Jack (2 page)

“You’re going to love Jack,” Lizzie told Buddy as she got ready for bed that night. “You’ll meet him in the morning, and I bet you’ll be friends right away.”

Buddy cocked his head and gave Lizzie a questioning look.

I smell a new puppy in the house. Do you like him better than me?

Lizzie went over to pat Buddy, who was curled up on the foot of her bed. “You know you’ll always be my favorite dog in the world, right?” She lay down next to him and kissed his darling little black
nose. “You really are my best buddy. And you’re always so nice to the other puppies we foster. You get along with everybody!”

Buddy nuzzled Lizzie’s ear and licked her cheek. She could smell his sweet puppy breath. Then he closed his eyes and went back to sleep. Lizzie watched Buddy for a moment. Was there ever a cuter puppy? He was such a good boy, too. He had been shut up in her room all evening, except for when she’d taken him out for a pee, and he’d never complained once.

Lizzie climbed into bed and pulled up the covers. Good thing the next day was Saturday! Except for a couple of hours when she would be volunteering at the animal shelter, she would have most of the day to get to know Jack and help him get settled. She had a good feeling about the little boxer puppy. Jack was all safe and sound in his crate down in the kitchen, where he couldn’t get into any trouble. Lizzie yawned, stretched,
and turned over in her comfy bed. She was so sleepy.

Bang!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Lizzie woke up suddenly. What was that sound coming from downstairs?

“OooooOOOOoooooOOOO!”

And what was
that
sound?

Buddy jumped off the bed and ran to the door. “OOOOooooOOOO!” he howled along with the sound from downstairs.

“Oh, no!” Lizzie threw back the covers and jumped out of bed. Those sounds had to be Jack howling and banging on his crate. “You stay here, Buddy.” Lizzie put on her bathrobe and shuffled into her slippers, then headed down the dark stairs. Lizzie had heard puppies whimper and cry before, but this was something else. Why was the puppy making so much noise in the middle of the night?

By the time Lizzie turned on the kitchen light, Jack had stopped howling and banging. He sat in his crate, looking sadly back at Lizzie. He blinked his big brown eyes.

“Awww.” Lizzie sat down on the floor next to the crate and opened the door. Jack ran right out. He squirmed onto her lap and licked her chin.

I hate it in there! I’m bored and lonely!

“Poor little guy.” Lizzie patted Jack. His fur was so short and his little body was so muscular! He wasn’t like any of the pudgy puppies she had taken care of before. Lizzie noticed that the two puppy toys Charles had left in the crate were shredded into little pieces. Oops. Oh, well. You had to expect that puppy toys wouldn’t last forever. She started to pick up the furry shreds.

“I guess our new friend doesn’t like his crate.” Dad stood in the kitchen doorway, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He must have heard all the
noise, too. Mom, Charles, and the Bean could sleep through a parade
and
fireworks, but Lizzie and Dad were light sleepers and woke up easily.

“I guess not. Maybe he’s just too excited about being in a new place.” Lizzie stuffed the shredded toys into her bathrobe pocket. She patted Jack some more as he snorted and snuffled happily.

“I suppose.” Dad looked tired. “Well, let’s try to get him settled again, and see how he does.”

Lizzie used a biscuit to tempt Jack back into the crate. She patted him and talked to him in a soft, low voice until he looked sleepy and relaxed. “Okay, little Jackie. You sleep well now,” she said as she and Dad turned off the light and tiptoed away.

Back upstairs, Lizzie had just drifted off to sleep when the banging started all over again.
Bang! Bang!
Lizzie put her pillow over her head to block out the sound.

“OOOOooooOOOOOoooo!” Jack began to howl.

“OooOOOOOooooOOOOO!” Buddy howled back.

Lizzie sighed and took the pillow off her head. She got out of bed, put her robe and slippers back on, and went downstairs. “What’s the matter, Jack?” The puppy sat in his cage, holding up one paw. He looked extra cute and extra sad. “Awww, poor thing.”

“Maybe he’s just doing it to get attention.” Dad had come downstairs again, too.

Lizzie nodded. “Remember Pugsley?” she asked. “He needed attention. And when he got it, he was a much better puppy.” She let Jack out of his crate and patted him for a long time.

Dad sat down on the floor and patted Jack, too. “But we can’t stay up with him all night,” he said after a while. “Jack seems happier now. Let’s try putting him back to bed in his crate.”

This time, they had barely made it to the bottom of the stairs before the howling began. “OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO!”
Bang! Bang! Bang!

Lizzie and Dad looked at each other and shrugged. Then they turned around and went
back. Lizzie checked out the kitchen. The garbage was under the sink, safe behind the cabinet doors. The counters were high. There was no food on the table. “He can’t really get into any trouble in here,” she said. “What if we just use the baby gate to keep him in the kitchen? Maybe he’ll be happier if he’s not locked in the crate.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” Dad set up the baby gate, and Lizzie opened the door of the crate and left it open so that Jack could still use the soft sheet inside for a bed if he wanted. Jack watched them leave the kitchen, but he did not howl. They made it all the way upstairs. Still no howling! Dad looked at Lizzie and smiled. “I think he’s okay now,” he said as he kissed her good night for the third time.

Lizzie went back to bed and didn’t wake up until early the next morning, when she heard Mom shout, “Oh, no! Look what this puppy has done!”

Mom groaned so loudly that Lizzie could hear her all the way upstairs. “Oh, what a mess!” Then Lizzie heard Mom begin to lecture the puppy. “You are a very, very,
very
bad —”

“Wait!” Lizzie jumped out of bed and ran to the top of the stairs. “Don’t yell at him! Don’t punish him!” She did not even know for sure exactly what the new puppy had done to make Mom so upset, but she did know one thing: there was no use in yelling at or punishing a puppy for something he had already done. Unless you caught a puppy in the middle of chewing your shoe, or peeing on the living room carpet, it was too late. If you yelled at him afterward, he wouldn’t understand why you were mad. Aunt Amanda had explained all
that to Lizzie, and it made sense. Puppies had to learn what was right and wrong, and the best way to teach them was to make a fuss over them when they did something right, like going to the bathroom outside, and ignore them when they did something wrong, like eating your favorite socks.

Lizzie ran down to the kitchen. Dad and Charles and the Bean thundered down the stairs behind her. The four of them stood at the kitchen door and stared at the mess Jack had made.

“Uh-oh,” said the Bean.

“Wow!” said Charles.

“Yikes!” said Lizzie.

Dad didn’t say a word. He just burst out laughing.

“It’s not funny!” Mom stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands on her hips. She glared at Jack, who sat near her feet. The puppy cocked his head and gave his tail the tiniest wag as he greeted the newcomers.

Hi there! See what I did? I was so bored, but I found a way to have fun.

Mom and Jack were surrounded by a sea of shredded paper, scraps of milk carton and foil, orange peels, coffee grounds, apple cores, the take-out containers from last night’s Chinese dinner, and the remains of the plastic pumpkins Charles and the Bean had used for trick-or-treating. It was the middle of November, but they still had a little candy left from Halloween.

“Uh-oh,” the Bean said again.

“My candy!” Charles wailed. “I thought it would be safe up on the counter.”

“Was there any chocolate in there?” Lizzie grabbed Charles’s arm.

“Ow, no!” He rubbed his arm and glared at her. “I ate it all the first week. The Bean ate his, too.”

“That’s all right, then,” said Lizzie. “At least there wasn’t any chocolate left. Chocolate can be very bad for dogs. It can make them really sick.”
Personally, she always kept her candy on the top shelf of her closet, in her room. It was safer there. She looked around at the mess and tried to think of something positive to say. “What a smartie! Jack figured out how to get into the garbage and up onto the counters.”

“Lizzie!” For some reason, this made Mom even madder. “And, you, stop laughing.” She glared at Dad, who was still chuckling.

“At least he doesn’t seem to have gotten sick from it all.” Dad was obviously trying to see the bright side, too.

Lizzie had just stepped over the baby gate to help clean up when she saw that Jack had stopped wagging his tail. His ears perked up and the fur rose on the back of his thick, muscular neck. He growled, and Lizzie saw his lip curl, showing his teeth.

“Uh-oh,” said the Bean.

Lizzie turned to see Buddy standing near Charles on the other side of the baby gate. In her
rush to get downstairs, she’d forgotten to close her bedroom door. Buddy had followed her. “Charles! Grab Buddy and take him outside!”

Charles made a face. “Who made you the boss?”

“I remember reading that some boxers have trouble getting along with other dogs,” Lizzie told him. “We don’t want them to fight, do we?”

“Fine!” said Charles. “But if I do it, you better give me some of your leftover candy.”

“Why should I?” she asked. “Just because I was smart enough to put mine in a safe place —”

“Candy!” the Bean wailed. “My candy all gone?” The terrible truth had finally sunk in.

“Now look what you’ve done.” Dad frowned at Lizzie.

Mom frowned at Dad. “It’s not her fault. It’s the puppy’s.”

“Don’t blame Jack!” Charles frowned at Mom.

“Uh-oh.” The Bean started to wail even more loudly.

Buddy looked from one face to another and began to whimper.

Why is everybody so mad? Did I do something wrong?

“Oh, Buddy! It’s okay!” Lizzie couldn’t blame Buddy for crying. She felt like crying, too. Jack looked up at her with his big brown eyes. His tail drooped, his ears were back, and his rear legs trembled. Lizzie knew that meant he was scared and upset. “Wait, everybody!” She dropped to her knees and began to pet Jack. “We have to stop arguing. We’re all upset, and now Jack and Buddy are upset, too.”

“But —” Charles began.

“Lizzie is right,” interrupted Dad. “Charles, why don’t you take Buddy outside? I’ll take the Bean upstairs and get him dressed.”

“And Lizzie and I will clean up,” Mom said.
“Then maybe we can start this day all over again.” She smiled at Dad.

Lizzie felt better — so much better that she turned to face Charles. “And I’ll give you and the Bean some of my candy,” she said. It wasn’t a big sacrifice, since she was sick of SweeTarts and Life Savers, the only candy she had left. But the offer made Charles smile.

Lizzie petted Jack’s head as they watched Charles and Buddy go outside. “It’s okay. I bet anything that you’ll be friends when you get to know each other.” Jack snuffled, put his paws up on Lizzie’s leg, and gazed at her with his big brown eyes.

Are you mad at me? I think the other person is upset with me.

“It’s okay,” Lizzie told the puppy again as she began to help Mom pick up the garbage. Then
she spotted something lying on the floor. A crumpled envelope and a torn, stained sheet of paper — with brightly colored drawings all over it. “Oh, no,” she said. “My letter to Kit Smithers!” She turned to face Jack. “You are a very,
very
bad —”

“Lizzie! Wait!” Mom stopped Lizzie just in time, before she yelled at the puppy. “Remember what you said? He doesn’t understand what he did wrong.”

“But my letter!” Lizzie held up the torn, crumpled scraps. “I worked so hard on that picture of Sunny!” She let her arm drop to her side. Mom was right. It wasn’t fair to yell at Jack. But boy, was she mad.

Mom took the letter and smoothed it out on the kitchen table. “I wonder if we used some tape . . . No, it’s really too far gone.” She turned to Lizzie. “That really was a nice picture you drew,” she said. “I can see that. But you’ll just have to print the letter out again and draw some more pictures.”

“I don’t have time! I’m supposed to be at the shelter by noon.” Lizzie had not missed a single Saturday volunteering at the animal shelter, and she wasn’t about to start now. She crossed her arms and glared at Jack. Lizzie had really, really wanted that letter to be on its way to Kit Smithers by today. She couldn’t wait to hear back from her favorite author. Maybe she was acting babyish, but she couldn’t help it.

“I’ll tell you what,” said Mom. “You have the letter on the computer, right? How about if we do some research together and see if we can find an e-mail address to send it to? That would be faster than the regular mail anyway.”

Lizzie thought about this. “But what about my drawings?”

“I can attach a picture of you with Buddy instead. Kit Smithers would probably enjoy seeing what you look like.” Mom put a hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. “I know you’re disappointed, but it’s not the end of the world.”

Easy for Mom to say.
Lizzie looked down at Jack. He gazed back at her with his big brown eyes. Who would imagine that such a sweet, innocent little puppy could be so naughty? “I know it’s not your fault, Jack.” Lizzie bent to pet him. “But please, please, can’t you try to be a good boy and stop eating things?”

When Charles came back inside with Buddy, Lizzie took Jack outside so Buddy could eat his breakfast in peace. “Bring Buddy out when he’s done, and we can give them a chance to get to know each other,” she told Charles. Lizzie knew that having lots of space to run around would be a good thing if the puppies didn’t get along right away. On her way out, she grabbed her copy of
Mountain Girl
from the shelf in the living room so she could read while the puppies played.

When Charles brought Buddy out, Jack didn’t growl even once. Instead, he bowed down and wagged his tail, inviting Buddy to play. “Maybe he only growled before because he felt like the
kitchen was his territory,” Lizzie said. Soon both puppies zoomed crazily around the yard, chasing each other through the piles of leaves that had fallen from the trees.

Charles sat down next to Lizzie on the deck and they laughed as they watched the puppies play. Then Charles showed Lizzie a crumpled piece of paper. “I found your letter in the kitchen. Too bad Jack ate it.”

Lizzie nodded. “I know. You should have seen how good my picture was.”

“I guess he ate the part where you asked her some questions.” Charles raised his eyebrows.

Lizzie grabbed the letter. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s a good letter and everything,” Charles said. “But when Mr. Mason taught us about letters, he said you should always ask the person some questions, and I don’t see any here.” He held up his hands. “Just an idea.”

“Hmph.” Lizzie crossed her arms over her chest. When had her little brother become such a
know-it-all? True, he had written to three authors in the past year and he had gotten letters back from all of them. One of them had even sent a signed picture of himself. But Lizzie knew perfectly well how to write letters.

The puppies were still zooming around the yard. Now Buddy was showing Jack how to play tug with a stick. When Jack managed to grab the stick away, he carried it proudly back to Lizzie. “Good boy, Jack!” she said as she petted him.

Yay! I guess I did something right for a change!

Mom opened the back door. “Lizzie, Charles! Aunt Amanda’s here to tell us more about Jack. Bring the puppies inside.”

“I am so sorry,” Aunt Amanda was saying when Lizzie and Charles went into the kitchen. Mom must have already told her how Jack had destroyed the entire kitchen. Lizzie got Jack a
treat and sat down on the floor with the puppy on her lap.

Mom looked at Aunt Amanda. “So, was this the problem? Was this kind of behavior why Jack’s owners were out of patience?”

“Well . . .” Aunt Amanda looked down at the floor and kicked one foot into the other. She looked just like Charles did when he got caught tracking mud into the living room. “Yes. That’s the problem. Jack eats things.”

“What’s the big deal?” asked Lizzie. “All puppies chew.”

Aunt Amanda sighed. “Not like this puppy.”