Snowball (2 page)

“Well, well, well,” said Dr. Gibson, once they had brought the box into her office. “What do we have here?” She smiled at Lizzie and Charles as she rolled up the sleeves of her flannel shirt. Then she reached into the box and gently lifted the puppy out. “Hello, little sweetie,” she said as she settled him onto a soft, thick blanket she'd laid on her table.

The puppy liked the woman's soft touch and soft voice. Maybe this person would give him some food!

Charles bit his lip. The puppy looked so sick! It wasn't frisky and happy, the way Goldie had been. It just sat there, looking up at Dr. Gibson with
sad eyes. “Is he going to be okay?” Charles asked. “Why is he so quiet?”

Dr. Gibson smiled. “I think he'll be fine,” she said. “He's just underfed and a little dehydrated. That means he hasn't had enough to drink lately, so his body really needs water. Also, he probably has worms. Lots of puppies do. See how his belly sticks out, even though the rest of him is kind of skinny?” The doctor pointed to the puppy's tummy. “That's a sure sign he has worms. No big deal — we'll just give him a couple of pills for that and he'll be better very soon.” As she talked, she was running her hands over the puppy.

“Worms?” Lizzie asked. “Gross!”

Charles thought it was gross, too, but he also knew things like that were just part of having a dog.

“This puppy will perk up fast,” Dr. Gibson said. “Westies are pretty energetic little dogs when they're healthy.”

“I
knew
it was a Westie!” Lizzie said.

“Good for you,” said Dr. Gibson. “You must really know your dog breeds.”

Lizzie beamed.

“I can't imagine why anyone wouldn't want such a sweet puppy,” Mr. Peterson said. “There wasn't any note or anything.”

Dr. Gibson shook her head. “It's such a shame,” she said. “I suppose somebody just felt they couldn't take care of him.”

“So they left him at a
gas
station?” Lizzie asked. She looked mad. “They should have brought him to the animal shelter, at least.”

Charles knew that the shelter was a place where dogs and cats could stay until they found good homes. It wasn't as nice as staying with a family, but at least it was a safe place.

“You're right,” said Dr. Gibson. “But maybe they did the best they could. Anyway, he'll be taken care of from now on. I can see that.”

“We're just his foster family,” Lizzie explained.
“Once he's all well, we'll be looking for a good home for him.”

“I'll let you know if I hear of one,” said the vet. “He should be ready to go to a new home within a couple of weeks.”

Charles didn't say anything. How could Lizzie be so ready to give this dog up? His fur was so soft and his eyes were so black. Charles couldn't believe how cute the puppy was. He looked just like a stuffed toy, only he was real! Even if he was only going to be a foster dog, not a forever dog, Charles hoped they could keep him until the end of Christmas vacation. Once he got better, he would be so much fun to play with!

“We'll give him some shots, too,” said Dr. Gibson, “just to make sure he's covered. I'd say he's about twelve weeks old, which means he's due for his final puppy shots.” Now she was looking into the puppy's cute, pointed ears and checking inside his mouth. “He has a little ear infection — I'll give
you some medicine for that. But you know, he really looks like a fine little pup.”

Just as she said that, the puppy seemed to perk up a bit. He nuzzled her hand and licked it.

“That's the boy,” said Dr. Gibson, laughing. “Does that mean you're ready for your shots?” She turned to Charles. “How about if you hold him while I get everything ready?”

“Really?” Charles stepped forward, and Dr. Gibson picked up the puppy and put him into Charles's arms.

“If you snuggle with him and distract him, he probably won't even feel the shot,” she said.

Charles held the puppy carefully. “It's okay, little guy,” he whispered as he stroked his fluffy white fur. “We're going to take good care of you.”

Lizzie patted the dog, too.

He looked up at both of them with trusting eyes. Then he licked Charles on the cheek, and Charles could smell his sweet puppy breath.

“There! All done,” said Dr. Gibson. Charles had
hardly noticed her giving the shot, and the puppy hadn't noticed at all. “Let's give him some food and water. If he eats okay, you can take him home tonight. Otherwise, I'll have to keep him here.”

A few minutes later, Charles held his breath as the vet put the puppy down on the floor next to the food and water she had prepared. Would he eat?

Finally! Food! The puppy wondered why it had taken these people so long to figure out what he needed.

The puppy went straight for the food. In fact, he walked right into the dish and put his whole face into it! After he had eaten every speck of his dinner, he licked off his paws and his whiskers. Then he waded into the water dish and took a big, long drink. He sneezed when he was finished.

Everybody laughed.

“I think you can take this guy home,” Dr. Gibson said to Mr. Peterson. She told them to give him
some more water and some food when they got home — not a lot to start, but plenty of small meals — and see how he did. She said they might be surprised at how quickly he improved with a little care. “If you have any questions or concerns, you can call me anytime,” she finished.

“Sounds great!” said Dad.

“Can we give him a bath?” Lizzie asked. “He looks so grungy.”

“I think that should wait for a day or two,” said Dr. Gibson. “But as soon as he seems a little livelier, a bath would be an excellent idea.”

“Thanks, Dr. Gibson,” said Charles as she helped him put the puppy back into the box for the ride home.

“My pleasure,” she said, reaching in to give the pup one more pat.

When they got home, Charles helped his dad carry the box into the kitchen.

“Uppy!” yelled the Bean when he saw them come in.

“Better hold him, Mom,” said Lizzie. “Dr. Gibson says some terrier puppies take a while to get used to younger kids. Anyway, this puppy needs to get better before he'll want to play.”

But the puppy surprised them all. As soon as they put down the box, he tried to climb out! With a little whimper, he wriggled and squirmed and pawed at the sides of the box. Then Charles picked him up and put him on the floor.

“Wow, he's feeling better already,” Charles said. He watched happily as the little pup began to roam all over the kitchen, acting as if he belonged there. Then the puppy plopped down on his little behind and looked up at them expectantly. He gave a couple of bossy little barks.

The puppy wanted the people to know it was time for more food. After he ate, he would explore some more. He thought this place was interesting. He was going to enjoy being in charge of it.

Over the weekend, the puppy got better and better. Charles and Lizzie gave him his worm medicine, and they fed him lots of little meals. If they waited too long before feeding him, he would bark his high, short barks to remind them. They kept his ears clean and put on the special cream Dr. Gibson had given them. They made sure the puppy always had plenty of water, even if it meant they had to watch him all the time so he didn't “make a mistake” inside the house. And he never did — not once!

“I have to admit, this is one smart pup, even if he
is
just a little dog,” said Lizzie. “Maybe we should name him Einstein, after the famous scientist.”

The Petersons had been trying to figure out a
good name for the pup ever since they had brought him home.

Mr. Peterson thought they should call him the Sock Bandit, since he kept stealing everyone's socks. Nobody could find a matching pair!

Mom wanted to call him Snuffles, because he spent so much time sniffing everything in sight. He was very curious.

Charles was voting for Fuzzface. Why? Because of the puppy's fluffy coat, of course. That was more of a nickname than a real name.

And the Bean just called him “Uppy!”

But so far, not one of the names had stuck.

“How about No-name?” Sammy suggested on Monday. He and Charles were talking as they — and the rest of Mr. Mason's class — walked over to The Meadows to meet their Grandbuddies for the very first time. It was snowing again, just a little. Charles was hoping for a white Christmas. He liked it when there was enough snow for sledding during Christmas vacation.

“How would
you
like to be called No-name?” Charles answered. “Anyway, he has much too much personality for that. He needs a good name.” Mom said they would know the right name when it came along. Charles hoped that would happen soon.

When they arrived at The Meadows, Charles suddenly felt shy. What were he and Mrs. Peabody going to talk about? As he and his classmates walked into the main building of the apartment complex, Charles tried to think of some topics. Mr. Mason had given them each a list of questions to “interview” their Grandbuddies with, but that wouldn't take long. His visit with Mrs. Peabody was going to last half an hour!

It turned out that he didn't need to worry about what to talk about. From the minute he and Mrs. Peabody met in The Meadows recreation room, they talked about dogs!

“I could tell from your letter that you love dogs,” Mrs. Peabody said as soon as they sat down with their punch and cookies. She was a nice, smiley
lady with white hair. She was wearing jeans and sneakers and a pin in the shape of a dog's head. “I love dogs, too!”

“Do you have one?” Charles asked. He was dying to tell her all about the new puppy, but he knew it was polite to ask questions first.

“Well, not anymore,” said Mrs. Peabody. Her smile disappeared. “When I moved here a month ago, I had to give my dog to my daughter. He wasn't allowed to live with me at The Meadows.”

“That's awful!” said Charles.

“He wouldn't have been happy here, anyway,” said Mrs. Peabody. “He's a big dog, a Saint Bernard. He needs lots and lots of room. My apartment would have been much too small for Bruno. But I do miss him. I loved taking long walks with him every day. He was a good friend, and I could use a friend here. It's a little lonely, being the new person.”

Charles knew how that felt. The Petersons had only moved to Littleton six months ago, and he
had been very lonely until he became friends with Sammy.

Mrs. Peabody reached into her pocketbook and pulled out a photo album. “Here's Bruno at Christmas last year. Don't you love his Santa hat?”

Charles looked through all the pictures. Bruno looked like a great dog. He was really big — he came up to Mrs. Peabody's waist in the pictures! His white, brown, and black coat was beautiful, and he had a huge head with big, sad-looking eyes.

“I have a dog, too,” he said. “At least — for a while.” He explained about how his family was taking care of the Westie puppy until they could find him a good home.

“How wonderful!” said Mrs. Peabody. “You know, I had a Westie when I was a little girl. They need a lot of attention, but they are the smartest, dearest little dogs in the world.” She smiled a little sadly. “Little Snowball. She was a troublemaker, but I adored her.”

“Snowball!” Charles said. “That's a great name. I wish we could find a name like that for this puppy.”

“If you like the name, you can use it,” said Mrs. Peabody. “It would be nice to know there was a new Snowball in the world.” She smiled. “Although the first Snowball would probably throw a fit. She was known as the Queen of Maple Street, and she didn't put up with any nonsense from anyone.”

“That sounds like our puppy!” said Charles, laughing. “He acts like a big dog, even though he's really little.” Charles told Mrs. Peabody more about the funny puppy. As soon as the puppy had started feeling better, he decided he was boss of the whole house. If Lizzie didn't put his food dish down in exactly the right spot, he let her know it! He had a lot of energy, and he wasn't afraid of anything!

Charles was surprised when Mr. Mason came
to tell him that it was time to head back to school. He and Mrs. Peabody had been talking and laughing and having so much fun that the time had gone quickly.

“Bring me a picture of your puppy next time,” said Mrs. Peabody as she walked Charles to the main door. “And wave when you pass by. That's my apartment on the corner right there,” she said, pointing. “They tell me it looks out on the gardens in the summertime, but of course right now there's not much to see. Still, I like to sit by the window and watch who goes by.”

Charles could tell that Mrs. Peabody was a little lonely. “I'll be back to visit soon,” he promised. He gave Mrs. Peabody a hug.

“Oh!” she said. He could tell she was surprised. But then she hugged him back. “Good-bye, Charles,” she said. “Take care of that little Westie!”