by Daphne Maple
Taylor laughed. “I used to think it was a little strange how you talked to dogs,” she said. “But now I see that you don’t just understand them—they understand you too.”
“Kim the dog whisperer,” Sasha said affectionately.
“I think we all do some dog whispering around here,” I said.
“Kim, my dad’s heard all about you and he says it’s high time he met my other best friend,” Taylor said. “He insisted I invite both of you over for a sleepover Friday night.”
“Sounds great!” Sasha enthused.
“Totally,” I said. I liked being called Taylor’s other best friend. And I was really looking forward to meeting Taylor’s family. “Will there be Southern fried chicken? I heard it’s the best around.”
“Yes,” Taylor laughed. “Plus greens and biscuits. Anna even said she’d make her famous strawberry shortcake.”
“I can’t wait,” I said, my stomach rumbling at the thought of all that good food.
“I just hope we have room for milk shakes,” Sasha said.
“Milk shakes?” Taylor asked, her brow crinkled.
“That’s our sleepover tradition,” I said, happy at the thought of sharing it with Taylor. Who knew what fun add-ins she might come up with. There could be all kinds of great Southern sweets I didn’t even know about.
“We start with the ice cream and milk,” Sasha said. “And then we add all kinds of stuff, like Reese’s Pieces and Cap’n Crunch.”
Taylor smacked her lips. “I’m in,” she said. “And I can’t believe you think we wouldn’t have room for that.”
“Seriously, Sash,” I mock-scolded. “Like there’s ever been a time you couldn’t finish a milk shake.”
Sasha laughed.
Boxer pranced over, Coco right behind him, and dropped a tennis ball at my feet. I stood up and tossed it and the pile of dogs around us suddenly all leaped up and streaked after it. Soon we were all running around, throwing balls and playing with the dogs.
Later, when the owners started arriving for Dog Club pickup, I noticed Mrs. Cronin playing tug-of-war with Popsicle. I was surprised to see that Mr. Cronin was there too, rubbing Humphrey’s belly and watching his wife play with Popsicle. I walked over to them.
“She’s a sweetie, isn’t she?” I asked, reaching down to pet Popsicle. In the short time she’d been at the shelter she’d already gotten bigger, with a plump puppy belly. “Humphrey adores her.”
“Yes, we read about that in the Dog Club Diary,” Mrs. Cronin said, grinning at her husband, who smiled back. “So we wanted to come down and meet her for ourselves. And now that we have, we’ve fallen in love. Which means that you are going to have two dogs to walk in the morning. We’re adopting Popsicle!”
I knew it wasn’t professional but I couldn’t help myself: I threw my arms around Mrs. Cronin.
Sasha and Taylor came running up. “Popsicle has a new home,” I told them joyfully. “The Cronins are adopting her!”
Sasha and Taylor threw their arms around the two of us as Humphrey and Popsicle and then some of the others came over to join the celebration.
Because that’s what it was: a celebration of the shelter, of the club, and of an abandoned puppy finding a new home.
But most of all it was a celebration of all that was yet to come, all the good times ahead at the Roxbury Park Dog Club.
Excerpt from Roxbury Park Dog Club #2: When the Going Gets Ruff
KEEP READING FOR A SNEAK PEEK AT THE NEXT DOG CLUB ADVENTURE!
Sasha has always wanted a dog, but her mom isn’t convinced she’s responsible enough to take care of one. Can the Dog Club help Sasha prove she’s ready for a pet of her own?
1
“I just heard about the greatest pet,” I said to my mom. We were sitting in the breakfast nook of our sunny kitchen eating English muffins; it was the perfect time to reveal my latest plan to convince my mom we needed a pet.
Mom was taking a long sip of coffee but she looked at me over the rim of her mug and raised her eyebrows, waiting for me to go on.
I took a deep breath. “A de-scented skunk,” I announced.
My mom made a sputtering noise as she tried to keep from choking on her coffee.
I hid my grin by taking a bite of English muffin. This was exactly the reaction I was hoping for.
“A skunk?” Mom asked, her voice shrill. “People actually welcome skunks into their homes?” She glanced around at our immaculate kitchen, where everything was in its place and every surface was free of dust and crumbs. My mom was all about our house being clean, which was why she had shot down every request I’d ever made for a pet.
But I was determined that this time would be different.
“Yeah,” I said. “They’re very affectionate.”
My mom shuddered at the thought of cuddling with a skunk.
“And they’re clean,” I adding, laying it on thick.
She shook her head. “There is no way we are getting a skunk.”
“Okay,” I mumbled in my most disappointed voice, slumping down in my seat but casting a quick glance at my mom. Just as I’d hoped she looked concerned. Yeah, my mom had a ton of rules about cleaning and homework and screen time, but I knew how much she wanted me to be happy. Ever since she and my dad had split up when I was a baby it was just the two of us and I knew how hard she worked to get me things like American Girl dolls, and send me to summer camp and dance classes. But the thing I wanted more than anything was a pet, which was why I’d come up with this whole plan in the first place. It was never about a skunk, it was about a—
“Well, then what about a hamster?” I asked, like the thought had just occurred to me. “Hamsters live in a cage and look cute.”
“Their cages need wood shavings,” my mother said, frowning slightly at the thought of the dust wood shavings might create.
“Actually now they have paper shavings that hardly make a mess at all,” I replied. I’d done my research.
“What about the odor?” my mom asked, wrinkling her nose as though she could already smell a dirty hamster cage.
“We could keep the cage in my room,” I said. “And I’d clean it every day so it would stay fresh.”
My mom stood up and began to clear her place. “Hurry up with that English muffin, honey,” she said. “You don’t want to be late.”
I was so eager to do what she asked that I stuffed the rest of my food in my mouth. Then I saw her wince. Whoops. Yes, I’d finished the muffin, but I’d forgotten to use good table manners, one of the many things that mattered to my mom. Honestly sometimes it was hard to get everything just how my mom wanted it. It didn’t help that she was perfect, from her neat clothes and our spotless house to her job as a successful lawyer. I got my less-than-perfect genes from my dad, who lived in Seattle. When I visited him during school vacations there were dishes piled in the sink, comfortable clutter on every surface, and we always chewed with our mouths open. Not that I’d want to live with my dad; I was happy here in Roxbury Park. But it might be nice if just once in a while my mom relaxed enough to leave a few crumbs on the counter or something.
“Really, Mom, you wouldn’t even know the hamster was there,” I said as I rinsed off my dishes in the sink and piled them neatly in the dishwasher, trying to make up for the muffin thing.
“A pet is a lot of work,” my mom said, filling a travel mug with coffee for her drive to work. She added a half teaspoon of sugar and then secured the lid.
“I know, but I would do it all,” I said. “I’d use my allowance to buy hamster food, I’d change the water every day, I’d clean the cage, everything.”
My mom glanced at the clock on the stove. “We’d better hurry or we’ll be late,” she said.
For a moment I wondered if I should let it go and wait until later to push for the hamster. I didn’t want to make us late. But I’d come this far and the skunk decoy really seemed to have worked. I needed to see it through now, before my mom could come up with other reasons not to
get the hamster.
“Okay,” I said, following my mom down the hall to the foyer. I’d left my pink backpack in its designated spot on the bench by the door, next to the rack where we kept all our shoes. Inside the house we did socks and slippers only. “But Mom, what about the hamster? I really think I’m ready for a pet. I’m old enough to take care of it all on my own and I promise you won’t have to do a thing.”
I held my breath as I waited for her to answer.
“Honey, no,” she said, the one word puncturing all my hopes.
“But why?”
“Sash, I know how much you want a pet,” Mom said. “But I don’t think you’re ready. A pet is a huge responsibility: it’s a living creature and it depends on you completely.”
“I can handle it, I know I can,” I said quickly. I was positive I could, if only she would give me a chance.
But my mom was shaking her head.
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About the Author
DAPHNE MAPLE grew up in a small town in upstate New York in a big house that was always full of dogs. She and her friends would spend long afternoons playing with their dogs in the backyard, and that, along with her work at an animal sanctuary, gave her the idea for Roxbury Park Dog Club. She lives and writes in Washington, DC, with her dogs Sweetie Pie and Trixie, and on sunny afternoons you can usually find them playing Frisbee at the local dog park.
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Books by Daphne Maple
Mission Impawsible
When the Going Gets Ruff
Credits
Cover art © 2016 by Annabelle Metayer
Cover design by Jenna Stempel
Copyright
ROXBURY PARK DOG CLUB #1: MISSION IMPAWSIBLE. Text by Daphne Maple, copyright © 2016 by HarperCollins Publishers. Illustrations by Annabelle Metayer, copyright © 2016 by HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Library of Congress Control Number: 2015958398
ISBN 978-0-06-232767-3 (pbk.)
EPub Edition © April 2016 ISBN 9780062327680
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