Princess (2 page)

“Uh-oh. She mentioned a list?” Aunt Amanda shook her head. “That could mean trouble.” It was later that same day, back at the Petersons'. Princess had not arrived yet, but Charles’s aunt Amanda had stopped by to say hello on her way home from a long day at work, and Charles was telling her all about the Yorkie that was coming to visit.

Aunt Amanda was Dad’s little sister. Charles always tried to imagine Dad and Aunt Amanda when they were his and Lizzie’s age. Dad had once told him that Aunt Amanda reminded him a lot of Lizzie. So maybe when Aunt Amanda was Lizzie’s age she was bossy, too.

But even if she
was
bossy then, now she was
nice. Charles liked her a lot, and he loved to visit her at Bowser’s Backyard, her doggy day care center, where she took care of dogs whose owners worked all day and didn’t have time to play with them. Lizzie worked there one day a week, and she said she learned a lot every time. Charles thought Aunt Amanda might be the only person in the universe who knew more about dogs than Lizzie did.

Now Aunt Amanda and Charles were sitting on the Petersons’ back deck, watching her dogs tear around the backyard with Buddy. Aunt Amanda and Uncle James had
four
dogs altogether: three pugs and one golden retriever. The Petersons had fostered Pugsley, one of the pugs. Pugsley, also known as Mr. Pest, had been a real handful. And he still was! But Aunt Amanda and Uncle James were the perfect forever family for him, because they loved him anyway. And he got along great with all their other dogs.

Which was obvious right now. Pugsley was chasing Lionel and Jack, his two pug “brothers,”
while Bowser, the golden retriever, lay on his back letting Buddy pretend to beat him up. Then Pugsley ran over to jump on Bowser, too, and Lionel and Jack dashed after him. Soon Bowser was almost completely covered in pugs. He rolled over and jumped to his feet, giving himself a good shake. The smaller dogs tumbled down, somersaulted, and dashed off for their next adventure: barking at the cat next door.

Charles and Aunt Amanda laughed as they watched. “There’s just something about pugs,” Aunt Amanda said. “They keep you laughing, that’s for sure.”

Mom came outside carrying a tray loaded with crackers and cheese. Lizzie followed her, carrying a pitcher of Mom’s famous lemonade. Behind Lizzie came the Bean, carrying a squeaky toy shaped like a hamburger. The Bean liked to pretend that he was a puppy, so most of his favorite toys were actually dog toys.

“Have a snack,” Mom said to Aunt Amanda.
She poured a glass of lemonade and passed it over. “Now, what did I hear you say about Angela’s List meaning ‘trouble’?”

“For example?” Mom asked.

“For example, I have one customer at Bowser’s Backyard who gives only bottled water to her golden retriever.” Aunt Amanda raised an eyebrow as she took another sip of lemonade.

“Bottled water? For a dog?” Mom stared at her. “You’re
kidding.”

“I’m not,” said Aunt Amanda. “What’s more, I follow her directions.”

“Some dogs have very sensitive stomachs,” Lizzie said. “If they drink different water from what they’re used to, they can get an upset tummy.”

“Absolutely correct,” said Aunt Amanda. “And since I’m usually caring for thirty dogs at once, I don’t have time to be cleaning up after one dog with an upset tummy, if you know what I mean.” She smiled. “But the thing about these people with lists is, usually the people have
made
the dog into a fussy, picky creature. If you only give your dog bottled water, that’s what your dog is going to get used to, and what it’s going to expect. It’s not the
dogs’
fault that they’re spoiled. It’s the people’s fault.”

Mom nodded. “Well, Angela should be here any minute to drop off Princess. We’ll just have to wait and see what’s on
her
list. Hopefully it won’t be too complicated.”

“Hopefully,” echoed Aunt Amanda, smiling into her glass of lemonade. “Anyway, I almost forgot what I came over for. I wanted to see if either of you” — she looked at Charles and Lizzie — “would like to help me out with a new activity I’m going to be doing with Bowser. It’s a program at the library called Reading With Rover.”

“I’ve heard of that!” Lizzie said. “It’s where kids read to dogs, right?”

“Exactly.” Aunt Amanda nodded. “The program pairs kids who don’t like reading, or who are having a hard time learning to read, with a dog and its owner. It seems that reading to a dog makes reading so much fun that the kids learn faster and end up doing better in school.”

“That sounds wonderful,” said Mom.

Aunt Amanda went on. “Bowser and I have just finished a training program, where we learned how to get kids motivated to read, and how to keep the dogs’ attention on the kids. Bowser did pretty well when we practiced that part. He got
rewarded with treats when he lay still to listen to me reading. Anyway, we’ll go on Saturdays, and tomorrow we have our first session with a reader. I’m excited! But I think I could use some help making sure that Bowser stays calm and focused at the library.”

Charles was just about to say he would help. He loved dogs, and he loved to read. The program sounded like a lot of fun.

But before he could say a thing, Lizzie spoke up. “I’ll do it!” she said, waving her hand as if she were at school, hoping to be called on. Then, suddenly, she frowned. “Oops. Did you say tomorrow?” She put her hand back down and frowned. “I can’t! Saturday’s the day I volunteer at Caring Paws. Phooey!”

Lizzie worked one day a week at the local animal shelter, helping to take care of all the dogs and cats that were waiting to be adopted.

“Awww, too bad,” Charles said cheerfully.
“Guess I’ll do it instead!” Lizzie stuck out her tongue at him, but he didn’t care. He was going to get to help Aunt Amanda!

Just then, the doorbell rang. “That must be Angela!” said Mom. They all got up and went to greet their new foster puppy.

When Mom opened the door, Angela was standing there clutching a pink plastic dog carrier in the shape of a palace, complete with three pink flags flying from three tall towers. Charles thought Angela looked as if she might have been crying, but now she put on a big smile. “Her Majesty has arrived!” said Angela, holding up the carrier so they could see inside. “Here’s my wittle Pwincess!”

Princess sat inside the carrier, nestled on a silky pink blanket. She was wearing another T-shirt, this one with
I’M A PRINCESS
spelled out in pink glitter. There was a matching pink bow in her hair and — Charles could hardly believe his
eyes — the puppy’s teeny-tiny toenails were painted pink, too!

“And here,” Angela said as she handed a thick stack of stapled-together papers to Mom, “is the List.”

“Well, that’s just ridiculous!” Mom said. “For one thing, three cans of Marvelous Morsels cost more than a steak!”

“Our puppies have never eaten that fancy
stuff,” Lizzie agreed. “I don’t even think it’s good for them.”

“Still,” Charles said, “Angela left us a few cans, so we might as well use them up.” He didn’t know what the big deal was. Sure, it would be easier if Princess just ate Baxter’s Beefy Chunks, which Buddy seemed to like just fine. But they had promised to take care of Princess the way Angela wanted them to. Or, at least,
Charles
had promised. He wasn’t sure Angela would have left Princess with them if he hadn’t. And he really, really wanted to foster Princess.

The tiny puppy was sitting on his lap right now, while the Petersons gathered in the living room. Aunt Amanda had gone home, and the rest of them were looking over Angela’s List. “You’ll get your Marvelous Morsels,” Charles told Princess. He stroked her silky ears. “Don’t worry.”

Princess did not seem the least bit worried. She just sat there, accepting Charles’s pats. Whenever he stopped for even a second, she looked up at
him with expectant eyes, lifting one tiny paw and tapping Charles’s arm, until Charles started patting her again. Once, when he was saying something to his mom and didn’t pay attention to her paw, she gave three short, sharp barks.

Hey, you! More patting, less chatting! Did you forget about me, here on your lap?

“Oops! Sorry!” said Charles as he resumed his patting. Angela had probably patted Princess every time she barked, and now the puppy expected that. It was just like Aunt Amanda had said: It wasn’t
Princess’s
fault that she was spoiled. Maybe, since she was so young, she could learn to be
un
spoiled — not that Charles knew how to teach her.

Charles gazed down at Princess. He still could not get over how little she was! Tiny nose, tiny ears, tiny, tiny paws. How could any dog
be
so small? She was smaller than Huey, his class’s
guinea pig! And she hardly weighed a
thing.
If he closed his eyes, he would barely know she was in his lap. But Princess had a big, big personality.

“I don’t know how she does it,” Lizzie said, shaking her head as she looked at Princess. “She’s no bigger than a rat, but it’s obvious that she thinks she’s better than everyone else, like she’s doing us a favor by letting us be in the same room with her.”

“Rat?” asked the Bean, who was sitting on the floor with Buddy sprawled across his lap. He stared at Princess, too. “Pincess not a rat! Pincess is a
uppy!
“

“Lizzie didn’t mean that Princess
is
a rat,” Dad told the Bean. “Princess is definitely a puppy.” He made a face. “Sort of,” he added under his breath. Like Lizzie, Dad was not a big fan of little dogs. He always said they were “kind of
like
dogs,” but “not really good for anything.”

“Well,” said Mom, who had been reading more of Angela’s List, “it’s dinnertime, for people
and
puppies. I’m going to start our supper, and Charles, if you’re going to feed Princess, you’d better get started, too. It’s going to take a while to do it the way Angela spells it out on the List.”

“What do you mean?” Charles asked.

Mom didn’t answer. She just handed Charles the stack of papers. He groaned. There was no way he had time to read through the whole List right now. He’d better stick to the parts about food.

Charles let the List fall to the floor. “Okay,” he said to Princess. “I’ll mash your food. I’ll put up your teddy-bear picture. I’ll pour your spring water. But I am
not
going to talk baby talk to you.”

Princess just gazed back up at him with her tiny black eyes, like two shiny buttons. She tilted her head and gave him a puzzled look.

Blah, blah, blah. I don’t understand what you’re saying — but I
do
know that I’m still waiting for my dinner. What’s taking so long?

Suddenly, Charles had a feeling that he just
might
be talking baby talk, before too long.

Charles was very careful with Princess’s dinner. It took ten times longer than pouring out a bowlful of Baxter’s Beefy Chunks for Buddy, which he also did. And he was a little nervous about whether or not he was doing everything correctly. But when he called, “Princess, dinnertime!” she came scampering right in, her tiny twinkle-toes just a blur of motion. Princess went right to her pink bowl, on the pink place mat, with the pink teddy-bear picture taped up on the
cupboard door above it, and began to eat. She did not seem to notice that he had skipped the baby talk. Maybe Princess wasn’t
quite
so fussy after all.

Mmmm, delicious. Not a single lump. Just how I like it.

Charles watched, fascinated, as Princess nibbled daintily at her food and lapped up droplets of water with her tiny pink tongue. It was kind of true what Dad and Lizzie said: A dog this tiny was
like
a dog, but so, so different from what Charles was used to. Compared to Princess, Buddy looked like a jolly giant, chomping away at his Beefy Chunks and then slurping splashily at his dented metal water bowl while his collar tags clanked against the side.

After the puppies had eaten, the Peterson family had their own dinner. Afterward, Charles played with Buddy and Princess in the living
room, tossing a ratty old sock monkey for Buddy (it was his favorite toy these days) and a miniature pink tennis ball for Princess.
(PLAYTIME: Part One. Princess will play with: A) Her pink tennis ball, or B) The pink butterfly tug toy.)
Both puppies had a great time tearing after their toys and prancing back to Charles with their tails held pridefully high and their prizes clutched in their jaws.

Mom came down after putting the Bean to bed and told Charles it was almost his bedtime, too. “And you’d better read this section,” she said to Charles, pointing to a spot on the List. He looked down at the page and sighed.