CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  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

  “Here’s Buckley!” Lizzie Peterson led an excited Yorkie into the reception area at Bowser’s Backyard, her aunt’s doggy day-care center. Buckley pulled at the leash when he saw who was waiting for him.

  “Buckley!” The woman knelt down and opened her arms, and Lizzie let the leash drop so the little dog could dash into his owner’s embrace. Lizzie loved seeing people and their dogs reunited at the end of the day. It was her favorite time to help out at Aunt Amanda’s—especially on Fridays, when the people and dogs were looking forward to being together all weekend.

  “Buckley was a good boy today,” Lizzie told his owner. “I hear he had a lot of fun with Lena and Skye.” Lena and Skye were sister puppies, almost but not quite identical. They were both happy, fluffy, bouncy poodle mixes with pretty brown-and-cream coats. Lizzie knew that they both loved to play.

  “Buckley loves it here,” said his owner, smiling at Lizzie. “But I’m glad I get him to myself for two whole days now.”

  “Bye, Buckley, have a great weekend!” said Lizzie. She waved good-bye to Buckley as she went back to the kennels to fetch another dog whose owner was waiting.

  Lizzie was excited about the upcoming weekend, too. Her aunt had invited her to Camp Bowser, her doggy sleepaway camp in the country. They would be driving up tomorrow, and Lizzie couldn’t wait. It was always a treat to spend time there with Aunt Amanda, who was possibly the only person in the world more dog-crazy than Lizzie. Aunt Amanda knew so much about dogs, and was always happy to share her knowledge with Lizzie.

  Lizzie had loved dogs for as long as she could remember. She loved playing with them, training them, cuddling with them, and learning about them. Besides helping her aunt, she also volunteered at the local animal shelter, and she even had a dog-walking business. On top of all that, she and her younger brothers, Charles and the Bean, had managed to convince their parents to let them foster puppies. Now the Petersons were a foster family who took care of puppies who needed homes.

  Best of all, Lizzie had her own puppy, the best puppy ever. Buddy had started out as a foster puppy, but when the whole family had fallen in love, they had decided to keep him forever.

  “Can Buddy come to Camp Bowser with us?” she asked her aunt as they got ready to sweep and mop the kennels after all the dogs had left.

  “Aw, I love Buddy, you know that,” said Aunt Amanda. “But this time it’s just going to be us and Bowser, remember? We have a lot to do if we’re going to plan that clicker-training workshop.”

  Lizzie nodded. “Right,” she said. “Got it.” She was flattered that Aunt Amanda had asked for her help this weekend. They were going to work on a new workshop that her aunt wanted to start offering. Lizzie had heard of clicker training, but she’d never tried it—which, according to Aunt Amanda, was perfect. Lizzie hoped she wouldn’t let Aunt Amanda down.

  “You and Bowser will be learning at the same time,” her aunt had said. “We’ll keep a training diary and see how much we can do in one weekend. And if I’m right about my guess, we can make it so simple that even kids can take the workshop. Of course, most kids don’t know nearly as much as you do about dogs, but still.”

  Lizzie felt herself blushing. Compliments from her aunt meant so much. It was one thing for your parents to tell you how fantastic you were—that was kind of their job, really. But to have Aunt Amanda compliment her—well, that was extra special.

  Aunt Amanda really was a dog expert. She had Bowser, a big, calm, older golden retriever, who was always up for anything. She also had three pugs, but this weekend they would be staying home with Uncle James. “We don’t need all that wild pug energy when we’re trying to concentrate,” she said now as she wrung out the mop.

  “Remind me again about how it works?” Lizzie asked. “The clicker thing?”

  “It’s simple, really,” said her aunt. She pulled a small rectangular device out of her pocket and pressed on it with her thumb. A sharp click rang out. “Once a dog learns that this sound,” she clicked again, “means the same as ‘good dog’ and that a treat is coming, you can train them quickly to do all sorts of things.”

  “But why is it better than just saying ‘good dog ’?” Lizzie asked.

  “Well, because it’s loud, and it’s a particular sound that doesn’t sound like anything else,” said her aunt. “It’s very clear, and you can time it exactly so the dog knows just what it is that he’s doing right.” She smiled at Lizzie as they hung up the mop and broom. “You’ll see. I think you’ll love it. Take a look online tonight if you want. I’ll send you links to some of my favorite clicker trainers’ videos.”

  Just then, Aunt Amanda’s phone rang. “Hello?” she said, putting the phone to her ear.

  Lizzie watched as her aunt listened, her expression becoming more and more concerned.

  “Hi, Mac. Oh, dear. Poor Donut. I can just imagine. How can I help?” She looked upset. “This weekend? Now? Well … sure. Yes. Of course.” She hung up and turned to Lizzie.

  “What happened?” Lizzie asked.

  “Do you remember Donut?” asked Aunt Amanda. “That little German shepherd–Lab mix? The sweetest pup.”

  Lizzie nodded. “She was in your puppy kindergarten a while ago, right?” Lizzie loved helping out at puppy kindergarten classes. It was always so much fun to see the youngest dogs try hard to please their owners—when all they really wanted to do was bark, run around like wild things, and wrestle with one another. It was total chaos, total joy.

  “That’s right,” said Aunt Amanda. “And they’ve been regulars here since then. But now her family has to move across country for a job. They’ve found a great home to rent, but …”

  “They don’t allow dogs,” said Lizzie. She’d heard it before at the animal shelter. It was one of the most common reasons why people had to give up their dogs. Lizzie felt bad for the family—but she also felt a familiar little tickle of excitement. “So maybe they need a foster family for Donut?” she asked.

  “Not quite yet,” said Aunt Amanda. “They’re still hoping for a miracle. But time is running out. They’re packing up all their belongings this weekend, and Mac says that Donut is getting very upset. She knows something’s going on. He asked me to take her for the weekend. So—”

  “So we get to take her to camp with us?” Lizzie asked. She felt sorry for Donut’s owners, but she couldn’t help being excited, too. “Maybe we can try clicker training her, too.”

  Her aunt looked at her and nodded. “You know,” she said, “that’s actually not a bad idea at all.”

  The front door buzzer sounded just then, and Aunt Amanda went to unlock the door. A man came in, holding one end of a leash. At the other end was an adorable, roly-poly, brown-and-black puppy.

  “Donut!” Lizzie said, kneeling down.

  Donut trotted right into Lizzie’s arms, her tail wagging so hard that her whole body wagged along with it.

  I know a friend when I see one!

  Lizzie let the puppy sniff her hands, then petted her gently. Her brown-and-black fur—touched with golden highlights—was so thick and soft. Donut had shining golden-brown eyes, the color of honey. Her ears tried to stand up but mostly flopped over. She was a sturdy, solidly built little pup who seemed to want nothing more than to please.

  The puppy wriggled happily while Lizzie petted her all over. “Good girl,” Lizzie whispered. “That’s a good girl.”

  “That’s right, she is a good girl,” said the man holding the leash. “Donut is … well, she’s just the best.”

  Lizzie looked up at him and realized that he was crying. Really crying. She felt her heart flip over in her chest. This man really loved his dog.

  Lizzie had seen her dad cry during the sad part of a movie or when he was watching Charles in a school play or listening to the Bean sing a new song he’d learned. Sometimes Dad even cried during this one really sappy commercial on TV.

  When Lizzie’s dad cried, it was just a few tears sliding quietly down his face. If you weren’t watching closely, you wouldn’t even know. But this man, here in the reception area at Bowser’s Backyard, was sobbing.

  “Oh, Mac,” said Aunt Amanda, putting an arm around his shoulder. “It’s so hard. I just hate to see this happen.”

  “Wanda and the kids are taking it even harder,” Mac said between sobs. “We just don’t know how we’re going to manage without Donut. We all love her so much.” He took a deep breath and put his shoulders back. “But this job Wanda’s been offered—it’s just too good to pass up. It’s what she deserves, and we’re all excited to be moving to California. We really are. Except …” He knelt down next to Lizzie and pulled Donut into his arms. Then he cried some more, burying his face in her neck. His whole body shook.

  Donut snuffled Mac’s face all over and licked the tears off his cheeks.

  Don’t be sad! I’ll make you feel better.

  Lizzie looked up at Aunt Amanda, and saw that her aunt had tears in her eyes. So did Lizzie. This was just heartbreaking to see.

  “Maybe you could find another place, one that takes dogs?” Lizzie asked.

  ; Mac looked up. “We’ve tried,” he said tiredly. “There just isn’t much to choose from. Our kids need space to play and a good school to go to, and we’re going to try to get by with just one car.” He hugged Donut one more time and stood up. “It’s such a shame,” he said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, “because the place we found is absolutely perfect for a dog. It has a fenced yard, it’s near a park with a beautiful river running through it, and there are all sorts of hiking trails to explore. Donut would have been so happy there.” He shook his head, looking down at his puppy. She looked back up at him and thumped her tail, cocking her head to one side. She put up a paw, as if begging him to tell her what was wrong.

  Is there a problem? Can I help?

  “But?” Aunt Amanda prompted. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” said Mac. “I was in touch with the landlord, the man who owns the property. They live in the house next door, and he seemed fine with us bringing Donut. Then all of a sudden, he told me that we couldn’t have a dog after all, that his wife wasn’t comfortable with it.”

  Lizzie gasped, but Aunt Amanda nodded. “Some people just don’t get dogs,” she said. “Sometimes they’re afraid because of something that happened when they were younger, and sometimes they’ve just never been around a well-behaved, lovable dog like Donut. They think all dogs are mean or messy or destructive.”

  “That’s why I gave him your name as a reference,” Mac said. “I knew you would vouch for Donut.”

  Aunt Amanda shook her head. “I know, I remember the e-mail you copied me on. And of course I would have told him what a great dog Donut is, but he never wrote to ask me,” Aunt Amanda said. “I guess the decision was already made.”

  Donut had been watching the people talk, her gaze moving from one face to the other. Her eyes were serious. She pushed her nose into Mac’s hand and leaned against him.

  I can’t stand it when my people are upset. Maybe they just need more cuddles.

  Lizzie took a breath. “I know you may not be ready to hear this,” she said to Mac, “but when—I mean, if—you decide it’s time to find Donut the perfect new home, my family can help. We foster puppies, and we take really good care of them until we are sure we’ve found each one the right forever family.”

  Mac began to cry again. “You’re right,” he said between sniffles. “I’m not ready to hear that. But I’m glad to know that you can help if we need it.” He bent to hug Donut one more time. “This isn’t good-bye,” he told her. “We’ll see you on Sunday night.” He straightened up. “I just think it’ll be much easier on all of us if she doesn’t have to watch us pack up the whole house. Dogs know when something’s going on. I don’t want her to worry.”

  “We’ll take great care of her until Sunday night,” Aunt Amanda told him. “Remember that clicker-training workshop I told you about? Lizzie is going to help me with it this weekend. We’ll keep Donut busy learning new things, so she won’t miss you too much.”

  Mac nodded, gave Donut one more pat, and stood to go. “Wanda’s probably wondering what’s taking me so long,” he said. “I’d better get back and help with the packing.”

  “And I’d better call my mom to make sure it’s okay to bring a puppy home tonight,” Lizzie said.

  Mac stopped in his tracks and raised an eyebrow. “You want to take her home with you?” he asked.

  Lizzie nodded. Of course she did.

  Aunt Amanda had also looked surprised, but after a moment, she spoke up. “You know, the Petersons are actually kind of puppy experts,” she told Mac. “It’ll be quieter over there than in the kennels here, and since Donut is feeling upset, it would be nice for her to be with a family. I can’t take her home with me because the pugs would drive her nuts.” She shrugged. “Might be the best idea,” she said to Mac, “if it’s okay with you.”

  Mac peered at Lizzie. Then he nodded. “Sure. Call your mom and make sure it’s okay.”

  Lizzie turned and dashed for the phone, grinning. She knew Mom would say yes. It was only for one night—at least for now.

  A few minutes later, when Mac had left, Aunt Amanda put an arm around Lizzie. “That was tough,” she said. “I really feel for them.”

  “Me, too,” said Lizzie. She petted Donut, who sat staring at the door with sad eyes, as if she expected Mac to change his mind and walk back in. “It’ll be okay, girl,” Lizzie said softly to the puppy. “It’ll be okay.”

  Donut fit in perfectly at Lizzie’s house. She and Buddy were instant pals, racing around the backyard two seconds after they’d met. “Isn’t she great?” Lizzie asked Charles and the Bean, who had come out to meet Donut.

  “How could anybody give her up?” Charles asked. “She’s so cute!”

  The Bean laughed his gurgly laugh as he watched the puppies wrestle. “We keep that uppy! She can be Buddy’s sister,” he pronounced.

  “Um,” said Lizzie. Sometimes it was hard for the Bean to understand what fostering really meant: that they had to give up every “uppy,” even if it was hard. And it was always hard. Some puppies made it even harder—and Lizzie could already tell that Donut was one of them.

  Charles laughed. “Maybe it’s time to work on Mom and Dad again,” he said. “Maybe we actually could keep Donut, if her owners decide she needs a new home. I think the Bean’s right—Buddy deserves a sibling. After all, I have two, and so do both of you. Why shouldn’t Buddy?”

  Lizzie grinned. “True,” she said. “But you know Mom and Dad will just say no. Or tell us that if we have two permanent dogs, we can’t foster puppies anymore.” She put her head to one side. “Still … did you see the way Mom looked at Donut?” She made a face with lovey-dovey goo-goo eyes, and both Charles and the Bean burst out laughing.

  “You look exactly like Mom when you do that!” Charles said. “I mean, exactly like Mom when she really falls for a puppy.”

  Lizzie grinned. “I have a feeling Dad will like Donut, too. He’s a big fan of Labrador retrievers and German shepherds. What could be better than a mix?”

  Buddy and Donut raced over, panting. They climbed all over Lizzie and her brothers, kissing their noses and snuffling their cheeks. The Bean giggled and shrieked.

  “They’re so happy together,” Lizzie said, after she’d thrown a ball and watched the puppies dash off after it. “I think all this playing is taking Donut’s mind off what’s happening with her family. But it’s sad. Donut’s true perfect home is with Mac and Wanda and their kids. I know they really love her and don’t want to give her up. It’s not fair!” She had told Charles about the way Mac had cried when he said good-bye to Donut.

  * * *

  After dinner, Lizzie took Donut upstairs with her. She’d begged her mom for some screen time so she could research clicker training and maybe check out a few of the training videos Aunt Amanda had told her about. Now that she had Donut to train, Lizzie was more excited than ever about the upcoming weekend. The puppy went straight to the dog bed Mom kept under her desk, curled up on it, and went to sleep. Lizzie’s heart swelled when she looked down at the pup. She did look just like a little donut when she was all curled up like that.

  “You’re all tuckered out, aren’t you?” Lizzie asked, reaching down to pet Donut while she waited for a video to load. “You and Buddy know how to tire each other out!”

  Donut’s feet twitched and she made a funny little whining noise, so Lizzie knew she was already dreaming. Lizzie always wondered what dogs dream about.

  “Probably chasing squirrels,” Dad had said when she’d wondered out loud one day. “Or sometimes chipmunks. Or if they have a nightmare, maybe they’re the ones being chased.”

  Lizzie hoped Donut was not having a nightmare. She smiled down at the pup, then turned to watch the video. “Wow,” she said as she watched a trainer teach a dog to play dead in about four minutes, using a clicker. “Amazing!” She watched another video, and another, then read some tips on how to get started. The first step for clicker training was to teach the dog that the clicking noise meant “yay for you!” All you needed was a handful of really good treats. It sounded so easy.Lizzie looked down at Donut, still sleeping. Lizzie bit her lip. She really wanted to try it—just that first step. Should she or shouldn’t she? It was getting late. Any minute now her parents were going to tell her it was time for bed. Plus, she had to pack for the weekend. But …

 

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