Patches (3 page)

A ghost! Charles started thinking. What was the best way of slipping around to the front of the house so he could grab his bike and take off for home? But Sammy had other ideas.

He put a finger over his lips.
“Shhh.
It must be the ghost! Come on, we’ll sneak up on it.”

Charles wasn’t even sure you
could
sneak up on a ghost, but he knew one thing: He didn’t want to try. Was he chicken? Not really. He just wasn’t all that interested in ghosts. If Sammy was, well — fine! Sammy could sneak up on the ghost.

The moaning sound continued. Now Patches started to sing along.

Ohhhhh, where did you goooooo? Pleeeease, pleeease come back and play with meeeee!

Charles wondered if the new moaning they were hearing could possibly be coming from
another
lonely beagle in the neighborhood. If so, maybe they could introduce Patches, and the dogs could become friends. No more loneliness. Problem solved.

While Charles was thinking, Sammy had tiptoed up onto the back porch. Charles could just get a glimpse of him between the vines. Sammy was inching his way over to a window, staying low so he could peek over the windowsill without being seen. Charles felt his heart pounding hard, as if
he
were the one up on that porch.

Then, suddenly, Sammy jumped back from the window and ran down the porch stairs. When he got back to Charles, his face was white.

“What is it? Is it a ghost?” Charles could tell something had frightened his friend.

Sammy shook his head. “No,” he said, panting a little. “A lady. She’s in there, painting the walls white.”

“A lady? But — why is she moaning?” Charles was confused.

“She’s not moaning. She’s singing!” Sammy started to laugh. “Her back was to me, but I could see that she’s wearing headphones and singing along. You know how that always sounds so weird?”

Charles did. Lizzie sometimes sang along while she was wearing her headphones. Dad said she sounded like a “lovesick moose.”

“Anyway” — Sammy glanced over his shoulder, back at the house — “I bet she’s going to come out after us. I think she heard me when I ran off the porch!”

Yikes. Maybe a ghost would have been safer.

Charles was about to suggest that they make a run for it when the back door of the haunted house slammed open. A young woman stepped out onto
the porch. She was wearing white pants and a white T-shirt, all splattered with different colors of paint. She was tall — and she looked
strong.

“Noelle?” Sammy was staring at the woman.

“Sammy? Is that you?” The young woman stared back.

“I don’t believe it,” said Sammy.

“Me, neither! I haven’t seen you since Gram’s birthday!” She was smiling now. “And I think you’ve grown two inches since then.”

“What’s going on?” Charles asked.

“That’s my cousin!” Sammy pointed at the woman. “Noelle. She’s
way
older than any of my other cousins. She already finished college!”

Noelle laughed. “I’m not
that
old.”

“This is Charles,” Sammy said. “He lives next door to me.”

“Hi, Charles!” Noelle smiled and waved. Then she looked back at Sammy. “So was that you looking in the window? Come on in, if you’re curious. I’ll give you a tour.”

Sammy and Charles looked at each other. Charles knew he wasn’t supposed to go into a stranger’s house on his own — but he wasn’t alone, and Noelle wasn’t a stranger. She was Sammy’s cousin!

A minute later, the boys were standing in the middle of an empty living room, looking at two big splotches of paint on the wall and agreeing with Noelle that “Historical Ivory” looked better than “Clamshell White.”

“I’m a renovator,” Noelle told the boys. “That means I find old houses like this and fix them up. Then I sell them to people who will appreciate them.”

“Cool,” said Charles. “But — didn’t you hear that this house is haunted?”

Noelle laughed. “Sure I heard. They say that about
every
abandoned house. I’m used to it. And anyway, I don’t believe in ghosts, so it doesn’t scare me at all.”

Charles liked that. He decided then and there that he didn’t believe in ghosts, either.

“We
thought
there might be a ghost,” Sammy said. “But the howling we heard turned out to be —”

“That adorable little beagle next door!” Noelle nodded. “I know. The poor little guy is so sad and lonely. I can’t stand to hear him cry. That’s why I was wearing my headphones.”

All three of them went to the window and looked out at Patches, who had given up on howling for the moment. He was lying on the garage floor with his sad little face between his paws.

“His name is Patches. Can you believe the way those people treat him?” Charles asked. “They never give him any attention. But we found out that ignoring a dog isn’t against the law.”

Charles and Sammy explained about their visit with Ms. Dobbins. “We’re here to keep an eye out,” Sammy told Noelle. “To make sure nothing really bad happens to Patches.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Noelle. “I’ll keep an eye out, too. I just wish there was something else we could do. I really feel sorry for the little dude.”

Noelle showed the boys around the rest of the house. Charles liked the tall tower that you could get to by climbing up a ladder and through a trapdoor on the third floor. Noelle said she thought it would make a great guest bedroom. She explained all about her plans for fixing things up. Charles had a feeling that, like Patches, Noelle was a little lonely. It must be hard to work all by yourself, day after day, in old, empty houses.

“Noelle is really nice,” Charles said to Sammy as they were biking home.

“She’s great,” Sammy agreed. “I remember once she wrote a letter to the newspaper about this big tree we all used to climb, near Gram’s house. The electric company was going to cut it down, but her letter made them think again. Now that tree is still there!”

That made Charles think. He felt so bad about
Patches, and — just like Noelle — he wished there was something he could do to help the lonely puppy. Now he remembered what Ms. Dobbins had said about teaching people the right way to treat dogs. Maybe there
was
a way he could help.

When he got home, Charles took Buddy out in the backyard for a long play session. He and the puppy ran and tumbled and wrestled and played tug-of-war with a stuffed snake. The whole time Charles was thinking about Patches, and how much the little beagle puppy would have loved to play like that.

After dinner that night, Charles went straight upstairs to the computer and worked for a long time. It would not have taken quite so long except he kept getting interrupted. First by Buddy, who trotted in and put his paws on Charles’s knee, hoping for more attention. Then by the Bean, who came in looking for Buddy. Then by Lizzie, who came in to scoop up the Bean for bath and bedtime. “What are you
doing
?” she asked Charles.
She tried to sneak a peek at what he was writing on the computer, but Charles was too quick for her. He turned the screen away so Lizzie couldn’t see.

Lizzie always had to know everything. But this was Charles’s very own idea, and he wanted to see if he could do it all by himself. So all he said was, “I’m helping to educate the public.” And he wouldn’t tell Lizzie any more, no matter how much she begged.

“What is
this
?” It was the next night, just before dinnertime, and Lizzie was staring at the last page of the newspaper. “Is that what you were doing last night? You wrote a letter?”

Charles grabbed the paper from her. “It’s in there already? Cool!”

Mom came over to see. She smiled when she saw the letter. “That’s great, Charles. Your first published writing. Maybe you’ll be a writer like me someday.” Mom was a reporter for the same newspaper that Charles’s letter was in. But Charles didn’t think that was why his letter to the editor had been published. Charles had sent
his letter in by e-mail, just like it said to do in the paper. In the directions it said that the newspaper published just about every letter it received.

Then Mom read the letter. “Oh, dear! Where
is
this poor puppy?” she asked.

Charles and Lizzie told her about Patches.

“Well.” Mom looked a little worried. “Don’t get mixed up with the owners, okay? That’s just asking for trouble. You should probably leave this in Ms. Dobbins’s hands from now on.”

Fortunately, Mom did not make Charles and Lizzie promise to stay away from Patches. Charles knew he couldn’t abandon Patches now.

That night, Charles read the letter over and over. It looked so official there in the paper! He read it out loud to the Bean and Buddy. Twice each, until Lizzie yelled at him to stop. Charles figured she was probably just jealous. When Dad got home, Charles read it to him, too.

“Nice work,” said Dad. “Hug your dog. I like
that.” He reached down and petted Buddy. Then he had to pet the Bean, too.

The next day at school, everybody was talking about Charles’s letter. His teacher read it out loud to the class, but lots of kids had already seen it. “Hug your dog!” people kept saying to Charles when they passed him in the hall or saw him in the cafeteria or the playground. Even the principal said it. Everybody seemed to think Charles’s letter was really good.

“You’re famous!” said Sammy. It was after school, and they were biking over to the haunted house. (They still called it that, even though it wasn’t really haunted.) They were going to check on Patches again, and this time, Lizzie was coming with them.

“I could have written that letter,” Lizzie said.

“But you didn’t,” Charles pointed out. “I did.”

Lizzie had no answer for that, so she changed the subject. “Is that the haunted house? Where’s the puppy? I can hear him howling already.”

“
Shh!
” Charles put his finger to his lips. “We’ll
leave our bikes here. Then we have to see if anybody’s home before we go see Patches.”

Noelle’s truck was not in the driveway. Charles and Sammy showed Lizzie where to lean her bike against the back porch of the haunted house. Then they climbed up onto the porch and peeked through the vines.

Patches was tied up, as usual. He sat with his head tipped back so his floppy ears hung down. They swung back and forth as he howled with all his might.

Oooohhhh, I’m soooo loooonely! Ooohhhh!

“Awww,” said Lizzie.

“No car in the driveway,” Sammy reported.

“No bikes in the garage,” Charles added. “And if that old man is in the house, he never seems to come out, anyway. I guess the coast is clear.”

All three of them dashed down the porch stairs and across the driveway. Patches jumped right
up when he saw them. His little tail wagged so hard that his whole body seemed to wag. He licked Charles’s face and Sammy’s hand and Lizzie’s toes. Then he tried to climb into Lizzie’s lap, even though she was standing up!

Lizzie giggled. “He’s adorable.”

“He’s smart, too,” Charles told her. “I already taught him how to sit. Watch!” He turned to Patches. “Patches, sit!”

Hooraaay! hooooray! You came to playyyyy!

Instead of sitting, Patches spun around in a circle, howling joyfully.

“Well, we’re working on it,” said Charles, shrugging.

They played with Patches until they heard a car coming up the street. “Uh-oh! That might be the owners coming home!” Charles said. He quickly kissed Patches good-bye, and he, Sammy, and Lizzie ran back to get their bikes.

“Hey, you guys!” It turned out that it was
Noelle’s truck they had heard. She was just unloading some cans of paint onto the porch. She pointed at Charles. “Hug your dog!” she said. “That was your letter, right?” She held out her hand for a high five. “Great job!”

“Thanks,” said Charles. “This is my sister, Lizzie. She came to meet Patches.”

“Isn’t he the sweetest?” Noelle asked. She peered through the vines at Patches and shook her head. “I wish I could just untie him and have him keep me company while I work. I’d love to have a partner like him.”

“Did Charles tell you that our family fosters puppies?” Lizzie asked. “Maybe someday we can find the perfect puppy for you, just like we did for your cousin Sammy.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed!” Noelle held up two twined fingers.

Charles thought he would keep
his
fingers crossed, too — in hopes that someday Patches’s owners would give him the attention he deserved.

Sammy always said it was Charles’s idea.

Charles always said it was Sammy’s.

But they both agreed, when they talked about it later on, that it was probably a pretty
bad
idea. Even though everything worked out okay in the end.

The idea was this: Patches was so lonely. Maybe what he
really
needed was a doggy friend. And who was a better friend than Buddy? He got along with
all
dogs. And it was safe to let Buddy and Patches play together, because Charles knew Buddy had been to the vet recently and all his shots were up to date. That would protect him
and
Patches from passing around any bad germs. It was
important to be careful about things like that with puppies. Charles had learned that from Lizzie.

“Hey, Buddy!” Charles said, the next afternoon. “What do you say? Want to go for a nice long walk?”

Buddy had been taking a nap under the kitchen table while Charles and Sammy ate cheese and crackers. Charles knew the puppy liked to nap there because sometimes he got to eat scraps of food that fell to the floor. Some fell accidentally — like a piece of Charles’s hot dog at dinner last night. Some fell on purpose — like a few of Charles’s string beans. But Buddy didn’t care how the food got there. He gobbled up everything that came his way.

Now, when he heard the word “walk,” Buddy jumped to his feet and scrambled out from under the table, knocking his head on the bottom of a chair.

Ouch! That hurt. But who cares? We’re going for a walk! We’re going for a walk!
We’re going for a walk walk walk! Oh, boy! Oh, boy! Oh, boy!

Mom came into the kitchen just in time to see Buddy spinning around and barking while Charles tried to snap his leash onto his collar. She sighed and shook her head, but she was smiling. “You would think this puppy had never been outside before.” She knelt down to give Buddy a pat. “Have a nice walk!”

Charles was glad she didn’t ask where they were going. She had not actually
told
him not to go visit Patches. Maybe it was better not to give her the chance. For a second, Charles got a funny feeling in his stomach. Did that mean that maybe it
wasn’t
such a good idea to take Buddy over there? But Buddy tugged on the leash, and Charles let the feeling go.

It took much longer to walk to Ferndale Drive than it did to bike there. Especially because
Buddy was in the kind of mood where he had to sniff every single blade of grass they passed.

Gee! Who’s been
here?
That smells like Kirby, the big brown dog down the street. Or maybe it was Lucy, that cute little spotted one. No — I think it might be a squirrel! Yes! A squirrel!!! Or was it a cat? I better smell it again.

“Buddy! Come
on
!” Charles didn’t mean to be impatient, and he hated to tug on Buddy’s leash. He knew that Buddy really,
really
enjoyed sniffing things. But still, they were on a mission. Operation Make-a-Friend. So Charles tugged.

The haunted house was quiet. “I guess Noelle is working on one of her other houses today,” said Charles as he and Sammy walked around to the back of the house.

Patches must have heard his voice, because he started howling right away.

It’s yoouuuuu! Hooraaay! Come and plaaaaay!!

Buddy’s ears went up.

Who’s that? He sounds kind of sad!

Buddy pulled on his leash so hard that Charles had to trot to keep up with him. Buddy was small, but he was strong! He dragged Charles right across the neighbor’s driveway before Charles could even check to see if anyone was home. Luckily, it seemed like everyone was away.

Buddy ran right up to Patches. The dogs sniffed each other’s noses. Both their tails were wagging hard.

Hey! Hey! Hey! Quit that crying! I’ll be your friend. Want to play?

Buddy stuck out his front paws and stretched his butt up in the air. His eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief as he invited Patches to play.

Whooooo are youuuuu?

Patches howled one last time. Then he seemed to decide that Buddy was okay. He quit howling. He gave his whole body a shake, and his long ears went flying. Then he did a play-bow back at Buddy. A second later, the two puppies started to tear around the garage. And
two
seconds later, Patches’s rope was
completely
tangled with Buddy’s leash.

Charles and Sammy were laughing. The puppies were having so much fun together! It was great to see Patches so happy. He jumped up, put his paws on Buddy’s neck, and pretended to bite him. Then he dashed away and let Buddy chase him. Then Buddy put his paws on Patches’s neck and pretended to bite
him.
Then the two of them rolled and tumbled all over the floor, wrestling. The garage was full of puppy yips and growls.

“Go, Patches! Get him!” Sammy yelled.

“That’s it, Buddy! Teach him a lesson!” Charles
knew the puppies were just playing. It was amazing how dogs could wrestle and snap at each other without anybody getting hurt. Their fighting was all in play.

Buddy jumped up when he heard his name. He cocked his head at Charles. Patches rolled over on his back and stared at Sammy, upside down. Then both puppies jumped on each other and the wrestling match started all over again.

“Hey! What’s going on here?”

Charles whirled around.

His knees went weak and his stomach flip-flopped.

It was the big man. The dad. Patches’s owner.