Louie

by Ellen Miles

  For all my friends who love big dogs!

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  PUPPY TIPS

  TEASER

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  OTHER STORIES BY ELLEN MILES

  COPYRIGHT

  “Over here!” Charles Peterson called to his best friend, Sammy. “I need your help with this one.” He grabbed one end of a huge dead branch — more like a tree, practically! — and tugged as hard as he could. It didn’t move.

  Sammy trotted over. “That’s a big one,” he said, looking down at the branch. “Let’s drag it over to the fire pit. It’ll make awesome firewood for the party later on.”

  It was a chilly day in May. A few patches of blue polka-dotted the mostly gray sky. Charles and Sammy, and the rest of their Cub Scout den, were busy helping to clean up Loon Lake Park for the summer season. When they were done, their families would meet them there and they would celebrate with the first cookout of the year.

  Charles and Sammy were on the “pick-up” team. Their job was to pick up any branches or twigs that had fallen during the winter. Other teams were gathering trash and raking leaves.

  They were working hard, but Charles didn’t mind. It was fun to be at the park before the official opening day. In a few weeks, there would be kids racing around the playground, and noisy volleyball games, and swimmers and kayakers splashing in the water. Now, everything was quiet and peaceful. The grass was just starting to turn green, the leaves on the trees were tender and new, and the colorful canoes and kayaks were still stacked on shore, waiting for their first voyages across the lake.

  Springtime at Loon Lake Park was special, but Charles also liked being there in the middle of winter, when his family had a tradition of having a picnic each year. It was even quieter when the park was closed for the season and they had to hike in. Everything looked so different when snow covered the grassy areas and thick ice trapped the sparkling waters of the lake.

  Charles would never forget the winter day when his family had seen a puppy fall through the ice. That had been so scary, but with the help of a special cold-water rescue team, they had saved the curly-haired pup. Noodle had become one of the Petersons’ favorite foster puppies as they tried to find out where he belonged. Lizzie, Charles’s older sister, got especially attached to Noodle and had a hard time saying good-bye to him when the time came. But that was what fostering was all about: the Petersons only kept each puppy long enough to find him or her the perfect forever home. Even the Bean, Charles’s younger brother, understood that.

  “Remember Noodle?” Charles asked Sammy now as they dragged the big branch toward the fire pit, a ring of stones near the sandy beach. It was slow going, but with both of them pulling hard, they could keep moving.

  “Of course,” said Sammy. “I remember every single one of your foster puppies.”

  Sammy and his parents lived right next door to the Petersons, so he had met all the dogs who had stayed with Charles’s family. Sammy and his family had even adopted one of them: Goldie the golden retriever, the very first puppy the Petersons had ever fostered.

  “Ready? One, two, three,” chanted Charles as he and Sammy heaved their big branch into the fire pit. They stood back and brushed off their hands, breathing hard.

  “Nice work, boys,” said Charles’s dad. “We’re going to have a huge bonfire tonight. I hope we have enough marshmallows!”

  Charles grinned up at him. He was glad that his parents were Akelas — leaders — of his Cub Scout den. It made everything the den did even more fun. Mom was home working on a story for the local newspaper, but she had promised to come down to the park with Lizzie and the Bean when she was done. Charles’s dad was on call for his job as a firefighter, but unless his pager went off, he wouldn’t have to leave. Some of the other scouts’ parents were there, just in case.

  “Are we having hot dogs, too?” Sammy asked. Sammy was always hungry, always thinking about food.

  “You bet,” said Charles’s dad. “And I think your mom said she was bringing over some of her famous potato salad.”

  Charles’s stomach grumbled. “I’m already hungry,” he said.

  “We’re almost done,” said Dad. “See how the grass looks even greener than it did when we got here? All that raking really pays off. And you boys have done an excellent job picking up most of the sticks. Everything is looking terrific.” He bent to rummage in his backpack. “Here, have a snack and then we can finish up.” He handed Charles and Sammy a cheese stick each and some crackers.

  After they’d eaten, the boys headed off, scanning the grass for the last of the sticks and branches. “Hey,” said Charles. “Check it out.” He leaned over to pick up an old tennis ball. After a winter under the snow, it was more gray than green, and one side was a little bald. “It’s kind of ratty, but Buddy will love it. I’ll take it home for him.”

  Buddy was the Petersons’ little brown puppy, the best puppy in the universe. He had come to them as a foster puppy, but the whole family had fallen in love with him, and they had decided that Buddy’s perfect home was right there, with them. Now he slept on Charles’s bed almost every night (when Lizzie didn’t steal him), and waited eagerly for Charles every day after school. He was the cutest, sweetest, most fun puppy Charles had ever known, and he got along great with all the Petersons’ foster puppies.

  Charles shoved the ball into his jacket pocket and went back to hunting for more sticks. There weren’t many. The park was looking really tidy after all their work, and Charles could just picture himself one day soon, running barefoot in the grass in his bathing suit. The sun would be warm on his back, but if he got too hot, all he’d have to do was run down to the dock and leap off into the cool, clear, refreshing —

  “Charles!”

  He heard his dad shouting, and turned to see his father waving at him from across the grass. Charles ran back to the fire pit. “What is it? Did you get paged? Do you have to go?”

  Dad shook his head. He was holding his phone in one hand. “Mom just called. She saw an alert online. Somebody reported that there’s an abandoned puppy who needs help.”

  “What?” Charles asked. “Where?”

  “Right here,” said Dad. “Right here at Loon Lake Park.”

  Charles stared at his dad. “Here, in the park?” he asked. Even though he had heard Dad perfectly well, he couldn’t believe his ears.

  Dad nodded. “A runner just reported an abandoned puppy in the upper parking lot. She posted it on this special page for lost and missing dogs.” He was already walking quickly toward the trail that led to the upper parking area. Charles trotted after him, and Sammy followed along.

  “What’s going on?” called Hunter Pagano, one of the other scouts. He and his twin brother, Tyler, were in the other second-grade class at Charles’s school, Littleton Elementary. Sammy and the other scout in their den, Liam Poole, were in Mr. Mason’s class, with Charles.

  “There’s a puppy we have to help,” called Charles.

  The twins threw down their rakes and ran over. Their mom followed behind. “A puppy?” she asked Charles’s dad when they caught up.

  “That’s what I hear,” he said. “Let’s go find out.”

  By the time they reached the trail, Liam had joined them as well, leaving the tarp he’d been using to drag raked-up leaves.

  “I love dogs,” said Hunter as the group crossed the little footbridge and climbed the big wooden stairs that led to the parking lot. “We used to have one
named Sadie. She was too wild so we had to find her a new home, but I liked her.”

  “She liked me better,” said Tyler. “She always slept on my bed.”

  “Not always,” said Hunter.

  “Usually,” said Tyler.

  “Boys,” said Mrs. Pagano, shaking her head. “How do you make everything into an argument? Sadie loved both of you, but neither of you is really old enough to remember her much.”

  “I remember her,” said Tyler. “She was black and white and she was really soft, especially her ears.”

  “I remember her better,” said Hunter. “She liked to lick my face.”

  Hunter and Tyler’s mom stepped between them on the trail. “That’s enough,” she said.

  “I have a dog,” said Liam. “Well, he’s not really my dog — he’s my grammy’s. But I get to play with him all the time. His name is Buster.”

  Up front, Charles’s dad nodded. “We all love dogs, don’t we?” By then they were at the top of the trail. Charles looked up one side of the big parking lot and down the other. In summer, the parking lot would be full of cars roasting in the sun, but now it was empty. Except — what was that? “There!” He pointed. “Do you think the puppy is in that crate?”

  At the far end of the parking lot was a large white plastic box, the type that people used when they were traveling with a dog. It had a small window on the side, but from this distance Charles couldn’t see if anything was in there.

  The whole group broke into a trot, with Charles leading the way across the parking lot. As he grew nearer, he began to hear a high-pitched whimpering. He sped up, running as fast as he could. Poor puppy! Who would leave a little dog locked up all alone like that?

  He was the first to arrive at the box. Now he could see something through the wire-mesh window. White fur — maybe some black fur, too? A pink tongue, panting. A shiny black eye staring back at him.

  “It is a puppy — it really is,” Charles called as he reached for the latch.

  “Wait, Charles!” Dad caught up and touched Charles’s shoulder. “We don’t know anything about this dog. Let’s take it slow. We can’t just let him out.”

  “But Dad,” Charles said, “listen to him.”

  The whimpering was louder now, punctuated by small yips and barks. The puppy banged around inside the cage as if he was fighting to get out. Charles pictured a wiry little terrier, bouncing around like a jumping bean.

  “Okay, okay,” Dad said soothingly. “Don’t worry, fella. We’re here to help.” He looked around at the circle of boys who had crowded around the crate. “Everybody stand back, all right?”

  Hunter took one step back, but came closer again when he noticed that Tyler hadn’t moved. Everyone else stood where they were, staring at the crate. “I’m sure it’s safe,” said Hunter and Tyler’s mom. “It’s just a little puppy, right?”

  Dad shrugged and knelt down to open the door of the crate. “Oof!” he said as something big and furry erupted out of the box, knocking him over.

  “Whoa!” said Charles as he jumped forward to grab the dog. “That is one giant puppy!”

  Hunter and Tyler piled on, Hunter by the dog’s head and Tyler by his tail. Sammy stood in front of the dog, hands out to block the pup from running past him. Liam threw his arms around the puppy’s neck.

  The puppy squirmed and wriggled, but he couldn’t get away. Charles felt for a collar, but all he found was thick, curly fur. “Dad,” he said. “How are we going to hold him?”

  By now, Dad was back on his feet. “Let’s all calm down,” he said. “Everybody off the dog. I don’t think he’ll go anywhere.”

  Sure enough, when all the boys had let go, the puppy shook himself off. His shaggy coat was white, with big splotches of black. He had big ears that hung down, a massive head, giant paws, a big wet pink tongue, and a big white fluffy tail. He gazed around at all the people. Then he turned and ran right back into the crate.

  “Hey, wait,” said Charles. “Hey, pup, did we scare you?”

  Tyler bent down to look into the crate. “Come on out of there,” he said. “Come on, puppy!” He reached in as if to grab the big shaggy pup.

  “Don’t!” said Charles. “He’s afraid. Too many people — or something. Whatever it is, we scared him.” Tyler’s mom pulled him away, and Charles pushed the crate’s door shut so the puppy would feel safe.

  “How could we scare anyone?” asked Hunter. “We’re just a bunch of kids.”

  “Some dogs just aren’t used to a lot of people or activity at once,” said Charles.

  Dad nodded. “And we can’t know what happened to him before he was abandoned here.”

  Liam’s eyes widened. “Like — maybe somebody was mean to him?” he asked.

  “We just don’t know,” said Dad.

  “For that matter, we don’t know if he might be mean himself,” said Mrs. Pagano. “I think we should give this pup some space. Tyler, Hunter, come help me get our picnic food out of the car.”

  “But —” Tyler began.

  “No buts,” said his mom. “Charles and his dad know much more about dogs than we do. Let’s let them figure out what to do next. Liam and Sammy, you come along, too. I bet your parents will be arriving any minute.” She marched the boys off toward the lower parking lot. Hunter looked back over his shoulder, but his mom kept him moving.

  Charles and Dad looked at each other. “So, what do we do?” Charles asked.

  Dad smiled. “We wait. I think now that things are a little calmer, he’ll be ready to come back out very soon.”

  Charles sat down cross-legged on the ground. He found a spot near the crate, but not right in front of it. He could see the puppy watching him through the wire mesh. His big furry head filled nearly the whole window, and he had to hunch over to fit inside the crate now that he was sitting up. “It’s okay, puppy,” Charles said. “Nobody’s going to grab you.”

  Dad sat down, too. “Poor guy,” he said. “What was somebody thinking, to leave him here all on his own? He may be big, but he’s still just a youngster.” He shook his head.

  The puppy pushed his nose toward the wire mesh and sniffed. “Dad, look,” Charles said in a low voice. “I think he’s kind of interested in us.”

  “Mmm hmmm,” agreed Dad. “Put your hand out — slowly, now!”

  Charles reached his hand toward the crate. The puppy shrank back. “It’s okay,” Charles said in his quietest voice. “It’s okay, Louie.”

  “Louie?” Dad asked, also quietly. “How do you know his name?”

  “I don’t,” said Charles. “He just seems like a Louie.”

  Dad smiled. “Louie seems to like that name,” he said, nodding at the crate.

  The puppy had his nose stuck up against the mesh again. Charles moved his hand just a little bit closer so he was touching the other side of the wire window. He felt the dog’s warm breath on his fingers as the puppy snuffled and sniffed. “That’s right,” Charles said in a whisper. “See? I’m okay.”

  “Sit right there,” said Dad. “I’m going to open the door to his crate again. This time when he comes out, you won’t grab him, right?”

  “Of course I won’t,” said Charles. He felt bad that he’d scared the pup the first time around. “I just didn’t want him to run away.”

  “I think he’ll stay around,” Dad said. “I have a feeling he likes you.”

  Charles smiled. He had that feeling, too. He had kept his hand at the window, and the puppy was nuzzling his fingers with his soft nose through the wire mesh.

  “Okay, here goes,” said Dad. Slowly, he reached over to open the door to the crate.

  Charles held his breath. The puppy turned his head toward the front of the crate to see what was happening. Carefully, Charles shifted just a little bit so the puppy could see him through the door. “Come on, Louie,” he whispered. “Come on out and say hi.”

  The pup put one big paw out of the crate, then another. He craned his neck to look at Charles, tilting his hea
d.

  Is it safe? I’d like to get to know you better, but I’m scared.

  “It’s okay, big boy,” Charles said softly. “Come on.” He made a little kissing noise with his mouth. “Come on, pup.”

  The puppy eased his way out of the crate, glancing first at Dad — who sat still as a statue — then at Charles. Two big paws, a big head, and then the rest of him emerged from the crate. Once out, he shook himself again. Then he padded over to Charles and lay down next to him, putting a paw in Charles’s lap.

  “Oh!” said Charles. “What a good boy. Good boy, Louie.” Gently, he gave the pup a scratch between the ears. The dog’s big fluffy tail thumped on the ground as he gazed up at Charles.

  Dad smiled. “He trusts you,” he said.

  Charles grinned back at him. “I think we might have just met our newest foster puppy,” he said.

  “Uh — hold on there, chief,” said Dad. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  Charles stared at his father. “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” said Dad, “he’s an awfully big puppy, and fostering him could be an awfully big job. Remember Boomer?”

  Charles grinned. How could he forget the giant, slobbery puppy the Petersons had once fostered? Boomer had been sweet, but maybe a little — clumsy. And he shed. A lot. “Yeah, so? That turned out okay in the end.”

  “Maybe,” Dad said. “If you don’t count a few broken vases, some ruined clothes, and a giant food bill.”

  “We’ve fostered little dogs that were more trouble,” Charles reminded him. He stroked Louie’s big head, which now lay heavily in Charles’s lap. Louie seemed to feel very comfortable with Charles already. “What about Daisy?”

  Dad laughed. “True. That pup was pretty destructive. Our couch has never been the same.” He held up his hands. “We’ll talk it over as a family. Speaking of which, I bet your mom and the others are here by now, getting our picnic ready. Let’s see if our furry friend is ready to join the party.”

  “What do you think, Louie?” Charles put his arms around the big pup’s neck. “I promise you’ll be safe.”