Bandit
Authors: Ellen Miles
For Larry and Rick—sorry there’s no monkey!
“Yum!” Lizzie Peterson swished a hunk of banana-walnut pancake through the pool of sweet maple syrup on her plate. “Your uncle was right,” she told her best friend, Maria, just before she took another bite. “These are the best pancakes I’ve ever had.”
“We always try to stop at Al’s on our way to the cabin,” said Maria’s mother.
Maria’s dad nodded in agreement. “It’s a tradition, ever since Teo told us about it.”
Al’s was a truck stop, a place where hungry men and women stopped to eat as they crisscrossed the country in their big rigs, delivering
furniture and bananas, lumber and running shoes, baseball bats and kitchen faucets. Maria’s uncle Teo was one of those truckers. Lizzie had never met Uncle Teo, but she had heard a lot about him. He was Maria’s favorite uncle, and he stayed with the Santiagos whenever he was in the area. He was funny and handsome and the best hugger ever, and he brought Maria excellent presents from his travels; she had a collection of
MARIA
mini license plates from almost every state. She was still waiting for Alaska and Hawaii, but Uncle Teo had promised she would get them someday.
Lizzie felt so lucky to be on her way to the Santiagos’ cabin, up north. She had been there once before, and she’d loved it. The pine trees, the trails through the woods, the secret lake—it was a special place. This time, she and Maria planned to explore the woods beyond the lake, where Mr.
Santiago had told them there was an old apple orchard. Lizzie could hardly wait to get there.
“How much farther is it to the cabin?” she asked. She drew her fork through the puddle of maple syrup, making swoopy white lines.
“About an hour and a half,” said Mr. Santiago. “Need some help with those?” He pointed his fork at the big pile of pancakes still left on Lizzie’s plate.
Maria had warned Lizzie to order the short stack. “The regular size is huge,” she’d said. “You’ll never be able to eat it all.”
But Lizzie hadn’t listened. “I can eat a million pancakes,” she’d said. “I’m the pancake champion of my whole family. Nobody can eat more pancakes than me.”
Maria had just shrugged. “You always have to make everything into a contest. Go ahead, then. Order whatever you want.”
Now Lizzie sat there, feeling like an overstuffed sofa but still determined to show that she was the pancake champion. “That’s okay,” she told Mr. Santiago. “I can manage.” Slowly, she wiped another bite of pancake through the syrup and put it into her mouth. Too bad Buddy wasn’t lying under the table, the way he would be at home. Buddy would be happy to secretly help her out with finishing her food.
Buddy was the Petersons’ brown and tan puppy, the cutest, most wonderful puppy ever. Of course, it was against family rules to feed Buddy from the table, but sometimes Lizzie just couldn’t resist his sweet, soulful brown eyes. Sometimes she would let a tiny scrap of pork chop or a crumb of corn bread fall to the floor. Buddy would gobble it up happily while Mom frowned and shook her head at Lizzie. “It was an accident,” Lizzie always claimed. Her younger brother Charles
and her toddler brother the Bean (his real name was Adam) also sometimes had “accidents.” Lizzie suspected that even her dad slipped the puppy a bite or two once in a while. Buddy was a lucky dog.
And Lizzie knew she was lucky, too. Lucky to have a dog of her own, and lucky to be part of a family that fostered all kinds of puppies. The Petersons helped puppies who needed homes, taking care of them until they could find the perfect forever family for each one. The puppies could be a lot of work, and it was always hard to give each one up when the time came, but Lizzie loved fostering.
Now Lizzie looked down at her plate. Was she lucky to still have so many pancakes left, even after she had eaten more than her stomach could really hold? She burped. “Oops.” She covered her mouth, and she and Maria giggled.
“You really don’t have to finish it all if you’re full,” said Mrs. Santiago. “Maybe we could have the last few bites wrapped up as a special treat for Simba.”
Simba was a big, beautiful yellow Lab. He was actually right there with them in the restaurant, under the table at Mrs. Santiago’s feet. Maria’s mom was blind, and Simba was her guide dog, which meant he was allowed to go everywhere she went. Simba had the best manners of any dog Lizzie had ever known. He never begged, or barked, or jumped up, or ran off with something that didn’t belong to him. He just waited, quietly and patiently, always ready to help.
“Well … okay,” said Lizzie. “I’m sure I could finish, but Simba definitely deserves a treat.”
Mr. Santiago called the waitress over and asked for a doggy bag. “It’s for a real doggy,” he said, pointing to Simba, and the waitress smiled.
She went away, and when she came back she
gave Lizzie a container to put her leftovers in. She also put the check down in front of Mr. Santiago.
“Mom gave me money to pay for all our breakfasts,” Lizzie said quickly, pulling some bills out of her pocket. “She said it was so nice of you to take me with you to the cabin, and that I was supposed to insist on paying.”
Mr. Santiago smiled. “Well, then. I guess we’ll accept, with a big thank-you to your folks. That’s very nice.”
“Can we go pay?” Maria asked. She leaned over and whispered to Lizzie. “They have free mints up at the cash register.”
“Sure,” said her mom, and Lizzie and Maria scooted out of their booth.
Lizzie followed Maria, noticing that none of the people they passed looked the way she’d always thought a trucker would look. She’d imagined that Maria’s uncle Teo, for example, would be a big guy
with lots of tattoos and maybe a shaved head. A tough-looking guy. But all the men and women she saw, leaning into cups of coffee at the counter or squirting ketchup on a cheeseburger and fries, just looked like people you’d run into anywhere.
“See?” Maria said when they got to the cash register, where a gray-haired lady sat on a stool. She pointed at a bowl of red and white striped peppermints.
But Lizzie barely heard her. She was too busy looking at the gray-haired lady. Or, rather, she was looking at the puppy in the lady’s arms.
Lizzie had seen lots and lots of puppies, and every single one of them had been cute. But this puppy? This puppy was
beyond
cute. This puppy was so cute she could hardly stand it. He had a long, silky-looking coat—mostly white with some black patches—and long, floppy ears and a black button nose. His sparkly black eyes peeked back at her, framed by a mask of black fur. “Oh!” Lizzie tugged on Maria’s arm. “Look!”
Maria turned and gasped. “What an adorable puppy,” she said. “What kind is it?”
Lizzie answered before the lady could say
anything. “It’s a Shih Tzu, isn’t it?” she asked. Slowly, so she wouldn’t scare the puppy, she reached out a hand for it to sniff. Lizzie had seen pictures of Shih Tzus before, but she hadn’t paid that much attention. She loved all dogs, she really did. But small dogs? Maybe she loved them just a teensy bit less than she loved big dogs. And Shih Tzus were very, very small. On her “Dog Breeds of the World” poster, she remembered now, it said that the little fur-balls never grew more than a foot tall.
“Shidzoo?” the lady asked, pronouncing it the way Lizzie had. “I guess that’s what he is.” She looked down at the puppy and shrugged. “That’s what the note said, anyway.”
“Note?” Lizzie asked. By now she was stroking the puppy’s soft, soft fur. The puppy stuck out a tiny pink tongue and licked Lizzie’s hand.
The lady sighed. “Somebody left this puppy at the kitchen door this morning. Must have been before four
A.M.
since Pinky—that’s the cook—always gets here at four sharp to open up.” She shifted the puppy in her arms.
“Left him?” Lizzie stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean left him,” the lady said. “In a lettuce box that they must have found in the Dumpster out back. He was all wrapped up in a red towel, to keep him warm.”
Maria’s mouth was hanging open. “Why would anybody leave such a cute puppy here?” she asked. “If I had a puppy like that, I would never, never leave him anywhere.”
The puppy whimpered, and the lady held him closer. She shook her head. “Some folks have it hard these days,” she said. “I think they would have liked to keep him, but—” She reached into
the pocket of her green “Eat At Al’s” apron and pulled out a piece of paper. She handed it to Lizzie. “Here, read it yourself.”
Lizzie unfolded the paper. “‘This is Bandit,’” she read out loud. Bandit. What a perfect name, because of the black mask around his eyes. She smiled at the puppy. “Hi, Bandit,” she said softly. She still could not get over how cute this puppy was. He looked like a stuffed toy. She wanted to gather him up and hug him and—
“Lizzie, the note!” Maria said. “What does it say?” She craned her neck, trying to read over Lizzie’s shoulder.
Lizzie looked back at the note. “‘Bandit is a Shih Tzu. He is six months old, and we love our little boy very, very much,’” she read. “‘But the vet says he needs a special operation for his heart, and we just can’t afford that, not if we also
want to feed our kids. So we hope you can find someone who can help, before he gets any sicker.’”
“Why would somebody
do
that?” Maria burst out. “They should have left him at their vet’s, or at least at an animal shelter, like Caring Paws. Not at a truck stop.”
Lizzie felt the pancakes in her stomach turn to lead. Maria was angry, but Lizzie just felt a wave of sadness washing over her. What if Mom and Dad told her they had to give up Buddy because they couldn’t afford his care? “Oh.” She closed her eyes for a second. “The poor little guy.” When she opened her eyes, Bandit was peering back at her, his shiny black eyes alert and happy.
Hi, there! I bet you want to be my friend. Everybody wants to be my friend.
Lizzie couldn’t help smiling at the puppy. He didn’t
look
sick. Not at all.
The lady nodded. “It’s a shame, all right. I’m not sure how they thought
we
could help, except that we get lots and lots of folks through here every day.” She looked down at the puppy in her arms. “I swear, every single person who’s seen this peanut this morning has fallen in love with him. I never saw a dog who made friends faster than this one does. I’m sure someone will come along who wants to take this sweetheart home. I sure wish I could, but I don’t think my cats would appreciate that.”
“I’ll take him,” Lizzie announced.
“What?” Maria stared at her. “Are you crazy?”
Lizzie shrugged. “He needs help.”
“But—but,” Maria spluttered. “We’re on our way to the cabin, for one thing. He needs a big operation, for another. And your parents—”
Lizzie just nodded. “I’ll have to call them.” She felt very calm, and very sure that she was the right person to help Bandit. She and her family had helped so many puppies, and this one needed their help most of all. “I’m sure they’ll come get me. We’re only a half hour or so from home.”
“What’s going on here?” Maria’s father joined them at the cash register. “We should get back on the road.” Then he caught sight of the puppy. “Oh, my,” he said. “Who’s this?”
“That’s Bandit,” said Lizzie. “My family is going to foster him.”
Mr. Santiago raised an eyebrow. “You mean you want to bring him to the cabin with us?”
Lizzie shook her head. “I think it would be better to take him home, if you don’t mind waiting for my mom or dad to come pick me up. I hate to miss out on going to the cabin, but this is important. Bandit needs our help.”
* * *
A few moments later, Lizzie was standing on the restaurant’s front steps. “Right,” she said into the phone she’d borrowed from Maria’s dad. “A puppy. A puppy in trouble. We’re at Al’s. How soon can you be here?”
