“What’s a pet thtore?” Patrice laughed, and her friends giggled behind her.
“Pet. Store,” Simon said carefully, studying the casserole on his tray. “I got her from a shelter.”
“Oooh! A shelter! Aren’t you heroic!” Patrice cooed. “You rescued her, just like a knight in shining armor. Is she your princess now?”
“I …” Simon wanted to say something back, but he could never find the right words.
“You aren’t going to defend your princess’s honor?” Patrice asked.
“I …” he said again, and then he thought of Beatrice rolling over Maximus, getting knocked around and bounding back for more. Where’d the little dog find that kind of courage? Could she teach it to Simon? He didn’t figure he could just start wrestling Patrice and her friends. He’d end up with an atomic wedgie. Beatrice was lucky. You couldn’t give a dog a wedgie.
Still … Beatrice wouldn’t let fear stop her from playing. It was worth a try.
“I wanted a princess,” he said. “But I accidentally rescued the troll under the bridge instead.”
Some of the girls snickered. Patrice wrinkled her forehead. She hadn’t expected Simon to joke. She didn’t seem to like that her friends were laughing.
“Actually,” Simon added, “a troll wouldn’t snore as loud as Beatrith does.”
The girls laughed, and they definitely laughed with him this time, not at him, even though he’d missed the S sound.
Patrice balled her fists and her friends stopped laughing.
“Hey!” someone yelled. Everyone turned to see Mason Pratt, holding his own lunch tray, with his eyes fixed on Patrice. “Don’t make fun of rescue dogs,” he told her. “My dog’s a rescue dog, too.”
“We were just making fun of Thhhh-imon’s weird little —”
Mason shook his head, and with just that little shake, Patrice fell silent. “His name is Simon,” Mason told her as he looked her friends in the eye one by one. “And his dog is cool.”
Patrice frowned. “Whatever,” she said and led her pack of friends away. One of them looked at Simon and smiled as she passed. It was not a cruel smile. She’d liked his joke.
When the girls had gone, Mason looked at Simon, up and down, the way Maximus had looked at Beatrice.
“Thank you,” said Simon.
Mason shrugged. “Wanna play with our dogs after school?”
“Uh, okay,” Simon said.
“Cool.” Mason smiled. “I wonder if we could teach them tricks together. They could be, like, a comedy act. Max and Beatrice.”
“Yeah,” Simon agreed. They spent the rest of lunch period coming up with ideas for their dog act. It’d be a lot of work to teach Beatrice and Maximus what to do, and Simon worried his dog was too small for some of their ideas.
“The size of the dog doesn’t matter,” Mason said. “Little dogs are just as good at stuff as big dogs. Maybe even better sometimes.”
“I’m lucky she chose me to come home with, then,” said Simon. “I think it’s the dogs who pick the people, you know, not the other way around.”
“Yeah,” agreed Mason. “Dogs are pretty good at that.”
C. Alexander London is the author of Dog Tags, a series of books about dogs in wartime, as well as the Accidental Adventures novels. When he is not writing, he can usually be found walking around New York City talking to his dog. Visit him at www.calexanderlondon.com.
Rudy Martin first asked for a dog when he was four years old.
“Maybe one day, but not now,” his mother replied.
“When will one day be?” Rudy asked.
“When you are old enough to be responsible and take care of a dog,” his father said.
“How old is ‘spon-sit-a-bull’?” he asked. He didn’t know exactly what responsible meant, but he knew he needed to pay careful attention to his father’s answer.
“When you’re twelve,” his father said.
“Yes, twelve is a good age to get a dog,” his mother agreed.
Every birthday from then on, Rudy reminded his parents of their promise. Before blowing out the candles on his cake, he would say, “Only seven more years before I get my dog.”
“Only six more years …”
“Only five more years …”
Until today. Today was June 15 and Rudy was turning twelve! And his parents, true to their word, were taking him to the Pawley Rescue Center, where Rudy would finally be able to pick out a dog of his very own.
When they arrived at the rescue center, Rudy could hardly contain his excitement. He had waited eight long years for this! And though he knew he would be getting a dog, there was still the thrill of surprise involved. Would his dog be big or little? Shaggy or sleek? He couldn’t wait to find out!
Rudy dashed ahead of his parents, alongside the hydrangea bushes in full bloom lining the sidewalk, and burst through the doors of the brick building. He ran up to the front desk, his face flushed with excitement.
“Where’s the fire?” a tall woman with short blond hair asked, grinning.
“No fire,” Rudy said. “I’m just here to adopt a dog!”
“Well, I’m Nora and I’d be glad to help you,” she said.
When Rudy’s parents caught up to him, Nora explained they’d need to fill out an adoption form, but that they could take a look at the dogs first. She led them to a large room with rows of roomy kennels. “Are you interested in a puppy or an older dog? Any size requirements? A specific temperament?” she asked.
“Maybe a younger dog with some energy to play, but sort of laid-back, too,” said Mr. Martin.
“A dog that has already been house-trained would be nice,” Mrs. Martin said. “And past the chewy-young-puppy stage.”
“What about you?” Nora asked Rudy. “Any suggestions?”
“Nope. I love all dogs,” he said. And he truly did. He desperately wanted to take home each and every dog they passed.
Like that big, shaggy Goldendoodle.
“That’s Delilah,” Nora said. “Her coat will need lots of care. She’ll need to be brushed regularly and you may also want to budget in trips to the groomer, but she is an amazingly friendly and lovable dog!”
Rudy stood in front of the Goldendoodle’s kennel. He imagined throwing a ball for Delilah to fetch in the backyard.
Then there was a Chihuahua who quaked and crept to the front of the cage with big, sad eyes that said, “Take me home, please!”
Rudy wanted to hold her in his arms and give her a hug. He imagined her curled up on his bed, snuggled next to him.
There were mixed breeds and purebreds — some lunging against the cage doors, urgently demanding attention, while others sat patiently waiting for a hand to reach in with a pat. His heart ached for each one. How could he choose?
“You seem awful quiet,” Nora remarked to Rudy as they ended the tour of the room. “Cat got your tongue? Or should I say dog?” She laughed. “Aren’t there any here that you like?”
“I like them all,” Rudy said. “That’s the problem.”
“You could adopt more than one. How about forty?” Nora joked.
“Oh, no. We can only afford one,” Mr. Martin said, even though he knew she was teasing. “I’ve researched the cost of food and vet bills!”
“I admire you for that,” Nora said. “We promote responsible adoptions. When people get in over their heads, the dogs suffer or end up back in shelters.”
Rudy saw a classmate of his across the room. Sophia Cole was busy putting a beagle back in his kennel enclosure. Sophia’s father ran the Pawley Rescue Center and she’d often told Rudy about helping out.
“Hi, Sophia,” Rudy called.
“Hi, Rudy!” Sophia walked over to the group. “Nora, I just passed Dad in the hallway a minute ago and he told me he needs you back in the office when you have a chance.”
“Okay. Then how about you show Rudy and his parents to the outdoor play area?” Nora asked. She smiled at Rudy. “There are about ten more dogs you haven’t seen yet back the
re. Maybe one will stand out and make your decision easier.”
More dogs! Rudy thought that would only make things harder. He was already overwhelmed. He followed Sophia out to the bright sunshine and the fenced-in play area.
“Oh, gosh, look!” Rudy said, pointing.
A long-eared basset hound bowed down in a playful stance, wagging his tail, while a tiny mutt with a squashed face ran up and pounced on his shoulder before dashing away. The basset sprang up and chased after the little dog, then quickly bowed down again with a friendly bark, asking for another round of pounce and chase.
Rudy laughed, amazed at how gentle the stout basset was with the little dog.
“That’s Bagley,” Sophia said. “He’s about two years old and a real character. Makes us laugh all the time. He and the pug mix, Lena, came to the shelter about the same time last month and they are pretty much inseparable. Do you want to go meet them?”
“Sure!” Rudy said.
“Those two aren’t a package deal, are they?” Mr. Martin asked.
“No,” Sophia said. “Sometimes if dogs have a long history together and come from the same home, we do require a joint adoption, but that isn’t the case with these two. Bagley was a stray found wandering the streets. And Lena belonged to a nice older gentleman who had to go to a nursing home.”
When Sophia let the Martins inside the fenced-in area, all of the dogs came rushing forward in a frenzy of excitement over having new company. Bagley, however, sauntered over and then immediately collapsed at Rudy’s feet, showing his belly. He wanted a belly rub. Rudy happily obliged.
In the middle of the chaos of dogs clamoring for attention, Rudy was drawn to Bagley. Was it his velvet ears? The soft, floppy skin around his neck and mouth? There was just something about him. “Are you a good boy?” he asked.
Bagley leaped to his feet, tilted his head back, and answered, “Arrrrooorooo!” Rudy swore that all of the dog’s loose, hanging skin was gathered into a huge smile. Lena sat beside him and let out a dainty bark, as if to say, “Yes, he’s a good dog!”
“I found my dog,” Rudy said, grinning.
When Rudy and his family pulled into their driveway, Mrs. Kolinski, their neighbor, was out watering her flowers. She was a widow in her seventies who had become something of an extra grandmother to Rudy. Since Rudy’s real grandparents lived far away, it was nice to have Mrs. Kolinski around. She came to his basketball games and his band concerts, where he played the trumpet. It worked out well. Though Mrs. Kolinski had grandchildren, they lived in another state, and she didn’t get to see them very often either.
Mrs. Kolinski turned off the water and wandered over. “Did you find a dog?”
At that moment, Bagley hopped out of the car, his new green leash dangling from Rudy’s hand.
“Got my answer!” Mrs. Kolinski said. “Oh, it will be nice seeing a dog around. We always had a couple of them when my kids were growing up. But I’ve got a bad hip now and I’m afraid I couldn’t handle the regular walks — especially in the winter. Plus, I don’t want to deal with the hassle of boarding the dog when I go to visit my grandchildren. I’ll just borrow this fella from time to time if that’s all right.” She patted Bagley on the head.
Bagley wagged his tail so hard, the whole back half of his body swayed back and forth.
“What’s his name?” Mrs. Kolinski asked.
Rudy was told he could change the dog’s name if he wanted to, but he liked the name the shelter staff had given him. “Bagley,” he said. “That’s my dog’s name.”
It sure feels good to say “my dog,” Rudy thought. He had waited a long time, but Bagley was worth it!
That evening Bagley sniffed around the yard, chased a tennis ball, performed a duet by howling right along as Rudy practiced on his trumpet, greatly enjoyed his dinner, and blissfully soaked in all the love Rudy showered upon him. But the next morning, Bagley was a different dog. He only ate a few bites of food. He did not want to chase a ball. All he wanted to do was put his paws on the front windowsill and stare out at nothing. Occasionally he would let out a whimper or a moan and then would curl up on the floor.
“Could Bagley be sick?” Rudy asked his mother.
“I’m not sure. Maybe we should take him to the vet,” she said. Rudy noticed his mother looked worried, too.
But at the vet’s office, Bagley got a clean bill of health.
“He’s in tip-top shape,” the vet told the Martins. “But he’s definitely looking a little down. Maybe he’s depressed. Big life changes can do that to a dog. If his mood doesn’t improve in the next few days, bring him back.”
On the way home, Rudy’s mom said, “What on earth could poor Bagley be depressed about?”
“Lena,” Rudy said. “Remember his friend? Maybe he misses Lena.”
“We could take him to visit the rescue center tomorrow to see if he perks up,” his mother said. “Then we’ll know for sure. I’ll call Nora Clark and let her know we’re coming.”
The next day, during Mr. Martin’s lunch hour, he, Rudy, Mrs. Martin, and Bagley made the trip to the rescue center. When they entered the building, Bagley immediately lifted his droopy, hanging head. Nora met them at the front desk and told them Lena was not her usual self either. “Since Bagley left, she’s no longer lively Lena. She’s become lackluster, lonely, and lost Lena.”
Bagley pulled at his leash, practically dragging Rudy down the hall.
“I think he’s ready to get the show on the road!” Nora said. “Let’s go!”
When she pushed open the door to the kennels, Bagley immediately headed for Lena’s crate. “Arrrrooorooo!” he sang, and his tail started wagging a mile a minute. Lena jumped up against the cage door, barking like crazy.
“Let’s take them to the outside play area,” Nora said.
Once in the freedom of the grassy yard, the two dogs romped and played. What Rudy saw could only be explained by two words: pure joy. It made him happy to see Bagley happy, but it also made him sad. “Now what?” he asked.
“Maybe,” his mother said gently, “Bagley and Lena need to go to the same home.”
“I think that may be for the best,” Nora said. She gave Rudy a sympathetic look. And instead of her usual quick, joking manner, her voice became soft. “They’ve bonded. Sometimes that happens — though usually it’s with dogs that have been raised together.”
“We can’t take them both,” Mr. Martin said. He put his hand on Rudy’s shoulder. “You understand, don’t you?” he asked.
Rudy nodded. There was a lump in his throat. He swallowed hard.
“Maybe we can look for another dog,” Mrs. Martin said, attempting to sound cheerful. “Did you have any other favorites?”
Rudy shook his head. “I can’t pick out another dog. Not right now. Maybe another time.” From the moment he saw Bagley, he felt like that was his dog. That they were meant to be. He turned to leave the fenced area and suddenly Bagley was trotting beside him.
“Arrrooorooo,” Bagley howled, giving Rudy a “come on and pet me” look. But Rudy couldn’t bring himself to stoop down for a proper good-bye. It would be too hard. He just kept walking without looking back.
The car ride home was quiet. When they pulled into the driveway, Rudy spotted Mrs. Kolinski sitting on her front porch swing.
“How’s handsome Bagley?” she called out to her neighbors as they got out of the car.
“We had to take him back to the rescue center,” Mr. Martin said.
“Oh, my!” Mrs. Kolinski left the porch swing and walked over. “He seemed so nice! Did something happen?”
“Not really,” Rudy’s mother said. “He just left behind a friend — a little pug mix — and it made him awfully sad. He wouldn’t eat. Wouldn’t play. But when he saw his friend again, the old happy Bagley returned. So we decided the dogs need to be together. The rescue center is hoping to find someone to take them both.”
“A pug mix? The first dog I ever had was a pug! She was just the sweetest thing
. I loved her so. But … well … enough about that. I know how disappointed you all must be that it didn’t work out,” Mrs. Kolinski said.
“I think I’ll go inside now.” Rudy’s head slumped down as he walked toward the house. He didn’t want to talk about losing Bagley. It hurt too much. He was almost to the door when he had a thought. Eyes wide, he ran back across the yard.
“Mrs. Kolinski!” His words came out fast. “Would you get a dog if you had someone to walk it every day? And someone to keep the dog when you visit your grandchildren?”
Mrs. Kolinski looked confused at first, but then smiled. “And who would that be?” she asked.
“Me!” Rudy exclaimed.
“Well, I suppose so. That is, if that dog happened to be small. Maybe a pug mix? And maybe one that has a basset hound friend living next door?”
“Mom? Dad?” Rudy asked.
“Well,” his father said. “We do share a backyard fence with Mrs. Kolinski. Maybe we could put in a doggy door so the dogs could play together.”
“And then Bagley and Lena could spend time together every day!” Mrs. Martin said.
Within minutes, Mrs. Kolinski joined Rudy and his parents on the trip back to the Pawley Rescue Center. And it was love at first sight. Lena and Mrs. Kolinski seemed meant to be together. In one fell swoop, two dogs found loving homes.
As time passed, Rudy proved himself to be, as he said when he was four, “spon-sit-a-bull.” He took both dogs on regular walks and played with them in their shared backyard. And when Mrs. Kolinski went to visit her family, Rudy dutifully fed, watered, and took care of two dogs. But it was worth it, because he finally had a dog to call his own. A dog that slept on his bed and fetched his ball and helped him practice his trumpet by howling right along. But the thing that Rudy loved best about Bagley?
He was one very happy dog.
Marlane Kennedy is the author of Me and the Pumpkin Queen, The Dog Days of Charlotte Hayes, and the forthcoming series Disaster Strikes. She lives in Wooster, Ohio, with her husband, daughter, a moose of a chocolate Lab named Carl, and his best friend, Ralphy, a shaggy white mutt adopted from a rescue group.
Henry didn’t mean to eat the pie. It was all just a horrible misunderstanding. He had gone into the kitchen to look at the pie, and to smell the pie. He may have even put out his tongue a little, to get just a hint of the taste of the pie.
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