by Ellen Miles
“Hi, I’m Layla, Dr. Jo’s assistant.” A young woman in yellow scrubs met them at the door and stuck a hand out for Lizzie to shake. Then she shook with Harper and Ms. Dobbins, too.
Lizzie craned her neck to peek down the hall past Layla. Where was Sparky? She couldn’t wait to see him. This time she’d brought him a toy, a type of bouncy, chewy ball that Buddy loved. She knew Sparky would like it, too.
“Dr. Jo asked me to have you wait in her office,” said Layla. She began to move to a door at the right of the reception desk. Lizzie saw that Harper was looking down the hallway, too. “Um, this way, girls.” Layla smiled at them. “You’ll see Sparky soon, I promise.”
“Can he go home today?” Lizzie asked. “I mean, he doesn’t actually have a home, but you know what I mean.”
“I’ll let Dr. Jo answer that,” said Layla.
Lizzie exchanged a worried look with Harper.
“Please, don’t worry.” Layla must have noticed. She flashed them another smile. “Dr. Jo will explain everything. And it’s really lucky you brought Sparky here. Dr. Jo is the best.”
Lizzie and Harper let themselves be led to Dr. Jo’s office, along with Ms. Dobbins. The space was tiny. It was crammed with file cabinets, a desk covered in papers, two bookcases full of thick books, dog food samples, piles of magazines, and—“Hey, look at those cats!” said Lizzie, pointing to the top of one of the bookshelves. “How did they even get all the way up there?” One cat was gray, with green eyes. The other was black, with a little spot of white on his chest. They looked down with interest at the people who had come into their space.
Layla laughed. “Meet Yogi and Moxie,” she said. “They’re kind of our office mascots. Yogi is the gray one.” She made a kissy noise, and the cats looked down at her, tails twitching. Then Yogi stood up, stretched, and picked his way delicately down from the bookshelf. Moxie took one big leap and landed with a thump in the middle of the desk. Layla scratched each cat under his chin as she reached into the pocket of her scrubs for a treat.
“Please, have a seat,” she said, waving a hand around. “I mean, if you can find somewhere. Dr. Jo is really too busy to ever use this office, so it ends up a little messy.”
Ms. Dobbins perched on a file cabinet. Lizzie leaned on the desk. Harper picked up a pile of books to reveal a stool to sit on. Lizzie reached over to pet Yogi. He pushed his head against her hand, a rumbly purr rising from his throat. Then he nudged at her again until she scooped him onto her lap. “Aw,” she said. “You’re a lovebug, just like Sparky.”
Lizzie was still holding Yogi when Dr. Jo came into the office, wearing a white coat over her scrubs. “Ah, you’ve met our caretakers, I see,” she said. “I always say this place just wouldn’t function right without Yogi and Moxie on board.”
“They’re sweet,” said Lizzie. The weight of the cat in her arms was comforting somehow. But it didn’t distract her from the main thing on her mind. “What about Sparky? How is he? Can I take him home tonight?”
Lizzie saw Harper’s eyebrows go up, as if she was surprised to hear that Lizzie planned to foster Sparky as he healed. But Lizzie plowed ahead. “My mom and dad talked about it last night and agreed that we can foster Sparky. We know he’ll need extra care, but we’re ready.”
Dr. Jo sat down in the desk chair and tented her hands beneath her chin. “Okay, look. I’m not going to make you wait any longer. Here’s the deal with Sparky.”
Lizzie held her breath.
“There’s good news and not-so-good news,” said Dr. Jo. “The good news is that we went ahead and did surgery on Sparky last night, and he came through it beautifully. He’s doing great, and yes—he will be able to leave our clinic tonight.”
Lizzie grinned. That wasn’t just good news, it was great news.
“But here’s the not-so-good news,” said Dr. Jo. “We tried to fix his leg, but … well, we couldn’t. We realized almost right away that it was damaged beyond repair.”
“Mm-hmm,” said Ms. Dobbins, who was nodding as if she’d expected this. “So you had to—”
Dr. Jo nodded. She looked first at Lizzie, then at Harper. “Do you girls know what amputation means?” she asked.
Harper nodded, so Lizzie did, too. But she didn’t really know, not exactly.
“It’s when something gets cut off, right?” asked Harper.
“Exactly,” said Dr. Jo. “When we couldn’t save Sparky’s leg, that’s what we had to do.”
Lizzie couldn’t believe it. Her stomach was in knots. This was terrible. “What? So Sparky only has three legs now?” she asked.
Dr. Jo nodded. “I know, it sounds bad. But do some research. You’ll see. Three-legged dogs can have fantastic lives, just like any other dog.”
“Sparky is a tripawd now!” said Ms. Dobbins.
Dr. Jo smiled. “Yup. And I think he’s going to be just fine with that. Better than dragging that hurt leg around for the rest of his life.”
“I think I saw a video about tripawds,” said Harper.
Dr. Jo stood up. “Look,” she said, gazing right at Lizzie. “I know this is a lot to take in, but let’s go see Sparky and say hi. Then you can go home and learn about tripawds. I think you’ll be very surprised.”
Back in the kennel area of the clinic, Sparky lay quietly on a soft, green bed in a clean kennel. He wore a plastic collar around his neck, a big cone that encircled his head. “That’s to keep him from licking or biting at himself as he heals,” said Dr. Jo.
That was when Lizzie let her eyes go to Sparky’s back right leg. The leg that—wasn’t there! A big white bandage was in its place, over his hip. She felt tears spring to her eyes. “Sparky,” she whispered. She saw his eyes flicker and caught the tiny motion of his tail as he tried to wag it.
“He’s pretty out of it right now,” said Dr. Jo, putting a hand on Lizzie’s back. “He’ll be a bit livelier later on, but when you get him home this evening he’ll still probably just want to sleep.”
Lizzie gulped. She’d been all set to foster Sparky—but that was before he was a tripawd. Suddenly, she felt a lot less sure. In fact, she felt that same feeling she’d felt when he was first brought into Caring Paws. Overwhelmed. Frozen in place. Was a three-legged dog more than she was ready to handle?
“Where’s the puppy?” Charles asked when Lizzie got home. “Mom told me we might have a new foster puppy.”
The knot in Lizzie’s stomach had only gotten bigger on the way home. She shook her head. “Not—not yet,” she told her brother. “He had kind of a big operation. He can leave the vet’s office tonight, but—” Lizzie clammed up. She didn’t want to confess that she was overwhelmed by the responsibility of taking care of a three-legged puppy. For that matter, she didn’t want to have to explain about amputation to her younger brother. He’d probably be even more upset by the idea than she was.
But Charles still had questions. “Did they fix his leg?” he asked.
Lizzie rolled her eyes. Mom must have told him everything. “No,” she said softly. “They couldn’t. They had to, um—”
“Amputate?” Charles asked. “I know all about that. My friend’s cousin has a three-legged dog and he does great. You should see him run all over their yard! He’s faster than most four-legged dogs.”
Lizzie wished she could feel that optimistic. But she couldn’t shake the image of poor little Sparky, curled into a tiny ball with that cone over his head. And the big bandage on his hip … “Where’s Mom?” Lizzie asked. She needed a hug.
“She took the Bean to the playground,” said Charles. “And Dad’s in the garage.”
A Dad hug was just as good as a Mom hug. Lizzie went to find him.
“Hey, sweetie,” he said, looking up from a pile of junk he was sorting. “Awww,” he added, as soon as he saw her face. He stood up and opened his arms. “Come here, sugar pie.”
She ran to him and he held her tightly as she cried into his shoulder. “He’s so little,” she sobbed. “And so sweet.”
/> “But he’s okay?” Dad asked. “Did they save Sparky’s leg?”
Lizzie stood back and shook her head. Then she started to sob again as she explained what had happened.
“That’s really tough. But I hear that three-legged dogs can have great lives,” Dad said.
Lizzie wailed louder. “That’s what everybody says.” She pulled away. “I’m going to my room,” she said. She needed to be alone for a while. She didn’t even want to see Buddy right then, with his four strong, healthy legs.
Dad gave her one more squeeze, then let her go. “Okay, but I’m going to come see you soon,” he said.
Lizzie ran upstairs and into her room, slamming the door behind her. She threw herself down on the bed and cried for a while longer, until she couldn’t cry anymore. Then she lay on her back, wondering why everybody seemed to think it was no big deal that this adorable, tiny puppy had lost a leg.
There was a tap at her door. “Come in,” Lizzie said, expecting her dad.
It wasn’t Dad. It was Mom, back from the playground. “Tough day?” she asked, plopping herself down on the bed.
Lizzie felt like crying again, but she didn’t seem to have any tears left. “Hi,” she said.
“Dad told me about Sparky,” said Mom. “I figured you could use some company.” She lay down next to Lizzie. “It’s awful,” she said. “I can’t stand to see any dog hurting.”
Lizzie sniffled. “And everybody acts like it’s no big deal,” she said.
Mom nodded. “They’re wrong. It’s a big deal,” she said. Then she turned onto her side and looked into Lizzie’s eyes. “But here’s the thing: He will heal, and he will be fine. He won’t even remember that he used to have four legs. He’ll think he’s just like all the other dogs.”
Lizzie rolled over so she didn’t have to look at her mom. “I’m not sure I can handle fostering him,” she said into her blanket. “I think maybe this girl Harper should take him instead.”
Mom just laughed. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “You have so much experience taking care of puppies. We’ll all help, and it’ll be just fine.” She put a hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. “Now, come on. Get up and come with me. I want to show you something.”
Reluctantly, Lizzie followed Mom down to her study, where Dad and Charles sat at the computer. “Check it out, Lizzie!” said Charles. “Watch this guy run!”
Lizzie peered over Dad’s shoulder to watch the video of a bunch of dogs racing along a beach. They were so happy and free! Then the camera zoomed in on one of the dogs, a small brown-and-white pup that reminded her of Sparky. Lizzie gasped. That dog, who was darting here and there as he chased the waves, had three legs.
It was one thing to hear people say it, but it was another to see it with her own eyes. The video finished, and another one started. Another bunch of dogs, this time at a dog park. They chased and ran and wrestled. Again, the camera zoomed in, on a smallish Lab mix with a shiny black coat—and three legs. Lizzie couldn’t help smiling. The dog’s tail whipped back and forth as she played. Her eyes shone with happy mischief as she grabbed a stick and ran with it, zooming around the fenced area with the other dogs chasing her.
“Just like any other dog,” Lizzie said out loud.
Dad eased his way out of the office chair and let Lizzie take his place. She clicked on another video, and another. Then she found a website all about tripawds, and started reading. She didn’t even notice when the others left the room. And when Dr. Jo called a few hours later, Lizzie was ready. She was ready to bring Sparky home.
Once again, Lizzie and Harper sat in the backseat of Ms. Dobbins’s car, with Sparky nestled between them on a soft bed of blankets. Dr. Jo and Layla waved as they drove away from the surgeon’s office. “We’ll see you in a week for a checkup,” called Dr. Jo. “Call if you have any questions or concerns.”
Lizzie stroked Sparky’s delicate little nose. She loved the white stripe that ran between his eyes. He blinked at her and yawned.
Ooh, I sure am sleepy. Actually, maybe I’m asleep. But I think I’m having a wonderful dream about being together with all my favorite people again.
“Do you think he remembers us?” Harper asked.
“No question,” said Lizzie.
“Absolutely,” agreed Ms. Dobbins. “Did you see the way he was sniffing at my sleeve?” She stopped for a red light and turned back to look at him. “Aww, the cutie. Don’t worry, hon—we’ll get you settled in at the Petersons’ and you can get the rest you need. They’ll take good care of you.”
Lizzie was glad that Ms. Dobbins and Harper were coming with her as she brought Sparky home. The puppy’s sleeping spot was already all set up for him: a crate in Lizzie’s room with all the softest blankets they could find. Lizzie was happy that he would be sleeping in her room, where she could keep a close eye on him. They’d set up another bed in the den downstairs, where he could be closer to the daytime family action but still in his own spot, separate from Buddy. He wouldn’t be able to run and play until he was healed.
“That’s often the problem,” Dr. Jo had said. “These dogs are usually eager to get back to their lives, but it’s better if we keep them pretty quiet for the first week or so. We’ll see how he’s doing next week. By then maybe he’ll be ready for more activity. He’s young and healthy, so I think he’ll heal quickly.”
Sparky was welcomed by a very hushed greeting committee: Mom, Dad, and Charles met them at the door, speaking in quiet voices and moving carefully. The Bean hung back, behind Mom’s knees, staring wide-eyed at the big bandage on Sparky’s hip. Lizzie had already explained to her youngest brother that Sparky had a boo-boo and wouldn’t be able to play for a while. “He can’t even play with Buddy,” Lizzie had told the Bean. “We are going to have to keep the puppies separate for a while.” Lizzie knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but thanks to all the help she’d had, she did feel ready.
“Are you sure it’s okay to have him here?” Ms. Dobbins asked Mom. “I wish I could take him, but I’m away at work for such long hours every day, and I don’t think he should be at Caring Paws with me so soon after surgery.” She reached out longingly to pet Sparky’s little head.
Mom nodded, patting Ms. Dobbins’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine here, and you’re welcome to visit whenever you like.”
As Dr. Jo had predicted, Sparky slept all that evening. After supper, Lizzie carried him out back and helped steady him while he peed. Then they went up to her room, and he slept soundly through the whole night. When she woke in the morning, she remembered right away that he was there. She sat up in her bed and looked over at Sparky’s crate. He was awake, his head up and alert. He stared back at her with his ears perked and his head tilted.
Whew, that was quite a nap. Now what should we do?
The little dog began to struggle to his feet. “Sparky, wait!” Lizzie said. She threw off her blankets and jumped out of bed so she could help him.
From that moment on, it was hard to keep Sparky still. Sure, he took long naps every day, according to the reports Mom gave Lizzie each afternoon when she got home from school. “But he always perks up when Ms. Dobbins comes to visit,” she’d add.
Ms. Dobbins was a regular visitor, showing up every day on her lunch hour. She brought a new kind of treat every day, and fluffy toys, and a really fancy new collar—red leather with silver hearts on it. “I think those visits are the high point of his day,” Mom said toward the end of the week. “He just loves to cuddle and kiss and sit on someone’s lap.”
Lizzie couldn’t help feeling a little left out, even though she had plenty of time with Sparky in the mornings and evenings. It was never easy to leave their foster puppies at home when she had to go to school, and this time it was harder than ever. One day, Harper came over and spent practically the whole day with Sparky. That wasn’t fair!
Every day, Lizzie raced home, eager to see how Sparky was doing. And every day, he was better and better. They still weren’t letting him go up and down stairs,
but he could walk from the den to the kitchen without any help, and as long as Lizzie carried him down the outside stairs he could pee on his own in the backyard. He and Buddy had gotten to know each other, and while Lizzie still wasn’t allowing the two of them to play outdoors, they had enjoyed several naps together on the couch.
On Friday after school, Lizzie burst into the house, already calling for Mom. She’d had a great idea about how they should take Sparky somewhere new, maybe to the playground, so he could start getting used to different places. “Mom!” she yelled as she squatted to pet Buddy in the front hall. “Mom, where are you? And where is Sparky?”
Mom came down the stairs from her office. “Ms. Dobbins took him to Caring Paws,” she said.
“What?” Lizzie stared at her. “Like, she’s going to let someone adopt him already?” Lizzie wasn’t ready for that.
Mom shook her head. “Oh, no, nothing like that. She just thought Sparky was ready for a change of scene, since he’s doing so well. She said she made him a nice little nest in a crate by the reception desk, where he can watch people come and go.”
Lizzie was quiet for a moment. It was funny that Ms. Dobbins and she had come up with the same idea—but Lizzie was disappointed that Sparky wasn’t there to greet her.
“Sparky will be back by dinnertime,” Mom said. She must have noticed the way Lizzie’s face had fallen. “In the meantime, I’m sure Buddy would love to play with you.”
Lizzie nodded, pulling Buddy toward her for a hug. She knew Ms. Dobbins had done the right thing, but still, she missed Sparky. She’d fallen in love with the spunky little pup—and she was starting to get the feeling that somebody else had, too.
That night, Ms. Dobbins brought Sparky back to the Petersons’ just before dinner. “He had a great time,” she reported, “and everybody loves him.” She told them how Sparky, safe inside a cozy kennel by the reception desk, had greeted each visitor to Caring Paws with happy yips and tail wagging. “You’re a real people person, aren’t you?” she asked the pup in her arms.