Ziggy (2 page)

“Okay, we went over the bridge. Now we’re in West Springfield. Take a left at the second traffic light.” Charles peered at the paper in his lap. It was the day after the dog show, and he and Aunt Amanda were on their way to Rosie’s house. Aunt Amanda was driving, and Charles was the navigator. That meant he had to read the directions out loud and make sure Aunt Amanda followed them correctly. They had been driving for a half hour already; Rosie lived a few towns away.

“You sure do know how to get the job done,” Charles said to Aunt Amanda as they waited to make their turn. He had to hand it to his aunt. If you gave her a good idea, she could make it happen. And that was exactly what she had done with
his idea about his family fostering Ziggy. She had talked to Rosie. She had talked to Mom and Dad. And now they were on their way to pick the little dachshund up and take him home. As of that day, the Petersons would have a new foster puppy — one of the cutest ones ever, in Charles’s opinion.

Charles was so excited he had hardly slept at all the night before. Lizzie was excited, too, but she never got
that
excited about small dogs. She was more of a big-dog person. She had promised to help out at the animal shelter that day, so Charles and Aunt Amanda were on their own.

“Now take a right and go past the church and up the hill to the flashing yellow light,” said Charles. “We’ll take a left there.”

“Get ready for a
lot
of dachshunds,” Aunt Amanda told him. “Rosie said they would bark like crazy when we first arrive, but she promised they would settle down quickly.”

One right turn and one left turn later, they pulled up to a red house with a dachshund-shaped mailbox.

“This must be the place,” said Charles. He checked the number on the house, just to be sure. “Yup. Number 21. This is it.” He could already hear the barking as they got out of Aunt Amanda’s van and walked up the front steps.

Rosie opened the door a crack. “Come on in,” she said. “Don’t let anybody out.”

A swarm of barking dachshunds scrabbled and slid their way toward Charles and his aunt. They all had sharp little noses, big dark soulful eyes, short legs, and wagging tails. But they were all different sizes and colors: from black and tan to solid black, from dark brown to coppery gold. And while some were short-haired, like Ziggy, others had long, feathery hair that drooped from their ears, tails, and bellies. They yipped and yapped loudly as they jumped up to greet Charles and Aunt Amanda. “Wow!” Aunt Amanda had to
yell to be heard over the racket. “How many are there?”

Rosie laughed as she scooped Ziggy up into her arms and nuzzled him with her cheek. “Eleven right now. Not counting the puppies, that is, since we’ll sell them when they’re old enough. Some people think we’re crazy. I tell them we are. We’re crazy about dachshunds.”

Charles sat down right there — on a doormat with a picture of a dachshund on it — and let five of the sausage dogs squirm their way onto his lap. Four others continued to jump and twirl. They leapt up onto Aunt Amanda’s knees. It took a while, but finally the dogs began to settle down.

“They’re great,” said Charles when it was quiet enough to talk. He had never spent much time around a dachshund before. He was dying to hold Ziggy, but Rosie didn’t look as if she wanted to let go of him quite yet. “I love their eyes. They all look so smart.”

“Don’t they?” agreed Rosie. “I always say you can see all sorts of emotions in a dachshund’s eyes. Love, worry, happiness — it’s all there. They’re very sensitive dogs. Sometimes they even get sulky when their feelings are hurt, and you can see
that
in their eyes.”

“What are their names?” Charles asked.

“Let’s see. Starting with the oldest, that’s my grandma dog, Candy, over there.” Rosie waved at a white-faced dog off by herself on a bed in the corner. “Then we have Mikey, Penny, Schotzie, Bear, Sparky — she’s the spotted one — Sis, Hans — he’s kind of a bully — Pupper, Chocolate, and of course, Ziggy.”

She kissed Ziggy’s head. “I understand you have a younger brother,” she said to Charles. “I don’t usually let my dogs go to households with young children. Dachshunds aren’t laid-back like golden retrievers. They won’t put up with having their ears pulled or their eyes poked. But Ziggy
grew up around my grandnephew, so he’s used to kids.”

“The Bean is used to dogs, too,” Charles said. The fat brown dachshund named Hans climbed into Charles’s lap and growled at the other dogs until they fled. “My brother knows he can’t pull puppies’ tails or kiss their noses or bother them when they’re eating.”

“Very good,” said Rosie. “And you have a fenced yard?”

Charles nodded. He told Rosie all about his family’s house and yard, and listened as she told him all about Ziggy. Ziggy wasn’t exactly spoiled, the way Princess, a Yorkie the Petersons had once fostered, had been, but Rosie did seem to have a lot to say about his likes and dislikes. “Be sure to keep an eye on him,” she finished. “Remember what I said about him being a Houdini.”

Aunt Amanda had explained to Charles that

Harry Houdini had been a famous magician who could escape from anywhere, no matter how people tried to lock or tie him up. Now Charles nodded.

“Ziggy is a curious guy,” Rosie warned. “And a dachshund who likes to follow his nose is a dachshund who could end up just about anywhere. Isn’t that right, Ziggy Zigman?” She held the puppy up so she could look him in the eyes.

Ziggy licked Rosie’s nose and wagged his tail.

You got it, lady!

Charles couldn’t help smiling at Ziggy’s cute expression. When would he finally get to hold him?

“Oh, and I almost forgot. Ziggy-wiggy doesn’t like loud noises.” Rosie continued with her directions. “And he prefers to eat breakfast all by himself, without any other dogs around.”

“Rosie,” Aunt Amanda finally said, “You couldn’t ask for a better foster family than the Petersons. They will take great care of Ziggy and they will find him a terrific home.”

Rosie nodded. “I know. And I really am ready to send Ziggy home with Charles. But would you like to meet our newest pups before you go?”

Still carrying Ziggy, she led them through a living room with needlepoint dachshunds on the walls, china dachshunds on the mantel, and stuffed dachshunds on the couches, then down a hall and into a big bathroom. “We use this for the whelping room, where our mom dogs have their puppies,” she said. “It’s a nice quiet place, away from the craziness of the rest of the house. The moms can take care of their newborn puppies in peace. And since it’s a bathroom, we’re in and out of here all the time. That means the puppies get used to being around people.”

“Socialization,” said Charles. “I know about that.” He knelt down to look into a box where four
tiny puppies lay squirming in a pile, mewing like little kittens. Their eyes were barely open, and their noses were flat, not pointy like the older dogs’ noses.

“They’re only two weeks old, a little too young to handle,” said Rosie. “But if you come back in a couple of weeks, you can play with them all you want.”

The puppies were cute, but Charles thought Ziggy was way cuter and much more interesting. He could hardly wait to take him home, introduce him to Buddy and the rest of the family, and play with him. He looked up at Aunt Amanda, and she must have seen the impatience in his eyes.

“I think it’s time we left.” She put a hand on Rosie’s shoulder.

Again, she got the job done. Five minutes later, Charles and his aunt zoomed back down the road with Ziggy safely penned in the crate in the back of Aunt Amanda’s van.

When they arrived at home, Charles made sure that Ziggy’s leash was securely clipped to his collar before he opened the crate. Then he lifted Ziggy out of the van, gave him a quick hug, and set him on the front walk. “This is your temporary home, Ziggy,” he said. “What do you think?”

Ziggy ran from side to side as far as his leash would allow, sniffing everything in sight.

“I see why Rosie named you Ziggy.” Charles laughed as he ran to keep up. “You like to zig and zag and zoom all over the place, don’t you?”

“She was right about his curiosity, too,” said Aunt Amanda. “Look at him. He’s finding out everything he can about this new place.”

Ziggy screeched to a halt and sniffed at a rosebush. His ears perked up and his tail stood straight out.

Another dog lives here. He peed on this bush this morning.

“I bet he smells Buddy,” said Charles. “That’s good. Now he won’t be surprised to find out that there’s another dog in the house.”

Ziggy zoomed over to sniff at a red-and-white mitten the Bean had dropped on the front walk. His tail began to wag.

A little person! I like little people.

Aunt Amanda scooped up the mitten. “I guess he won’t be too surprised by the Bean, either,” she said.

Mom and the Bean were waiting inside.

“Doggy!” cried the Bean the second Charles and Ziggy walked in.

Charles thought it was kind of amazing how little kids always knew that a dog was a dog. Tiny pointy-nosed Ziggy did not look one bit like Maggie, the huge drooly Saint Bernard puppy the Petersons had once fostered. But the Bean had known right away that they were both doggies.

“No touching,” Mom reminded the Bean. “Stand very still and let the doggy sniff you.” She stood right behind the Bean, her hands on his shoulders, while Charles let Ziggy go closer. Ziggy snuffled and sniffed at the Bean.

Yup, you’re one of the good ones. Nice and quiet. Not the kind who will bug me or tease me.

Then the puppy licked the Bean’s hand. “Mommy,” the Bean said, giggling, “The ‘uppy kissed me!”

“That’s good,” said Mom. “He likes you.” Then she knelt down to say hello to Ziggy. “I put Buddy out in the backyard,” she told Charles. “I figured Ziggy should meet us one by one. Dad and Lizzie won’t be home for a couple of hours.” She petted Ziggy’s head. “Hi, cutie,” she said. “Look at those soulful eyes.”

It took no time at all for Ziggy to get used to the Bean and Mom, the house, and even Buddy. After Aunt Amanda left, Charles took Ziggy outside to introduce the two puppies. They got along right away. They sniffed at each other for a few seconds, then took off on a mad chase around the yard. Charles noticed that Ziggy checked out every inch of the fence as he zoomed by. They made three complete circles before they stopped to sniff each other again. Charles was surprised at how fast Ziggy could run when he didn’t have his leash on. He made Buddy look like a plodding elephant.

Mom came out on the back deck to watch. “Look at him go,” she said.

“Do you think it’s okay if I invite David and Sammy over to meet him?” Charles asked. “I think he’s getting used to everything here okay.” He couldn’t wait until his two best friends saw Ziggy. They were going to love the new foster puppy.

“Sure,” said Mom. “I’ll bring you the phone so you can call them from out here, while you watch Ziggy. Now that I see how much energy that pup has, I think playing outside is a great idea. It won’t be easy to tire this little guy out.”

Sammy got there first, since he lived right next door. He rode his bike over. He and Charles and David had practically been living on their bikes lately. David rode up a few minutes later. They both loved Ziggy right away, even though he kept squirming out of their arms when they tried to hold him. All that puppy wanted to do was run, run, run.

Sammy, as usual, came up with an idea. “Maybe
we can tire him out better if we ride our bikes around,” he said. “Ziggy’s so fast that running with Buddy barely makes him pant.”

Charles and David looked at each other. Sammy’s ideas were always exciting. And maybe a little risky, too. But really, what could go wrong? The three boys buckled on their helmets and began to ride in circles around the edges of the yard, right along the Petersons’ side of the fence. Buddy couldn’t quite keep up as they peeled out around the corners and took off flying down the straightaways, but Ziggy
loved
the game. He barked and yipped as he galloped along after them. His short legs churned through the grass so fast that they were nothing but a blur.

Charles, David, and Sammy laughed and yelled. What a great game. Then Mom came out onto the deck. “Boys,” she called.
“Boys!
Do you really think it’s a good idea to teach that dog to chase someone on a bike? Charles, you know your aunt

Amanda always says that dogs who run after bikes or cars often get hurt. Anyway, I think this game is just a little too wild for Ziggy’s first day.”

Charles got off his bike. He knew that what Mom said was true. And he had promised Rosie that he would take good care of Ziggy. “Come on, guys,” he told his friends. “Let’s take Ziggy inside for a while.” He looked around. “Ziggy?”

In the far corner of the yard, Buddy began to bark. Charles recognized that bark. It was Buddy’s “I-see-a-squirrel” bark. He would sit and bark all day at the squirrels who climbed on the big old oak tree in the Galluccis’ backyard, across the fence.

Ziggy wasn’t barking. But when the boys ran over to the corner of the yard, Charles saw why. Ziggy wasn’t sitting, either. Ziggy was very busy digging a tunnel underneath the fence. He was already halfway through, and all Charles could see were Ziggy’s rear end, his back paws, and a
crazily wagging tail as Ziggy’s wild digging sent showers of dirt flying through the air.

“Hey,” said Charles. “Hold on there, Houdini!” He ran to grab the puppy, but just then, one of the squirrels chattered loudly down at Ziggy. With a sharp bark, Ziggy squirted right through the tunnel he’d dug.

On the other side of the fence, Ziggy glared up into the tree. That annoying squirrel had disappeared. And now that Ziggy could no longer hear or see it, he pretty much forgot all about it. Squirrel? What squirrel? It was exciting to be on the other side of the fence. That yard, and the boys on those fast machines he could chase, and that other dog — they had all been quite interesting for a while. But now he was ready for some new adventures. He looked around. Which way should he go? Hmmm … so many choices. And it was hard to concentrate with that boy yelling his name over and over. Then something caught his eye. Hey, was that a cat?
Ziggy couldn’t be sure, but there was only one way to find out.

“Ziggy! Ziggy!” Ziggy ignored Charles’s calls, and Charles couldn’t do anything but watch through the fence as Ziggy looked this way and that. “Come, Ziggy! Please come back!” called Charles. But the puppy just sniffed the air, then took off diagonally across the neighbors’ backyard. “Oh, no,” groaned Charles. “I think he spotted the Galluccis’ cat.”

The Galluccis’ yard was a tangle of bushes and vines and fallen trees. Charles thought quickly. He knew there was no point in trying to climb over the fence. It would be impossible to catch Ziggy in that mess. “Quick,” he said to his friends, “grab your bikes. We’ll have to go around the block to catch him.”

Charles picked up Buddy and dashed to the back door. “Ziggy ran away,” he yelled. “But we’ll catch him. Don’t worry!” He didn’t even wait to
hear Mom’s response. He just shoved Buddy inside and took off with a flying leap back down the stairs. He grabbed his bike. “You go that way,” he told Sammy, pointing. “See if you can cut him off by the Schneiders’ driveway. David and I will go the other way in case he heads toward the Dodsons'.”

Charles pedaled as hard as he could. David, always a fast rider, kept right up. “Wait, what if he runs back toward your house?” David asked when they stopped at a corner to wait for a safe time to cross the road.

“Good point,” Charles said. “Maybe you should go back there. Then we’d have all the directions covered.”

David peeled off back toward the Petersons’ house, and Charles kept going, taking a left and then another left to end up all the way around the block, near the front of the Galluccis’ house. Mrs. Gallucci was out in the front yard, raking leaves.

“Hi there, Charles.” She waved at him. “You sure are in a hurry today.”

“Did you see a dog?” Charles put one foot down and leaned into his bike. He was breathing hard and his heart pounded. “A puppy? Did a little puppy come this way?”

“Did your Buddy run away?” Mrs. Gallucci asked. “Oh, dear.”

“No, not Buddy,” said Charles. “It’s a puppy we’re fostering. A dachshund. He’s really little”— he held his hands out to show Ziggy’s size —“about this big. He’s black and tan. He dug under our fence and went into your backyard. Did you see him?”

Mrs. Gallucci shook her head. “I didn’t,” she said. “But now that I think about it, George did come tearing around the house just a couple of minutes ago, like something was chasing him.”

George was the Galluccis’ black-and-white cat. So Ziggy
had
spotted him. But where had Ziggy gone after chasing George? Charles could not
believe this was happening. No foster puppy had ever run away before.

Sammy rode up. “Did you see him?” he asked Charles.

Charles shook his head. “Did you?”

Sammy shook his head, too. “No runaway puppy back that way,” he said.

Charles sighed. This was awful. How could he have lost Ziggy already? He’d only had him for a couple of hours.

“We’ll find him,” said Sammy, as if he could read Charles’s mind. “Come on. Let’s ride around.”

First they checked the Galluccis’ backyard, pushing through branches and vines, but Ziggy was nowhere in sight. Then they rode back to Charles’s house to check in with David, in case Ziggy had gone there. He had not. Then the three boys rode all over the neighborhood and even downtown, peering into every backyard and under every parked car. Charles began to worry.

He saw a lot of places for a little dog to hide and a lot of ways for a little dog to get hurt. “Ziggy,” they called. “Ziggy, where are you?”

There was no sign of a wiener dog.

Ziggy had disappeared.

“I better go home,” David said finally. “It’s almost dark.” “Me, too,” said Sammy.

Charles swallowed hard so he would not cry. “Okay,” he said. “Thanks, you guys.” David rode off toward his house, and Sammy and Charles headed back to their block.

“Don’t worry,” said Sammy as he got off his bike in front of his house. “Ziggy will turn up. Maybe he’s even home right now.”

He wasn’t. But Lizzie and Dad were, and they wanted to meet the newest foster pup. “Where’s Ziggy?” asked Lizzie.

Charles gulped. “I — He —” he began. And then he
did
start to cry. He told the whole story through his sobs while Mom rubbed his back and Dad
knelt down in front of him, asking serious questions and nodding as Charles explained.

Lizzie didn’t rub his back. Lizzie was mad. “How could you?” she asked. “How could you lose a puppy we’re supposed to be taking care of? This has never happened before.”

That made Charles start crying all over again, but then he saw Mom put a hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. “It wasn’t exactly your brother’s fault,” she said. “You heard Charles. Ziggy dug a hole underneath the fence.”

“If I had been home, I would have warned everybody about that,” said Lizzie, a little more gently. “Dachshunds are diggers. That’s what they were bred for, to tunnel underground and chase off badgers and things.”

Charles didn’t know what a badger was, but he was sure Ziggy could catch one if they lived underground. He had never seen a dog dig like that before.

“It’s nobody’s fault,” said Mom. “It just happened.

We can walk around the neighborhood some more after dinner, but then we’re just going to have to go to bed and hope that Ziggy comes back. I don’t know what else we can do tonight.”

“We should call your aunt Amanda,” said Dad.

Charles felt his stomach flip. “And Rosie, too,” he said. “If Ziggy doesn’t come back soon, we’ll have to tell Rosie.”