Biggie

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

  Lizzie Peterson trudged along the sidewalk, feeling her backpack thump against her shoulders. It was a cloudy, gray afternoon in September. The leaves on the trees that lined her street hadn’t changed color yet, but you couldn’t say they were bright green, either. Their dullness seemed to match her mood.

  “What’s the matter, Lizzie?” her mom asked, when Lizzie arrived home from school.

  Lizzie shrugged as she bent down to give her puppy, Buddy, a scritch between the ears. He gazed up at her, his brown eyes shining with happiness, love, and excitement. She couldn’t help smiling back at him. Dogs always made her feel better. They had a great attitude, upbeat and ready for anything. At least, Buddy did. He was the best puppy ever, and Lizzie knew how lucky she was that he was part of her family. She reached down to stroke the heart-shaped white patch on Buddy’s chest.

  “I’m just bored, I guess,” she said to her mom. “It’s been a while since anything exciting happened.”

  Mom gave Lizzie a hug, then held her by the shoulders and looked her straight in the eye, smiling. “You mean, since we had a new puppy to foster?” she asked.

  Lizzie kicked her sneaker against the floor. Mom always seemed to be able to see straight into her heart. “Maybe,” she said. As usual, Mom was right.

  The Petersons were a foster family who helped puppies who needed homes. Some puppies had stayed with them for only days while others were there for weeks. Only one, Buddy, had stayed forever. Lizzie’s family (her parents; her younger brother, Charles; and their toddler brother, the Bean) had fostered golden retrievers and a Great Dane plus practically every other common breed, as well as mutts large and small. Sometimes Lizzie couldn’t believe her good luck.

  Lizzie had a “Dog Breeds of the World” poster hanging on her bedroom wall, and she loved to draw a red heart next to every breed she’d met or fostered. She’d still never even seen one of those hairless dogs, the Chinese crested, but she was sure she would one of these days.

  Mom nodded. “Having a new puppy is always exciting,” she said. “Don’t worry, one always comes along just when you least expect it.”

  Lizzie gave Buddy one more pat. Then she hung her blue school backpack on a hook by the door and grabbed the green one from the next hook. This was her dog-walking backpack, equipped with a variety of yummy treats, extra leashes and harnesses, and poop bags. “I’d better get going,” she said. It was time for work. Lizzie and her best friend, Maria, (and their two friends, Briana and Daphne) had a very successful dog-walking business, with many happy clients (dogs and people). They were successful because they all loved dogs, and also because they all knew at least a little bit about dog training (Lizzie knew a lot). But the main reason for their success? They were responsible. Lizzie had never once missed a walk, and neither had her friends. They had a perfect record, and all their clients definitely appreciated that.

  Lizzie kissed Buddy once more, then stood up tall and stretched. She put on the green backpack. “Okay,” she told Mom. “See you later!” She waved as she headed down the front steps.

  As she walked, Lizzie thought about other breeds she hadn’t met yet. Like a borzoi, a sleek runner with an elegant, swooping chest. Or a big white komondor, a brave protector of sheep with a long, thick coat. She’d never even met a Vizsla, or a Norwegian elkhound. But she would. No matter what it took. It was Lizzie’s main goal in life to “heart” every dog on her poster.

  Lizzie was headed to see her first client, a young German shepherd named Tank. Tank was big and all muscle, but he was the sweetest, most gentle dog. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, even if it landed right on his soft brown nose. Lizzie had brought a pocketful of Tank’s favorite treats along (freeze-dried liver), since she planned to work on his leash-walking skills today. She reached in to check that the little brown chunks were there. They were. Good. It was never much use trying to teach dogs if you didn’t have excellent treats to offer them.

  After Tank, and four other dogs, Lizzie was looking forward to walking her favorite new client: Domino, a peppy little Jack Russell. He was white with black spots, including one near his tail that was the exact shape and size of a domino. He was the happiest dog she’d ever met, and still full of energy even though he was seven years old. Domino was bursting with charm, and being around him never failed to cheer Lizzie up.

  The Jacksons, Domino’s family, were super sweet. Lizzie knew that when their young twins, Jenny and Merrie, got a little older, they would love taking Domino for walks. For now, while the twins were still babies, Mrs. and Mr. Jackson needed help. They adored Domino, but since the kids had come they didn’t always have time during the week to give him the exercise and attention he needed.

  “Lizzie!” said Mrs. Jackson when she opened the door later that afternoon. “So great to see you. Domino’s been off-the-wall excited today, and super hyper.” She held a baby in each arm as the little black-and-white pup did figure eights around her feet.

  Lizzie dropped to her knees to give Domino a hug. He wriggled in and out of her arms, then spun around in a circle, barking happily. He dashed down the hall, toenails scrabbling, and came prancing back with a giant neon-green alien stuffie. He bit down on it to make it squeak, then tossed it into the air.

  Yay, you’re here! Let’s play!

  Lizzie laughed. “He always gets this way by Friday,” she said. “Then he chills out a little after you hike with him all weekend. He needs adventure in his life.”

  “Domino does love going on adventures,” Mrs. Jackson told Lizzie. “He’s been on every high peak in this state and a few others. He’s run races, he’s ridden down crazy rapids in a red canoe, and he loves to bound through the snow when my husband and I go cross-country skiing.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Jackson were both tall and lean, and always seemed to be dressed in sleek black athletic clothes, with special zippers and reflective stripes. The twins went along on all the hikes and runs and ski trips, carried in special sporty backpacks or strapped into fancy strollers.

  After she finished walking Domino, Lizzie headed for home. As usual, she was feeling much happier now that she had spent some time with the frisky pup—and all the other dogs.

  But she was about to get even happier.

  Mom met her at the door. She had a huge smile on her face. “Remember what I said before?” she asked. “About a new foster puppy coming along when you least expect it?”

  Lizzie nodded, curious. Her mom grinned as she held up her car keys and gave them a shake so they tinkled like chimes. “Ready to go pick up our new puppy?”

  “Yay!” yelled Lizzie. “A new puppy.” Then she paused. “Wait a second.” She folded her arms, cocked her head, and looked her mother right in the eye. “Did you know about this before?”

  “No!” said her mom, holding up her hands. Then she grinned. “Well, sort of no. I had an inkling. An idea. I mean, I knew it was maybe sort of possibly a possibility.” She was laughing, and Lizzie had to laugh, too.

  “Honestly?” her mom went on, when she’d caught her breath. “I guess I did know. I just didn’t want to tell all of you until I was positive it was going to happen. I didn’t want to disappoint you and your brothers.”

  “Do Charles and the Bean know yet?” Lizzie asked.

  Her mom shook her head. “For now it’s just between us
. Your dad knows, of course. I wouldn’t do this without checking with him.”

  That was pretty much the Peterson family rule when it came to taking in a foster puppy. Both parents had to agree. Of course, the rule had been broken before. There had even been a few times when neither parent even knew there was going to be a new pup in the house until it was too late.

  “So what are we waiting for?” Lizzie asked her mom. “Let’s go get”—she stopped and raised her eyebrows—“um, what’s his or her name?”

  Her mom started to laugh again. “You won’t believe it. His name is”—she could hardly get it out—“Biggie!”

  Lizzie cracked up, too. “So, he’s a big dog?” she asked, imagining another Saint Bernard or a Great Dane, or maybe that komondor she hadn’t met yet.

  “Nope,” said Mom. “Although I’ve heard that he thinks he is. He’s a Yorkie.”

  Lizzie stopped laughing. “Oh, no. Like Princess?” she asked. She had never been a fan of small dogs, although the Petersons had fostered some wonderful ones that had helped to change her mind. She could admit that not every small dog was yappy and obnoxious. But Princess! Princess had been quite the spoiled handful, and Lizzie was not in the mood to cater to a pampered puppy’s every whim.

  “No, no,” said Mom. “Biggie isn’t like that at all. Come on, I’ll tell you all about it while we drive.”

  Once they were in the car, Lizzie’s mom started the story. “You know Estelle from the newspaper?”

  Lizzie had met Estelle. She was a photographer who worked with Mom on a lot of articles and was always striding up to their front door with a bunch of cameras around her neck.

  “Yes, you worked with her on that parade story. She took all those great photos of the floats,” Lizzie said.

  “Right! Well, she has a daughter, Tamara, who is just out of college. Tamara and her roommates thought it would be fun to have a dog, like a kind of a mascot,” Mom explained, as she drove. “They got Biggie this summer. Estelle says they all love him, but they’ve realized that they are all way too busy with their jobs and other activities. Biggie was getting left home alone too much, and that wasn’t working out so well.”

  Lizzie nodded. She could just imagine. A bored and lonely puppy was not always a well-behaved puppy. “Let me guess. Barking all day and bothering the neighbors?” she asked. “Being destructive? Maybe even peeing in the house?”

  “Check, check, and check,” Mom said, smiling into the rearview mirror at Lizzie. “You guessed it. Estelle said it’s been a very hard decision for the girls, but they’re sure now that they really can’t keep Biggie. While you were out walking dogs, Tamara called me to confirm that we’d take him.” She pulled the car into the driveway of a yellow house with a big front porch. “Here we are,” she said.

  Lizzie climbed out of the car. Immediately, a little dog jumped off the porch and charged toward her, barking in a high-pitched voice.

  Hey, you! What are you doing here?! Better watch out, I’m ferocious!

  Lizzie laughed. “Hi, Biggie,” she said. Biggie was a sturdy, scruffy-looking dude with wiry hair that stuck up in spikes from the top of his head. His bushy eyebrows stuck out, too, over little black eyes that glittered with energy. His tiny tail wagged at double speed as he barked.

  “Hey, Mr. Tough Guy,” Lizzie said, crouching down to open her arms up to the little pup. Lizzie knew how to speak Dog. She could tell by Biggie’s body language that, for all his noise, he wasn’t going to hurt anyone. That wagging tail gave him away.

  “Biggie!” a girl called from the porch. She came running down the brick walkway, blond braids bouncing. “Bad boy. You be quiet now, hear?” She scooped him up into her arms and nuzzled the top of his head.

  “You must be Tamara,” said Lizzie’s mom. She introduced herself and Lizzie.

  “Nice to meet you,” said Tamara. But she didn’t look happy. She buried her face in Biggie’s fur, and when she looked back up, Lizzie saw that she had tears in her eyes.

  “I know,” Mom said gently. “You love him, don’t you?”

  “We all do,” said another girl, who had come out the front door. “Mr. Big is the best.” She reached out a hand to pet him. Biggie snuffled at her fingers. “I’m Janice,” she said. “Our other roomie, Madison, can’t even bring herself to come out to say good-bye. She’s inside, crying on the couch.”

  Mom nodded. “You’re doing the right thing, though,” she said softly. “When you’re all a bit older and more settled, you can have all the pets you want. But maybe right now just isn’t the time.”

  Tamara nodded, sniffed, and looked at Lizzie. “Take good care of him?” she asked, as she put Biggie into Lizzie’s arms.

  “I promise,” said Lizzie. “And we’ll find him the best home ever.”

  At that, Tamara and Janice burst into tears and fell into each other’s arms.

  “Um, I think we’ll be going,” Mom said.

  Tamara held out a hand and waved, without looking up. Lizzie could tell that she didn’t even want to watch Biggie go. Poor Tamara. Poor Janice. Lizzie knew how hard it must be to give up this adorable bundle of energy. She gave Biggie a squeeze, and he licked her cheek. Her heart flipped over with love for him as she inhaled his sweet puppy scent. He might be little, and he might be a handful, but Lizzie already knew that Biggie was a very special pup. “Don’t worry,” she told him. “You’re in good hands.”

  The next day, Lizzie and Maria laughed as they watched Biggie sniff at a mailbox, then lift one back leg so high that he almost fell right over. Lizzie knew that male dogs peed that way in order to mark their territory and to warn other dogs to stay out of their way.

  Biggie swaggered down the sidewalk, towing Lizzie along behind him while Maria followed. He held his head and tail high, looking from side to side as if expecting challengers to pop out of the bushes. “Biggie McBig,” Lizzie said fondly, as they continued their walk. “You really do think you’re the king of the hill, don’t you?”

  I own this place. I don’t even really know where I am—but I own this place.

  Lizzie giggled. “Isn’t he funny?” she asked Maria. It was after school on Friday, and Lizzie and Maria were about to split up to take care of their dog-walking clients, but Lizzie wanted Maria to meet Biggie.

  “He likes to act like a tough guy,” Lizzie added. “But it truly is just an act. Underneath it all, he’s a total love bug.”

  “I can tell. What a cutie,” Maria said.

  Biggie had settled in quickly at the Petersons’. He and Buddy had already become best friends who loved to sleep curled up together on Buddy’s bed. Biggie was gentle with the Bean, but happy to play boisterous games of tug with Charles. He had won Mom’s heart and had spent plenty of time sitting on her lap, “helping” her knit.

  “And Dad already took him down to the firehouse to show him off,” Lizzie told Maria now. They watched Biggie scratch the dirt with his back legs to throw it up behind him, making sure his scent spread out as much as possible. “The firefighters gave him a fire hydrant squeaky toy and named him their new mascot.”

  Everybody loved Biggie.

  “He really is a character,” said Maria. “I don’t see how anybody could stand to give him up.”

  “I know,” said Lizzie. “But Tamara and Janice did the right thing. Can you imagine this dude home alone all day, every day?” She called Biggie over, then reached down to scratch between his ears. He snuffled at her fingers and wagged his tail. “Biggie deserves lots of attention and he needs lots of activity. I took him on three walks yesterday, plus he got to play with a whole bunch of dogs at the dog park and he still wasn’t tired.”

  “How was he with the other dogs? Are you sure he’s going to be okay with all your clients today?” Maria asked, as they started to walk again.

  “I think he’ll be fine,” said Lizzie. “He starts out trying to pretend he’s the boss, but he really just wants to play.” Usually she tried to walk foster puppies separately, since she fel
t that her clients deserved her full attention. But Biggie really did seem to get along with every other dog he met, and he definitely needed all the exercise she could give him. “I can’t wait for him to meet Domino. I think the two of them will really hit it off.”

  When they got to the corner of Maple and Spring, Lizzie and Maria said good-bye and headed their own ways. “Now, you be good,” Lizzie told Biggie, as she walked him up to Tank’s house. “Tank is a big dude, but the truth is I think he’s a tiny bit scared of smaller dogs.”

  Biggie looked up at her, cocking his head.

  Who are you calling small? Just kidding. I’ll be good.

  He wagged his tail and blinked at Lizzie, almost as if he were giving her a wink.

  “Good boy,” said Lizzie. She tightened her hold on his leash as she opened the door.

  Tank, who was always happy to see her, rushed toward Lizzie. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Biggie. The little pup was standing tall—as tall as he could manage—next to Lizzie, with his chest pushed out as if to say, “Don’t mess with me.”

  “Biggie,” Lizzie said, as a warning. “Be nice.”

  Biggie wagged his tail and went into a play bow.

  No worries, friend. Let’s have a good time!

  Tank inched forward and the two touched noses. Tank’s tail also began to wag. “Good,” said Lizzie. “I knew you could be friends.” She clipped Tank’s leash to his collar and headed out the door. The two dogs towed her along the sidewalk, roving from side to side as they sniffed, peed, sniffed again, and peed again.

  The same routine happened with all the other dogs Lizzie walked that afternoon. Biggie came on strong at first, but in the end everybody was his best friend. “Almost done,” she told him, as they headed for Domino’s house. “I saved the best for last. And the Jacksons have a fenced yard like we do, so you and Domino can run and chase each other and burn off some extra energy.”

  She headed up the walk, hoping that the Jacksons were home. She knew they would enjoy meeting Biggie. When she knocked, Mrs. Jackson opened the door almost at once. “Lizzie!” she said. Then she glanced down at Biggie and her face fell. “Oh,” she said.