Bandit (3 page)

When Lizzie got home from school the next day, she flung her backpack onto the bench in the front hall and plopped down on the ground to hug and kiss Buddy and Bandit, who had run to greet her. “Hi, sweeties,” she said, as she ruffled Buddy’s ears and kissed Bandit’s nose. “I can’t hang around today; I have a business to start. But Charles is going to take good care of you, and walk you, and play with you.” She glanced up at her brother, who had come in just behind her. “Right?” she asked.

Charles nodded. “As long as you don’t forget that you owe me.”

“I won’t forget,” said Lizzie. She and Charles usually split the responsibility of taking care of Buddy and any foster puppies staying at the house. But now she had another responsibility: raising money for Bandit’s operation. She needed Charles to do more than his share of puppy care for a while. So she had promised him one-fourth of any Halloween candy she got. She might be sorry about that later, but Halloween was still a long way away. Right now she cared more about getting her dog-walking business going.

She had spent the night before making up some flyers.
AAA Plus Dog Walkers
, the posters said.
The porfessional, responsable choice for animal care. You can trust us with your pet.
She had colored all the posters with pictures of dogs of every breed, copied from her “Dog Breeds of the World” poster, and decorated
them with puppy stickers. Each flyer had her name and phone number on it.
Afternoon dog-walking service: Three dollars for twenty-minute walk.

Lizzie was very pleased with her flyers. She especially liked the way she had drawn long leashes around the borders of each piece of paper, as one more eye-grabbing decoration.

Now she kissed both puppies one more time, then picked up the stack of flyers and shoved them into her backpack. She yelled good-bye to Charles and Mom as she followed Dad out to his truck. He had insisted on coming with her this first day, since she would be knocking on strangers’ doors. Lizzie didn’t mind. Probably people would take her more seriously if they knew she was a firefighter’s daughter.

“Let’s start over on Sunset,” she told her dad as they backed down the driveway.

“I thought you and Maria were each looking for customers in your own neighborhoods,” said Dad. “Isn’t Sunset Avenue closer to where she lives?”

Lizzie looked out the window. “Not really. Well, it’s kind of on the edge of both our neighborhoods,” she said. “Anyway, I was thinking I could start knocking on doors over there and work my way back toward home.”

Dad shrugged. “You’re the boss,” he said.

It only took five minutes to drive over to Sunset. When they arrived, Lizzie asked Dad to pull over for a second as she eyed the houses on the block. She noticed a big brick house with white columns and a long walkway leading up to the front door. When Lizzie saw the white picket fence enclosing the whole yard, she guessed there might be a dog in the family. “I’m going to try that one,” she said. “Will you wait here?”

When Dad agreed, she got out of the truck, carrying her backpack. She took a deep breath, pushed open the gate, and marched up the walk. For a moment, she wished that Maria were marching next to her. It would have been a lot easier—and probably more fun—to do this together. But there was no time to think about that now: She was at the front door. She rang the doorbell. Instantly, a dog began to bark inside. Deep, loud woofs echoed through the house. Yes. A home with a dog. Just what she’d been hoping for. Then Lizzie heard footsteps. “Hush, Atlas!” someone said.

A woman opened the door, struggling to hold a huge, slobbering golden retriever. “Hello?” she said, giving Lizzie a curious look.

“Hi,” said Lizzie, suddenly remembering that she had forgotten to take a flyer out of her backpack. “I’m Lizzie. Lizzie Peterson. I’m starting a dog-walking business and—”

Just then, Atlas wrenched himself loose and made a dash for the door.

“No! Wait!” yelled the woman.

Lizzie stepped forward and grabbed the dog’s collar. “Gotcha,” she said. Atlas stopped short. Lizzie smiled. “Where do you think you’re going, buddy?” She petted his big head. “Sit,” she told him.

Atlas sat. He looked up at Lizzie.

“Wow,” said the woman. “You’re good. Did you say you’re a dog walker? Atlas sure could use more exercise than I can give him, to burn off all that energy. And you look like you could handle him. When can you start?”

Lizzie grinned. “How does tomorrow sound?”

After that, it was easy. Lizzie talked to people who were in their yards with their dogs. Dad helped her put up flyers on telephone poles, and they stuck them in people’s mailboxes. They stopped by a small park where people took their
dogs to run and play together. It took them all afternoon to work their way back to their own neighborhood, but by the time Lizzie collapsed on the couch at home she had signed up six everyday clients, plus she had the names of three more people who might be interested in a once-in-a-while walk.

Lizzie pulled Bandit onto her lap as she sorted through the notes she had made on the dogs she would be walking. Each dog had his or her own index card, with lots of information. She had interviewed each client carefully to make sure she knew as much as possible about the dogs she would be caring for. Name, breed, age, likes and dislikes—it was all there.

“Tank should be fun,” she told Bandit. “He’s a young German shepherd with lots of energy. And then there’s Scruffy, the Morkie. Isn’t that a funny breed name? He’s a mix of Maltese and Yorkie.
His owner said he barks a lot. He’s only a tiny bit bigger than you are.”

The bouncy black-and-white pup on her lap stretched his neck up and licked Lizzie’s chin.

Just remember,
I’m
the most important dog.

“Don’t worry, I won’t forget about you.” Lizzie laughed, stroking his soft fur. She went back to her notes. “Then we have Ginger. She’s kind of old. I think she’s mostly beagle, with some basset mixed in. And Dottie the Dalmatian, who’s a little deaf, so I have to use hand signals with her, and Maxx the miniature Doberman pinscher. He’s a handful, for sure. And of course there’s Atlas.” Lizzie sighed, putting her head back on the couch. How was she going to manage?

She had asked each owner if their dogs got along with other dogs, and all but Ginger’s owner
had said yes. That meant she could walk the other five all together, which would save lots of time. Still, picking them all up and getting them all back home was going to take some planning. But she could handle it—couldn’t she?

Later that night, just before bedtime, Maria called. “Guess what?” she blurted out, as soon as Lizzie picked up the phone. “I have three clients! Three dogs, times five walks a week, times three dollars a walk. That’s forty-five dollars a week. We’ll raise the money in no time. How about you? Did you get any clients?”

“A few,” said Lizzie, grinning to herself as she pumped a fist. Yes! Starting out over on Sunset had really paid off. She had twice as many clients as Maria, so she’d be earning twice as much money. That was—she did the math—ninety dollars a week! Fantastic. But she kept quiet. She didn’t want to hear Maria tell her she had
made this dog-walking thing into a contest. Even though she possibly, maybe, sort of, kind of … had.

Quickly, she changed the subject. “You should see Bandit. He is so cute. He’s sleeping on my bed right now, but before dinner he was playing with Buddy’s big stuffed teddy bear. The bear was almost bigger than he was, but Bandit carried it all over the house. I guess he finally tired himself out.”

“Awww,” said Maria. “Little Bandit. Hey, you know what’s weird? I think somebody else around here might have started a dog-walking business, too. When I went over to Sunset to try to get more clients, people kept telling me they were all set. I wonder who that could be?”

“Um,” said Lizzie. It was time to change the subject again. “I think I hear my dad calling. I better go.” She hung up, feeling a wave of queasiness in her stomach. She should have just told
Maria that
she
was the person walking dogs on Sunset. But did it really matter who was walking which dogs? After all, the main thing was to raise money for Bandit’s operation. Bandit! She ran upstairs to her room to find the puppy still asleep on her bed. He had found the most comfortable spot, cozied up between her two pillows. “Bandit,” she cooed, curling up next to him. He yawned, a sleepy pink yawn, and kissed her on the cheek.

Hi, there. It’s about time somebody found me and gave me some attention.

Then he yawned again. His eyelids drooped, and a moment later he was fast asleep.

Sleep did not come so easily to Lizzie that night. She kept going over her client list in her mind, trying to figure out the best route to take as she picked up each dog. And every time she thought
about her clients on Sunset, she felt a twinge in her tummy.

The next day, Lizzie set out right after school. She had decided to head over to Sunset first, pick up Atlas, then work her way back toward her own neighborhood, picking up dogs along the way. When she’d picked up Maxx, the dog who lived nearest to her house, she would walk all of them back toward Sunset to return Atlas, then drop off the other dogs as she headed home. That way, each dog would get a nice long walk. Then, when she was done with the group walk, she’d have to walk Ginger on her own. But that would be easy. Ginger lived just down the street and Mrs. Davis, her owner, said she didn’t like to go for long walks. Mom and Dad had seemed doubtful when Lizzie explained her plan, but she was sure she could manage.

It took a lot longer to walk over to Atlas’s house than Lizzie had imagined. When she arrived, the big golden retriever was raring to go. She could barely get his leash clipped on before he dashed out the door, dragging her down the walk. “Whoa, whoa!” she yelled. “Slow down, Atlas.” She reeled him in and told him to heel. He looked up at her with a happy grin and did exactly what she’d asked, sticking to her left side like glue. Atlas really could behave well, as long as you reminded him to.

Before she and Atlas had even walked the three blocks to her next client’s house, Lizzie was glad she’d remembered to stick a bunch of plastic bags in her backpack. Picking up poop was not her favorite part of this job, but she knew it had to be done.

The next dog she picked up was Scruffy, the Morkie. He was adorable, but he turned out to be
a dawdler. The little dog stopped at every bush to pee and halted in his tracks whenever he saw a squirrel or cat that needed barking at.

Tank’s owner had left the back door unlocked, with a note telling Lizzie where to find his leash and halter. Unfortunately, the halter was not where it was supposed to be, so Lizzie just clipped his leather leash onto his collar and hoped for the best. “Whoa!” she yelled as Tank pulled her
and
the other dogs down the street. This young German shepherd was even stronger than Atlas, but unlike the obedient golden retriever, Tank did not pay one bit of attention when she told him to heel.

For the next few blocks Lizzie thought she was going to be pulled in half as Tank and Atlas surged forward and Scruffy hung back. For a tiny dog, Scruffy was surprisingly strong.

By the time Lizzie stopped to pick up Dottie the Dalmatian, she was already beginning to think
Mom and Dad had been right. Maybe she
couldn’t
walk five dogs at once. Fortunately, Dottie was good on the leash—but she did not get along with the other dogs as well as her owner had said she would. She seemed to like Scruffy, but she growled every time Tank or Atlas came near her, lifting her lip and baring her teeth. “No, Dottie,” Lizzie yelled every time Dottie growled. But since Dottie was deaf, that didn’t do much good. Lizzie just had to try to keep her away from the bigger dogs, which was not easy. All four dogs wove back and forth, tangling their leashes and nearly tripping Lizzie with every step.

Lizzie must have looked frazzled by the time she knocked on the door of the house where Maxx the mini–Doberman pinscher lived. “Are you okay?” asked his owner, Ms. Federico. “Maxx can wait until later if you want to drop some of those other dogs off first.” Lizzie assured her that she could manage. “Okay, try to keep him from
barking and jumping up,” Ms. Federico said as she handed Maxx’s leash to Lizzie. “Those are two habits of his we are trying to change.”

“Sure,” said Lizzie. But Maxx was like a jumping bean. A noisy jumping bean. His feet barely touched the ground as he boing-boinged all over the sidewalk, barking nonstop and jumping up on Lizzie and the other dogs.

Lizzie walked back toward Sunset as quickly as she could, stopping every few feet to untangle leashes, clean up poop, wipe drool off her pants, or let a dog sniff or pee. It was a relief to drop off Atlas, then Scruffy. Tank and Maxx barked at each other for three straight blocks after that, but Dottie, being deaf, didn’t seem bothered. By the time Lizzie made it back to Maxx’s house, she was exhausted. As she walked up the steps to her own house after dropping him off, she shook her head. Tomorrow, she would have to do things differently.
Walking five dogs at once was much harder than she had expected.

Lizzie stopped on the top step. Five dogs? She had six clients. She smacked her forehead. Ginger! She still had one more dog to walk.

The owner, founder, and only employee of AAA Plus Dog Walkers had a long, hard week of work. But by the end of the week, Lizzie had to admit that she was learning a lot.

On Wednesday, the second day of her dog-walking business, she had tried giving each dog a separate twenty-minute walk. That made things a lot easier—no more tangled leashes—but it took a lot longer, too. Six dogs times twenty minutes, plus pickups and dropoffs and walking between clients’ homes: that added up to well over two hours of dog walking, not exactly what she had bargained for. It didn’t leave much time for homework, let alone playing with Bandit.

On Thursday, Lizzie had tried different combinations of dogs. She discovered that she could walk Atlas and Maxx at the same time, and Dottie and Scruffy were a good pair, too. And once she found Tank’s halter, she could walk him with either of the other two pairs of dogs.

Ginger was a different story. Ginger had to be walked all by herself—not because she didn’t get along with other dogs, or pulled too hard, or barked too loudly. No, Ginger was just plain slow. It took the whole twenty minutes just to get her around the block. She ambled along, stopping every few steps to sniff. When Lizzie tried to hurry her, Ginger stood her ground, planting her feet and stiffening her short, stocky legs. Sometimes, no matter how hard Lizzie tugged, she could not get Ginger moving.

“Did I tell you what Ginger did on Friday?” Lizzie asked Maria. It was Sunday now, and she was at her friend’s house. She had brought Bandit
over, and the two girls had been playing with the puppy all day, giving him lots of love every minute since they knew he would soon be gone. Lizzie could hardly stand to think about it, but any minute now Uncle Teo would stop by to pick up the puppy. He and Bandit would leave for Boston before dawn the next morning, and Bandit would have his operation first thing Monday.

Neither of the girls wanted to talk about that. It was easier to talk about silly Ginger. “She sat down in the middle of the block and refused to go one step farther,” Lizzie told her friend.

“What did you do?” Maria asked.

“Finally, I gave up and let her turn around. She headed straight for home, dragging me along.” Lizzie shook her head. Ginger was frustrating, but she was a sweet old girl and Lizzie never yelled at her. Lizzie never yelled at any of the dogs. How could you be mad at a dog because she was acting like a dog?

Lizzie reached over to pet Bandit. “He’s so sweet,” she said. “Mrs. Kenyon was right. Everybody who meets this dog falls in love with him.”

“Except for Uncle Teo.” Maria laughed. “He’s the only one who can resist.” She held Bandit up and rubbed noses with him, making kissy noises. “What a good little boy. What a sweetie.” She turned to Lizzie. “I can’t believe we haven’t found Bandit a home yet. Somebody must want to adopt this smoochie-pie.”

Bandit licked her cheek and wagged his fluffy tail.

That’s right. Who wouldn’t love me? I’m a sweetheart.

“I know,” said Lizzie. She picked up one of the flyers she’d made about Bandit.
Adorable Shih Tzu seeks Loving Family
,it said. Under the
headline was an incredibly cute picture of Bandit, staring back at the camera with his shiny black button eyes. And underneath that, there was some more information about Bandit, including the fact that he would soon be having major surgery.

“What’s that?” Lizzie asked now, jumping up to run to the window. She could have sworn she heard the rumble of a truck, but when she looked outside, the street was empty. When would Uncle Teo get there?

Lizzie sat back down and looked at the flyer again. She could guess why none of her dog-walking clients, or any of the other people who had seen the flyer, wanted to adopt Bandit. “It’s probably the surgery thing,” she said. “Everybody’s afraid to get too attached to a dog who might not make it.”

“Don’t say that.” Maria put her hands over
Bandit’s ears, as if he could understand what Lizzie was saying.

Lizzie shook her head. “But Dr. Gibson told us—”

“I don’t care what she told you,” said Maria, hugging the black-and-white puppy to her chest. “Bandit is going to make it. Not only that, he’ll be better than ever. The operation is going to work perfectly.” Lizzie saw tears in Maria’s eyes. She knew that Maria would have loved to have adopt Bandit, but Simba was the only pet in the Santiago family and always would be.

“Okay, okay,” Lizzie said, holding up her hands. “You’re right. He’s going to be just fine.” She felt tears prickling at the back of her own eyes. Bandit just
had
to pull through. She didn’t know what she would do if she never got to hug him again, or watch him trot through a room with his sweet little head held high. She was just as attached as
Maria was, and it wasn’t going to be easy to say good-bye to Bandit when Uncle Teo arrived.

Maria sighed and lay back on her bed. “I’m tired,” she said. “It’s hard work, walking dogs every day.”

“I know,” Lizzie said. “You wouldn’t believe what happened at Caring Paws yesterday.” That was the animal shelter where Lizzie volunteered every Saturday afternoon. “I was hoping to work at the front desk, or even clean out litter boxes in the cat room. Anything but walk dogs. But guess what? The person who usually exercises the dogs didn’t show up, and I had to walk twelve of them.”

Maria laughed, but Lizzie groaned, remembering. Yes, she thought, she had learned a lot that week. The only thing she hadn’t learned was how to tell Maria the truth about how many dogs she was walking. She had only told her about Ginger,
Scruffy, and Maxx, not about the three other dogs over in the Sunset neighborhood.

Maria had begged her not to make this dog-walking thing into a contest. But Lizzie hadn’t listened. Lizzie
had
made it into a contest—and she had won, too. Now there was no way to tell Maria without sounding as if she were gloating about it—and without confessing that she had been the one who signed up all the clients over on Sunset.

The funny thing was, winning the contest had not made Lizzie happy. Six dogs was too many for her to handle by herself. She was in over her head, and she knew it was her own fault. Next time she started a business, maybe she wouldn’t insist on doing it her way. Next time, maybe she and Maria could work together.

She reached over to pet Bandit, who was still cuddled in Maria’s arms. She was stroking his
silky ears when she heard a rumbling noise outside. This time, she was sure of it. She ran to the window and pulled aside the curtain to peep out. There, pulled right up in front of the house, was the biggest, shiniest truck she had ever seen. “I think Uncle Teo’s here,” she said.