggie and Max
Mocha
Molly
Moose
Muttley
Nala
Noodle
Oscar
Patches
Princess
Pugsley
Rascal
Rocky
Scout
Shadow
Snowball
Spirit
Stella
Sugar, Gummi, and Lollipop
Sweetie
Teddy
Ziggy
Zipper
Copyright © 2018 by Ellen Miles
Cover art by Tim O’Brien
Original cover design by Steve Scott
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First printing 2018
e-ISBN 978-1-338-21268-6
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
