Mud-Puddle Poodle Page 5

  Michelle’s idea was that we should do a bake sale and use the money to buy a goat for a family in Africa. She even brought in pictures from when she visited her family in Kenya last year. It was really cool and we all liked the big smile on her grandmother’s face and the two cute little goats in the background. So that’s the one we all voted that we wanted to do first.

  Ms. Applebaum got really excited about “global responsibility” and how little things we do can make a big difference to someone all the way around the world, because now that family can send their kids to school or something. I wasn’t sure if the kids were going to be too thrilled about that (like, “Gee, thanks, America!”), but at least they’d be getting a cute goat to play with.

  The bake sale was going to be that Friday. We were planning to set up a table during lunch and also after school, so we could sell stuff to parents, too. Dad said he’d help me make peppermint meringue cookies on Thursday night, which I was excited about because they’d be different from everyone else’s brownies and chocolate chip cookies.

  Anyway, for math we practiced adding and subtracting and giving change, like if someone wanted two cookies that were twenty-five cents each and they gave us five dollars, how much would we give back, stuff like that. It was a lot more interesting than just sitting and writing down numbers. I got to be the customer a couple of times, so I pretended to think really hard and change my mind seven times the way my dad would. Everybody laughed, which was cool.

  Whenever we had a break, I thought about Buttons, and the more I thought about Buttons, the more I looked forward to going home. I was sure that the first day she’d just been nervous and excited. Now she’d be calmer. She’d lie on my lap and be good and quiet. Pippa and Michelle and I would dress her up and she would keep her delicate paws clean and be a sweet angel. Everything would finally be perfect.

  I bet you can guess just how wrong I was about that….

  It was raining when Mom picked us up after school. I was disappointed that she didn’t have Buttons in the car with her, but when she reminded me of the puppy’s last car trip, I decided she’d made the right choice.

  Michelle and Pippa and I ran to the car holding our backpacks over our heads and jumped in.

  “Danny wants to go to Parker’s,” I said to Mom. “He says he wants to play with a real dog, not a stupid ball of fluff. Those were his exact words.”

  Mom rolled her eyes. She knew I was trying to get Danny in trouble. “All right,” she said. She waved at Danny through the windshield and he waved back, then climbed into Troy’s car with Troy and Parker and Eric. Danny’s friends are all much quieter and nicer than he is. I don’t understand why I couldn’t have one of them for a brother instead.

  I actually think Eric Lee is kind of cute (not that I’d ever admit that to Danny!), although most of the girls in my class are absolute idiots about Parker Green instead. Apparently he’s, like, “the dreamiest, cutest, smartest, nicest, handsomest boy who ever lived,” according to them. But I’ve seen him yelling at video games and spilling strawberry ice cream on his shirt at our house, so I know he’s just a regular guy — which is to say, noisy and messy.

  Eric, on the other hand, is usually pretty quiet, and I think if you can find a guy like that, you should hang on to him, because there aren’t many. I’m not really interested in boys right now, ’cause I totally don’t have time for them, but I have this whole plan where I’m going to date Eric once we’re both in high school. I figure by then he won’t think of me as Danny’s annoying little sister anymore. And hopefully he’ll still be polite and quiet like he is now. I keep an eye on him to make sure he isn’t turning into a regular dopey boy.

  When we got home, Oliver was already there. He always gets home first because the high school lets out half an hour before our school, and this year he usually came home right away to work on college applications. He was totally stressing about them, which is silly because he’s perfectly smart.

  We walked into the living room and caught Oliver rolling on the rug with Buttons. She was trying to climb over him, but he kept rolling so she’d topple off or get carried over to the other side. She was wagging her tail like crazy and going arrrraaarrraarrrr, and Oliver was laughing. Which, like I said, was amazing because he’s usually all serious all the time.

  He didn’t even look embarrassed when he saw us. He sat up and Buttons came careening over to crash into my feet. She wrapped her little front paws around my ankle and tried to chew on my shoelace.

  “Oh, she’s so cute!” Pippa said. She sat down on the carpet and let Buttons sniff her hand.

  “Wow,” Michelle said, flipping her scarf over to the other shoulder. “I can’t believe how small she is.”

  “I know,” I said. I scooped Buttons up in my hands. She felt like a little ball of feathers. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. I want to see if any of my doll clothes will fit her.”

  Oliver winced. “Oh, Rosie,” he said.

  “She’ll like it!” I said. “She’ll look so cute!” I didn’t wait for him to answer. He didn’t know anything about being cute and pretty. I marched upstairs with Buttons and Pippa and Michelle and shut the door to my room so none of my brothers could bother us.

  “Oooo, I like her bed,” Pippa said, patting the fringe of white fur and admiring the rhinestones.

  Michelle sat down on the floor, and Buttons immediately pounced on the end of her scarf. “Hey!” Michelle yelped, grabbing her hair. Buttons rolled over so the scarf was on top of her and her paws were in the air. All we could see was a little lump under the orange fabric, wriggling and going rrrr! rrrr!

  I ran over to my dresser and pulled out five different pink ribbons. I also took a couple of dresses off my dolls that I thought would fit Buttons perfectly. One of them was pink with lacy sleeves. I knew it would look so cute on her.

  Pippa and I sat down next to Michelle and I lifted the scarf off Buttons. The puppy sat up and blinked at us like, Whoa! Where did you guys come from?

  “Look, Buttons,” I said, picking up the most sparkly ribbon. “Isn’t this adorable?”

  Buttons didn’t think it looked adorable. She thought it looked delicious. She seized the other end in her teeth. Michelle and Pippa both had to help me get it away from her without ruining the ribbon. Then they held her still while I took the fluff of fur on top of her head and bunched it into a little puffy ponytail. I wrapped the ribbon around the fluff, and Pippa tied it in a pretty bow.

  Buttons kept twisting her head about, trying to figure out what we were doing. I tucked the ends of the ribbon behind her ears so she couldn’t tug on them and pull it loose. Then I took the lacy pink dress. It closed with Velcro in the back, so I just put the front sleeves over Buttons’ front legs, wrapped the dress around her body, and stuck it together along her back. It fit just as perfectly as I thought it would. She looked like a tiny pink princess.

  “It’s perfect!” I squealed.

  Except for one thing. Buttons wouldn’t sit still in it. Michelle held her while I got my camera, but still Buttons flailed all her paws and twisted and tried to chew the sleeves. All my photos of her looked like sparkly pink-and-white blurs.

  “I don’t think she likes it,” Pippa said, sounding worried.

  Just then there was a knock and my bedroom door opened. Buttons thrashed extra-hard and popped out of Michelle’s hands. As my mom poked her head inside, Buttons shot through her legs and tore off downstairs.

  Mom’s mouth dropped open. “What did you do?” she asked.

  “Nothing!” I said. “We just made her prettier!”

  “MOOOOOM!” Miguel hollered from downstairs. “Something ENORMOUSLY EMBARRASSING is running around our living room!” I heard boys laughing and guessed that some of Miguel’s friends were here. I could also hear Buttons yipping as she ran.

  “Santa Maria!” Carlos yelled. “What did Rosie do to the dog?”

  Then there was a huge clatter like books getting knocked off the coffee table. Mom an
d my friends and I all ran down to the living room.

  Buttons was tearing around in huge circles like wolves were chasing her or something. She didn’t even seem to notice that she’d crashed into the coffee table and knocked everything off. The ribbon was hanging down in her eyes and her claws had caught on the lace of the dress so it was half torn off and trailing behind her. Part of it was wrapped around one paw so she couldn’t run straight. Her yips were getting louder and faster and more frantic.

  Miguel and two guys from his class were sitting on the couch with their feet up out of her way. They were all laughing so hard they could barely talk. Carlos was standing in the door to the kitchen with his arms folded. He didn’t look like he thought it was funny.

  “Buttons!” I shouted. “Stop! Sit! Be good! Stay still and be pretty!”

  “All right, that’s enough,” Mom said. She stepped forward and caught Buttons as she zoomed around the couch. Mom lifted her up and Buttons tried to burrow into Mom’s shirt. With a quick tug, Mom pulled off the ribbon and then the dress, disentangling it from the puppy’s claws.

  Buttons’ tail started to wag and she stretched up and started licking my mom’s chin like it was a melting ice-cream sundae.

  “It’s all right,” my mom cooed. “Yes, it’s all right, Buttons, you’re a good dog.”

  “She’s not a good dog!” I said. “She tore my dress! She pulled off the ribbon I picked for her!”

  “That was so lame,” Carlos said. “You actually made me feel sorry for that fuzzball.”

  “Rosie, let’s go talk in my room for a minute,” Mom said. “Pippa, Michelle, I put out some cheese and grapes and crackers in the kitchen.”

  “Yum,” Michelle said, and my friends both went off to find the snacks while I followed Mom up to her room. Mom sat down on the floor and let Buttons go. Buttons started trying to bury her face in the carpet. She planted her head on the floor and pushed herself along with her back paws, then stopped and went dig dig dig dig dig with her front paws. Her fur stood up in funny spikes around her face.

  “Rosie, chiquita,” Mom said. “You can’t put any more dresses on Buttons.”

  “But why?” I said. I started to cry. I didn’t want to — I hate crying — but it wasn’t fair! Buttons was supposed to be the dog I wanted, and the dog I wanted was supposed to like pretty dresses and ribbons … not rolling in dirt!

  “She’s a puppy, not a toy,” Mom said, pushing my hair back from my face. “You mustn’t force her to do things she doesn’t like. How would you like it if someone dressed you up against your will?”

  “I’d like it if the dresses were pretty and pink like that one!” I said, crying harder.

  “Buttons doesn’t know or care about being pretty,” Mom said. “She’s a dog — she just wants to have fun and play with you in fun puppy ways.”

  “She won’t anymore,” I said. “Now she’s going to hate me.”

  “Are you kidding?” Mom said. “Buttons loves you. Here, give her this, and she’ll forgive you right away.” Mom fished a dog treat out of her pocket and put it in my hand. Buttons sat up as soon as she smelled it. Her little black nose went sniff sniff and wiggled in the air.

  I held out my hand to her. She bounced over and snarfed up the treat. Her tiny pink tongue licked my hand clean. Then she let me scratch behind her ears. She gave me that look like she was smiling again.

  “Maybe she didn’t hate it so much,” I said hopefully.

  “No, Rosie,” my mom said. That’s the voice where I know I can’t win. “No more dresses on the dog.”

  I blinked back the rest of my tears. Why couldn’t things be the way I imagined? I’d won the contest to pick the dog, but I was starting to feel like the biggest loser of all.

  Pippa and Michelle didn’t say anything about the dress when I came back downstairs. Michelle didn’t even ask any questions. I think they weren’t sure if I was in trouble or not. We finished our snacks and then Mom said we could practice teaching Buttons to come when she was called.

  Miguel and his friends were in his room “doing homework,” which I think really means “talking about girls,” but at least they weren’t in the living room anymore. So each of the three of us and Mom took a bunch of dog treats and sat on the floor in a big square. I held Buttons on my lap while we got settled. She kept licking my hand and wagging her tail, so I guess she wasn’t too mad at me anymore.

  Of course, I wasn’t exactly sure that I wasn’t still mad at her.

  Mom called her first. “Buttons, come here!” she said, holding out her hands. “Buttons! Come!”

  Buttons sat down on my foot and panted, looking up at me.

  “Go on,” I said, pointing at Mom.

  Mom pulled a treat out of her pocket. “Buttons!” she called, but before she’d even finished saying it, Buttons galloped across the carpet to her and leaped at the treat. “Yes! Good girl! Good Buttons!” Mom said happily, patting her while Buttons ate the treat. “Now you, Pippa.”

  “Buttons!” Pippa called. Buttons’ ears went up and she tilted her head at Pippa. “Buttons!” Pippa called again. Buttons took a tentative step toward her. Then Pippa held up the treat, and Buttons sprang into action. She ran over so fast she tripped over her paws and did a kind of somersault into Pippa’s lap. “Aww, good girl, Buttons,” Pippa said, patting her.

  Michelle had to hold up the treat to get Buttons to come to her, too. But when I called her, Buttons ran right over to me without waiting to see if I had a treat. She bounced around my feet with all of her fur going sproing! sproing! “Good girl! Good Buttons!” I said, letting her have the treat.

  We did that for ten minutes, until Buttons would come to each of us no matter who called her or in what order. We started giving her treats only every other time and she still came, and she still looked really delighted when we told her how good she was.

  “Aren’t you a clever, clever girl?” Mom said to Buttons, rubbing her tummy as Buttons rolled on the floor.

  “Huh,” Carlos snorted from the doorway. I didn’t know how long he’d been watching us. “Sure,” he said, “she’ll go to you now that she knows you have treats. That doesn’t mean she knows her name.”

  “You call her then,” Mom said. “Try it.”

  “But sound excited,” I said. “Act happy to see her.”

  Carlos rolled his eyes. “Buttons,” he said in this bored voice. “Hey, Buttons.” The puppy sat up and looked at him. Her ears twitched. Carlos looked surprised. “Buttons, come,” he said with a little more enthusiasm. He reached out a hand toward her.

  Buttons scrambled to her paws and charged across the carpet to him. She pounced on his hand, wrapped her front paws around it, and started trying to lick it into submission.

  “Wow,” Carlos said. “That actually worked!”

  “Of course it did,” Mom said proudly.

  “Buttons, sit,” Carlos said. He held his hand above Buttons’ nose. She tried to jump up and touch it, but he lifted it out of reach and then down again, holding it right over her nose and moving it back. Slowly her butt went down. It touched the floor. Buttons was sitting!

  “How did you do that?” Michelle gasped.

  “That was so cool!” Pippa said.

  “Good sit, Buttons,” Carlos said. Mom tossed him a treat and he gave it to Buttons. She chewed on it with this cocky expression, like, Bring it, mister, I’m a genius.

  “Huh,” said Carlos. “I saw that on a TV show, but I didn’t think it would work.”

  “I told you poodles are smart,” I said (OK, a little smugly).

  Mom checked her watch. “We should let her out again,” she said.

  “But it’s raining!” I said. “She’ll get all wet!”

  “She has to get used to it,” Mom said, shaking her head. “We don’t want her to think she can pee inside whenever it’s raining.”

  “All right,” I said with a huge sigh. “Come on, Buttons.”

  Buttons trotted to the sliding doors with m
e and pawed at the glass. Rain was splattering down through the trees. I could see that the grass was soaking wet.

  “OK, but come right back,” I said to her. She gazed up at me with her tongue hanging out. I opened the door and she scrambled outside. I closed the door again and peered at her through the glass.

  At first Buttons seemed surprised by the water coming from the sky. She shook her head and then shook it again and then spun in a circle like she thought maybe her tail was to blame. I couldn’t hear her, but I knew she was grrrring and yipping. Her fur was already getting plastered to her little body. I pulled the door open a little ways.

  “Hurry up, Buttons!” I yelled.

  She stopped spinning in a circle and looked over at me. I shut the door again so I wouldn’t get wet. Buttons blinked and started padding across the lawn. Her paws went sploosh sploosh in the wet grass. She stopped and did her business and then kept going. She sped up a little as she headed for the flower bushes. Suddenly I saw what she was aiming for.

  “Buttons, NO!” I shouted, throwing the door open again.

  Buttons ignored me. She dove headfirst into the enormous mud puddle at the edge of the lawn. The mud went SPLOOSH! all over her. Thrilled, Buttons flipped onto her back and started rolling with glee.

  “Buttons!” I yelled. “Buttons! Bad dog! Buttons! Stop it!”

  It seemed like Buttons couldn’t even hear me through the rain. Or else she had too much mud in her ears. Her paws flopped around as she wriggled deeper into the puddle.

  “MAN!” I shouted, slamming the door shut. I ran and got my raincoat and galoshes. Mom followed me to the door and saw what Buttons was doing. She hid her smile, but I saw it.

  “Look how bad she’s being!” I said. I sat down on the floor to pull my boots on.