Mud-Puddle Poodle Page 7

  Someone who would like me better than anyone else.

  Instead I had a terrible feeling that Buttons didn’t like me at all.

  I sulked in my room for a while, but that got boring, especially after I ran out of homework to do. I tried changing the dresses on my favorite dolls to make myself feel better, but I was sick of all my dolls and their boring dresses.

  I wanted to play with Buttons.

  But I was pretty sure Buttons didn’t want to play with me. I kept remembering the look on her face before she ran away behind the couch.

  After about an hour, I was ready to go downstairs, but I didn’t want to if my brothers were just going to laugh at me. I opened my bedroom door and listened. Miguel’s music was playing from his room. And there were shooting/zapping noises coming from the den, so someone was playing video games. That meant at least two brothers were out of the living room, which meant only half the teasing.

  I snuck down the stairs and peeked into the living room.

  Carlos and Oliver were in there with Buttons. I watched for a minute. Carlos had an old sock in his hand. He threw it to Buttons. She jumped up and tried to catch it, but it flopped over her eyes. With a grrrft! she bounced sideways and shook her head until it fell off. Then she grabbed the sock in her teeth and shook it until it was dead, and then a few more times for good measure.

  Then Oliver tried to take the sock away, and they played tug of war with it for a while. Buttons went rrrrRRRRrrrrRRRRrrrrRRRR like a toy car revving up as she tugged and tugged on it. But Oliver snuck it away from her when she let go for half a second.

  “YIP!” Buttons protested, jumping on his knees. Oliver tossed the sock to Carlos.

  “Buttons!” Carlos called. “Buttons, catch!”

  Buttons threw herself in the air as the sock came flying toward her. This time it landed neatly in her jaws. She looked as surprised as anyone.

  “RRRFT!” she mumbled triumphantly around a mouthful of sock. She shook the sock vigorously again.

  Carlos and Oliver laughed and clapped. I wanted to cry. That wasn’t my dog in there. I was the one who had to give her a bath every time she went outside, but then she spent all her time playing stupid boy games with my stupid brothers. It was like my brothers were this special club I was never allowed to join, but now Buttons could be part of it and I still couldn’t. I mean, not that I wanted to, but still. Stupid, noisy, messy club.

  I stomped into the room and threw myself down on the couch. Buttons dropped the sock and sat up to look at me, but I didn’t say anything to her or to my brothers. I flipped on the TV and turned on High School Musical, which was still in the DVD player because Pippa and I had put it in to watch our favorite scene on Monday. I know my brothers hate it, which is just one of many reasons why I love that movie.

  “Buttons is being really good,” Carlos said to me. “She’s caught the sock lots of times. Want to see?”

  I turned up the volume on the TV and crossed my arms.

  Oliver and Carlos played with Buttons a while longer, and then Oliver took her outside while Carlos went upstairs to study. When Buttons came back in, she wasn’t even all muddy. Apparently that was only something she did when I had to clean her.

  Buttons trotted in through the door ahead of Oliver and bounded over to me. She sat at my feet and gazed up at me.

  I kept my eyes on the TV, ignoring her.

  “Aroo aroo,” whimpered Buttons. She put one paw on my foot. When I still wouldn’t look at her, she pawed at me insistently. “Arooo.”

  Oliver was leaning in the doorway now, looking at us.

  “Oh, all right,” I said, picking Buttons up and plopping her on the couch beside me. Wagging her tail excitedly, Buttons came over and climbed on my lap. She had to push her head under my elbow to get there, but she was determined. Once she was in between my arms, she turned in one direction, and then the other, and then she curled up in my lap with her head resting on my left knee. She let out a contented huff.

  “Awww,” Oliver said.

  “Sure, I can be her pillow,” I said. “That’s all I’m good for.”

  “Rosie, Buttons loves you,” Oliver said. “She wants to play with you. She just wants to play dog games, not people games.”

  “She doesn’t love me,” I said. “She hates me. She ran away from me.” I stroked her soft little head.

  “She didn’t run away from you,” Oliver said. “She ran away from the nail polish. Remember, dogs have a really strong sense of smell. It probably scared her.”

  Buttons shifted and rolled toward me so her paws were in the air and her head was flopped back. I rubbed her tummy and she wriggled happily.

  “Oh,” I said. I didn’t think of that. I’m used to the smell of nail polish by now, but I guess it is pretty strong. “Maybe if she gets used to it, then?” I said.

  “I don’t know, Rosie,” Oliver said. “Think about this — what if she tries to lick it off before it dries? That would be really bad for her. Like poison.”

  “She wouldn’t do that!” I said. “Would she?”

  “Maybe not,” Oliver said. “But it could get on her fur, and dogs lick themselves all the time. I wouldn’t risk it.”

  I felt awful. I hadn’t thought for one second that Buttons would do something like that. I definitely didn’t mean to put poison on her nails. Poor Buttons!

  “I’m sorry, Buttons,” I whispered, scratching her tummy with one hand and tickling her chin with the other. Buttons nudged my hand until she got it to where she could lick it, and then she licked my thumb all the way around. She did like to lick. Poor baby.

  “OK, Buttons,” I said. “No nail polish for you.”

  Oliver smiled.

  “Hey, Oliver,” I said as he turned to go, “um … maybe don’t tell Mom about this?”

  “We won’t,” Oliver promised. And when Oliver promises something, all the other guys go along with him.

  Buttons and I snuggled on the couch until dinnertime. She didn’t even jump down to say hi to Mom and Dad when they came home. She just wanted to sleep on my lap and get petted. I felt much better by the time I went to bed, but I still wished there was something to make me feel like Buttons was really my dog.

  On Wednesdays my mom spends the whole day at her boutique, so usually Michelle and Pippa and I walk down there after school, since it’s not very far. I love being in the store with all the pretty, fancy clothes. Mom lets us try things on if we’re careful. She calls me her “brilliant little helper” when I arrange the shoes and accessories for her.

  When we walked into the boutique on Wednesday afternoon, the little bell over the door jingled and I heard a “RUFF!” from the back of the store.

  Pippa looked at me. “Was that —?”

  Buttons came flying out of the back room and threw herself at my legs, jumping and wriggling and yipping like she hadn’t seen me in years.

  “Buttons!” I cried. “What are you doing here?”

  The store manager, Ashley, leaned over the counter and smiled at my puppy. “Isn’t she a sweetheart?” she said. Ashley has spiky short blue hair and this funny British accent that we all think is probably fake. She spent, like, one summer in England, four years ago, but otherwise she’s always lived here. She loved it over there, though, and now she drinks a lot of tea and talks like the Queen of England. Like, she calls cookies “biscuits” and sweaters “jumpers” and sneakers “trainers,” which is just funny, if you ask me, and probably confusing for some of the customers. But she’s also really nice to me, so I like her, especially when she calls me “luv,” as in: “Hand me that jumper, would you, luv? Cheers!”

  “Your mum brought her in for the day,” Ashley said. “She’s been a right star with all our ladies. Haven’t you, luv?” she cooed at Buttons.

  “Aww, are you popular?” Michelle asked Buttons, scratching behind her ears.

  “I’d buy whatever you’re selling,” Pippa agreed.

  “A classic psychological marketing strate
gy,” Michelle said. I could tell she was about to explain whatever that meant, so I jumped in and cut her off.

  “Mom, we’re here!” I called.

  “Be right out!” she called back.

  “She’s measuring Mrs. Perlman for some alterations,” Ashley explained. Mrs. Perlman is one of my mom’s best customers because the boutique will adjust anything for free if it’s bought there. Mom just takes the customer into the back room and does some measuring and cutting and stitching and it’s like a miracle how suddenly any dress can look good on someone. Mrs. Perlman is short and very round and really pretty, and she can never find anything that fits her anywhere else. But everything Mom fixes up looks amazing on her.

  That’s one reason I like fashion. I think the right clothes can make anyone look and feel prettier. I’d love for someone to put on a dress I designed and say: “Wow, I feel beautiful now.” Mom gets that reaction all the time when she alters dresses for her customers. And I want to make dresses for people that are all shapes and sizes, like me and Pippa and Michelle and Ashley and Mrs. Perlman are. Of course, they all have to like pink. But who doesn’t?

  “Let’s see if there are any new earrings,” Michelle said, heading over to the accessory wall. I picked up Buttons and brought her with us. She felt like a teddy bear in my arms, all soft and floppy and snuggly. She poked her nose under my chin and licked my neck, wagging her tail like that was her funny way of saying hello.

  Pippa doesn’t have pierced ears yet, but Mom makes sure the store carries clip-on earrings, too. Sometimes I think she does that because she noticed that Pippa was feeling left out, but I’m not sure if that’s too much like thinking Mom has magical powers. Anyway, we found some pretty, dangly ones and were taking turns lifting them up to our ears and looking in the mirror when the bell over the door jingled again.

  I turned around and saw that it was Miru, Oliver’s girlfriend. She actually comes into the boutique a lot. My mom is really good at picking clothes both for teenagers and grown-ups. That’s how Oliver and Miru met — he was at the store helping Mom change the artwork on the walls. He was up on a ladder holding a Frida Kahlo print while Mom said: “That way a bit … no, the other way … OK, down an inch,” when Miru walked in and started laughing at him. Blah blah, love at first sight, whatever.

  “Hi Miru!” I said.

  “Hey Rosie,” she said, coming over to us. “Hi Pippa, hi Michelle.” See how cool Miru is? She even remembers her boyfriend’s little sister’s friends’ names. “Is this your new puppy?” she asked.

  “Yeah, this is Buttons,” I said, flapping one of her paws at Miru.

  “Oh my goodness, you’re cute,” Miru said to Buttons. She rumpled Buttons’ fur around her face, and Buttons wagged her tail.

  “Oliver’s not here,” I said.

  “I know,” Miru said with a huge sigh. “He had to go home and work on ‘college applications.’ ” She put finger quotes around the words.

  “He’s really worried about them,” I said.

  “Well, so am I, but I still want to spend time with him!” Miru said. “I mean, it’s like he can’t wait to get out of here and away from me.” She started flipping through the rack of dresses on sale. I followed her with Buttons in my arms.

  “That’s crazy,” I said. “He talks about you, like, all the time. It’d be annoying if you weren’t, like, so awesome.”

  Miru grinned at me. Her nose stud today was a little green emerald that sparkled in the overhead spotlights. I wish my hair were straight like hers and Pippa’s; mine has these waves in it that I can’t get rid of.

  “Well, when the boys start lining up to date you, Rosie, just remember to go for one that can actually express his emotions, OK? Like, one who actually cares about stuff and can say he does instead of being all serious and focused on his work and blah blah blah.”

  I didn’t know what she meant. Did she think Oliver was like that?

  “Rosie,” Michelle called before I could ask Miru any more questions. “Are these earrings really five dollars?” She held up a pair of dangly copper-colored lightning bolts.

  “If that’s what the tag says,” my mom said, popping out from behind the curtain to the back room. She smiled and said hi to everyone. Mrs. Perlman followed her out and went up to the counter with a huge pile of clothes. I think the store would survive even if Mrs. Perlman were the only customer.

  “That’s it? Oooh, I want them!” Michelle said, digging in her pocket for money.

  Pippa looked down at the earrings in her hand, then put them slowly back on the shelf.

  “Five dollars?” Mom said, taking the earrings as Michelle handed them to her. “I think we can make these a present, Michelle dear. It’ll be a celebration of our new family member.” She patted Buttons’ head. “Pippa and Rosie, you can each pick out a pair from that shelf, too.”

  “Really?” I said.

  “Sure,” Mom said, her eyes twinkling, “but don’t you go for the expensive ones on the next shelf, Miss Rosie!”

  “I won’t!” I said. I already knew I wanted the ones that looked like little pink pearl raindrops. I put Buttons down on the floor so I could pick them up. Next to me, Pippa picked up the ones she’d been holding again. They each had a pretty dark sparkly blue stone in the middle with lacy silver flower petals around it.

  “Wow, Pippa, those are so you,” I said. I helped her clip them onto her ears and she looked at herself in the mirror, tucking her pale blond hair back so she could see them.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Sanchez,” she said with a smile.

  “Yeah, thanks, Mrs. Sanchez!” Michelle said.

  Suddenly there was an enormous CRASH from behind the curtain. We all looked around in surprise, and I realized that Buttons wasn’t at my feet anymore.

  “Uh-oh,” I said.

  YIP! YIP! YIP!” barked something in the back room.

  I got to the curtain first, and when I pulled it back, I saw Buttons tearing around the room with a purple knit hat stuck over her head. It was covering her eyes, so she kept crashing into things as she ran. She’d already knocked over Mom’s mannequin and a stack of hatboxes. I jumped in to rescue her, but she raced between my feet, got tangled in a long dress hanging from a rack, dragged it behind her past the table, and sent a whole carton of sewing supplies flying. Safety pins, buttons, and needles scattered everywhere.

  “Buttons!” I yelled. “Buttons, STOP!”

  “Buttons, shh,” Mom said calmly. Buttons stopped running when she heard her voice. She pawed frantically at the hat on her head, then lay down and started rolling and rubbing it into the carpet, trying to shove it off.

  Mom stepped over the fallen mannequin and whisked Buttons up off the floor before she could step on any pins and hurt her tiny paws. She pulled off the hat, and Buttons pawed at her nose with both paws, looking bewildered.

  “Heavens!” Ashley said in her funny accent.

  “Wow,” Miru said. “That was a fast-acting disaster.”

  “Poor munchkin,” I said as Mom put her in my arms. “You are the silliest dog I’ve ever met. AND the messiest! Look what you did!” The back room was kind of a catastrophe. Buttons buried her face in my shoulder like she didn’t want to look at it. Her heart was going really fast and her little chest went up and down, up and down as she panted.

  So of course we had to spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning it up and picking buttons out of the carpet. Pippa and Michelle were really helpful. We took turns keeping Buttons out of the way while the other two put things back together. At the end, Mom said we really earned our earrings and she wanted to buy us ice cream, too. Which was very nice, considering it was my dog that had caused all the mess in the first place, but I didn’t remind her of that!

  So we left Ashley to close the boutique and walked up to TCBY, where we could sit outside. We go there all the time because they have sorbet for Michelle — she can’t have anything with milk in it because she’s allergic. But she loves peach sorbet, and Pippa and I
love frozen yogurt, so everyone is happy. Buttons sat on my lap while I ate mine and she didn’t even try to steal any. Well, only a little, anyway.

  If only every mess Buttons made led to ice cream, I thought, maybe I wouldn’t mind having such a naughty dog.

  Later that night, when Mom came in to say good night to me, I asked her if she thought Buttons would always be a bad dog.

  “A bad dog?” Mom said, sounding surprised. She sat down on the bed beside me. “Do you think Buttons is that bad?”

  Buttons lifted her head when she heard her name. She still refused to sleep on her fancy dog bed. What she really seemed to love was my T-shirts. I had accidentally dropped one on the floor on Tuesday and she immediately grabbed it and rolled on it and then fell asleep on it. I felt bad taking it away from her, since it seemed kind of cute that she liked it. So it was still on the floor, which was totally crazy for me, because I always put everything away immediately. And Buttons was sleeping on it again. Which made me glad, again, that she didn’t shed like other dogs.

  “Well, she’s always digging and running around and making a mess,” I said. “It’s like she’s completely crazy sometimes.” I’d lost count of how many baths I’d had to give her already. “I don’t understand why she won’t lie down and be good.”

  “She’s doing that right now,” Mom said.

  “Yeah, ’cause it’s bedtime,” I said.

  “That’s still pretty great for a puppy,” Mom said. “A lot of them cry all night. She’s already sleeping very well. You were sweet to give her one of your T-shirts; I bet that makes her feel close to you.”

  “Oh,” I said. I liked that way of looking at it.

  “But I think you’re onto something,” Mom said. “All dogs behave better when they get enough exercise. Maybe we need to tire her out a little more so she’ll be calmer when she’s home with us.”

  “How do we do that?” I asked.

  “Why don’t you take her to the park tomorrow?” Mom said. “I’ll get one of your brothers to go with you. You should keep her away from dogs we don’t know, but I bet she would really love it.”