Pugsley (2 page)

“No!” Lizzie cried. Then she covered her mouth. After all, she was eavesdropping. It wasn’t right to listen to other people’s conversations. Her parents had taught her that. But it wasn’t as if she had been listening on purpose! Still, it was probably better to keep her mouth shut. Nobody had asked her opinion.

Luckily, Ken did not seem to hear her. He left a few minutes later, after kissing Pugsley good-bye. Pugsley stood very still for once, watching his owner walk away. Lizzie could hardly bear the sad look in the pug’s big brown eyes. She scooped him up and gave him a big kiss. Then she put him down. “Go play, sweetie,” she said. “Don’t worry. We love you.”

Aunt Amanda came out of her office and saw how upset Lizzie looked. “I guess you heard that,” she said.

Lizzie stared down at her shoes and nodded. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“That’s okay.” Aunt Amanda sighed. “But I can tell you feel the same way about Pugsley that I do. He may be a pest, but he’s a sweetie, too. I don’t want him to have to go to the shelter.”

Lizzie shook her head. “Me, neither. I mean, I volunteer there, and it’s a great place. Ms. Dobbins loves dogs as much as you do. But there are a
lot
of dogs at Caring Paws, and not enough staff to give them the attention they deserve.”

“I know,” said Aunt Amanda. “Plus, at least the dogs that stay with us during the day get to go home at night to comfy beds and loving owners. The dogs at the shelter sleep alone, in their kennels. That makes me sad.”

Lizzie saw Aunt Amanda’s eyes filling with tears and knew that she was picturing the lonely
dogs at the shelter. She felt her own eyes fill up. Lizzie could remember so many times when she had left the shelter at the end of the day feeling so, so sorry for all the dogs she could not take home with her.

But then Aunt Amanda shook her head. “Still, I just can’t let Pugsley drive all the other dogs crazy. Did you see him stealing everybody’s toys last time you were here? He kept stashing them over behind the slide. There must have been ten toys over there by the end of the day!”

Lizzie nodded. “I saw,” she said. She had also seen Max and another dog, Ruby, sniffing all over, looking for their toys. Mr. Pest was a troublemaker, no doubt about it.

But still.

Pugsley was just a puppy. And he didn’t know any better because nobody had ever taught him the
right
way to behave. Maybe she, Lizzie, could help Pugsley become a dog that somebody would be happy to own. “What if I tried to train him a
little bit, during the days when I’m here?” she asked Aunt Amanda.

Aunt Amanda shook her head. “I think Ken is serious about giving him up,” she said. “Pugsley won’t be coming here anymore.” She put her hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. “I know you care,” she said. “So do I. But there’s really nothing we can do. Let’s go see what everybody’s up to. I think it’s time for some outdoor play.”

Lizzie tried to smile. She loved taking the dogs outside to the fenced play yard out in back. “Can Pugsley come?” she asked.

“Of course!” Aunt Amanda smiled back. “What fun would it be without Mr. Pest?” Then her smile faded.

Lizzie knew what Aunt Amanda was thinking. And she agreed. Bowser’s Backyard just would not be the same without Pugsley around. Yes, it would be calmer. But it would not be as much fun. Aunt Amanda was right.

“She’s right, isn’t she, Mr. Pest?” Lizzie said,
when she found the pug in the nap room. He was quiet for once, curled up with Hoss on the bottom bunk. They looked so cute together! Lizzie sat down for a moment to pat the tiny pug and the gigantic Great Dane. They made such a funny pair!

Aunt Amanda had told Lizzie that when she first opened Bowser’s Backyard she thought it would be a good idea to separate the big dogs from the little ones. But the dogs wanted to be together! They whined at the gates that kept them apart until Aunt Amanda gave up and let them all mingle. From then on, big dogs and little dogs wrestled, played, and napped together without any problems at all.

Now, when Lizzie started petting Pugsley, he jumped up and started sneezing. Lizzie laughed. Between Aunt Amanda’s two pugs and this pup, she was getting used to typical pug behavior. They were such cuddle-bugs, all of them! They just loved to be hugged and petted. And pugs
were always snuffling, snorting, and sneezing. “Anything with an S!” as Aunt Amanda said. Their funny flat faces were always in motion, and their big bulgy eyes didn’t miss a thing.

“Ahh! Pugsley! Cut it out!” Now the pup had climbed up onto Lizzie’s lap and was licking her face all over, snuffling softly as his curly tail wagged and wagged.

She likes it! She likes it! I can tell. She thinks I’m the funniest. Because I am! I’m the funniest! I’m the funniest dog ever! Watch this! I’ll lick her some more and make her laugh even louder.

Lizzie was laughing so hard, she could hardly catch her breath. She gathered the pup in her arms. “Come on, you! It’s time to go outside. You, too, Hoss!” She gave the big Great Dane a nudge. Groaning a little, he got to his feet, stretched, and stepped slowly down off the bed. Outside, Lizzie put Pugsley down and watched
with a smile as he tore around the playground. He dashed and darted in and out among the other dogs, yipping at this one and jumping on that one and nipping at another one’s chin — until the whole pack was milling around excitedly.

Yeah, that’s it! Let’s have some fun! Watch how it’s done. First you run here, then you run there! Then you grab a toy and shake it! Then you pounce on a friend! Watch! See? Then you run here again, and there again, and grab a toy again and pounce again! Wheee
!

Lizzie shook her head as she watched. Pugsley sure did know how to have a good time — and he wanted everybody else to enjoy themselves, too. He might be a handful, but he was a happy handful. Suddenly, Lizzie knew she could not say good-bye to the silly little pup.

“Aunt Amanda,” Lizzie said as they stood watching the dogs play. “What if — what if my family
fostered Pugsley? Would you let him keep coming to Bowser’s Backyard?”

Aunt Amanda turned to stare at Lizzie. “You would take him?”

Lizzie nodded. “Just temporarily, of course. You know Dad would say yes. I’ll just have to talk Mom into it,” she said. “I think Pugsley would be a lot happier with us than he would be at the shelter. We can help train him and find him a good forever home.”

Aunt Amanda crossed her arms. “Wow,” she said. “Well, what can I say? If you’re willing to take on Mr. Pest, how can I say no to him coming here whenever you’re working? And — maybe, if everything works out, he could even come to Camp Bowser with us.”

“Deal,” said Lizzie, sticking out her hand.

“Deal,” said Aunt Amanda.

They shook on it.

“Now,” Lizzie said, “all I have to do is convince Mom.”

“You’re talking about Pugsley, right?” Mom sounded amazed. “Otherwise known as Mr. Pest? The dog you said causes all sorts of trouble? The nutty little pug puppy you’ve been telling us about? Do you think I’m
crazy
? Or are
you
crazy?”

“Well . . .” Lizzie was sitting in Aunt Amanda’s office, where she’d gone to call Mom. She could see out the big window into the indoor play area. All the dogs were inside now, and Aunt Amanda was trying to calm them down. Their owners would be coming soon to pick them up, and nobody liked driving home with a hyped-up hound.

Pugsley wasn’t helping matters. He was still zooming around, trying to get everyone to play. Josie was trying to catch him, but somehow he
kept squirting out of her grip. Lizzie couldn’t help giggling a little as she watched.

“Well, what?” her mother asked over the phone. “And what’s so funny?”

“Actually,” Lizzie confessed, “it’s Pugsley. I’m watching him right now. You’re right, he does cause a little trouble sometimes. But he is so, so cute. You’ll fall in love with him just like I have, I promise.”

“Love is not the issue,” her mom said sternly. “I happen to like our house, and I don’t want it destroyed.”

“Pugsley isn’t destructive,” Lizzie said. At least, she didn’t
think
he was. She had never seen him pull all the stuffing out of a toy the way Max was always doing, or scratch at the door the way Fiona the poodle did. “He just likes to play, that’s all. He’ll be great company for Buddy. And the Bean will love him.”

“I just wish we had time to talk this over as a family,” Mom said. She sighed. “But I understand.
If we don’t take him today, he’s going to the shelter tomorrow, right?”

“That’s right.” Lizzie crossed her fingers and held her breath.

“And his owners have agreed to let us foster him?”

Aunt Amanda had already called Ken for permission. He was very happy to hear that Pugsley might be going to a foster family. “Yup.”

Mom sighed again. “Okay. I’m willing to give Pugsley a chance. But you’ll have to promise to —”

But Lizzie had jumped up from her seat and was dancing around the office, grinning. She wasn’t even listening anymore. She could guess exactly what Mom was saying about taking responsibility and all that. Of
course
Lizzie would take responsibility. Hadn’t she and Charles been very responsible with all the other puppies they had fostered?

“Sure, Mom, sure,” she said, when she’d danced herself back over to the phone. “So, Aunt Amanda
will drop me and Pugsley off in an hour or so. I can’t wait for you to meet him!” She hung up before her mom could say another word.

Pugsley was not exactly on his best behavior during the ride home. Aunt Amanda had put him in the way-back of the “Bowser Mobile,” the special van she used for picking up and dropping off dogs. The van was big and red and its license plate read
pooches
. Inside there were cages for eight dogs — or more, if some were small.

Right now, Aunt Amanda’s pugs, Lionel and Jack, were sharing one of the cages, while her golden retriever, Bowser, took up another. Fiona the poodle was in a third; she was going to Camp Bowser for the weekend. Lizzie was jealous. She wished
she
were going to Camp Bowser. But maybe she and Pugsley would be going sometime very, very soon.

Pugsley had a cage all to himself. Lizzie would have thought he would be ready for a nap by then — after all, he’d had a long afternoon of
running and playing! But no. Mr. Pest still wanted to play. He bounced from side to side in his cage, barking constantly and poking his paw into the other dogs’ cages. Lizzie and Amanda did their best to ignore him, hoping his rowdy behavior would stop.

At a stoplight, Aunt Amanda looked over at Lizzie and raised her eyebrows. “Sure you’re up for this?”

Lizzie could barely hear her over Pugsley’s barking. She just nodded.
She
was. She just wasn’t sure about the rest of her family.

She shouldn’t have worried about Charles and Dad and the Bean.
They
loved Pugsley the minute they saw him. When Aunt Amanda opened the back door of the van and unlatched his cage, Pugsley poked his little wrinkled face out and sneezed. Then, as soon as Aunt Amanda put him down on the ground, he ran right over to Charles and Dad, who were standing in the front yard, and put his paws up on Charles’s knees.

“Pugsley!” said Amanda. “No jumping!”

But Charles was laughing. “Ha! Nice to meet you!” he said. He knelt down and Pugsley started licking his face all over while Charles just laughed and laughed.

Dad cracked up, too. He sat down next to Charles and let Pugsley lick his face. “Well, you sure are a cutie,” Dad said. “And I’ve heard such terrible things about you. They can’t possibly be true!” Pugsley wriggled his whole body and kept licking. Dad laughed some more.

The Bean came toddling over. “Uppy!” he said, holding out a hand. He laughed his funny googly laugh. Dogs seemed to love the Bean. Maybe that was because the Bean liked to pretend he
was
a dog. He often took naps on a dog bed, and lately his favorite toy was one of Buddy’s hand-me-downs, a purple starfish that squeaked.

“Hold on,” Lizzie told the Bean. “Let’s make sure the ‘uppy’ is ready to meet you.” She knew it was always a good idea to take things slowly when
it came to toddlers and dogs. But before she could do anything the Bean was already getting his face licked. He laughed even louder.

“Well, it looks like they’ll get along,” said Mom, who had come outside. She was holding Buddy on a leash.

When Pugsley saw Buddy, he wriggled out of Charles’s arms and went flying over to say hello to the little brown puppy.

Hi! Hi! Hi! I like you! Do you like me? Let’s play
!

Buddy looked surprised for a moment. But then he started tugging on the leash as if he wanted to run around with Pugsley.

“Let’s take them out in back and let them run around in the yard,” Lizzie suggested.

“Sounds like a good idea,” said Aunt Amanda, who was still standing near the van, watching the whole scene.

“Can you stay for dinner?” Dad asked.

“No, we’re heading to the country,” Aunt Amanda said. “I should be on my way. Anyway, it looks as if Pugsley is off to a very good start in his new home.”

“New
temporary
home,” Mom corrected her. But she was smiling as she looked down at Pugsley.

Lizzie felt sure that everything would work out just fine.

“Is it Wednesday yet?” Mom pushed the hair off her forehead and let out an exasperated sigh.

Charles gave her a strange look. “Mom! That’s silly. It’s only Saturday night!”

“She knows,” Lizzie told her brother. She looked from her mom to Pugsley, who was chasing his tail in the middle of the kitchen floor. Since Friday, when Pugsley had come to stay, it did seem as if a
lot
more than twenty-four hours had passed. And next Wednesday, the day when Pugsley would be allowed to spend some time at Bowser’s Backyard, did seem very, very far off. Lizzie could tell her mom was already eager for a break from all-Pugsley-all-the-time.

To be honest, so was Lizzie.

Pugsley had more than lived up to his nickname. What a pest! He was constantly getting into trouble, stirring up trouble, looking for trouble, or making trouble. Well, maybe he had slept for a few hours here and there. Usually on the couch, which was the one place Mom had said she really did
not
want him to sleep.

And of course, before he could curl up for a nap on the couch, Pugsley had to throw each and every one of the couch pillows to the floor, then pounce on each one in turn,
grrr-ing
and snarling, to teach them a lesson. What was the lesson? Nobody knew. Nobody but Pugsley.

Pugsley had kept Lizzie on the run all day. If she wasn’t petting him or playing with him, he would run off and get into all sorts of mischief. Whenever she took her eyes off him for even one minute, he would do something bad. Like on Friday night. Only a couple of hours after Pugsley had arrived, Lizzie was on the phone telling her friend Maria all about Mr. Pest. “Hold on,” Lizzie
had said suddenly, looking around, “where
is
he, anyway?”

Lizzie ran through the downstairs rooms. As she rounded the staircase, she heard snorty growling noises coming from above. She dashed up the stairs. “Pugsley!” she said. “Oh, no!”

Lizzie found Mr. Pest standing in Charles’s room, looking up at her with innocent eyes.

What? Did I do something wrong
?

The little dog was surrounded by a sea of wrinkled clothes that he had pulled from the neat stack of clean laundry Dad had left on Charles’s bed. A pair of underpants drooped from his jaw.

Lizzie folded her arms.

Pugsley wagged his tail and opened his mouth, and the underwear fell on top of the pile.

“Argh!” Lizzie said, remembering what Aunt Amanda said about ignoring bad behavior. It was
too late to punish Pugsley now, anyway. The deed was done.

By the time Lizzie had finished picking up the laundry and sorting it into two piles — “still mostly clean” and “needs another washing” — Pugsley had slipped off again.

Lizzie caught Pugsley as he dashed out of the bathroom, holding the end of a long, long,
long
ribbon of toilet paper. “You!” Lizzie cried. “You are in big trouble, Mr. —”

Watch this! Watch this! Did you ever see anything so funny? Look at the way it just keeps coming and coming and coming. . . .

Pugsley gave her that big-eyed innocent look again.

Then he took off down the stairs, trailing the toilet paper all the way into the living room before the roll rattled itself empty. While Lizzie wadded
up the paper, Pugsley entertained himself by dashing in huge circles through the downstairs rooms. He did three laps, then he reversed direction and did three more laps the other way.

“Lizzie!” Mom yelled from the den, where she was trying to pay some bills.

“I know, Mom!” Lizzie called back. Her voice was muffled by the giant tangle of toilet paper in her arms. “I’ll grab him in a sec!”

And that was just Friday night.

On Saturday, Pugsley ate some of Mom’s expensive lemon-scented soap and then burped lemon-scented bubbles all day long.

On Sunday, he tore the stuffing out of every single one of Buddy’s toys.

On Monday, he ate the mail before Mom or Dad could read it.

And on Tuesday, Mr. Pest jumped right
splash
into the tub while Lizzie was helping Mom give the Bean his bath.

What a naughty puppy!

The only time he was good was when Lizzie was giving him her full attention, like when she held him and petted him by the fireplace. At times like that, Pugsley was relaxed and happy and quiet.

When Wednesday finally really did arrive and she and Pugsley were at Bowser’s Backyard, Lizzie listed Pugsley’s crimes for Aunt Amanda.

“Oh, dear,” said Aunt Amanda. “I bet your mother isn’t very happy about that.” She shook her head.

Lizzie thought she saw a tiny smile on her aunt’s lips. “It’s not funny!” she said, even though she knew that some of the things Pugsley had done were pretty hilarious. “If he keeps acting this way, Mom won’t let him stay with us. And we’ll never find him a forever home. Mom had a friend at work who thought she might like a pug, but when she came over to meet Pugsley, he jumped up and licked her all over. Then he ate the handles off her purse while she and Mom were
having coffee. She left in a big hurry. Mom was
not
happy.”

Aunt Amanda’s smile disappeared. “You’re right,” she said. “It’s serious. Pugsley has
got
to learn to behave.”

Lizzie felt a knot forming in the middle of her stomach. “What about Camp Bowser?” she asked in a tiny voice. She already knew the answer.

Aunt Amanda shook her head. “Well,” she said, “I was hoping for your help this weekend, since I have six dogs coming up. But Mr. Pest is not invited. I can’t deal with a handful like him on top of everything else.”

Lizzie’s heart sank. She didn’t even have to ask. She already knew the answer. She wasn’t invited, either. If Pugsley had to stay home, so did she. Even if it meant missing out on going to Camp Bowser, something Lizzie was dying to do. After all, she had promised to be responsible for the little pug puppy.