Sweetie (3 page)

Every day after school that week, Mom drove Sammy and Charles and Sweetie over to David’s.

Every day she said the same thing to David’s mother — “Are you
sure
it’s okay?” — and explained again about how poor Buddy was having a hard time adjusting to life with Sweetie.

Every day David’s mother said that it was fine, and that the boys were welcome as long as they didn’t bother the cat. She promised to check in often to make sure the boys weren’t “rough-housing too much down there.”

And every day Charles and Sammy and David and Sweetie played circus.

They were getting really good. Sweetie was practically ready to join a real circus. Charles had not told anyone in his family yet, but he was pretty sure that David’s cousin would end up adopting Sweetie. When they found out, everybody would be so happy. Especially Buddy. He was getting a little better about having Sweetie around, but he still barked if he saw her perched on Charles’s lap, and sulked if he saw Lizzie pet her.

The circus game started the same way every day. “Ladeeez and gentlepups,” Sammy announced. He had made a ringmaster’s tall top hat out of black construction paper and a megaphone out of red. “Welcome to the Sam-Char-Da Circus!” (He had made that name up by combining their three names. Charles did not think it was the best circus name ever, but he kept that to himself.) “For your entertainment, we present this evening our star performer,
that delightful dog, that perfect puppy, that completely clever canine: Sweetie the poodle!”

Charles walked out into the middle of the mat-covered floor with Sweetie trotting next to him on a red leash. “Take a bow, Sweetie,” he said as he bowed down himself, and Sweetie copied him. She stuck her two tiny front paws out and stretched in a doggy play pose.

Charles had recently seen Lizzie teach Buddy to “take a bow” just by saying those words whenever he stretched that way, and then giving him a treat for a reward. Soon Buddy learned to bow whenever he heard the command. So Charles had taught Sweetie, too. It was the perfect trick for a circus dog. Every time she did it, the crowd (Charles, David, and Sammy) went wild.

Then the tricks began. Sweetie could already shake hands, bark on command, sit up pretty, and even take three or four steps on her hind feet. Charles ran through all her tricks with her
and then moved on to the really flashy stuff. Sweetie was getting better and better at jumping through the hoop, even if he held it up really high.

Charles could tell that Sweetie loved every minute of it. She loved doing the tricks, she loved the attention and the applause, and she loved the treats and the kisses and hugs she got every time she did something special. She was so happy that sometimes she just dashed around in wild circles with her eyes shining and her fluffy ears flapping wildly. She barked and barked and wagged her tail and barked some more.

This is the most fun I’ve ever had. I was born to be a performer!

“Boys!” David’s mom came down the stairs to check up on them. “Try not to get Sweetie overexcited. Slinky can hear the barking and it makes her nervous.” She gave David a look. “I
hope you boys aren’t up to anything dangerous,” she said.

All three boys shook their heads. What could be dangerous about playing circus?

On Thursday afternoon, David mentioned that his cousin would be arriving in a few days.

“We need a really special trick, to knock his socks off,” said Sammy.

They all thought for a few minutes. “Got it.” David snapped his fingers. “Let’s make a human pyramid.”

Charles didn’t know what that meant until David explained. “We used to do it at my camp last summer. You guys get on your hands and knees, next to each other. Then I’ll climb up so that one of my hands and one of my knees is on each of your backs.”

“Why do you get to be on top?” Sammy asked.

“I’m the littlest,” David said.

Sammy and Charles looked at each other and shrugged. “Okay,” said Charles, even though
he wondered if this might be what David’s mother called roughhousing. “C’mon, Salami.” He dropped to his hands and knees. Sammy did the same, right next to Charles. Then David climbed on top. David’s bony knee dug into Charles’s back. But when Charles raised his head to glance in the mirror, he could not believe how totally cool they looked.

“Now let’s see if Sweetie will climb up on top of me,” David said.

“I don’t know —” Charles began, but David was already calling the puppy.

“Sweetie, up!” he said.

Sweetie ran over and jumped, and Charles felt her step lightly on his back for just a moment before she scrambled up onto David’s.

“Whoa!” Sammy checked the mirror. “This is the best trick yet.”

“This rocks!” David agreed.

“Except that my back is killing me. I can’t hold you up anymore.” Charles groaned and sank onto
his belly. His face was squashed into the plastic-smelling mat. David tumbled onto the mat, laughing, and Sweetie sprang off and landed as lightly as a leaf. A second later, she licked Charles’s face.

Wake up, sleepyhead!

The pyramid was the coolest circus trick yet. They practiced it over and over. Charles put on a thick sweatshirt so that David’s knees wouldn’t stick into him so badly. Sammy made up a whole speech about the Amaaaazing, One-of-a-Kind, Never-Before-Seen Human Pyramid Topped by a Poodle! And David kept coming up with ideas to make the pyramid better and better.

They were trying one out, with David
standing
on their backs, one foot on Charles and one foot on Sammy. He had just called Sweetie to see if she would jump into his arms, when the door at the top of the stairs popped open.

“It’s a little
too
quiet down there.” David’s mother started down the stairs, a dish towel in her hand. “What are you boys up to?”

But before she made it down far enough to see them, something else happened. Charles saw a flash of brown on the stairs near her feet. He heard a startled yowl. Slinky! The cat’s curiosity must have gotten the better of her. Sweetie took off toward the stairs, chasing madly after the terrified cat.

“Whoaaa,” David cried as he lost his balance. He fell backward, and Charles heard a dull clunk.

When Charles jumped up and turned around, he saw David lying on the floor near the treadmill, holding his head in his hands. “Oww!” wailed David as his mother rushed down the last few steps.

“Are you okay, honey?” she cried.

David reached out for her. “Mom!”

Then Charles saw the blood.

David’s mom knelt at his side and held the dish towel to his bleeding head. Sammy knelt, too, and patted David’s shoulder. Charles stared at them. He felt as if he’d been frozen in a block of ice, like he couldn’t move his hands or feet. Wasn’t there something he could do?

David moaned.

“Charles! Go upstairs and call nine-one-one,” said David’s mother.

Of course. He should have thought of that before. He forgot about being frozen and dashed to the stairs. He started up, taking them two at a time.

“Take it slow, Charles!” called David’s mother. “We don’t need another accident.”

Charles slowed down a teensy bit. Upstairs, he ran to the kitchen phone. Way back when he was the Bean’s age, his dad had taught Charles about calling 911. Dad had always told him that for real, true emergencies when you needed help fast, dialing 911 was the best way to call the police, or firefighters, or an ambulance. He knew that you should never call 911 just for fun or as an experiment to see what would happen. But this was definitely an emergency. So for the very first time, Charles was about to punch those numbers into a telephone.

He took a deep breath to calm himself down, the way Dad had taught him. He got ready to listen, because he knew that the dispatcher, the person who answered the phone, would have some questions for him. Then he punched in the three numbers: 9-1-1.

Later it was hard to remember everything he had said. He knew he had told the dispatcher that there had been an accident, that his friend
had hit his head on something. He knew he had told her David’s address (that was easy to remember, because it rhymed: 42 Meadow View) and phone number. By the time he’d answered her questions, she’d told him that help was already on its way.

Sure enough, only a few moments after he hung up, he heard a siren coming closer. Charles ran to the front door so he could wave to the ambulance and let them know they were at the right house. His heart pounded.

The ambulance pulled up in front of the house, and three people in blue jumpsuits piled out. Charles knew all of them. They were firefighters from his dad’s station. Like his dad, they didn’t just fight fires. They were also EMTs, emergency medical technicians, who were trained to take care of medical emergencies. If Dad had been on duty that afternoon, he might have been there, too.

“Charles!” Meg Parker was the first one up the porch steps. “Are you okay?”

Charles nodded. “I’m fine. But my friend David fell and hit his head.”

“Show me where he is.” Meg was all business.

The two other EMTs, Andy and Scott, ran up. Andy had a big orange duffel bag slung over one shoulder, and Scott carried what looked like a long blue surfboard. Charles led them all down to the basement, and without any extra talking they knelt around David and began to check him out.

“That was fast,” Sammy whispered to Charles. He cradled Sweetie in his arms, and his face was pale. Even Sweetie seemed to know that something serious was going on. She didn’t wriggle or struggle, and when Sammy handed her to Charles, she just quietly licked his face and then settled down in his arms. Charles took her leash out of his pocket and clipped it onto her collar,
just in case. They did not need a poodle puppy running around.

David’s mom stood and watched the EMTs. Her face was even whiter than Sammy’s.

Finally, Meg rose to her feet. “David is going to be just fine,” she said. “He’s got a nasty cut that may need some stitches, and since he did hit his head, we’ll move him very carefully. We’ll use the backboard to carry him up the stairs.” She gestured to Scott, who laid the surfboard thing down next to David.

Charles inched a little closer so he could watch. The EMTs worked fast. They bandaged the top of David’s head in white gauze and strapped him to the board. At one point, he opened his eyes and looked straight at Charles. David did not look scared. In fact, he even gave Charles a little smile. “Take care of Sweetie,” he said.

“I will.” Charles gave Sweetie a kiss on the head as he and Sammy watched the EMTs carry David up the stairs. David’s mother
followed close behind. Suddenly, Charles thought of something. David was on his way to the hospital — and his mom would go, too, which would leave Sammy and Charles alone at the house. “Maybe I should call my mom to come get us,” he said to Sammy.

But when they got upstairs, there was Charles’s dad, already talking to Meg. He ran over to Charles, knelt down, and gave him a big strong bear hug. “David’s going to be fine,” he whispered into Charles’s ear. “I’m so glad you’re safe. When my beeper went off and I heard there was an ambulance on its way to this address —” He stopped and shook his head. “I’m just glad everyone’s okay.”

The EMTs put David into the back of the ambulance and drove off with their lights flashing. David’s mother followed in her car.

Charles and his dad and Sammy just stood there for a moment, without talking. Charles realized that his legs felt shaky. Then he realized
something else: Sweetie wanted to get down and run around.

She gave a little bark and began to wriggle in Charles’s arms. He put her down on the ground. “You were a very, very good girl,” he said.

“You did pretty well yourself.” Dad ruffled Charles’s hair. “I’m proud of you.”

Later, when Mom heard the whole story, she was proud, too. But at dinner that night, she also gave Charles quite a lecture about being more careful. “This is exactly why I worry about you boys getting too wild,” she said. “You can be having fun one minute, and the next minute somebody can wind up —”

Luckily, just then the phone rang. It was David’s mother. “Everything is okay,” she told Charles. “David had some stitches in his head, so he looks like Frankenstein’s monster, and they want to keep him at the hospital overnight just to keep an eye on him — but he feels fine. I’m going to pick him up in the morning, and I
thought you and Sammy might like to come along.”

“Definitely,” said Charles. “That would be great.”

“And, Charles” — David’s mother’s voice grew softer — “thanks. You really helped out.”

“Maybe we should forget about the circus game and go back to boodja-ball.” David smiled weakly. “It’s safer.”

It was the next morning, and Sammy and Charles stood near the bed in David’s hospital room while his mom talked to a nurse just outside the door. Charles shifted from foot to foot, feeling uncomfortable. It was weird to see David lying there with a big white bandage on his head. Charles was half disappointed and half relieved that he could not see David’s stitches. He wasn’t sure what to say or how to act. He had not spent a lot of time in hospitals before. He looked at Sammy. Maybe Sammy would think of something to say.

Sammy stared down at the floor.

“Boodja-ball sounds good,” said Charles. “Um, I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“It’s not your fault,” David said. “I’m the one who came up with the whole crazy idea to stand on your backs.” He grinned. “Anyway, I’m fine. I’m just happy I get to go home. The food here is terrible.” He pointed at a tray on a table next to his bed. “They call that French toast?”

Sammy perked up. “French toast?”

“You can have it if you want it,” said David. “I couldn’t eat it.”

Sammy went over and started to poke at the leftover breakfast.

Charles shook his head. Sammy would eat anything.

David’s mom came into the room. “Ready to go home?” She ruffled David’s hair. “As soon as the nurse says you’re free to leave, we’ll get you out of here.”

“All right!” said David.

There was a knock at the door. “Hello?” A smiling redheaded woman with a freckled nose leaned into the room. She gave a little wave. “It looks as if you already have visitors — want another?” She gestured to a big curly-haired brown dog who stood next to her. “I’m Jamie, and this is Tate. He’s a therapy dog and he loves to visit people in the hospital.”

Charles recognized Jamie right away. She was the puppy kindergarten teacher! He had met her when he and Lizzie had taken Rascal, a wild little puppy they had fostered, to her class. Jamie was a great dog trainer: patient and caring and always ready to crack a joke.

“Cool!” said David. “Come on in, Tate.”

Tate trotted right into the room and headed straight for David’s bed. He put his front paws up on the bed, very gently, and let David pat him.

“He’ll give you a kiss if you ask for one,” Jamie said. She smiled encouragingly at David.

“How about a kiss, Tate?” asked David. Tate
leaned forward and nuzzled David’s cheek. He looked huge compared to Sweetie.

Charles couldn’t believe there was a dog in the hospital. Lizzie had told him about therapy dogs who were trained to visit people in hospitals and nursing homes, but he had never met one before. “Can we pet Tate?” he asked Jamie.

Jamie turned to look at him. “Hey, I know you. Charles, right? Your family fosters puppies. You brought one to my puppy kindergarten class.” She grinned and shook her head. “Rascal. That Jack Russell terrier was one of the few dogs I have ever had to kick out of class. But I know you found him a great home anyway.” She gestured to Tate. “Of course you can pet him. Tate loves attention.”

Charles and Sammy went over and knelt down by Tate. His fur was curly and soft, and he held perfectly still while they petted him. Then he put out his big paw for a shake. “He’s so good,” Charles said.

“Tate is the best,” Jamie said proudly. Charles could tell how much she loved her dog. “That’s partly his personality and partly his training. Therapy dogs have to be friendly, but not
too
friendly — we don’t want them to jump on sick people, or kiss people who don’t like dogs. They have to have good manners, too. Tate is perfect for the job.”

“What’s the idea behind therapy dogs?” asked David’s mother. She came over to pet Tate.

“Having a dog come to visit can really lift some people’s spirits, if they are lonely or sad in the hospital,” Jamie said. “Dogs love everyone, whether they are sick or well, old or young. And most people are happy to be around a dog. A visit gives people something to look forward to. You should see the smiles when Tate and I go to the nursing home. He reminds a lot of older people of the dogs they used to have. Plus, he gives people something to think about besides being sick or lonely or hurting.”

“Does Tate have special training?” David’s mom asked.

“Oh, yes,” said Jamie. “Besides all the manners I’ve taught him, and the tricks he knows, he also had to learn how to behave on visits and pass a special test before he became a certified therapy dog. Training Tate to be a therapy dog was one of the most challenging and enjoyable things I’ve ever done.”

Charles fingered the tag on Tate’s collar that said
THERAPY DOG.

“What kind of dog is Tate?” asked Sammy.

“He’s a mutt, a mixed-breed. I think he has some poodle in him. That would explain the curly hair, and why he’s so smart.”

“We know a miniature poodle puppy who is
really
smart,” said David. “She can do a ton of tricks. And she makes everybody smile.”

“She could probably become a good therapy dog, when she grows up.” Jamie clucked her tongue. “Tate, can you show us some tricks?”

Tate could sit, shake hands, roll over, and sit up pretty. But his best trick was when Jamie pretended to sneeze with a big “Ah-choo!” Tate trotted over to a tissue box, pulled out a tissue with his teeth, and brought it to her. David and Sammy and Charles liked that trick so much that they all had to have a turn pretending to sneeze so that Tate could bring them a tissue.

Then, just as Jamie was showing them how Tate could play dead, a nurse came in. “You’re all set, David. You can head home anytime.”

Charles was surprised. He’d had so much fun watching Tate that he’d almost forgotten he was in the hospital. Maybe that was what therapy dogs were all about.

They each gave Tate a hug and said good-bye to him and Jamie. Then Charles and Sammy waited out in the hall while David got dressed and ready to go.

“I’ve got a big surprise for you,” David’s mom
told him on the way home. “Ducky’s coming tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? I thought he wasn’t coming until next week,” David said.

“He wasn’t — until he heard about your accident. He said he figured you could use some cheering up.”

“Cool.” David grinned. “I hope he remembers not to wear his costume.”

His mom laughed.

“What costume?” Charles asked.

“His clown outfit,” said David. “Didn’t I tell you? Ducky is a clown. But he never wears his costume when he visits, because my dad —” He laughed. “Well, believe it or not, my dad thinks clowns are scary.”

Charles looked at Sammy.

Sammy looked back at Charles.

Sammy was the only person in the whole world who knew Charles’s secret: He, too, was afraid of clowns.