by Ellen Miles
Biggie didn’t move. His legs were shaking with excitement, but he didn’t move. He stared into the woods, cocking his head this way and that.
Can you hear that? Probably not, with your silly human ears.
Lizzie strained to listen. It was obvious that Biggie could hear something she couldn’t. “Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s go see what it is. But don’t drag me through the woods. Let’s go slowly. If it’s Domino, we don’t want to scare him.”
She felt a little silly, knowing that Biggie couldn’t really understand her words. But somehow he did seem to sense that this was not a time to plunge into the undergrowth. That this was a time to stay calm.
Biggie began to move, threading his way through the trees with Lizzie following. Every so often he would stop to cock his head and listen.
We’re getting closer. It’s a good thing, too.
Lizzie followed Biggie through the woods, ducking to avoid low branches and stepping carefully over rocks and around roots. “You better not be just chasing a squirrel again,” she said to Biggie—but she had a feeling that he was not. This was different. The way Biggie led her, with confidence but without dragging her along, told her that he was after something much more meaningful than a squirrel.
Soon Biggie and Lizzie emerged into a small clearing surrounded by towering pine trees. Lizzie looked around, hoping with all her might to see a small black-and-white dog, but she saw only trees and rocks and—wait, what was that? Biggie pulled her forward, toward a tangle of roots. One of the massive pines must have fallen over in a windstorm. Its base, wider than Lizzie was tall, had pulled straight out of the ground. In a small hollow, where the roots had been, lay Domino, curled up in a tight little ball. His coat was smudged with dirt, but Lizzie knew right away that it was him. She felt tears spring into her eyes.
“Domino,” Lizzie said under her breath. She held Biggie’s leash tightly as she stepped forward slowly, slowly. The little dog was shivering with cold, and he looked hungry and thin and tired and afraid. As Lizzie and Biggie approached, he held up one white paw as if to say, “Please help me.” He looked up at them with big, sad eyes.
Slowly, Lizzie knelt beside him. Biggie joined her, nudging Domino gently with his nose.
Are you okay? I heard you crying.
The scraggly pup lay down next to Domino and curled up beside him as if to warm him.
Lizzie settled next to them and slowly reached out a hand for Domino to sniff. “It’s me,” she said. “Lizzie.” Domino snuffled weakly at her hand, then let his head drop back to his paws. Lizzie touched him gently, running her hands over his front and back legs, making sure nothing was broken.
“I think you’re okay,” she said to Domino, when her touch didn’t seem to make him flinch. “But you must be so tired, and hungry. Are you ready to go home?” She could just imagine how tuckered out the little dog must be after being on his own for so long. He’d done his best to survive, but now he just needed their help.
Domino raised his head just a little, then nestled in closer against Biggie. Biggie gazed up at Lizzie as he put a protective paw on Domino’s shoulder.
He’ll be fine. My pal will be just fine.
Just then, Lizzie heard something behind her, and turned to see Mr. Jackson tiptoeing into the clearing. “I knew there was something about this place,” he whispered. “I had goose bumps up my back every time I went by it.”
“Biggie knew, too,” said Lizzie. “He’s the one who found Domino.”
Mr. Jackson knelt to pet Domino. “Hey, little guy,” he said in a low voice. “We’re gonna take you home, okay?”
Lizzie felt the tears sliding down her face as Mr. Jackson gently lifted Domino into his arms and held him close. She and Biggie followed him as he carried his beloved pet back to the trail.
By the time they reached the parking lot, most of the search party was already there. Biggie’s girls were looking dejected, and Mrs. Jackson was wiping her eyes as she told the group that they might as well take a break until later.
“Look who Biggie found,” said Mr. Jackson, as he and Lizzie entered the area.
“Oh!” Mrs. Jackson flew to his side and reached out slowly and gently to pet Domino. Now her tears were flowing freely.
Mom ran over to Lizzie and threw her arms around her. “Good job, sweetie,” she whispered into Lizzie’s ear.
Lizzie was crying, too. Relief, happiness, exhaustion—it was all mixed together. Biggie put a paw on her leg.
Are you okay?
“I’m fine, Biggie,” Lizzie said. “I’m just so glad it’s all over and Domino doesn’t have to spend another night outside.”
Biggie’s ears perked up when he heard Domino’s name. He tugged on his leash and dragged Lizzie over to where the Jacksons were standing so he could see his new best friend. Biggie put his feet up on Mrs. Jackson’s knee and stretched his neck up to sniff at Domino.
Hey, friend.
Mrs. Jackson smiled down at Biggie and gave a little laugh. Then she gave her husband a questioning look. He smiled and nodded.
“What would you think about us adopting Biggie?” Mr. Jackson asked Lizzie. “I’ve always thought Domino could use a friend to play with, and I have a feeling that Mr. Big here is about the best friend any dog could have.”
“Maybe it’s the best way to thank him for finding our boy,” said Mrs. Jackson. “We promise to give him a great home. It’ll be wonderful for Domino to have company when we’re off at work.”
Lizzie smiled through her tears. She looked over at Tamara and her friends, and saw that they were smiling, too. “Of course,” she said. “I can’t think of a better home for Biggie.”
Domino was found—that was almost enough of a happy ending. But this made it perfect.
I haven’t written about a lost dog since Ziggy, a book about a runaway dachshund. I wanted to write another because, sadly, dogs do sometimes get separated from their owners. It’s good to know what to do if your dog ever wanders off. There are lots of websites with tips for finding a lost dog; I used them as I researched this book. There are many steps you can take, from putting up posters to letting people know through social media, to alerting the police and all your local vets and animal shelters. One thing I learned from reading stories about lost dogs is this: don’t give up hope! Some dogs who have been gone for days, weeks, and even months eventually find their way home.
Dear Reader,
Thankfully, Zipper has never really run off for long. I would be upset to think of him outside overnight, even though he knows the woods near my house very well. The only time he disappeared for more than a few minutes, it was because he was stuck under the back porch! You can read about that adventure in my Dear Reader notes in the book Kodiak, about a malamute puppy.
Hug your dog, keep her on a leash, and make sure she’s wearing a collar with tags at all times. Microchipping your pet is a great idea, too - your parents can talk to a vet about that.
Yours from the Puppy Place,
Ellen Miles
“Can we open the windows?” Charles asked.
“Good idea,” said Mom. Soon, a rush of fresh air filled the car.
Charles Peterson and his family had been in the car all day. Actually, longer. They had left in the middle of the night. Charles had been asleep, in his pj’s, when Dad carried him out to the car. He must have woken up a little bit, because he remembered that it had been cold and dark.
The Petersons had stopped a couple of times on the drive. It had been a little sunnier and a little warmer each time. That was because they were headed south. They were on their way to the beach for spring break, and Charles couldn’t wait to get there.
Now it was almost dinnertime, and they had made it all the way to North Carolina. Here, with the sun beating down, it almost felt like they’d skipped spring and gone straight to summer. With the windows open, Charles could smell freshly cut grass and sunbaked dirt. He took a big whiff, smiling. The smell reminded him of summer softba
ll games.
“Windy!” the Bean squealed from his car seat. The Bean’s shaggy bangs whipped around his head. The Bean was Charles’s little brother, and he needed a haircut.
“It is windy, isn’t it?” Mom repeated.
Charles looked at his sister, Lizzie. She smiled and rolled her eyes. Mom always repeated what the Bean said. Charles and Lizzie thought it was funny.
“It’s windy,” Lizzie agreed. “But it’s warm. I can’t wait to get to Brisco Beach.”
The Petersons had been to Brisco Beach once before. It was so much fun! The town was on a narrow stretch of land that reached out into the ocean. One side had waves—big enough for boogie boarding and surfing. On the other side, the bay side, the water was smooth and calm—good for fishing and swimming. Plus, there was a downtown where you could get all kinds of treats and souvenirs. There was even a ferry to the mainland, where there were tons of other fun things to do. Charles had never done that, and he was hoping to go this year.
“The best part of our last trip was Liberty,” Lizzie said. “She was the sweetest puppy.”
Dad laughed. “You say that about every puppy,” he said.
“But it’s true,” Lizzie said. “They are all the best.”
Charles nodded in agreement. “Lizzie’s right,” he said. His family fostered puppies. They took care of puppies who needed homes, and they worked to find each puppy its forever family. They loved all the puppies they had helped. Of course, one puppy really had been the very, very best, and that puppy had become the Petersons’ own puppy—Buddy.
“I still wish Buddy could have come with us,” Charles said now, thinking about how much he’d like to stroke the white heart- shaped spot on Buddy’s brown chest. Buddy loved that.
Mom turned around in her seat so she could see Charles. “We talked about this. Buddy will have lots of fun with Aunt Amanda.”
Aunt Amanda ran a doggy day care. When the Petersons went away, they let Buddy stay with her. Buddy loved playing with the other dogs. Charles knew it was a treat for Buddy, but he also knew he would really miss his favorite puppy. He would miss petting him, and playing with him, and lying on the couch with him. He would miss—well, everything.
“Besides, we’re staying at a bed-and-breakfast this year,” Mom said. “It’s not like we’re renting our own place where Buddy would feel at home.”
“But we’ll get good breakfasts, right?” Lizzie added. “Like pancakes and muffins?”
“Yes,” Mom said. “And we can get takeout for dinner. It’s a real vacation when Dad and I don’t have to cook. It gives us more time to be with you.”
Dad nodded. “We’re going to teach the Bean how to swim.”
“Like a dolphin,” the Bean said. He scrunched his lips together, making a fish face.
“That’s right, like a dolphin,” Mom repeated. Charles rolled his eyes and grinned at Lizzie. Mom had done it again.
Lizzie smiled, but only for a second. Then she looked back down at the very thick book in her lap. It was the first in a series of very big books, and she had brought them all, saying it was her vacation goal to finish the whole series.
Charles sighed and gazed out the window. He had left his books at home—by mistake. All kinds of books: graphic novels, a book on airplanes, a bunch of mysteries. He had been too asleep when his dad took him to the car, or he would have remembered to grab the extra duffel they were in. He hoped he wouldn’t be bored in Brisco Beach.
They had been on the highway for a long time. They’d driven on giant, traffic- filled highways, up and down mountains, and along wide tree-lined roads. But now the view out the window was different. The sky was bright blue, with the hint of a rosy-gold sunset ahead. The air smelled different, too. It was warm and salty and—Charles sniffed—kind of fishy, in a good way.
“Are we close?” Charles asked.
“Very close,” Mom said, looking at the directions on her phone.
Charles glanced over at Lizzie. She was still staring at her book. She had her finger resting on the top corner, ready to turn the page. She didn’t care about anything but her book.
When they finally pulled into the driveway of the bed- and- breakfast, Charles couldn’t wait to get out of the car. He hopped out, stretched, and took a look around. FAIR HARBOR INN said a sign out front. The house looked really old. It was three stories tall, with a porch that wrapped all the way around the front and sides. On the corners of the second and third floors, there were round towers with windows. The windows all had lacy curtains. Charles saw one twitch, and he shivered. There was something spooky about this house. Could it be—haunted?
As Charles stretched some more, waiting for everyone else to get out of the car, a family appeared on the porch. He saw a mom and dad with three little kids—and the cutest cream-colored puppy, a pudgy little thing with soft, wavy hair and floppy ears, and huge chocolate- colored eyes, and—
“Hey!” The oldest kid was holding the puppy’s leash—or at least he had been, until the puppy spotted Charles. In a flash, the puppy ran right between the dad’s legs and darted down the steps.
Charles knew what to do. He bent down and opened his arms wide. “Come here, pup! Come on!” he called. In seconds, the puppy was in his arms, covering his face in happy puppy kisses.
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 ellenmiles.net.
Don’t miss any of these other stories by Ellen Miles!
Angel
Bandit
Barney
Baxter
Bear
Bella
Bentley
Bitsy
Bonita
Boomer
Bubbles and Boo
Buddy
Champ
Chewy and Chica
Cocoa
Cody
Cooper
Cuddles
Daisy
Edward
Flash
Fluffy & Freckles
Gizmo
Goldie
Gus
Honey
Jack
Jake
Kodiak
Liberty
Lola
Louie
Lucky
Lucy
Maggie and Max
Miki
Mocha
Molly
Moose
Muttley
Nala
Noodle
Oscar
Patches
Princess
Pugsley
Rascal
Rocky
Roxy
Rusty
Scout
Shadow
Snowball
Spirit
Stella
Sugar, Gummi, and Lollipop
Sweetie
Teddy
Ziggy
Zipper
Copyright © 2020 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 2020
e-ISBN 978-1-338-68697-5
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.
