by Daphne Maple
3
“See you at the shelter!” Kim called as the four of us parted ways at the intersection of Market and Grove Streets. It was a perfect, brisk fall day, the sun shining on the brilliant red and yellow trees as I waved to my friends and then headed toward Jinx’s house. It was time for another meeting of the Roxbury Park Dog Club and we were doing pickups before gathering at the shelter for an afternoon of doggy fun.
My feet crunched through fallen leaves as I turned on Calico Drive and then up the path to Jinx’s front door. Jinx was a newer club member, a feisty and fun reddish tan mix whose little face had a pointed snout like a fox. When she heard my footsteps coming up to the porch she ran to the door and barked delightedly.
“Hey, Jinx,” I said, locating the house key hidden under a flowerpot and then opening the door. She bounded in excited circles before jumping up and giving me a kiss on the cheek. I bent down and hugged her and was rewarded with another kiss. There was really nothing better than a greeting from a happy dog!
“Let’s go see your friends at Dog Club,” I told her as I snapped on her leash. “And we’re going to get Gus on the way.”
Jinx wagged her tail as though she understood every word, and maybe she did. Kim, our resident dog whisperer, always said dogs perceived more than people gave them credit for. And I always felt like Mr. S knew what I was feeling and thinking.
Gus was a brown lab who lived a few blocks away. His owners, the Washingtons, were some of our favorite clients, always supporting the club in any way they could. It was thanks to Mrs. Washington that the Roxbury Park newspaper had featured our club, and sweet Gus was a longtime club member.
When I turned the key in the lock I heard him running down the hall to greet us. Jinx pushed past me to be the first to say hi to her buddy.
“Your house smells yummy,” I told Gus as I located his leash in the top drawer in the dresser next to the door. Someone had recently baked an apple pie and the sugary cinnamon scent made my stomach rumble. I decided to ask my mom if we could go apple picking at Montgomery Place, the pick-your-own apple farm outside town, that weekend and bake a pie of our own. But then I remembered my extra dance rehearsals, plus the report I still had to work on, and I realized apple picking would have to wait.
The dogs pranced ahead of me as we headed down Main Street toward the shelter. I waved to Carmen Lopez, one of the owners of Sugar and Spice, and then heard someone calling me.
I turned and saw Taylor walking with Humphrey, Popsicle, and my very own Mr. S. Taylor wore a pink denim jacket that looked pretty with her brown skin and matched the pink beads in her braids.
“Hey,” I called as the dogs and I waited for them to catch up.
Mr. S was nearly blind but he knew my voice and my scent, and his whole body wriggled with joy as I knelt down to snuggle him.
“This guy was sure happy to see me,” Taylor said, gesturing to Mr. S and then reaching over to pet Gus and Jinx, who were cheerfully greeting their puppy friends. “He really needed to go out.”
“Yeah. Kim said older dogs need to go out more often,” I said, scratching Mr. S’s soft ears and then standing up so we could get going.
“He’s a lucky guy to have you to take such good care of him,” Taylor said as we walked toward the shelter.
I was the lucky one—nothing made me happier than my Mr. S. But I did have to admit the extra walk had made things a bit harder the day before.
“I wish we could get a pet, but my dad says there are enough of us to feed already,” Taylor said, rolling her eyes at her dad’s silly humor. Taylor’s mom had died when Taylor was little but their house was full with Taylor and her three older sisters.
“Maybe when Jasmine and Tasha move out you can talk him into a puppy,” I said. Jasmine and Tasha were twins, and since they were juniors in high school they were starting to think about college.
Taylor grinned. “I’m hoping I can wear him down before that.”
As we drew close to the shelter, the dogs began moving faster, eager to get inside and start playing. Taylor opened the door and the sound of barking dogs, laughing people, and bouncing balls greeted us. The main room of the shelter was big and open, with a new linoleum floor. There was a small bathroom off to one side, as well as the room where the dog food was stored, though the dogs were usually fed after we left. Alice’s office was up front, while bins of toys were stored on the shelves along one side. The wall on the other side was lined with cages that each had a soft doggy bed and blanket. That was where the dogs slept at night, but they were always open during the day, in case a dog wanted to take a nap or spend a little quiet time alone. Out back was a big fenced-in yard where we often took the dogs to play on warm days like today. After all the stress of the past few days I was eager to get out there and run around with the dogs.
“Hi, y’all,” Taylor said, her musical Southern accent coming out in full force as we waved to Alice, Caley, and Tim. Caley was throwing a Frisbee for Boxer, our resident boxer, who was deeply attached to the green flying disc. Tim was playing fetch with Daisy, a dachshund whose owner dropped her off for club meetings; Gracie, a cream-colored sweetie of a pup; and Big Al, one of the two newest dogs to arrive at the shelter. Big Al was a tiny tan mix with a terrier-like face. He was scared of everything, so Alice had given him a tough name, to help him be brave. Today as he raced after Daisy and Gracie, it seemed to be working. But when I released Gus and Jinx from their leashes and they ran to join the fun, Big Al darted back to his cage and stared out with a fearful expression.
“Poor guy,” Taylor said, walking over to pet him. She’d unleashed Mr. S, Humphrey, and Popsicle, and her camera was slung over one shoulder. Taylor was our official club photographer, while Kim wrote our blog, the Dog Club Diary, which we updated after every meeting so owners would always know what their pups were up to.
“Don’t worry, Big Al will get used to things soon enough,” Alice said. The head of the shelter wore one of her usual dog T-shirts, this one with three happy dogs and the slogan “Rescue a friend.” It was cool the way Alice worked so hard to find homes for dogs. Though right now she was busy with Violet, the other new arrival at the shelter. And Violet’s problem was pretty much the opposite of Big Al’s: instead of cowering in fear, Violet went after everything as aggressively as she could. So far there hadn’t been any actual fights between the dogs, but that was only because Alice and the rest of us were keeping a close eye on Violet.
“How’s Violet been so far today?” Kim asked. I hadn’t heard her come in with Missy, who was actually our English teacher’s Yorkie, a rescue from a puppy mill who could be a bit skittish. Following behind was Hattie, a sheepdog puppy who was also a former shelter dog happy to come back and play for the afternoon.
Alice sighed. “Well, she tried to steal Boxer’s breakfast, which did not go over well, and just now she got snarly with Gracie over a chew toy.” She gestured to the rubber hamburger nearby.
Violet, a pretty Dalmatian with long floppy ears and big brown eyes, looked up at us sulkily.
“I’ve read that Dalmatians can be high-strung, especially if they don’t get enough exercise,” Kim said, holding out a hand for Violet to sniff. “We can take her on extra walks and make sure she gets a lot of running in.” As always, Kim had a calming effect. Violet touched Kim’s hand gently, then butted it with her head to be petted.
“She can be a love when she wants to be,” Alice said, smiling down at Violet. “And yes, I think making sure she runs around enough will be good for her.”
The door opened again and Bri came in with Waffles and her own Lily. When Bri unclipped their leashes, Lily ran over to say hi to Boxer while Waffles walked over to a tennis ball that was on the floor. He picked it up and carried it to Caley, who obliged him by sending it flying across the room.
“Is there anything else we can do to help Violet?” I asked. I knew Alice would never give up on a dog, even one that was a challenge, but she had to make sure the rest of the dogs were
safe and comfortable. And if Violet continued to act out, that could be an issue.
“My mom said Dalmatians need training,” Bri said. “And it has to be very specific. Firm but loving.”
Alice smiled again. “Your mom came by earlier and told me the very same thing,” she said. Although they ran very different dog centers, Bri’s mom and Alice had become friends and now tried to work together as much as they could to help dogs in the community. And dog training was Bri’s mom’s area of expertise, so I knew her advice would be good. “She gave me some pointers that I’m going to try out.”
Bri grinned. I knew it had been hard on her when her mom was critical of the club and the shelter, so she was very happy that her mom was an ally to Alice now.
“Should we work on training her too?” Kim asked, still stroking Violet’s soft ears.
Alice shook her head. “I think for now her training needs to be limited,” she said. “You guys can focus on getting her a good workout when you come. That will help a lot. She’ll adjust, it just might take some time.”
“Sounds good to me,” Kim said. She headed over to a bin of toys and pulled out a blue rubber ball. When she tossed it, Violet flew after it, Hattie and Lily on her heels.
Oscar, the resident cat who thought he was dog, picked his way daintily around the toys and jumped up to his red cat bed on the windowsill. He looked around for a moment, then began grooming one of his soft gray paws.
The phone in Alice’s office rang and she went in to get it.
“Maybe that’s someone else wanting to sign up for the club,” Taylor said cheerfully. She had slid down to the floor and was cuddling Missy. The small Yorkie would always be skittish because of her time in a puppy mill. But Kim and our teacher, Mrs. Benson, had worked wonders bringing sweet Missy out of her shell and helping her to trust people again. Not so long ago she’d have run from Taylor, but now she leaned against her, panting happily. Moments like this made me so proud to be part of our club that my heart swelled and a big smile took over my face.
But then Bri spoke up. “When are the new dogs coming for their trial visits?” she asked me. She was playing tug-of-war with Popsicle, using her favorite rope bone, but looked up at me expectantly.
My smile disappeared. “Um, I actually didn’t have time to call anyone last night,” I said, my voice tight. “I was late to dance and then I had to walk Mr. S and help my mom with dinner and then there was the social studies report.”
“No problem,” Kim said. Her eyes were on Violet, Hattie, and Lily, making sure Violet was behaving, and her words made me feel better.
Bri frowned, though. “We’re all busy,” she said. “But we can’t keep people waiting too long. It will give our club a bad reputation.”
Her words made my skin all itchy. I knew about making sure we treated all customers, including potential ones, well. I didn’t need her explaining that to me. And she certainly wasn’t as busy as I was. Her only job at the club was designing some graphics for the website. But as I opened my mouth to snap back, Taylor spoke up.
“One more day won’t make a difference,” she said.
Bri nodded immediately. “You’re right,” she said to Taylor, then looked at me sheepishly. “Sorry if I was talking like my mom the businesswoman for a minute there.”
My shoulders, which had hitched up, now relaxed. “No problem,” I said. “And you and your mom are both right—we really don’t want to keep people waiting. I’ll call tonight for sure.”
“Great,” Bri said as Popsicle gave the rope bone a hearty tug and pulled it out of her hands. “You’re so clever,” Bri cooed, giving her a kiss before the puppy pranced away to show her prize to her friends.
Tim had a few of the dogs playing with Boxer and the Frisbee and Bri went over to join them. Missy wandered off to find Humphrey, her best buddy, who was napping in a corner. Humphrey was a typical lazy but loving basset hound and he gave a pleased yip when Missy woke him up. Taylor went over to spend more time with Big Al, who was still in his cage, lying down on a cozy fleece blanket. I headed over to Caley, who was throwing a tennis ball for Mr. S, Gus, Daisy, Jinx, and Waffles.
“How’s it going?” Caley asked as I picked up a second tennis ball so the dogs could have double the fun. “You’re getting ready for a dance recital, right?”
I nodded.
“I know how busy rehearsals can make your life,” Caley said sympathetically as she brushed a red curl back from her face. Caley was wearing one of her signature unique outfits, this one a pair of skinny jeans paired with white sneakers she’d drizzled with paint and a vintage gold satin tunic from a thrift shop. She was outrageous and fun, and it was no surprise that she starred in all the high school plays and musicals. Which meant she knew exactly how crazy preparing for a show could be.
“It’s tough,” I said as I sent the yellow ball zipping across the room, grinning as Mr. S and Gus barreled after it and nearly ran down Boxer as he galloped for the Frisbee. “I mean, it’s fun too. I love dancing and this is going to be my first big solo, which is awesome. But it makes it so hard to get anything else done.”
“Tell me about it,” Caley said, shaking her head as she scooped up the tennis ball Daisy dropped at her feet. At this point both balls were pretty wet but we were pros who just wiped our soggy hands on our jeans and kept on playing. “Freshman year I nearly flunked algebra because I was playing Peter in the fall production of Peter Pan.”
Yikes, that didn’t sound good!
“But I’m better at balancing it all now,” she went on. “I wake up early to run lines so I have at least an hour at night for homework. And I see my friends a little less in the weeks right before the show, though most of them are in drama so we hang out at rehearsals anyway.”
That was like me with Dog Club—it was the perfect time to see my friends. Though of course I’d still go to our sleepovers. There was no way I’d miss those. “What else do you do?” I asked, hoping for more suggestions. Taylor complained about having three big sisters and Kim griped about her older brother, Matt, but I had always wanted an older sibling to give me advice.
“Well, I get help,” Caley said. “My brother takes on my chores when the rehearsals start getting long and I pay him back by doing all of his after the play closes and I have time again,” she said.
Since I was an only child that wasn’t going to work for me, which was too bad. Help sounded, well, helpful.
There was a commotion in the corner as Daisy tried to take the ball Violet was after and Violet growled. Bri was closest and reached out toward the Dalmatian, whose teeth were bared.
“Careful, don’t put your hand near her mouth,” Kim said, rushing toward them.
“I wasn’t going to,” I heard Bri mutter as she stepped aside so that Kim could speak in her low, soothing voice to Violet, who calmed quickly. Kim also patted Daisy, who had been looking at Violet uncertainly but who also settled down under the capable care of our resident dog whisperer.
“Maybe we should take this party outside,” Taylor said, looking uncertainly at Kim and Violet.
Kim nodded. “Great idea,” she said. “I think Violet could use a good run.”
I could too. “I’ll be ‘it’ for doggy tag,” I said brightly, eager to get outside and get some exercise for myself as well as the dogs.
“It’s on,” Tim said as we began herding the dogs toward the back door.
As I began coaxing Big Al out of his cage, hoping he’d be willing to give the great outdoors a try, I heard the phone in Alice’s office ring. A moment later she stepped out. “Sasha, it’s someone from the club wait list,” she said. “They’d like to speak with you.”
My shoulders sagged a little as I realized this meant I couldn’t go right outside.
“Maybe you can set them up for a visit,” Taylor said. “That way you won’t have to call anyone tonight.”
Bri turned to me with a frown. “Well, only if that’s the person at the top of the wait list,” she said. “Ot
herwise it’s not fair.”
“Don’t worry, I know,” I said with a sigh. I had a feeling I knew exactly who was calling and it was not the person on the top of the list. It was a woman named Mrs. Rider, who called a lot, hoping that her dog Maxine could get into the club. It was great that she was so interested, but she tended to show it by talking my ear off, going on and on about Maxine and asking me all kinds of questions about the club hours and policies. A call with her could easily eat up thirty minutes and that was about how long we had to play outside. Which meant no doggy tag for me.
My feet were heavy as I walked toward Alice’s office to do my job for the club while everyone else headed out into the yard for an afternoon of fun.
4
“One more time, ladies, and smile,” Madame Florence called over the music.
I wiped a hand across my brow, which was literally dripping with sweat, and took a deep breath. My heart was pounding, my leg muscles were screaming, my arms were like rubber bands, and my lungs were scraped raw. In other words, I felt amazing. Nothing was as exhilarating as dance, my body melding with the music, soaring through the steps it had taken me weeks to learn, flying across the studio, light as a feather. It was easy to smile as we lined up for a final run-through of our recital finale.
“I don’t know how you do it,” my friend Asha whispered as we waited for Madame Florence to give us our cue. Her olive skin was flushed and her short black hair shone with sweat. “I’m ready to collapse.”
I grinned at her. “You can’t fool me,” I said quietly. “I saw how you were leaping like you had wings on.”
Asha grinned back. “I guess it’s only when the music stops that the wings fall off and I feel how sore I am.”
Then it was our turn and we whipped through a series of perfect spins in unison.
“Brava, ladies,” Madame Florence said, nodding with approval when the dance was done. “Good work today. Now let’s begin our cooldown.”
I lined up with the rest of my class but then Madame Florence looked at me. “Sasha, you will stay to practice your solo?”