You Lucky Dog (3 page)

Lou and Lucky had had a wonderful afternoon the day before. They’d played some more soccer while his mother took some photos of Lucky. When his mother went to have the photos developed, Lou found a rope and took Lucky for a walk.

Mrs. Barnes was carrying a big bag of dog food when she came home. “He’ll have to spend the night with us, of course,” she
said.

While Mrs. Barnes was fixing dinner, Lucky chowed down a huge bowl of food and drank some more water. Then he padded to the
door and looked over his shoulder.

“Well, at least he knows not to do his business inside the house!” Mrs. Barnes said, smiling. Lou took Lucky outside, where
they played catch with a stick until dinner.

When Mr. Barnes came home, they all sat down to eat. He hadn’t seen Lucky yet. But he felt him soon enough. Lucky plopped
down right on top of his feet!

Mr. Barnes gave a yelp. “What is that?” he cried, looking under the table.

Mrs. Barnes laughed. “Howard, meet Lucky.”

Lou held his breath. Would his father like Lucky as much as his mother did?

Mr. Barnes blinked. Then he smiled. “Well, hello there, fella,” he said softly. He gave Mrs. Barnes a look. “Is he ours?”

Lou knew what the answer was, but he was still disappointed when his mother replied, “Only until we find his real owner.”

But that had been the only bad part of the night. After dinner the whole family had taken Lucky for a walk. Then Lou and his
dad made a bed out of a cardboard box and some old blankets. Mr. Barnes hesitated for only a moment before putting the bed
in Lou’s room.

The last thing Lou saw that night before he turned off the light was Lucky looking up at him. A warm feeling had spread throughout
Lou.

That warm feeling was gone now, though. Now all he could feel was loneliness at the thought of Lucky going home with his real
owner.

T
he next two days, each time the phone rang, Lou’s heart jumped into his throat. But no one ever called to claim Lucky. Lou
continued to take care of him and play soccer with him. He even brought him to a soccer practice.

“Hey,” said Roy Boswick, coming up to Lou, “isn’t that the same dog that blocked your goal the other day?”

Lou nodded and explained. Roy whistled.

“Boy, too bad ‘finders keepers’ doesn’t
work with animals,” he said. “That dog sure looks like fun.” He scratched Lucky behind the ears before joining the rest of
the ’Cats.

Lou led Lucky to the bleachers. He’d bought him a collar and a leash the day before. Now he looped the leash around a pole.
Lucky whined.

“Sorry, boy,” Lou said, giving the dog a pat. “But this practice is for kids only.” With one last glance over his shoulder,
he ran to where the coach was outlining the first drill.

“This drill will help your reflexes and make you think about whether you’re offside or not,” Coach Bradley was saying. “Three
lines, each line has a ball. Two offensive players dribble as fast as they can toward one defender and a goalie. When I blow
the whistle, stop short. The player with the ball passes it to his partner. Then the partner dribbles fast again until the
next whistle. The player without the ball must keep up with his partner but
be sure to stay onside. Keep going all the way down the field. When you get to the end, make a goal if you can.”

The kids formed the lines, and the coach doled out the balls. Then he blew the whistle, and the drill started. For several
minutes, the only sounds were the coach’s whistle blasting and the heavy breathing of the players who’d just finished their
turns — and Lucky barking now and then.

Lou was in the line closest to the bleachers. He could see Lucky straining on his leash.

I wonder how strong that leash is?
Lou thought as he and Bundy Neel took off for their turn.

He found out a moment later. The coach had just blown the whistle, and Lou had jammed to a stop. He was waiting for Bundy’s
pass when suddenly he was attacked by a bouncing ball of fur! Lucky had broken free and was tugging Lou’s shirt!

“Down, Lucky, no!” Lou cried, trying to shake the dog off. Lucky finally stopped.

“What was that all about?” Lou asked, perplexed.

“I think I know!” replied Eddie Sweeny. She had been playing defense against Lou and Bundy’s attack. “I know it sounds impossible,
but I think Lucky was trying to pull you back onside!”

“No way!”

Eddie shook her red hair. “All I know is, you were offside a second ago until Lucky pulled you back onside.”

The coach started laughing. “I’m afraid she’s right, Lou — about you being offside, at least. I was about to blow my whistle
when Lucky interrupted.”

“I bet that’s what he was doing in the game the other day!” Lou cried.

“Oh, great,” groaned Jason Shearer. “That dog knows the rules of soccer better than the ’Cats!”

N
o one could remember when they’d had more fun at a practice. With Lucky watching like a hawk from the sidelines, Lou and the
others were much more careful about staying onside. At the end of practice, Lou even showed how Lucky could head the ball.

“He heads better than you do, Amanda!” Eddie said with a grin.

The ’Cats all headed for home tired but happy. No one was as happy as Lou, though. Everyone had treated Lucky as if he were
Lou’s dog. He’d liked that a lot.

Lou was whistling as he turned the corner onto his street. Then he stopped short. There was a car in his driveway. He’d never
seen it before, but he knew right away who it belonged to: Lucky’s real owner.

Lou wanted to run back to the field. Instead, he crossed the street and went into his house.

“Lou? Is that you?” his mother called from the kitchen. Lou hesitated, but Lucky didn’t. He barreled down the hall and right
to his water dish on the kitchen floor. Lou followed much more slowly.

Seated at the kitchen table were two men, one young and one old. The old one gave Lou a gentle smile.

“Hello, Lou,” he said. He pointed to the young man. “That’s Roger, and I’m Ben Wakefield.” He held out his hand for Lou to
shake.

Lou hated shaking hands. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be friendly. But people always held out their right hands. Lou’s right hand was the paralyzed one. It was hard for him to shake hands with it. But if he
held out his left hand instead, people always looked confused and embarrassed.

He was trying to decide what to do when, with a start, he saw that Mr. Wakefield was sitting in a wheelchair. Lou blinked.
He knew how he liked to be treated when people saw he was a little different. He figured Mr. Wakefield would want to be treated
that way, too. So Lou lifted his paralyzed arm and put his hand into Mr. Wakefield’s with a warm smile. Mr. Wakefield’s smile
widened.

“Woof!”

Lou jumped. For a moment, he’d forgotten all about Lucky. Now he couldn’t help but remember why Mr. Wakefield was there.

“Come here, boy,” Mr. Wakefield called softly. Lucky padded over and put his head in Mr. Wakefield’s lap. Mr. Wakefield stroked
Lucky’s head.

“You’ve taken fine care of him, Lou,” he said. “I hope I’ll be able to do the same.”

Lou was confused. “What do you mean?” he asked. “Weren’t you the one taking care of him before me?”

Mr. Wakefield shook his head. “Lucky is my son Jeff’s dog,” he said. “But Jeff was just transferred overseas. So Lucky’s come
to live with me until Jeff returns home in a few months.”

“Oh,” said Lou. He felt as if his whole world had just collapsed.

M
r. Wakefield explained how he’d lost Lucky the week before.

“I’d taken him to the park next to the soccer field so he could run around,” he said. “He’s usually very good about staying
close by. But Jeff had taught him how to play soccer, and now whenever Lucky is near a soccer game he just wants to join in.
I’d forgotten about that until it was too late. By the time I’d wheeled myself around the park, the game was over and Lucky
was nowhere in sight.”

Lou told Mr. Wakefield how Lucky had followed
him home and saved him from the truck. Mrs. Barnes raised her eyebrows when she heard that, but she didn’t say anything.