Cody (2 page)

“Of
course
that’s what I’m thinking!” said Lizzie. “Mom! C’mon! We
have
to foster this puppy!” She looked at the puppy’s adorable face and smiled. Cody the cutie.

Mom sighed. “Couldn’t he go to Caring Paws?”

Caring Paws was the animal shelter where Lizzie volunteered one day a week. The people there took care of lots of dogs and cats that needed homes. “No way,” Lizzie said, shaking her head. “They’re totally full.” She wondered if Maria and Charles could see the crossed fingers she was holding behind her back. She wasn’t
lying,
exactly. The shelter
was
full. There wasn’t a single cage open for another dog, or even a cat.

But the
whole
truth was that Ms. Dobbins, the
director of Caring Paws, would never turn away an animal in need. “We can always find room for one more, if we really have to,” she would say.

Mom didn’t need to hear that right now. Instead, Lizzie thought Mom needed to hear how important it was for the Petersons to help this puppy. “Somebody wanted
our family
to take care of Cody,” Lizzie said. “After all, they left him for
us,
with that note. Read some more! Maybe it will explain why he’s here.”

Cody barked, as if in agreement.

Mom sighed again and looked at the note. “‘Cody is a great dog but way too much of a handful for us,’” she read. “‘We did our best but maybe we are just not puppy people. We know you will find him a home with a family who will appreciate Cody’s energy.’”

Cody barked some more when he heard his name.

That’s me! Cody!

“‘P.S.,’” Mom went on reading the note. “‘He sheds like crazy. He barks a lot. Also, he pulls on the leash.’”

“No kidding,” said Charles.

“‘We don’t know how to make him stop,’” Mom finished reading. “‘Maybe you do.’”

“I do!” Lizzie said. “I mean, I can’t make him stop shedding.” Lizzie knew that shedding was when a dog’s dead hairs fell out all over the place, making a mess. “But I bet anything I can teach Cody to behave!” At that moment, Cody jumped up and put both front paws on the kitchen counter. He sniffed at a loaf of Dad’s homemade bread that was sitting out to cool. “Down, Cody!” said Lizzie. The spotted pup dropped back to all fours. “See?” Lizzie was beaming — until she realized that Cody had grabbed a hunk of bread and was gobbling it down.

The Bean was laughing, but Mom frowned. “We don’t even know if he and Buddy would get along,” she said.

“Please, Mom?” Lizzie asked. “Can’t we just give it a try?” Lizzie had just gotten a new puppy-training book out of the library. She was dying to experiment with some of the ideas she had been learning about teaching naughty puppies to behave. Cody would be a really big challenge — but Lizzie liked a challenge. Especially one that had to do with dogs.

And — who could say? — if she could teach Cody to behave, maybe he could even become part of the Peterson family, the way Buddy had! Cody was so cute and so smart. He was going to be a very good dog someday. Lizzie could tell.

“I’ll help,” promised Charles.

“I’ll help, too!” said Maria. “And he’s so adorable. I bet you won’t have any trouble finding a good home for him.”

“I help!” shouted the Bean.

They all turned to look at Cody. He had run completely out of steam and was lying curled up on the red rug by the sink, snoozing. His big paws,
with their velvety-soft pink pads, twitched as if he were still running around the kitchen in his dreams. “Awww!” said Lizzie. “Just like Buddy. He plays and plays and then all of a sudden it’s nap time.”

Cody opened one eye. He really was very, very cute. Especially now that he had stopped barking.

“Well,” Mom said. “Let’s see what your dad says when he gets home.”

“Yay!” yelled Charles and Lizzie and Maria.

“That doesn’t mean ‘yes,’” Mom warned.

But Lizzie and Charles couldn’t help smiling at each other. They knew that now there was a very good chance they would get to foster Cody.

“Hey, where’s the Bean?” Lizzie asked, suddenly realizing that her little brother had not joined in the cheering.

The Bean had wriggled off Mom’s lap and wandered away. Now he charged back into the
kitchen, with Buddy romping alongside him. “See if they friends!” he said.

The Bean had let Buddy out of the den. He must have heard Mom wondering if Cody and Buddy would get along. Lizzie groaned. The Bean was just trying to be helpful, but this could be trouble!

Lizzie barely had time to worry. Cody woke quickly from his nap and jumped right up to play with Buddy. The two puppies sniffed at each other and wagged their tails, then immediately started to chase each other around the kitchen. Now
two
dogs were barking their heads off.

Mom put her hands over her ears. But she was smiling. “Dad’s sure going to get a big surprise when he gets home tonight,” she said.

Mr. Peterson was working late because the fire station was having an open house for some of the elderly people who lived at a place called The Meadows. The Littleton fire department liked
to have people come visit, especially during Fire Prevention Week.

Dad got home just in time for supper. Lizzie and Charles met him at the door and pulled him inside, talking about Cody the whole time. “Please, Dad?” Lizzie begged. “Can we foster him?”

“Well, hey there, little guy!” Dad said, kneeling down to take a look at Cody, who was zonked out again. This time he was sleeping on the living room rug, in front of the fireplace. He and Buddy had curled up together after a long afternoon of play.

“That’s Cody,” Lizzie said.

At the sound of his name, Cody woke up fast. He jumped to his feet and started barking at Dad.

Uh-oh. Lizzie held her breath.

But Dad just laughed. “Welcome, Cody!” he said.

“Wait up, Cody! Slow down! Stop pulling!” Lizzie ran after the spotted dog, who was dragging her along as he snuffled and sniffed and checked out every single object along the sidewalk. For a little dog, he was really strong.

Wow! Smell this! Incredible! And what about this? Is this something to eat? I’m so excited to have a new place to explore!

Once Mom and Dad had agreed to let Cody stay for a while, Lizzie had stayed up late reading her puppy training book. Now it was Saturday, which was Lizzie’s usual day at Caring Paws. But Lizzie wasn’t going to the animal shelter. When
Ms. Dobbins had heard about the new puppy, she had told Lizzie to take the day off “to get to know the little guy.” So instead, Lizzie and Cody were on their way to Maria’s house.

“My mom said she wants to meet Cody,” Maria had said, when she called that morning. “Plus, she thinks maybe Simba could be a good influence on him. Simba is such a mellow guy.”

Maria’s mom was blind, and Simba, a big yellow Lab, was her guide dog. He was always very calm, often falling fast asleep while he lay at his owner’s feet waiting for his next assignment. But the second that Mrs. Santiago stood up, Simba would jump up, too. Simba was always ready to work. He went everywhere with Maria’s mom: to the grocery store, to the doctor, even to restaurants. And he always had perfect doggy manners: He did not sniff people, or jump up on them, or bark. Lizzie agreed that he would be a very good role model for Cody.

Lizzie and Maria were planning to work on
their Halloween costumes and also get started on Cody’s training. “Since he’s so young, we should only work with him for ten minutes at a time,” Lizzie reminded Maria. “A puppy can’t pay attention for too much longer than that. So we’ll have plenty of time between training sessions.”

“We have
got
to teach you to stop pulling,” Lizzie told the happy pup as she rang Maria’s doorbell. She shook out her arm. It was sore from hanging on to Cody! The puppy grinned back at her and wagged all over.

Sure! Whatever you say!

Maria’s mom answered the door. Simba stood next to her. When the big dog spotted Lizzie, he wagged his tail. But Lizzie didn’t pet Simba. She knew she wasn’t supposed to distract a guide dog who was on the job.

“Hi, Mrs. Santiago,” she said. “This is Cody!”

Cody barked to say hello.

Maria’s mom reached down to touch the puppy. “My, his fur is so soft!” she said. “And his little body feels strong. He must be a healthy boy.”

“He is,” said Lizzie. “He’s absolutely perfect — well, except for the barking and the pulling and the shedding.”

“He’ll grow out of most of that,” predicted Mrs. Santiago. “He’s just a puppy.”

Simba stepped forward to sniff Cody. Cody jumped up and started biting at Simba’s neck, but Simba just shook him off.

“Maria’s upstairs in her room,” said Mrs. Santiago. “She has all her art supplies out. Have fun making your costumes!”

Cody dragged Lizzie up the stairs and straight into Maria’s room. Maria pulled Cody onto her bed for a big kiss and hug hello, while Lizzie looked around at the mess of paints, markers, glue pens, and other art supplies. “I have the coolest costume idea!” Maria told Lizzie. “Look, Dad found these huge cardboard tubes.” She pointed
to two garbage-can-sized cylinders standing in the corner of her room. “They’re big enough for us to wear!”

“Uh-huh,” Lizzie said. “So — what’s your idea?”

“We can paint them!” Maria said. “We could be soda cans, or soup, or — anything!”

Lizzie considered this. It wasn’t a bad idea. In fact, she wished
she
had thought of it. But soup cans? That seemed kind of boring. Not that she would say so out loud. Lately Lizzie had been working hard at keeping her opinions to herself. She gazed at the tubes. “I’ve got it!” she said. “P.B. and J.! We’ll paint the tubes to look like jars of peanut butter and jelly!”

Maria laughed. “Perfect,” she said. “I bet you want to be peanut butter, right?”

“I don’t even care.” Lizzie looked down at Cody, who had decided it was time for a snooze. He was curled up nose-to-tail on Maria’s bed, with the baby-pink bottoms of his paws showing. “Awww! We can’t train him if he’s sleeping, so we might
as well get started on our costumes. Let’s practice painting the labels on a piece of paper first,” she suggested.

They flipped a coin to see who got to be peanut butter (Lizzie won), stuck a CD into Maria’s player, and got to work. Lizzie had not done any painting in a long time, and it was so much fun that she almost forgot about Cody. Almost — until, between songs on the CD, she heard a crunching, tearing noise from behind her.

“Oh, no!” she cried, when she turned to look. Cody must have woken up a while ago, because he was already well into destroying the
second
cardboard tube. For a moment, Lizzie was mad. But Cody looked so innocent and so cute, sitting there surrounded by shredded cardboard. She just started laughing, and Maria joined in.

“I guess that’s the end of
that
costume idea,” Lizzie said, crumpling up her painting. “Oh, well! We might as well do some training.”

“What are we going to teach him first?” Maria asked.

“Mom says we have
got
to get him to stop barking so much, so that’s top priority,” said Lizzie. “This book had a great way to do it. First we put him in a situation where he’ll bark — like, if you go out in the hall and then knock on the door.”

“Okay,” said Maria. “Then what?”

“Well,” Lizzie explained, “most dog owners start yelling at the dog to be quiet, but that never works. The dog just thinks they’re barking along with him. Instead, I’m going to wait until he stops barking for even a
second,
and then say ‘Good boy!’ and give him a treat. After a few times, I’ll say ‘Quiet!’ when he stops barking, and if we repeat the whole thing about a billion times, he
might
learn to stop barking when I say ‘Quiet.’ “It had sounded pretty easy in the book, but now Lizzie wasn’t so sure.

Maria went out in the hall and closed the door. A few seconds later, she knocked. Cody exploded into loud woofs. Lizzie waited and waited, but the puppy barely seemed to take a breath. Finally, Cody stopped to look up at Lizzie, his head cocked to one side.

What’s going on? Isn’t there somebody at the door?

“Good boy!” Lizzie said. She pulled a tiny biscuit (“small, one-gulp treats are best for training,” the book had said) out of her pocket and popped it into Cody’s mouth.

He swallowed it right down and instantly started barking again. Lizzie could see that training Cody was going to take a while.

“Ha-ha! Well, hang in there. I’m sure he’ll get the idea sooner or later!” Chief Olson laughed some more. “Those Dalmatians. They sure are energetic when they’re pups!”

It was later that same week, and the entire fourth grade of Littleton Elementary was at the firehouse for a tour. All the grades had been going over, and now it was finally their turn. The other kids were milling around in the firehouse lobby while they waited for their tour to begin, punching one another and giggling when their teachers told them to settle down. But Lizzie was talking to Chief Olson. She was telling him all about Cody and his mischievous ways. She knew he would be
interested: Chief Olson owned the firehouse mascot, a Dalmatian named Gunnar.

Lizzie had known Gunnar for a long time. He was the best-behaved dog she had ever met — plus, he was a hero. Gunnar had once pulled someone out of a burning building. He had saved a life! “You’re amazing, Gunnar,” said Lizzie, giving the big dog’s solid shoulder a pat. Gunnar sat quietly next to the chief, wearing a more mature version of Cody’s goofy smile. Gunnar was always on hand to welcome groups who were touring the firehouse.

“Is Gunnar going to be riding with us in the parade?” Lizzie asked Chief Olson.

“You bet he is!” The chief grinned. “He wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Lizzie petted Gunnar again. It was hard to imagine that Cody would ever grow up to be as calm as this. Not that he wasn’t learning! Lizzie was still practicing with him every day, and sometimes Cody would stop barking for as long as five
seconds after she had told him “Quiet.” Next Lizzie planned to start teaching Cody how to sit and wait when she opened the front door, instead of jumping up excitedly. Then maybe she could figure out how to teach him to quit pulling on the leash.

“Okay, we’re all set!” Lizzie’s dad stepped in front of the crowd of kids. “Hello, fourth graders! I’m firefighter Paul — otherwise known as Lizzie’s dad.” He winked at Lizzie and smiled around at the crowd. “Welcome to you all. How many of you have been to the firehouse before?”

Lots of kids raised their hands, including Lizzie.

“I remember when we came here in kindergarten,” yelled out Daniel, a boy in Lizzie’s class. “Jessica cried when she saw the fireman in his oxygen mask and everything.”

Jessica punched Daniel. “Shut up!” She was blushing.

“That happens sometimes,” said Lizzie’s father.
“Little kids can be afraid of things that are strange to them. That’s why we let them see what a firefighter looks like, all dressed up in gear. If you’re five years old and your house is on fire, you need to know that the firefighter is your friend, no matter how scary he or she looks.”

Caroline raised her hand. “I remember in second grade when we got to climb onto the truck,” she said. “That was exciting when we were little.” Lizzie saw that she was gazing wistfully at the big ladder truck.

Lizzie’s dad smiled. “Kids of
all
ages like to do that,” he said. “We’ll get a chance after we tour the building. But before we do that,” he said, “let’s play a little game. How long do you think it will take me to get into my firefighting gear?”

“A minute!” yelled out Noah.

Everybody else started shouting at the same time. “Five minutes!” “Three seconds!” “Four hours!”

Lizzie’s dad laughed at that last one. “Who has
a watch? You can time me.” He walked over to the rack where all the firefighters’ gear was stored. “Ready? Here I go!” He jumped into his boots, then pulled up his baggy pants, stretching the suspenders over his shoulders. He buttoned the pants, pulled on a fire-retardant hood, slipped into his heavy jacket, pulled on a pair of gloves, and plopped his helmet on top of his head. “Stop! How long was that?”

Daniel checked his watch. “Wow!” he said. “Twenty-five seconds.”

Lizzie knew her dad’s record was twenty-one, but she cheered along with everyone else. Then she and the rest of the fourth graders followed him upstairs, checking out the bunkroom, the offices, the kitchen, and the room where all the firefighters hung out, playing cards or reading when they weren’t busy. Mr. Peterson explained about all the chores they had to do: cleaning the firehouse and the equipment, cooking, fixing anything that was broken. “It’s a lot of work,” said
Lizzie’s dad. “But this is our house, and we have to take care of it.”

When it was time to go downstairs, Lizzie’s dad asked, “Anyone want to see me slide down the pole?”

“Yeah!” everybody yelled.

They all trooped down the stairs and waited at the bottom. In a second, Mr. Peterson came sliding down the pole with a big grin on his face. “Yahoo!” he yelled. Everybody cracked up. They could all tell what Lizzie knew: that her Dad
loved
that part of being a firefighter. Lizzie smiled at him, feeling proud enough to burst.

“Okay, on to the trucks,” said Mr. Peterson, leading the way. “You can each climb up into the driver’s seat of the ladder truck and see how it feels to sit there. Chief will help you down on the other side when you’re done.”

It happened when Lizzie was waiting for her turn.

A loud bell started clanging and a voice came
over the loudspeaker. “Possible heart attack at Thirty-two Elm Street. All units respond.”

All the firefighters were also emergency medical technicians. They rode the ambulance whenever and wherever they were needed. Three guys and a woman came sliding down the pole, one after another, dressed in their blue EMT coveralls. They ran to the ambulance that was parked next to the fire truck and jumped in.

“Gunnar, out of the way!” yelled Chief Olson. Lizzie saw that Gunnar was sitting right in front of the ambulance, facing the other direction.

“Gunnar!” yelled the chief again.

The big rig’s engine started to rumble and the giant garage door began to rise.

But Gunnar did not move.