Amelia Bedelia Unleashed

by Herman Parish

  Then Amelia Bedelia remembered to tell her parents what Charlie had said about poodles and how they got their name from puddles.

  “Aha!” said her father. “That’s what we call ‘truth in jest.’ But what I want to know is . . . did Charlie laugh at my joke about stepping in a poodle?”

  “A lot,” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “This Charlie kid is obviously a genius,” said her dad.

  After that, it was easy for Amelia Bedelia to get permission to go over to Charlie’s house.

  “You know what?” said her dad. “Your mom and I would love to see the dog show too. We haven’t been in years.”

  “You bet!” said her mom. “It’s a plan!”

  The next day was Saturday, the day of the dog show. Amelia Bedelia rode her bike over to Charlie’s house. She was excited to help Charlie give Pierre a bath.

  “Charlie,” said his mother, “since Amelia Bedelia is here to help you, I’m going to run some quick errands. I’ll get Pierre’s bath ready for you before I go.”

  Soon Pierre was standing in a deep tub full of warm water and suds. Amelia Bedelia and Charlie rolled up their sleeves and scrubbed Pierre in the soapy water. Pierre loved getting shampooed. And Amelia Bedelia and Charlie managed to stay pretty dry until it was time to dry Pierre.

  Both Amelia Bedelia and Charlie could see it coming. It was like those weather maps on TV that show an approaching hurricane. They were in the storm’s path and were going to get soaked. Sure enough, Pierre let them have it. After one second of shaking, they were drenched.

  The only thing they could do was holler and shriek and dance around and laugh. A lot.

  “Charlie!” yelled Amelia Bedelia. “You look like you just ran through one hundred sprinklers for an hour!”

  “You look like you fell into the world’s biggest swimming pool!” yelled Charlie.

  Then, starting with his head and moving down to his rear end, Pierre shook himself one last time, just to be sure they were totally soaked.

  Still laughing, Amelia Bedelia and Charlie led Pierre out to the back deck. They worked in the sunshine, squirting conditioner into Pierre’s coat and rubbing it in with their fingers.

  “Let’s start brushing him,” said Charlie.

  “Fun!” said Amelia Bedelia. She grabbed a nearby brush from a dustpan. When she began to brush Pierre with it, Charlie laughed.

  “Not that kind of brush!” he said. “You’ll get him dirty again. Use one of these special dog brushes.”

  Amelia Bedelia loved brushing Pierre. “He’s going to be beautiful!” she said.

  “You mean handsome,” said Charlie.

  Once Pierre’s hair was tangle free, Charlie showed Amelia Bedelia how to trim his coat with the electric clippers. Charlie was trimming stray hairs from Pierre’s fluffy chest when disaster struck. A squirrel ran across the deck. Pierre took off after him like a shot! He ran right over Charlie, who was still holding the whirring clippers.

  Charlie hit the deck.

  “No, Pierre!” he shouted. “Heel! Wait! Come back! If you get dirty, you’ll have to take another bath!”

  Pierre was an obedient dog, and besides, the squirrel had already scrambled up a tree. Pierre trotted back to Charlie and sat down again.

  That’s when Amelia Bedelia noticed a long strip of fluffy white fur on the deck.

  “Hey, Charlie, where did this come from?” she asked.

  There was only one place it could have come from: Pierre’s beautiful prize-winning coat.

  Charlie kneeled in front of Pierre. “Uh-oh,” he said.

  It looked as though a lawnmower had cut a swath through a pretty flower bed.

  “Oh boy,” said Charlie. “Boy, oh boy, oh boy. This is not good. Not good at all.”

  He took the fluffy patch of hair from Amelia Bedelia and tried to push it back into place. It didn’t work.

  “We need tape or something,” said Amelia Bedelia. “Or paste or a glue stick.”

  They tried everything. Nothing worked.

  “Boy, oh boy,” said Charlie. “I am doomed.”

  Pierre sat patiently. Perhaps he realized that he was partly to blame. But now, as he watched a puff of fur that used to be his beautiful pom-pom blow across the deck like a tiny tumbleweed, the situation began to sink in to him too.

  Amelia Bedelia thought that if ever an animal were going to speak, it would be now.

  Pierre cocked his head and stared directly at them. His eyes said, “You’ve got to be kidding me. I trusted you to take care of me, and this happens. Woof!”

  Charlie started pacing back and forth across the deck, repeating “Boy, oh boy” and tugging at his own hair.

  “I know,” said Amelia Bedelia, “let’s look in the kitchen. There’s probably something there that would work.”

  They searched through kitchen drawers until Amelia Bedelia found some twisty ties. She headed back to the deck to try them on Pierre, while Charlie kept looking for possible solutions.

  “Charlie!” yelled Amelia Bedelia. “Your problem is gone!”

  “Great!” Charlie called back. “Do the twisty ties work?”

  “I don’t know,” said Amelia Bedelia. “Pierre is gone—vanished!”

  Charlie dashed out to the deck. “Pierre, Pierre!” he called. “Come here, boy! Come here, Pierre!”

  Amelia Bedelia could hear the panic in Charlie’s voice. They kept calling and calling Pierre’s name, over and over, until it seemed to echo through the entire neighborhood. But it was no use. Pierre had evaporated into thin air.

  “This is all my fault,” said Charlie. “Pierre probably feels stupid, like I do, and he’s run away.”

  “I know,” said Amelia Bedelia. “Let’s make posters and hang them up in the neighborhood. That worked for a lady I know who lost her dog, Baby.”

  “We don’t have time,” said Charlie. “This is an emergency! I am cooked. The dog show is in a couple of hours! Mom is depending on me.”

  Amelia Bedelia watched the breeze blow another tuft of Pierre’s fur across the deck. She caught it and held it to her nose. She could still smell the yummy conditioner they had used. Her eyes grew large, and she said, “Charlie, I’m pretty sure you’re not cooked. I’ve got a real idea. But I need to call someone before I tell you what it is.”

  Charlie handed her a phone. This is what he heard Amelia Bedelia say:

  “Hi, Diana? It’s me, Amelia Bedelia. Hi. I’m okay. You know that bloodhound you walk? Sherlock . . . right, like the detective. Can I take him for a walk today? . . . Like right now . . . Perfect! Will you tell Mr. Holm I’m picking him up? Thanks! We’re on our way.”

  Amelia Bedelia grabbed Charlie’s hand. “Let’s go!” she said. “Sherlock is on the case, and he’ll help us for sure!”

  “Those are the droopiest jowls I’ve ever seen!” said Charlie. They were headed back to the deck, the last place they had seen Pierre.

  “Sherlock can find anything,” said Amelia Bedelia. “We just need to give him a clue to work with.”

  She waved the tuft of Pierre’s fur under Sherlock’s nose. His tail began to wag from side to side, faster and faster.

  “Bah-ROOO!” bayed Sherlock. He took off, dragging Amelia Bedelia and Charlie along behind him.

  “Bah-ROOO! Bay-ROOO!”

  They ran over lawns, through backyards, across a tennis court, then straight down a street lined with stores. Sherlock led them right into the nearest butcher shop!

  “We’re wasting time,” moaned Charlie. “Sherlock doesn’t know where Pierre is. He just wants lunch.”

  Amelia Bedelia wasn’t so sure.

  “Excuse me,” she said to the butcher. “Did a huge French poodle stop by here?”

  The butcher laughed. “You mean the dog with the world’s worst haircut?”

  “Wow! That’s him,” said Charlie.

  “Yeah,” said the butcher. “He was here a few minutes ago. He looked miserable. Hey, who butchered his hair?”

 
Amelia Bedelia and Charlie looked at each other.

  “Anyway,” said the butcher, “I felt sorry for him, so I gave him a hot dog.”

  “That was really nice of you,” said Amelia Bedelia.

  “Here,” said the butcher. “Here’s a hot dog for your bloodhound.”

  “Thank you,” said Amelia Bedelia. “This can be a special treat for Sherlock when he finds Pierre.”

  “If he finds Pierre,” said Charlie.

  Amelia Bedelia dangled the tuft of Pierre’s hair under Sherlock’s nose once more. “Track!” she said.

  “Bah-ROOO! Bay-ROOO!” bayed Sherlock, and away they went. Amelia Bedelia could tell that Sherlock was hot on Pierre’s trail. They bounded through backyards, over a compost heap, into a briar patch, and across a stream, where Sherlock paused to sniff the bank. Amelia Bedelia looked at Charlie. “You’re a total mess,” she said.

  “So are you,” said Charlie. “If we look this bad, imagine what Pierre is going to look like. Kiss the dog show good-bye.”

  “Bay-roooooo!” bayed Sherlock at the top of his lungs. This time, there was a reply. They heard a feeble woof that sounded as though it was coming from miles away.

  “It’s Pierre!” Charlie shouted.

  Sherlock took off again, and led them to a culvert, a tunnel that let the stream flow under a road. There they found Pierre. He was a wet, cold, shivering, dirty, disgusting mess. Still, they both threw their arms around him. He covered their faces with kisses in return.

  Amelia Bedelia hugged Sherlock and gave him his hot-dog treat. It disappeared into his jowls and was devoured in one gulp. “Bahhhhh!”

  “I think he’s saying thank you!” said Amelia Bedelia, laughing.

  Amelia Bedelia and Charlie returned Sherlock to Mr. Holm on their way back to Charlie’s house. Charlie’s mom drove in to the driveway just as they lifted Pierre into the warm, soapy bath. When she checked on their progress, she was surprised to find Pierre still in the tub.

  “My goodness,” she said. “You two are going to wash him away!”

  “I just want him to look his best,” said Charlie. That wasn’t really a lie, thought Amelia Bedelia, but it wasn’t the whole truth either. She concluded that it was just a fib.

  “Well, shout if you need me,” said Charlie’s mom. “I’ll be down in my office.”

  While Charlie scrubbed the muck out of Pierre’s coat and pulled out burrs and briars, Amelia Bedelia called Diana again. This is what she said: “Can your friend Eric, the dog groomer, perform miracles?”

  Diana and Eric arrived at Charlie’s house in Eric’s mobile dog-grooming van. Painted on the side of the van was a sign that said WOOF-WOOF GROOMER. There was also a giant picture of the head of a happy, barking dog, with the words “Woof-woof!” coming out of its mouth. Underneath the picture was Eric’s business slogan: “The groomer dogs ask for by name!”

  Diana introduced Eric to Amelia Bedelia and Charlie. Then they led Pierre, who was wrapped up in towels, through the back door of the van and hoisted him onto the grooming table.

  “Okeydokey,” said Eric. “Let’s see what we’re up against.” Charlie slowly peeled the towels off Pierre. Eric let out a low whistle. He walked around Pierre four times. Then Eric shook his head, looked at Charlie, and asked, “You did this?”

  Charlie nodded.

  “Man,” asked Eric, “what did you use for clippers, a weed whacker?”

  “Eric, these kids feel bad enough,” said Diana. “Can you help them out?”

  Eric shrugged. “I don’t know, guys. Only time can repair this. In a couple of months, when his hair grows back, I’ll come over and clip him right.”

  “But . . . but . . . ,” said Amelia Bedelia, “the dog show is tonight!”

  “I really wish I could help,” said Eric. “But see for yourself. One side is perfect and the other side is a train wreck. I’m just a groomer, not a magician.”

  “There’s nothing you can do?” asked Diana.

  “Well,” said Eric. “You’d have to rethink this dog. Completely.”

  “Pierre is a poodle,” said Charlie. “Thinking isn’t going to change that.”

  “My dad always says that there are two sides to everything,” said Amelia Bedelia. “Pierre definitely has two sides. Can you make the best of each side?”

  “Hmmm,” said Eric. “You might be on to something, Amelia Bedelia.” He walked around Pierre again and said, “If we keep this one side like a perfect show poodle, but make the other something really fun, well . . .”

  “That could look cool,” said Diana.

  “What do you think, Charlie?” asked Amelia Bedelia. “After all, Pierre is your dog.”

  Charlie shrugged. “Well, Pierre doesn’t stand a chance of winning anything now,” he said. “So I guess it’s worth a shot.”

  Eric smiled. “After I finish,” he said, “you’ll have the most amazing dog in town.”

  Eric went right to work. He carefully groomed the poodle side until it was absolutely perfect and fluffy and pouffy. Then he began to trim the other side. He clipped and hummed and fluffed and puffed and tweaked and twirled. Amelia Bedelia thought Eric looked like a famous artist creating a masterpiece. She thought Pierre was smiling too.

  “Well?” said Eric finally. “What do you think?”

  Amelia Bedelia, Diana, and Charlie studied Pierre. They all agreed that he looked interesting . . . but something was missing.

  “It needs to be even more dramatic,” said Eric. “Dramatically different.”

  “You know,” said Diana, “I once saw a dancer who had a fabulous costume. One side was a fancy white dress and he looked like a woman, but when he turned, the other side was a fancy black tuxedo, and he looked like a man. When he danced, he played both parts. I’ll never forget it.”

  Eric was nodding again. “Yes . . . fancy black, fancy white!”

  Then he turned and asked, “How do you guys feel about dyeing?”

  “I really don’t want to,” said Amelia Bedelia. “I’m way too young.”

  “I might as well,” said Charlie. “My mom is going to kill me anyway when she sees Pierre.”

  Diana smiled. “Eric means dyeing something another color,” she said.

  “Charlie,” said Eric, “would you mind if I dyed Pierre’s wild side black?”

  “Go for it,” said Charlie. “I’ve got nothing to lose.”

  Amelia Bedelia nodded. She liked the way Charlie thought about things and how flexible he was.

  Diana and Eric whipped up some black dye in the sink in the van. “Don’t worry, this is a vegetable dye,” Eric said. “It will wash out in a few days.”

  Amelia Bedelia, Charlie, and Diana watched as Eric brushed on the dye. Pierre stamped his feet once or twice, but otherwise he seemed to like the feel of the dye brush. When Eric stepped back from the table, they were all quiet.

  “Wow,” said Charlie finally. “Pierre looks amazing.”

  “Bravo, Eric!” said Diana as she gave him a hug. “Pierre looks fantastic.”

  “He sure does,” said Amelia Bedelia. “He’s two dogs in one.”

  There was a dog show every year in Amelia Bedelia’s town, and at first it seemed as though this one was going to be like all the rest. Dog owners were whirling around backstage, combing, brushing, fussing, primping, and preening until their dogs were ready for their moment in the spotlight. Spectators, friends, and family took their seats in the arena, filling it with delicious anticipation.

  Something, however, was wrong. It was Pierre. Amelia Bedelia and Charlie had snuck Pierre into his dog carrier and into the car. Luckily Charlie’s mom hadn’t noticed his new look. Unluckily they had dropped the crate on Charlie’s foot. And now they had to sneak Pierre into the show. They didn’t want him to be disqualified before it even started.

  “I picked up tickets for Amelia Bedelia’s parents,” said Charlie’s mom, “so I’ll go join them. We will see you both after the show. This is your day, Charlie! I’m sure
you’ll knock everyone’s socks off.”

  Amelia Bedelia imagined the arena filled with flying socks, raining down on Pierre and Charlie as the crowd cheered.

  “Okay. Bye, Mom,” said Charlie. He opened his eyes wide and gave Amelia Bedelia a panicked look.

  Normally, you don’t have to sneak a prize-winning poodle into a dog show. How were they ever going to get Pierre out of his crate, past all the other dogs and owners and handlers and judges, without anyone noticing that half of him was a fluffy white purebred champion poodle, and the other half was a mascot for a motorcycle gang?

  Charlie kneeled down to open the door of the crate and winced as he leaned on his foot. “I’m just going to walk Pierre to his spot and hope no one is looking,” he said to Amelia Bedelia. “Is the coast clear?”

  A puzzled look came over Amelia Bedelia’s face. “Is the coast clear?” she repeated. “How would I know what the weather is at the beach? All I know is that everyone seems to be watching us.”

  “This will never work,” Charlie said. “Plus, my foot is killing me.”

  “Hey, you two!” a voice boomed.

  Charlie and Amelia Bedelia froze.Then they slowly turned around.

  “How are you guys?” asked Diana.

  “Whew!” said Amelia Bedelia. “You gave us twin freak-outs. I thought you were coming to arrest us.”

  “We came to wish you good luck,” said Diana.

  “Do you need help?” asked Eric.

  “We sure do,” said Charlie. He pointed at a spot across the room. “We need to get Pierre way over there without anyone seeing him.”

  “Gotcha,” said Eric. “You want to get the dog out of the box without letting the cat out of the bag.”

  That utterly confused Amelia Bedelia, but Charlie said, “Exactly!” So she figured it must be all right.