Pugs and Kisses

by J. J. Howard

  For Aimee.

  Thanks for believing, starting way back in our circus days.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1: Noah’s Ark Theory

  2: A Pug Named Pancake

  3: Paper Mache Is Not Waterproof

  4: Someday = Monday

  5: Fake Fish Emergency

  6: I Didn’t Choose the Pug Life … the Pug Life Chose Me

  7: The Principle of Least Astonishment

  8: Pug in an Ugg

  9: Delicious Dog Eggs

  10: Lost

  11: The Ruffle Monster

  12: Now You Have to Find Your Own Pink Guy

  13: Absolutely Attached to Alliteration

  14: Don’t Leave Me

  15: Incomplete Fairy Tale

  16: It’s a Sister Thing

  17: Order of Operations

  18: Worse Than Lying

  19: For the Best

  20: Hope

  21: You’ve Got Everything You Need

  22: Calvin’s NYC

  23: Completely Perfect

  Acknowledgments

  Sneak peek at Sit, Stay, Love

  About the Author

  Copyright

  I know it’s weird to wake up early on a Saturday, but this wasn’t just any Saturday; it was my birthday. And once I opened my eyes, I was totally awake.

  I sat up in bed and thought: This could be the year when my wish for a dog of my own could come true. Because I had more than just a wish—I had a plan.

  In our family, we have two birthday traditions: one, the breakfast cupcake, and two, you get to pick one place you want to go. This year, I wasn’t picking a restaurant or a movie or a store. My place was going to be the dog shelter on Avenue B. I’d checked the other day, and they had tons of puppies. I hadn’t let myself look too closely at any of them—I didn’t want to accidentally fall in love with one of their cute, furry faces, just in case my plan didn’t work out.

  I got out of bed quietly, so as not to wake up my older sister, Talisa, who was asleep in her bed across our room. I went into the bathroom to wash up, and as I peered at my reflection in the mirror, I wondered if I looked any different now that I was a year older. But I had to admit that I looked pretty much the same: shoulder-length wavy brown hair; brown skin; light brown eyes … and still very short. I hadn’t had a birthday growth spurt overnight, that was for sure.

  I returned to my room and got dressed in the semi-dark, thinking about the next part of my plan. Even though Mom had been saying “no dogs allowed” for as long as I’d been alive, I had science on my side. Or at least, a theory of my grandmother’s. When my sister and I were little, Abuelita Elena used to tell us about her “Noah’s Ark theory.” She said that, just like the animals on the ark, everything works better in pairs.

  Now, I don’t have a dog of my own, but I do help take care of a dog almost every day. Osito is an adorable black pug that belongs to my upstairs neighbor Mrs. Ramirez. Mrs. R is in her sixties, and she had to have surgery on her back last year, so she has trouble with the stairs in our building. I help her out by walking Osito and taking him to the dog run in the park for some exercise. But Osito’s been kind of down lately. He and I are very close, so I can tell. I think he needs to be part of a pair. If I had a dog for him to hang out with in the building he wouldn’t be alone anymore. Both Osito and Mrs. R would be happier. And me, too, of course.

  The problem is, Mom’s not the hugest fan of my spending so much time with Osito. But she never says I can’t take him out, because she knows Mrs. R needs the help.

  I tied my sneakers, glanced at the time, and decided I’d have a quick bowl of cereal before heading upstairs to get Osito for his walk. Then I remembered—no boring old cereal today! There was a delicious cupcake from Butter Lane waiting for me in the kitchen. Mom always left the birthday cupcake sitting at your place at the table. I dashed out of my room, went straight to the kitchen and over to my spot at the table, and saw … no cupcake.

  Instead, there was a note from Mom. And not a happy-birthday note, either.

  I felt all the excitement whoosh right out of me. Had Mom forgotten my cupcake? Or worse, had she been so busy preparing for Tali’s future birthday that she’d completely forgotten mine? What if everyone had forgotten? Things had been pretty crazy around here, with everyone getting ready for the huge party to celebrate Tali’s fifteenth birthday. And yes, a quinceañera was a big deal … but still.

  I stood in the silent kitchen for a moment, feeling lonesome. I knew that Mom was still sleeping, and my dad had left already; he works at a bank and sometimes has to go in on Saturdays. With a sigh, I grabbed Mom’s note and balled it up, shoving it into the pocket of my jacket. Suddenly I felt like getting out of the apartment as fast as possible. I poured some dry cereal into a plastic baggie and decided I’d eat my non-special breakfast in the park. So far this birthday wasn’t off to a great start.

  I walked upstairs to Mrs. Ramirez’s apartment and knocked on the door.

  “Hi, Ana—come on in—you can use your key!” Mrs. R called.

  As soon as I pushed open the door, Osito sprang up from where he’d been lying on the floor. He barreled toward me at top speed, jumping up on his short legs to try to greet me. I knelt down and giggled as he licked my face. When he settled down a tiny bit—just enough to stop licking me—I kissed the top of his head and rubbed his little ears. His short fur felt soft and silky to the touch. His round black eyes gazed up at me in adoration and I couldn’t help cooing at him that he was such a good boy.

  Osito gave a happy puppy sigh, then flopped back down on the floor.

  “Hola, Ana,” Mrs. R said from where she was lying on the couch. “He’s been moping all morning. I’m glad you’re here to take him out for some fresh air.”

  I nodded, getting to my feet and grabbing Osito’s harness off the wall hook. The pug got back up and his tail wagged. He didn’t seem as energetic as usual, though. I remembered when I first started walking him and every time I reached for the harness, he’d do a happy dance. This dog definitely needed a friend.

  “I’ll take him to the park, and I also need to go by Mr. Levy’s for my mom,” I said. “Do you want me to bring you anything?”

  “No, I’m fine, mija. Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “I don’t mind at all. I love spending time with the little guy.”

  “Oh, Ana?” Mrs. R said just as I was opening the door, Osito at my heels. “Isn’t today your birthday? Happy birthday!”

  “Thanks, Mrs. R,” I said, smiling back at her. At least someone remembered!

  Osito and I headed downstairs and outside. The morning air was chilly, but it felt good after the stuffiness of Mrs. R’s apartment. She’d said that she was feeling fine, but it seemed to me that she was a lot more subdued than when I’d first known her, too. Maybe Osito was picking up on his owner’s feelings, and that was why he seemed a little blue.

  I stopped in to Mr. Levy’s shop on the way to the park and picked up the piñata Mom had ordered. With that errand taken care of, my spirits began to lift, and so did Osito’s. We entered the park, and Osito barked happily as we approached the enclosed dog run area. I smiled. It was a crisp, bright day, and I was determined to shake off my disappointment from the morning. Nothing could bring me down!

  And then, as if the universe had heard my thoughts, it suddenly started to rain.

  It wasn’t just any sort of a rain, but a real downpour. Osito and I were already in the dog run, but everyone else around us—dogs and owners—began to scatter like leaves in the wind. I didn’t know where to run off to; the storm was right on top of us.

  The wind whipped my hair out of its ponytail holder
. My hair flapped in front of my face, making it hard to see. The rain pelted against my skin; my clothes were already half soaked. On top of all that, I was wrestling with the giant shopping bag that contained the piñata.

  Things went from bad to worse as Osito spotted another dog and took off running toward it. His soaking-wet leash slipped right through my fingers. All I could see of the other dog was a flash of tan fur. I yelled for Osito to come back, but the wind seemed to steal my voice away.

  I saw another shape coming toward me and realized it must be the other dog’s owner. As the figure got closer I saw it was a boy who looked to be about the same age as me.

  The boy reached out for his tan-colored dog, but it slipped out of his grasp and headed straight for Osito. The two dogs sniffed each other’s rears in classic dog fashion, and then Osito rolled onto his back and the other dog jumped on him. They rolled around happily like two puppies. I gasped when I realized that the other dog was also a pug.

  The two pugs kept rolling around, tiny tails wagging a mile a minute, as though it weren’t pouring rain and thundering all around them.

  The boy looked at me helplessly and then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a baggie.

  “Treats!” he yelled over a clap of thunder. He took a few biscuits out of the bag and stepped in closer to the dogs. His pug recognized the smell and stopped playing. The boy grabbed his dog, and I went for Osito. I wasn’t taking any chances with the wet leash this time—I grabbed the whole dog.

  “I see a roof over there!” the boy yelled. “Make a run for it?” He pointed to the pavilion outside the dog run.

  I nodded. “Let’s go.”

  I started forward, then realized I’d forgotten my shopping bag. As I tried to figure out how to pick up the bag without putting Osito down, the boy shifted his dog to one arm and grabbed the bag for me. I gave him a grateful smile, and then we were both running toward the pavilion.

  We ducked under the roof, then collapsed onto a bench at one of the picnic tables. It felt good to get out of the pounding rain. I wrapped the end of Osito’s leash around my hand a couple of times, then put the pug down on the ground. I gathered up my wet hair with my free hand and pulled down, slicking out the water like I would if I’d just climbed out of a swimming pool.

  At our feet, Osito and the light brown pug, each on their leashes, started to play again.

  I heard the boy beside me chuckle. “Weird,” he said, nodding toward his dog. “I haven’t seen her like this in a while.” He looked over at me. “That’s Pancake, by the way.”

  “Her new best friend’s name is Osito. And I’m Ana.”

  “Calvin,” the boy said, with a slightly shy smile. “Osito—that’s a cool name.”

  “It means little bear,” I told him. “In Spanish.”

  Now that we were out of the rain I could see the boy, Calvin, clearly. For one thing, I could see that he was very cute. He was white, with brown hair and hazel eyes that looked almost gold. He was also tall, taller than most boys my age. And he was clearly also very chivalrous for a boy my age, considering how he’d grabbed my bag for me. Most of the boys at my school seemed content to walk ahead of you through a door and let it slam in your face.

  I realized I’d probably been staring at Calvin too long and looked away quickly.

  “It’s funny that we both have pugs,” he said.

  “Funny,” I echoed.

  “He does kind of look like a little black bear,” Calvin said.

  “Yep. And Pancake is a perfect pug name,” I told him. “With their flat faces. Plus she’s pancake-colored.”

  “Yeah, I thought the same thing about her color. Pugs are the best, aren’t they?” Calvin asked with a smile.

  And the award for the cutest boy I’ve met so far in life—who loves pugs as much as I do—definitely goes to Calvin.

  I nodded, blushing.

  “Hey, the rain’s almost stopped,” Calvin said. “I can’t believe that storm’s over so quickly.”

  “It must have been a single-cell thunderstorm,” I said without thinking.

  Then I held my breath. Now I’d find out if Calvin was the sort of boy who minded when my know-it-all side came out. Most kids my age didn’t care about the science part of storms.

  “Good thing it wasn’t a derecho thunderstorm,” Calvin agreed without missing a beat. “We could’ve been trapped under here for days.”

  A cute boy who didn’t mind when I rattled off storm facts? In fact, he’d shared one of his own? Okay, he hadn’t pronounced derecho exactly right, but I didn’t even feel the urge to correct him.

  Maybe it was too bad it hadn’t been a derecho thunderstorm. Right at that moment I wouldn’t mind being stuck there with Calvin for an entire day.

  But then my cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to see a bunch of texts from my mom, asking where I was. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed.

  “I should get going,” I told Calvin reluctantly. We stood up from the bench and Calvin picked up my shopping bag again. I couldn’t help but smile as Osito and I followed Calvin and Pancake out of the park.

  On the sidewalk, Osito and Pancake started smelling each other once more, still wagging their short curly tails.

  “Fast friends,” Calvin observed, and for a few seconds I thought maybe he meant us.

  “Do you come to this park often?” I asked. I hadn’t seen Calvin—or Pancake—there before, but didn’t want to admit that. I was trying to act casual.

  “Today was the first time, actually,” Calvin said. “My family just moved to New York City. To this neighborhood. But I know Pancake and I will be back. How about you and Osito?”

  “We come all the time,” I said, bending down to scratch Osito behind the ears. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket again. Mom, for sure. “I have to go home now. Thank you for carrying my bag.”

  “Which way are you headed?”

  I pointed east toward Avenue C. “That way.”

  Calvin looked around for a second; he seemed to be orienting himself. “I think I’m over that way? Ninth Street—off of First Avenue?”

  I nodded. “Yep, you’re the other way. Okay, well, hopefully we’ll see you—and Pancake—soon!” I told him.

  He smiled and handed me my bag back. “Nice to meet you, Ana from Avenue C.”

  “You, too, Calvin from Ninth Street,” I said.

  I watched him turn and head west. Then I started double-timing it back home.

  “Come on, little bear,” I urged Osito, and he did pick up the pace, moving quickly on his small paws. His tail wagged again, and I smiled at the memory of him and Pancake playing together.

  Suddenly, it hit me—during my talk with Calvin, I’d never said that Osito wasn’t technically my dog, that he belonged to my upstairs neighbor. Oh well. I figured I’d set Calvin straight when we ran into each other again.

  Or, rather, if we did. New York was a big city, and there were lots of boys, and lots of dogs.

  I dropped Osito off with Mrs. R, and then dashed back downstairs and into my apartment. I walked into the kitchen and took in the scene of chaos: Bags and boxes were everywhere. It seemed Mom was having one of her control-freak sessions, when she took inventory of all the items she was stockpiling for Talisa’s quinceañera.

  In the middle of the mess stood my sister, drowning in a frothy pink dress that had to be at least two sizes too big.

  “What happened to you?” I asked her.

  Before my sister could answer, Mom appeared, and looked at me in horror. “What happened to you? You’re making a puddle!”

  “I got caught in the storm,” I said. I put the wet bag down on the floor and shrugged out of my soaked jacket.

  Mom tsk’ed and shook her head. She took my jacket and walked it to the sink, just as Talisa started singing.

  “Happy birthday to you,” Tali trilled in her pretty voice, “happy birthday to you, happy birthday, dear Ana …”

  Mom let out a gasp and put a hand
to her mouth. A look of horror crossed her face. Aha. So she had forgotten my birthday. My stomach sank.

  “I’m sorry, mija!” Mom cried, putting the jacket aside and running over to me. “Happy birthday!” She cupped my chin in her hands, frowning, and then kissed my forehead. It made me feel only marginally better. “The cupcake!” she continued, looking guilty. “I meant to set it out last night but it slipped my mind.” She turned to open the fridge and began rooting around inside. “And then this morning I knew you’d be leaving early to walk Osito, and Tali’s dress was delivered, and it does not fit, as you can see …”

  “I thought you forgot to get the cupcake,” I said glumly, hearing the whine in my own voice.

  Mom finally found what she was looking for in the fridge and came back to stand in front of me. She held out a Butter Lane crème brûlée cupcake—my favorite—with a candle in it. “See? I wouldn’t forget tradition.”

  “Thanks, Mami,” I said, taking the cupcake from her. My stomach growled. What with the rain and Calvin and Pancake, I hadn’t had a chance to eat the dry cereal I’d packed for breakfast. Maybe now I could enjoy my birthday cupcake in peace, and …

  “You’re still dripping,” Mom said.

  I sighed and set the cupcake down on the counter. “Well, I can’t really help that, because—soaked,” I explained.

  “I’ll get you a towel,” Tali said, and turned to leave the kitchen in a whirl of pink ruffles.

  “Did you remember to go to Mr. Levy’s shop?” Mom asked.

  “Of course. I went there first.”

  “I need you to pick up the place cards at the stationery shop as well,” Mom said. “But that can wait until tomorrow,” she added hastily, apparently reminding herself—again—that it was my birthday.

  “Another errand?” I groaned.

  “Tali’s quinceañera is a big day for our family,” Mom chided me. “We all need to pitch in. It will be your turn soon enough, mija,” she added.

  “Ugh, don’t remind me,” I said as Tali reappeared. No part of me was looking forward to wearing a dress like that, even if it did fit.