Birdie For Now by Jean Little Page A

in his heart and a pain in his stomach. Birdie might be all right! But he would lose her. How could he bear it?
    â€œJulie will be home soon. I’m surprised she hasn’t smelled dogs on you. She must come home very tired indeed.”
    â€œShe does,” Dickon said, giving their neighbor a sheepish grin. “I watch for the car and push the button on the coffeemaker. She takes in this great deep breath and smells fresh coffee. I change my shirt too, and I wash when I get home.”
    Mrs. Nelson laughed.
    â€œVery tricky,” she said. “Come and see Charlie when you want a change of animals.”
    â€œThanks,” Dickon said. “How come she has a boy’s name?”
    â€œIt’s short for Charlotte. That’s Leslie’s second name. She gave her to mea couple of years ago. Someone had brought her in to the Humane Society and Leslie wanted her to go to an adult. African pygmy hedgehogs are not ideal pets for a child.”
    Dickon decided it was too late to visit Charlie right then. He had to put the coffee in the filter and pour in the water.
    Mrs. Nelson headed home.
    Leslie had told her aunt that Birdie was making great progress. His pleasure faded. If he did a super job with Birdie, he would lose her sooner.
    The rest of the second week passed, though, and they began on the third without anyone wanting Birdie.
    And Dickon’s mother had not caught on. She was tired, of course. The manager, Mr. Frank, was picky sometimes. When she got home, his mother had to tell Dickon the latest adventure they had had. She said she had to be careful because she could not afford to get fired. Dickon knew there was no danger of that happening. His mother was smart and she worked hard.
    â€œHow was Mr. Frankenstein today?” he would ask her.
    She would shake her head at him, but she always smiled.
    One night when she asked about his day, Dickon told her about going over to see Charlie having her bath.
    â€œOh, honey, do be careful,” she warned. “That hedgehog might seem as friendly as can be and then take a piece out of you.”
    â€œCharlie is a pushover,” he said impatiently. “Anyway, her prickles make me keep my distance so don’t fuss.”
    â€œI can’t help it,” she said, pushing buttons on the microwave. “I know she’s not a dog, but when I was three …”
    â€œYou’ve told me a million times,” he broke in, unable to hide his sudden anger. “But dogs are okay. They are fine. Otherwise, Mum, why would hundreds of people buy them for their kids? Answer me that.”
    She stared into his face. He was not sounding like himself. His cheeks reddened and he looked away.
    â€œMaybe we should get a smallaquarium and some of those Japanese koi,” she said, staring at him. “I know it is nice to have a pet. Koi are all different colors. You might enjoy …”
    He could not believe it.
    â€œNo, Mother,” he said. “I do not de-sire a wet pet. Or a gerbil or a mouse or a guinea pig. For me, it’s a dog or nothing.”
    Silence came between them. He gritted his teeth and made no move to break through it. His mother sighed.
    â€œDo you feel all right, baby?” she asked at last. “You must get so bored shut up with only the TV. We’ll forget fish for now. I brought you a present, something to help pass the time. It’s so cute.”
    He opened the paper bag and pulled out a sticker book. He stared down at it. It was about toys. Teddy bears. The one on the cover was like the one on his stupid baby cup. He pushed the book away and tried to change the subject back to hedgehogs.
    â€œMrs. Nelson lets Charlie ride around in her apron pocket,” he said.
    His mother shuddered. All at once, he wanted to hit her. He longed to burst out, “Birdie is a wonderful dog and I am training her and Leslie says she is doing wonderfully well and I’ve taught her to stay and sit and