Birdie For Now by Jean Little

trembled violently in Leslie’s arms. She shook in Dickon’s arms too. But he held her gently and keptsaying her name in a soft sing-song. She ducked her head to lick his fingers, but he could tell she was still anxious, not sure his kindness would last.
    â€œHealing takes time,” Leslie said, watching them. “She’s bruised, Dickon, in both her heart and her body. Go slowly with her. Be patient.”
    â€œYes,” Dickon answered, only half attending. He sat down on the floor with Birdie cradled close. He kept murmuring what a good dog she was, how special, how beautiful.
    Leslie brought grooming tools. She led the boy and dog into a room with a grooming table and two deep sinks for bathing. Birdie had begun to relax, but she did not want another bath.
    â€œIt’s all right,” Leslie told her, laughing as the little dog put her paws around Dickon’s neck and hid her eyes under his chin. “Let me show you what to do, Dickon.”
    She placed Birdie on the table, but the dog became so agitated Dickon took her back into his arms.
    â€œI can keep her on my lap and doit since she’s so little,” he said.
    â€œAll right.” The woman showed him how to brush out the tangles without hurting the small dog. Then she left the pair to get on with it.
    Dickon thought it might be a battle, but Birdie leaned her head against the stroking brush. He pulled it slowly and carefully through her damp tangles. He found a sore spot on her right flank. Her ribs were tender too, and she would not let him handle one of her slim paws. She even growled at him, but only in warning.
    â€œPoor little Bird,” he murmured. “I won’t hurt you. How could they do this? Did someone kick you?”
    Leslie came back to check on them just as he finished.
    â€œYou are doing a wonderful job, Dickon, but you must always remember that she is not yours or you’ll break both your hearts when she’s adopted.”
    Dickon bent his head low over the dog. So that was what bonding meant. It was too late. It had been too late since he and Birdie had first laid eyesupon one another. His heart belonged to this dog. And he was positive that Birdie’s heart was his. They were stuck to each other tighter than Crazy Glue could make them and that was that.

Mrs. Nelson and Mrs. Fielding

    The weekend dragged. Luckily, his mother was still busy setting the house to rights. The two of them painted his bedroom pale yellow. It took several coats, but Dickon got to do a lot of the work.
    Then Monday came and he was back with Birdie. When he raced home, however, happy as he could be, Mrs. Nelson was sitting on his front step.His feet skidded to a stop.
    â€œStop right there, young man,” she said. “I’ve been watching you for a week. I know what you are up to and I also know your mother has no notion.”
    â€œOh, please, PLEASE, don’t tell her!” Dickon begged. He dropped to his knees in front of their neighbor and gazed up at her. “Mum wouldn’t understand. She’s afraid of dogs. I can’t have one. But Birdie needs me. She really does. Leslie …”
    Mrs. Nelson reached out a hand and gave him a quick shake.
    â€œNever grovel!” she said. “Leslie is my husband’s niece. I called her after the second day. She says you are doing a good job with that poor little dog.”
    Dickon scrambled to his feet. A smile beamed across his face.
    â€œShe does? Really? She really does?”
    â€œShe really does. She thinks the dog may be able to be adopted if your mother doesn’t stop your going over there.”
    â€œOh, Mrs. Nelson …” he started in.
    â€œHush. I haven’t told Julie yet. I know she has a phobia about dogs.She doesn’t want to risk one hair of your foolish head. One of these days, we will have to tell. But Leslie thinks another few days may settle this Birdie down enough.”
    Dickon felt a warmth