Pugsley (3 page)

Lizzie’s friend Maria came over after school on Thursday. During the walk home, Lizzie gave Maria the Pugsley update. “This morning when I went to put on my sneakers, I couldn’t find them. I had to look all over the house,” she said. “Finally I found the right one in the laundry room, wedged under the dryer. The left one was in the Bean’s room, under a pile of toys. And both of them were pretty chewed up.” She held up one foot for Maria to see and waggled her big toe through a hole in her sneaker. “I know it wasn’t Buddy who did it. He got over his chewing phase a long time ago.”

Maria groaned. “Mr. Pest. That nickname is perfect for him. I never heard of such a naughty puppy.”

“What am I going to do?” Lizzie asked. “No way is Mom going to let him stay much longer if he doesn’t quit being so bad.” Lizzie had stayed up late the night before, paging through all her puppy and dog training books. She couldn’t find a single idea about how to deal with Pugsley. Most of the books said the same thing Amanda did: “Ignore bad behavior.” That did not seem to work with Mr. Pest.

“I don’t have a clue,” Maria said. “Simba was already pretty well-trained when we got him.”

Simba, a big yellow Labrador retriever, was Maria’s mother’s guide dog. Maria’s mom was blind, but having Simba to help meant she could go just about anywhere and do just about anything that anybody else could do.

When Simba was a tiny puppy he had lived with a family who helped him grow up and learn basic manners. Then he went to guide dog school to learn how to cross busy roads, move through a crowd, and — most important — lie very quietly
and patiently when he wasn’t needed. Simba had come to live with the Santiagos when he was about two years old, and by then he was a very, very good dog.

“I can tell you one thing,” Lizzie said. “Pugsley will probably
never
be as well-behaved as Simba.” They were walking up the porch stairs at Lizzie’s house, and Lizzie could already hear Pugsley inside, barking his head off.

Buddy never barked when Lizzie came home from school. He knew her footsteps and he would be waiting at the door. His tail would be wagging and he would have a silly doggy smile on his face. Lizzie had to admit that sometimes — usually, in fact — Buddy would jump up on her because he was so eager to say hello. But still, he would not be barking.

“Argh!” Lizzie said, rolling her eyes at her friend. “Mr. Pest is driving me crazy!”

The front door opened before Lizzie’s hand even reached the knob. “This dog is driving me crazy!”
said her mother. She stood there holding Pugsley out at arm’s length. He was wearing his little red collar, and a matching red leash dangled from it. “Take him away for a few hours. Please! I need a break.”

Lizzie scooped Pugsley into her arms and nuzzled the top of his head. He snorted. Then he sneezed. And he licked her chin. At least he wasn’t barking anymore. Lizzie knew better than to argue with her mother. After all, she was the one who had begged to foster Pugsley. “We’ll go down to the park for a little while,” she said. “Should we take Buddy along?”

“To tell you the truth,” Mom said, “I think Buddy could use a Pugsley break, too.” She handed Maria some granola bars and a bottle of juice. “Here’s your after-school snack,” she said. “See you later!” She closed the door.

Maria and Lizzie looked at each other. “Yikes!” said Maria.

“Mom’s not usually like that,” Lizzie said. “It’s just —” She nodded down at Pugsley.

“Are you kidding? Your mom is great!” Maria said. “I doubt
my
mom would put up with a dog like Pugsley for even one day.”

Lizzie put Pugsley down, and they started to walk down the street. Pugsley pulled and tugged and lunged on the leash, dashing from one side to another so he could sniff every single smell he came across.

What’s that? What’s that? What’s that? Check it out! Check it out! Check it out
!

“He sure does have a lot of energy,” said Maria.

“Think,” Lizzie said. “Think! We have to figure something out. Pugsley would be
miserable
at the shelter. Imagine that energy all bottled up!”

She and Maria looked at Pugsley, imagining
him cooped up in a kennel. They both shook their heads.

When they got to the fenced-in park, Lizzie let Pugsley off the leash so he could run around a little. She and Maria sat on the swings, watching him dash around in circles on the grass.

“I remember when I was little, I used to come here all the time,” Lizzie said as she swung gently back and forth. “I would beg Dad to keep pushing me so I could go higher and higher.”

“I was the same way!” Maria said. “Then I learned how to pump my feet so I didn’t need a push anymore.”

“That was the best!” Lizzie said. “I could swing for hours in those days.”

They looked at each other and smiled. Then Lizzie backed way up and pushed into the swing, letting it carry her forward in a high arc. The wind rushed through her hair. “Yahoo!” she yelled, pumping her feet so she went even higher the next time. Maria was swinging, too.

“I could swing higher than anyone else in second grade, except for Will Garrett,” Lizzie boasted. “Nobody could swing higher than Will Garrett. Or run faster. Or get into more trouble. Will was always on the move. He kind of drove the teachers crazy.”

“We had a boy like that in my school, too. Todd Little. He was always acting up in class. My teacher used to say, ‘Ignore him. Todd only wants attention,’” Maria said, in a teacher-y voice. “I always thought that was weird. Like, if Todd wants attention, maybe we should just
give
him some. Then he wouldn’t have to do things like empty the pencil sharpener into the fish tank.”

Lizzie stuck out her heels and stopped herself. She popped off the swing and stood staring at her best friend. “Maria!” she said. “That’s it! I’ve got it!”

Maria looked confused. “What?”

Lizzie started talking fast, the way she always did when she was excited. “Pugsley only wants attention. That’s why he’s so bad! But instead of giving him attention, we keep trying to ignore him. So then he just tries harder and harder to get our attention!” She stared at Maria, then at Pugsley (now he was digging madly in the dirt over by the seesaw), then back at Maria.

Maria looked confused. “Uh-huh,” she said. “So —”

“So what if we just
give
him more attention —
before
he can misbehave?” Lizzie could not stop grinning. Her idea was brilliant! She was a genius! She could see herself now, accepting the
prize for Dog Trainer of the Year. “It just came to me,” she would say in her acceptance speech. She would mention Maria, too, of course. Maria had been there. She deserved at least a little bit of the credit.

“Uh, Lizzie?”

Lizzie was so deep in her daydream that it took her a moment to answer. “Yes?”

“That attention thing? I think Pugsley needs some right now.” Maria nodded toward Pugsley, who was busy pulling red petunias out of a flower bed near the park’s front gate.

Wheee! Look at me! This is the most fun ever! Look at the pretty flowers. Watch the dirt fly. Wheee
!

“Oops!” Lizzie jumped off her swing and sprinted toward Pugsley. She didn’t yell at him for what he was doing. She just scooped him up and nuzzled his soft, wrinkly face. “Hey, you,” she said
into his ear. “You’re about to get as much attention as you can stand!” She sat down on the grass and started patting Pugsley. “Who’s the cutest little Pest?” she cooed. “Who is?”

Maria came over and stuck the plants back into their holes, then patted the soil down around them. “I think they’ll be okay.” She sat back on her heels and looked at Pugsley, all curled up in Lizzie’s lap. “Boy,” she said, “I see what you mean. A little attention and he already looks really calm and happy.”

“And a calm, happy dog is a
good
dog,” Lizzie added. “Let’s take him home and throw the tennis ball for him so he can run off some more energy. After that, I’ll brush him for a while. And then maybe Charles can read to him.” Charles liked to read the comics to Buddy. It had become his favorite Sunday tradition, next to Dad’s blueberry pancakes. Even though it wasn’t Sunday, he could read the daily comics to Pugsley.

That was the beginning of Operation No More
Mr. Pest, as Charles named it. Over the next week, the whole Peterson family concentrated on giving Pugsley all the attention any dog could crave. Of course, they all made sure to give Buddy lots of attention, too, so he wouldn’t be jealous. But Pugsley was the star of the show, and he
loved
the limelight.

One day Lizzie and Maria took Pugsley downtown to meet some of their friends, including Jerry Small, who owned Lucky Dog Books, the best bookstore ever. Jerry had adopted Buddy’s mother, Skipper.

“My, my, my! Who’s this?” said Jerry when Lizzie and Maria walked in with Pugsley on his leash. Dogs were welcome in Jerry Small’s bookstore — in fact, Skipper practically lived there! Jerry knelt down to pat Pugsley. The pug pulled at the leash, putting his paws up on Jerry’s knee.

Hi! Hi! Can I kiss you
?

“Pugsley!” Lizzie said. “Be good!” She was trying to teach him to say hello without jumping up and licking people’s faces.

Jerry called for Skipper, and a bigger version of Buddy came trotting out from behind the counter. “Skipper, meet Pugsley!” said Jerry. Pugsley was still licking Jerry’s face, but he stopped for a second to touch noses with Skipper.

Lizzie would have loved to browse in the bookstore, but she didn’t. Instead, she stayed close to Pugsley, making sure he got plenty of attention. He behaved very, very well — at least until Jerry gave him a dog biscuit. That made him so happy that he had to jump around a little bit, and he knocked over a display of calendars.

Another day, Charles and Lizzie took Pugsley to meet Mrs. Peabody, an elderly woman who lived at a place called The Meadows. Mrs. Peabody and Charles had met when they were members of Grandbuddies, a program at school
where kids had older people for special friends. Mrs. Peabody had adopted one of the Petersons’ first foster puppies, a fluffy little white terrier named Snowball.

Mrs. Peabody thought Pugsley was “delightful!” but Snowball wasn’t so sure. He barked and barked at Pugsley. Snowball did not want Mrs. Peabody paying attention to any other dogs. Lizzie could understand that. She couldn’t quite remember, but she probably felt the same way when she was two years old and Mom and Dad had brought baby Charles home from the hospital. If Lizzie had been a dog, she might have barked at the new little person who was taking up her parents’ time.

So Lizzie patted Snowball, but she still made sure that Pugsley got most of her attention. Pugsley got lots of attention from other residents at The Meadows, too. Everybody thought he was the cutest thing ever, and he behaved very
nicely — if you didn’t count the moment when he chewed on one man’s cane . . . or stole another man’s scarf.

The next day, Dad and Lizzie took Pugsley down to the fire station to meet Dad’s fellow firefighters as well as Gunnar, the dalmatian who was the fire station mascot. That visit went well, except for when Pugsley jumped on Gunnar’s back as if he wanted the bigger dog to take him for a ride. Gunnar didn’t like that too much. The firefighters thought Pugsley was the funniest thing ever, and they picked him up and passed him around until he struggled to get down.

But best of all was the way Mom figured out how to keep Pugsley out of trouble by giving him plenty of attention when the rest of the family wasn’t around. Since Mom mostly worked at home, writing news stories for the
Littleton News
, she and Pugsley spent lots of time together. When Lizzie came home from school one day, she saw
that Mom had popped Pugsley into the carrier she had used to keep the Bean close when he was a little baby. It was like a soft backpack that strapped to the front of Mom’s chest. Even though he couldn’t run and play when he was strapped in, Pugsley
loved
being in that carrier. “He’s practically purring!” Mom told Lizzie. She smiled down at the pug puppy as she stroked his wrinkly head.

Oh, it’s so cozy in here! I don’t have to do anything at all to get attention. All I have to do is relax! I think I’ll take another little nap. . . .

By the time Wednesday rolled around again, Pugsley had calmed down so much that nobody was calling him Mr. Pest anymore. Lizzie just hoped he would behave well at Bowser’s Backyard. Aunt Amanda was going to be amazed at what a good puppy he had turned into. She
might even invite him (and Lizzie!) to Camp Bowser for the weekend!

There was only one bad part about the whole thing. Pugsley was learning how to behave, so that meant it was time to start finding him a forever home. The Petersons were only his foster family, after all. Someday soon they were going to have to say good-bye to Mr. Pest — for good.

“Good luck!” Mom leaned over to give Lizzie a kiss as she dropped her and Pugsley off at Bowser’s Backyard after school on Wednesday.

“Thanks! We’ll probably need it.” Lizzie looked down at Pugsley, who was nestled in her arms. He looked so innocent! But Lizzie knew better. Even though his behavior had improved a lot over the last week, Pugsley was still not one hundred percent perfect. He still had his Mr. Pest moments!

Lizzie was just hoping that nothing terrible would happen that afternoon while Aunt Amanda was watching. More than anything, she wanted Aunt Amanda to invite her and Pugsley along to Camp Bowser that weekend. She had dreamed about it all week long. Now, Lizzie waved as Mom
drove off. Then, as she walked Pugsley up to the door of the doggy day care, Lizzie gave the little pug a pep talk.

“You can do it, Pugsley. I
know
you can,” she said. “You’re a good, good puppy. You have behaved yourself all week long. Well, mostly. Except for a few slips here and there, when you weren’t getting enough attention. You know, like when you ate Dad’s fishing magazine, or when you knocked over Mom’s favorite lamp and made her cry. And — well, enough about the slips.” Lizzie looked down at Pugsley. “Look, all you have to do is be good for three hours. That equals” — she thought for a minute, doing the multiplication in her mind — “one hundred and eighty minutes of goodness.”

Pugsley tugged on his leash, pulling Lizzie toward the door. He snorted impatiently.

Let’s go! She keeps talking, and talking, and talking. Blah, blah, blah. When are we going to go inside and see all my friends
?

Lizzie laughed. “Okay, you’re right. It’s time to go in. Just remember — whether or not we get invited to Camp Bowser depends on
you.
Got it?”

Pugsley cocked his head as if he was trying to understand. Lizzie laughed again. “I know you’ll do your best. Here we go!” She pushed the door open and she and Pugsley walked in.

“Well! Look who’s here!” Aunt Amanda spotted them and came right over. She gave Lizzie a quick hug, then bent down to say hello to Pugsley.

Pugsley did not jump up to lick Aunt Amanda’s face. He did not put his paws on her legs. He did not whirl around in excited circles. He just sat down the way Lizzie had taught him, with his curly tail quivering, and held up one paw for a shake.

“My goodness! What a little gentleman!” Aunt Amanda smiled at Pugsley and gave him a scratch between the ears. She looked up at Lizzie. “Your father told me how hard you’ve all been working with Pugsley. It really shows!”

Lizzie felt her heart swell with pride as she looked down at Pugsley. “No more Mr. Pest!” she said. “Mostly.”

“That’s just great.” Aunt Amanda stood up. “Maybe Pugsley is almost ready for a trip to Camp Bowser!”

That was exactly what Lizzie was hoping to hear. But as soon as she heard it, she started to worry. What if Pugsley messed up? She smiled at her aunt and held up one hand, fingers crossed. “What’s today’s activity?” she asked as Aunt Amanda led the way into the playroom.

“Paw painting!” Aunt Amanda said over her shoulder.

Lizzie groaned, but not loudly enough for her aunt to hear. This was not good news. Paw painting with dogs was just like finger painting with kids. Only even messier. There were so many ways that Pugsley could get into trouble. Why couldn’t it have been Story Day, when all the helpers read to the dogs, or even Field Day, when
they had races outside and the dogs got to run around a lot and burn off energy?

Oh, well. Lizzie would just have to stick close to Pugsley and make sure that he had all the attention he needed. That might mean that she wasn’t helping as much with the other dogs, but she was sure Aunt Amanda would understand.

The playroom was full of dogs. Fiona was there, and Max, and even Hoss ambled out of the nap room. Hoss loved paw painting.

Aunt Amanda and her helpers had unrolled a long sheet of newsprint that stretched from one end of the room to the other. Now they were putting out paper bowls full of red, yellow, and blue poster paint. They were also trying to get the dogs to settle down and choose a place along the newsprint where they would each make their own paw painting.

Pugsley was tugging at his leash again, but Lizzie did not let him go. She was sure that if she did, he would tear all around the room and leave
red, yellow, and blue paw prints everywhere. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said. She led him over to a spot next to Hoss, and let the two dogs sniff and wag and say hello. They looked so cute together! The Great Dane was about ten times as big as Pugsley, but he was always gentle and kind to the little pug.

“Okay, everyone!” Amanda called over the sound of happy barking. “Let’s start painting!”

Lizzie helped Pugsley dip one front paw into the blue paint, then press it onto the paper. “Fun, isn’t it?” she asked him. So far, so good. The old Pugsley would have already run up and down the whole paper three times. The new Pugsley was settled in, enjoying himself. Lizzie noticed that Aunt Amanda was watching. They smiled at each other and Aunt Amanda gave Lizzie a big thumbs-up.

Next to Lizzie, Hoss had dunked each huge front paw into a different color. He was making swoopy paw-strokes in red and yellow. “Nice!” Lizzie said to him. She let go of Pugsley’s leash
for a second and reached over to wipe Hoss’s paws with a paper towel. “Why don’t you try some blue?” She pushed the bowl of blue paint over to the Great Dane, and Hoss dipped one big paw into it.

“Hey!” Aunt Amanda yelled. “Watch out for Pugsley!”

Lizzie turned around just in time to see Pugsley putting his whole face down into the yellow paint. “Oh, no!” she cried. One second without attention, and look what he had done! Startled, Pugsley looked up at her. Yellow paint ran down his face, and he stuck out his tongue to taste it. Then he sat down the way she had taught him — right into the red paint! He held up one blue paw.

What? Why are you looking at me like that? Did I do something wrong
?

Lizzie groaned. No Camp Bowser for Mr. Pest! She was sure they had blown their big chance.

But Lizzie had a surprise coming to her. At the end of the day, Aunt Amanda came over to give Pugsley his good-bye treat, a little dog biscuit. Then she gave Lizzie a big hug. “Pugsley wasn’t perfect,” Amanda said.

“I know,” Lizzie said miserably. “That paint thing —”

“That wasn’t so terrible,” Aunt Amanda said. “Pugsley’s behavior has really improved. You’ve worked hard, and you deserve a reward. If it’s all right with your mom and dad, how about you and Pugsley come up to Camp Bowser this weekend?”