Cody
Authors: Ellen Miles
For Caroline, the original Bean
“How about Dorothy and the Scarecrow?” Lizzie asked.
“Hmmm . . .” Maria considered the idea.
“It would be great!” Lizzie’s eyes lit up. “Buddy could be Toto. I could carry him in a picnic basket, just like Dorothy does in
The Wizard of Oz.”
Lizzie Peterson loved Halloween. It was fun to dream up great costumes — even though she usually ended up being something simple, like a gypsy or a hobo. It was fun to be out in the streets of Littleton after dark on a fall evening — even though it was usually so cold or rainy that Mom made her wear a jacket over her costume. And, of course, it was fun to watch her trick-or-treat bag fill up little by little until it was bulging with
candy — even though Lizzie and her brothers were only allowed to eat two pieces a day. By Thanksgiving, whatever was left was stale and hardly worth unwrapping and chewing.
Halloween this year would be even more fun than usual, for two reasons. First of all, Lizzie and her best friend, Maria, (and Charles and the Bean, Lizzie’s younger brothers) had been invited to ride on Chief Olson’s fire truck in the Littleton Halloween parade. Lizzie knew Chief Olson because her dad was a firefighter, too. But the truck that they’d be riding on wasn’t one of the town’s regular fire trucks. No, this was a really cool antique fire truck that belonged to Chief Olson. He kept it inside a giant garage behind his house. Lizzie could not wait to see how jealous everybody would be when they watched her drive by on the gleaming red truck, with its shiny brass fittings. That’s why she just
had
to come up with an especially good costume this year.
The other reason Halloween would be special
was because this year Buddy would be part of it. Buddy was the Petersons’ little brown puppy, and Lizzie loved him more than anything.
The Peterson family had fostered lots of puppies who needed homes — taking care of them until they found the perfect forever family for each one — but although Buddy had started out as a foster puppy, he had ended up as a permanent member of the family. Which still felt so, so amazing to Lizzie. She and Charles and the Bean (whose real name was Adam) had wanted a dog of their own for so long, and now they had one! Not only that, they had
Buddy,
the best dog
ever.
“I love you, Buddy,” Lizzie whispered right then, into her puppy’s silky ear. He was curled up all warm and sleepy on her lap at that very moment, while she and her best friend sat at the kitchen table after school eating apples and string cheese and planning their costumes.
Maria was still thinking about Lizzie’s idea. She reached over and patted Buddy’s soft fur.
“Why do
you
get to be Dorothy?” she asked. “What if I want to be Dorothy?”
Lizzie thought for a moment. Maybe
The Wizard of Oz
theme wasn’t the best plan after all. “Okay, how about this? We could be fairies. Buddy could be an elf or a toadstool or something.”
“Maybe,” Maria said. “But I thought you said fairies were stupid costumes.”
“What?” Lizzie looked confused.
“During lunch today, at school. Remember? We were all talking about costumes, and you said how sick you were of everybody being fairies, and how fairy costumes were totally
over.”
“Oh. Right.” Lizzie sort of remembered.
Maria frowned at her. “You don’t even remember? You were spouting off opinions all over the place. Not that anybody even
asked
your opinion. In fact, Shanna Garbeck told me afterward that she felt like an idiot because she had been planning on being a fairy.”
Oops. “Oh, well.” Lizzie shrugged and stuck her
nose into the soft, sweet-smelling fur on Buddy’s neck. She kissed him five times in a row. Buddy was so lovable!
“You know . . .” Maria said. She looked down at the table and spoke very carefully. “Sometimes I’m almost a little embarrassed when you do that. I mean, it’s cool that you have strong opinions, but maybe it would be nice if you could wait until you’re
asked
for your opinion, instead of just offering it like that.”
Lizzie stared at Maria. “You’re
embarrassed
?” she asked. “Why?”
“Because I’m your best friend, I guess.” Maria frowned and waved her hand as if trying to get rid of a bad smell in the air. “Look, forget it. Let’s go back to talking about costumes.”
Lizzie did go back to talking about costumes. But she did not “forget it.” She couldn’t. This was not the first time that somebody had told Lizzie that she was too outspoken. Her mom had said so more than once, and even her dad
had mentioned it, laughingly. “That’s our Lizzie!” he’d said. “Always has an opinion — and she’s always ready to share it!”
As she and Maria talked, Lizzie felt hot all over, even though it was cool in the kitchen. Silently, she vowed yet again to work harder at keeping her opinions to herself, at least until somebody
begged
for her thoughts.
“Hey!” Charles came into the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. “Wait’ll you hear
this
one!”
Maria and Lizzie both groaned. Lately, Charles and his best friend, Sammy, had been driving everybody
crazy
— in a new way. It was bad enough when they were going through their knock-knock joke phase. But now they had decided to write a book:
101 Dog Jokes,
it was going to be called. Lizzie figured she had already heard about
five
hundred and one.
“Okay, ready?” Charles asked. He was already giggling. “What kind of dog does Dracula have?”
He finally managed to squeak out the question. Charles was always his own best audience.
“I give up,” Lizzie said.
“Me, too,” Maria agreed.
“A bloodhound!” Charles crowed. He cracked up, barely seeming to notice that the two girls were groaning, not laughing. “That’s definitely one for the book!” Still laughing, he went to the fridge to look for a snack.
“Where’s Sammy?” Lizzie asked.
“Home,” Charles mumbled, around a mouthful of grapes. “Working on his poster for Fire Prevention Week. He really wants to win the contest this year.”
Lizzie and Maria had already made their posters, even though they both knew that Noah Burke would win the contest in their grade. He always did. Noah was the best artist at Littleton Elementary.
“Where are Mom and the Bean?” Charles asked.
“Upstairs. Mom’s working on an article and the
Bean’s taking a nap.” Mrs. Peterson was a reporter for the Littleton newspaper. Lizzie held up a hand. “Toss me one of those grapes.”
Charles tossed. Lizzie caught the grape and ate it.
Yum.
“Try getting one in my mouth,” she said. She opened wide and Charles lobbed a grape in a high arc. It missed by a mile.
Buddy tried to scramble off Lizzie’s lap to chase after the grape. “Oh, no, you don’t,” said Lizzie, holding him tightly. Maria knelt down to find the grape, which had rolled under the table. Lizzie and Maria had recently learned on the Internet that grapes were not good for dogs.
Just then, the doorbell rang. “Who’s
that
?” Lizzie said. Hardly anybody ever used the front door at their house.
“Lizzie, can you see who’s there?” Mom called from upstairs.
Lizzie put Buddy down and headed for the door. Buddy followed right at her heels. “You stay
inside,” she told him, holding him back with her foot as she opened the door.
There on the porch stood Sammy from next door, along with his mom. Sammy was grinning. His mom was not. She was holding a braided leather leash. And at the other end of the leash was a puppy! A panting, pulling puppy. “We just found this guy tied to the apple tree in our front yard,” said Sammy’s mom. “I think whoever left him didn’t have the address quite right,” she added. She handed the leash to Lizzie, along with a big white envelope. The envelope was addressed
“To the People Who Take Care of Puppies.
“
The puppy started to bark and pull at the leash as soon as he saw Lizzie. He had a big, deep bark for such a young dog. He was wagging his little tail so hard that his whole body squirmed. The puppy was white with black spots all over. He had a shiny black nose and deep brown eyes, and he was wearing a bright red collar. “Oh! It’s a Dalmatian!” Lizzie dropped to her knees to say hello.
Buddy grabbed his chance and dashed out the door. “Buddy!” Lizzie yelled. She dropped the puppy’s leash as she dove for Buddy — and missed.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Sammy grabbed Buddy before he could run off.
“Whew, thanks!” Lizzie said. She whirled around to pick up the puppy’s leash, but the little white dog had already charged past her, right through the door and into the house, barking like crazy the whole time.
Yee-haw! Here I am, everybody! Let’s play!
“Lizzie?” Mom shouted from upstairs. “What’s going on?”
“Tell your mom I said hi,” Sammy’s mom said quickly. “Gotta go!”
Sammy handed Buddy back to Lizzie. “Good luck,” he said with a grin. He followed his mom down the front steps.
Lizzie carried Buddy inside and closed the front door. Then she took Buddy into the den. “Looks like we have a new foster puppy!” she told him. “You’re going to stay in here for a minute until I can figure out if he’s friendly or not. Be good, okay?” Buddy looked at her quizzically. Lizzie
gave him a kiss, put him down, and closed the door behind her. “Maria?” she called over the sound of barking. “Charles?”
“In here,” yelled Maria from the kitchen.
“Help!” yelled Charles.
Lizzie ran into the kitchen to find her best friend and her brother chasing the quick little puppy around the table. “We can’t catch him!” Charles said.
The puppy was barking happily as he careened around the kitchen, slipping and sliding on the floor. His pink tongue was flapping and he was smiling a big goofy doggy smile. It was obvious that he was having the time of his life.
Lizzie started to laugh.
“It’s not funny!” said Maria. “Seriously, we can’t catch him!”
Lizzie ran over to the counter and reached into the doghouse-shaped cookie jar where they kept Buddy’s treats. She pulled out a dog biscuit.
“Here, pup!” she said, holding it out for the puppy to see and smell. “Want a cookie?”
The puppy screeched to a halt under the kitchen table and cocked his head at Lizzie. One ear was black; the other was white. He had one big black spot over his right eye, which made him look absolutely adorable, like a little pirate. “Come on,” Lizzie said encouragingly. Slowly, the puppy moved toward her. Charles stepped forward. “Hold on,” Lizzie warned. “Don’t grab him. That might scare him.”
The puppy stretched out his neck and sniffed at the biscuit. “That’s it,” Lizzie said gently. “Good boy.” Slowly, she reached out her other hand and hooked a finger under his collar. Then she let him have the biscuit. The puppy gobbled it down, crunching loudly as crumbs fell to the floor. He put his nose down and snuffled around until he had licked up every scrap with his big pink tongue. Then he looked up at Lizzie and
started barking again. His tail was wagging harder than ever.
That was awesome! How about another one — or two?
Lizzie cracked up. This puppy was
trouble —
but he was also very, very cute. Before he could start running around again, she sat down on the floor and pulled him onto her lap for some hugs and kisses.
“What is going
on
here?” Mom was standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. The Bean stood next to her, holding on to her shirttail. He was still rubbing sleep out of his eyes.
The Bean spotted the puppy. “Uppy!” he crowed. He started to run toward Lizzie and the puppy.
“Hold on there, mister!” Mom grabbed the straps of his overalls and hauled him back. “Remember, no patting puppies we don’t know.”
“But —” the Bean began.
“No buts,” Mom said firmly. She lifted the Bean, then turned back to Lizzie and raised an eyebrow. “Where’s Buddy? And who, may I ask, is this?” She pointed at the puppy, who was still barking like mad.
“Buddy’s in the den,” Lizzie said.
“Sammy brought the puppy!” Charles said at the same time. “Somebody dropped him off at their house by mistake.”
Mom looked confused. “What?”
“They left this note.” Lizzie held up the envelope. She let go of the puppy for a minute. He immediately squirmed out of reach and started running around the kitchen again, slipping and sliding and barking. “Oops,” said Lizzie.
Lizzie handed Mom the envelope, brushed a bunch of white hairs off her pants, and then turned to get another biscuit out of the jar. This puppy was going to be a handful! But the Petersons had fostered pesky puppies before. Lizzie wasn’t worried. Hadn’t they found great homes for
Rascal, the energetic Jack Russell terrier who also barked a lot? And Princess, the most spoiled Yorkshire terrier in the world? And what about Pugsley, also known as Mr. Pest? Lizzie knew she could help this wacky puppy find the perfect home, too.
Mom sat down with the Bean on her lap and opened the envelope. She started to read out loud —
loudly,
so she could be heard over the puppy’s barking.
“‘This is Cody,’” she read. “‘He is six months old. He is a Dalmatian.’”
“I knew that’s what he was!” interrupted Lizzie. “Did you know that when Dalmatians are born, they are pure white? They get their spots within a few weeks.” Lizzie saw Charles rolling his eyes at Maria. So what? Sometimes Lizzie couldn’t help herself. She happened to know a
lot
about dogs. In fact, she had practically memorized her “Dog Breeds of the World” poster. Shouldn’t
everybody be happy that she was willing to share her knowledge?
“Thank you, Lizzie,” said her mom, in a tone that meant “That’s enough with the dog facts for now.”
“I just think it’s important for us to know as much as we can about the dogs we foster,” said Lizzie.
“Elizabeth Maude Peterson!” Mom gave her a horrified look. “You can’t possibly be thinking that we are going to
foster
this wild puppy!”
