by Ellen Miles
“We’d better hurry,” Dad said. “They’re starting now. I’ll come with you, so I can hold Buddy while you’re being a squirrel. I just hope he doesn’t want to chase you the way he wants to chase the squirrels in our backyard!”
As they crossed the meadow behind their cabin, Charles spotted a kid already way up high, swinging from a tree branch. She was held up by a harness that went around her waist and legs. Charles gulped as he watched her hold out her arms and pretend to fly. “Wheee!” she cried.
Buddy saw the girl, too. He started barking. “It’s all right, Buddy,” Charles said, but he was really trying to reassure himself.
When Charles joined the kids waiting in line, a young woman came up to him. “Hey, I’m Shawna,” she said with a big smile. “Welcome to Flying Squirrel.”
“This is Charles,” Dad said.
“And this is Buddy,” Charles added.
“Aw, Buddy. What a cutie. Can I pet him?” While Shawna scratched Buddy behind his ears, she told Charles all about the activity. “You don’t have to go that high,” Shawna said, motioning to the boy who had been next in line. “You just tell me when you’re ready to fly. Or yell out to the people holding the rope that pulls you up.” She pointed to a group of young men and women wearing fleece jackets with the green Misty Valley logo on the backs. “They can move you higher or lower, whatever you want.”
Charles nodded, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the boy in the harness. He had stretched his arms into a V like a superhero. “Check it out!” he yelled as he soared through the air.
“You know what I can’t wait to see?” Shawna said, sounding excited. “I can’t wait to see Buddy’s reaction when it’s your turn.”
The line moved quickly. It wasn’t long before it was Charles’s turn to put on the gear. Buddy watched as Charles stepped into the harness. The puppy sniffed the tightly woven red fabric and whimpered a little. When it was time for Charles to follow Shawna into the clearing, Dad had to hold Buddy back.
Shawna hooked Charles’s safety harness to the rope with a steel clasp called a carabiner. “Give a thumbs-up when you’re ready,” Shawna directed. Charles nodded. He stood in the middle of the clearing for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. Then he pressed his lips together, closed his eyes, and raised his thumb. Almost immediately, he could feel the pull on the harness. Then, just like that, he was up in the air. He hung there, getting the feel of it, until Shawna called out to him.
“All good?” she yelled. “Thumbs-up?”
Charles didn’t even think about it. He put his thumb way up. Then he raised his other hand and spread both arms way out. The rangers with the rope took several steps back, lifting him higher.
Charles swung back and forth, far above everyone — including Dad and Buddy. He was flying! Far below, Dad waved. He looked just like Dad — only smaller. Charles saw that Shawna had walked over to Dad and Buddy. She bent down and was talking to Buddy, pointing up to Charles. Charles saw how Buddy watched with his ears alert, but he didn’t hear his puppy bark.
It was all over way too soon, and Charles rushed to get back in line for another turn. After his second flight, Dad said it was time to meet Mom for dinner. Shawna headed over when she saw them leaving. “You were awesome, Charles!” she said.
“Thanks,” he said. “It was really fun.”
“Buddy was super impressed. I could tell.” Shawna stroked Buddy’s ears.
“What did you say to him when I was up there?” Charles asked. “What did you say so he didn’t bark?”
“Oh, that’s our little secret,” she answered, smiling at Buddy. “Isn’t it, boy?” Buddy looked up at her with his big, sincere brown eyes. “Well, okay, I’ll tell him.” Shawna nodded and looked back to Charles. “I promised him you would be all right. That’s why he didn’t bark.” Shawna ruffled Buddy’s ears as a good-bye. “Have a great night!” she said as she returned to help the other “flyers.” Charles smiled and waved to Shawna. She had been so nice to him, and she had a special way with dogs, too.
Charles had a feeling he would have a great night — now that he had the perfect home in mind for Bentley.
The next morning, Charles woke up just as the first rays of sun found their way through the window by his bunk. Buddy was nuzzling his cold nose against Charles’s face.
Charles tried to squirm away, hiding his face in the pillow, but the puppy started to lick his ear. Charles giggled and sat up in bed, pulling Buddy into a hug. It was probably time to get up, anyway, since they were going on an early-morning tree-identification hike.
When he looked up, he saw Mom already fully dressed. Dad was still asleep.
Mom took Buddy outside while Charles got dressed. When Charles was ready, she brought Buddy back in to leave him with Dad. Dogs were not allowed in the mess hall.
Everything seemed still as they headed down the gravel path. Their breath lingered in the air like fog. As they got closer, they saw campers of all ages walking out of their cabins and heading for the big building.
Breakfast was amazing. Charles wondered what Lizzie was eating but he didn’t spend too much time worrying about it. He helped himself to pancakes with real maple syrup, scrambled eggs with ketchup, two sausage links, and chunks of juicy melon. Mom stuck to a healthy breakfast of yogurt and granola with banana — but Charles noticed that she kept sneaking bites from his plate.
Charles had seen other campers on their phones, and he figured out that there was Wi-Fi in the mess hall. Since yesterday, he had been thinking of a list of questions about the Weimaraner breed. When Mom went to get another cup of coffee, she loaned Charles her phone. He quickly found a lot of information about Weimaraners. He was not surprised that everything Lizzie had rattled off was true, but the phone gave him even more details. Wait until he told her everything he’d learned! She would have to be impressed.
For example, Charles found out that the Weimaraner breed started in Germany, and that their original breeders used them as hunting dogs. Just as he’d guessed, Weimaraners were high-energy dogs with a lot of endurance — which meant they needed lots of exercise. He also learned that breeders wanted dogs that were loyal, so Weimaraners were very attached to their people. Charles nodded when he read that. That would probably make Bentley a great family dog.
The most interesting thing Charles read was about their intelligence. Lizzie had said that Weimaraners were sometimes smarter than their owners. Now Charles understood what she meant. He read some funny stories about Weimaraners who figured out how to unlock gates, or who made their way into a cupboard to steal extra snacks. “A bored Weimaraner is a dangerous thing!” one owner had posted, along with a picture of an open dog-food bin with a silver-gray dog dozing next to it. Charles laughed.
Mom came back to the table, cradling her coffee mug. Charles could see the steam rising from the top. “Find out anything good?” Mom asked.
Charles showed her the picture, and she laughed.
“The more I read, the more I think Bentley should definitely not be stuck in a crate all day,” Charles told her. “Weimaraners need exercise, and they want to spend time with their people.”
“Well, the first step will be to make sure Mr. Merrick needs our help,” Mom said. “We should make sure he really wants to find a new home for Bentley before we go any further.”
Charles nodded. Mom was right, as usual. Maybe he was getting a little ahead of himself.
“Come on,” Mom said. “Our hike starts soon. We should grab some breakfast for your dad. He’s meeting us with Buddy.”
Charles would have liked to stay and do more research, but that would have to wait. Anyway, after all that reading about dogs, he wanted to see his own little brown puppy.
* * *
The tree-identification hike started at the flagpole, which was on the other side of the camp, close to the Flying Squirrel location. Dad ate his muffin and sipped from a cup of coffee as they walked. Buddy trotted along next to Charles, sniffing at the morning air
.
As the Petersons neared the welcome center, Charles could hear Bentley barking. It was as if the puppy knew a playmate was close by.
“Can Buddy and I go ahead? I could take him to meet Bentley,” Charles told his parents.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Charles,” Mom said. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
“And I think it would be better for the dogs to meet each other outside,” Dad added. “Then they can be on common ground.”
Charles thought about what Dad said. He was right. But as they walked closer to the welcome center, Bentley started barking even louder. Charles really wished the silver puppy could get outside more.
Just then, the door of the center flew open. Bentley appeared, tail wagging like a thick whip. Behind him stood Mr. Merrick, holding the puppy’s leash.
Buddy rushed ahead, pulling his leash tight.
Bentley’s tail went up, and his ears went on alert. He stared at Buddy with his intense blue eyes and grinned a doggy grin.
A friend! At last! I am so happy that another puppy is here. I need to get closer. Now! Hurry up. He’s right there!
Buddy pulled on the leash, yanking Charles along. Bentley dragged Mr. Merrick toward Buddy. It was obvious that both puppies had one thing in mind: they were ready to play!
“Good morning, Mr. Merrick!” Charles said as soon as the two puppies had reached each other. They sniffed and snuffled and pawed at each other happily.
“Morning, Charles,” the camp director said. “This must be your puppy.” He smiled down at Buddy. “Aren’t you a nice-looking dog?” he said as he struggled to keep the leashes from getting tangled.
“Yes, this is Buddy,” said Charles. “I’ve told him all about Bentley.”
Bentley towered over Buddy. Buddy hunched down with his front paws stretched out and his hind end in the air, doing what Lizzie called a “play bow,” when one dog invited another to play. Bentley sniffed him all over and then barked.
Absolutely! Let’s play!
Buddy playfully nipped at the air, and Bentley jumped up on his hind legs, waving his front paws at Buddy.
With his oversized ears, extra-wide paws, and gangly legs, Bentley was clearly a puppy. Still, he was tall! Charles could tell he was going to grow to be a sleek, elegant dog.
“Bentley, no,” said Mr. Merrick. “You’re too big to pounce on Buddy that way.” He knelt down to give the puppy long, reassuring strokes. “I’m sorry,” he said to Charles. “I don’t think he’s been around other dogs much yet.”
“It’s okay,” Charles replied, but he was relieved that Mr. Merrick had stepped in. Bentley was a lot bigger than Buddy, and he might not know how to play nicely with other dogs.
Just then, there was the sound of car wheels on the gravel driveway. An SUV had pulled into the welcome center parking lot. “New arrivals,” Mr. Merrick said. “Bentley, we’ve got to go in.” But when Mr. Merrick tugged on his leash, Bentley began to whine and pull back.
Buddy whined, too. Charles felt bad for both puppies. They had just started to get to know each other. “Come on, Buddy,” he said, pulling gently on his puppy’s leash. “Time for our hike. We’ll see Bentley later.”
But Buddy would not budge.
Charles held Buddy’s leash tight as the puppy strained to get closer to Bentley.
Bentley was sticking firm to his spot, all four feet planted to the ground.
Don’t make me go back in there! It’s so much more fun being outside with my new friend.
“I know, boy,” Mr. Merrick said, “but I’ve got a job to do.” He started toward the welcome center, but Bentley didn’t follow. His whining was louder.
Charles tried again to pull Buddy away. He didn’t want to make it harder for Bentley to leave. Buddy pulled back, toward Bentley.
“How about we take Bentley on the nature hike with us?” Dad said to Mr. Merrick. “He could get some more fresh air, and Buddy would like the company.”
Charles’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! It would be great for both puppies.”
“Oh, no,” said Mr. Merrick. “I don’t want to trouble you.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” Mom assured him.
Mr. Merrick looked over to where a family was piling out of the SUV. Then he looked down at Bentley. Bentley stared up at Mr. Merrick, his forehead wrinkled and his head cocked. He held up one paw.
Please, please, please. I want to stay outside and get to know my new friend. Please, please, please.
“Oh, okay,” said Mr. Merrick, shaking his head and laughing. “How can I resist that face? He does tug pretty hard on the leash, so I think it’s better if one of the adults holds him.” He knelt down to put his large hands on either side of Bentley’s head. “These nice folks are going to take good care of you. I’ll see you soon.”
Charles grinned as they headed off together. This was going to be the most fun hike ever! He couldn’t wait to see the two puppies explore and play together.
While they all waited at the flagpole, the young dogs did just that. There was a lot of sniffing and pawing, and a few happy barks as the puppies wrestled. Charles could have watched them all day, but after a few moments the ranger showed up and said it was time to go.
Once the hike started, the puppies were less interested in each other and more interested in the ground, the rocks, and the trees. They smelled everything. Charles held Buddy, and Dad took Bentley’s leash. The Petersons had to work to keep up with the rest of the group.
It had rained overnight, and the forest floor was still wet. “Watch out for moss on rocks,” the ranger called back to the group. “Moss can be slippery on mornings like this.”
The ranger, who had introduced himself as Logan, seemed to know everything about the forest. He showed them how maple leaves had five points, explained that the leaves of beech trees turn a bright lemon yellow in the fall, and pointed out acorns that had dropped from oak trees.
When Logan showed them a tree with a red-tailed hawk’s nest high in the branches, Mom pulled out her binoculars. “Are you leading the birdwatching walk tomorrow?” she asked.
“Yep, bright and early,” Logan replied.
Just then, they all heard the sound of voices floating up from the other side of a hill. Charles thought it sounded like one of the songs Lizzie had been practicing. Buddy’s ears pricked up, and he lifted his nose. “What is it, boy?” Charles asked.
Before Buddy could even bark, a group of Greenies appeared at the top of the hill. Charles could see Lizzie and Maria near the front of the pack, hand in hand. As soon as Lizzie saw them, she ran down the hill.
“Buddy!” she cried, kneeling down so the puppy could jump into her lap. “How are you, boy? Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”
Bentley whined and tugged on his leash so he could get close to Lizzie, too. He stared at her with his intense blue-gray eyes until she reached out to pet him.
Yes! I love a scratch behind the ears almost as much as I love being outside. This is the best morning!
“Charles told me you were a cutie,” Lizzie cooed to Bentley. She stroked his long silky ears. She giggled as he licked her face. Lizzie cuddled both puppies as she told her family all about her camping trip so far. “We’ve been hiking, and wading in the creek, and eating such great food,” she said. “You wouldn’t believe what you can cook over a wood campfire!”
Charles rolled his eyes. Lizzie thought she was so cool because she was camping. He’d cooked hot dogs and marshmallows over a fire plenty of times — what was the big deal?
“Lizzie, we better catch up,” Maria interrupted, motioning to the rest of the Greenies. The group was heading down a different path.
“Gotta go,” Lizzie said, giving both puppies a final kiss. Then she and Maria ran after the other campers. When she reached the top of another hill, she turned around. “I remembered one more thing about Weimaraners,” she yelled to Charles. “They’re related to bloodhounds! They have an amazing sense of smell!”
“Thanks!” Charles yelled back. He had to hand it to her: Lizzie did know a lot about dogs. He turned to look for Logan and saw that the rest of the group was far down the trail. Charles and his parents hurried along. As soon as they neared the rest of the hikers, Charles realized something was wrong. Everyone stood in a circle, staring down at a little boy who sat on the ground, holding his foot as tears streaked down his face.
“What happened?” Dad asked one of the hikers, a woman in a plaid shirt.
“We were crossing the stream, and this boy slipped on a rock,” she said pointing to the boy. “Slippery moss, just like Logan said.”
Logan examined the boy’s foot. “Does this hurt?” he asked as he touched it gently.
Bentley pulled the leash out of Dad’s hands and bounded up to the boy. He pushed his nose up against the boy’s cheek and wagged his tail, whimpering.
Are you okay? It’ll all be fine. Don’t worry. Don’t even think about your foot. Pet me instead! Pet me! Pet me!
“Bentley!” Dad said.
But the ranger smiled at the silver pup. “You can pet him, Mateo,” Logan said to the boy. “Just let me have a look at that foot.” Logan pressed the boy’s ankle again, and the boy flinched a little. But now Mateo was much more interested in Bentley than his injury. When they were done, Logan gave Bentley’s ears a rub. “That’s a good boy, Bentley. Thanks for the distraction, little guy.”
Charles noticed how good Bentley was with Mateo. The puppy licked the little boy’s face gently and sat calmly as Mateo petted him.
Charles noticed something else, too. He noticed how good Logan was with Bentley. If things didn’t work out with Shawna, maybe there was still hope for finding the pup a great home.
“After that hike I’m ready for a nap,” Dad said after lunch.
“And I want to read my bird book,” said Mom.
“I still want to play capture the flag,” said Charles. Camp was so much fun! “Can Bentley and Buddy stay with you?”
“Of course,” said Mom. “They’ll entertain each other, I’m sure.” Dad had checked with Mr. Merrick to see if Bentley could stay with them until dinnertime since the two puppies were having such a good time together.