Jack by Ellen Miles Page B

Charles bent down to pat Buddy. “It’s only for a little while. And we’ll still always love you best, no matter what.”
    Buddy wagged his tail and licked Charles’s hand.
    I know you love me! I love you, too.
    Charles hugged Buddy. Then he and Lizzie walked their puppy down the hall and got him settled in Lizzie’s room. “He’ll be happy in here with his favorite toy.” Lizzie tucked Mr. Duck between Buddy’s paws.
    “He likes Pooh better.” Charles offered a stuffedbear to Buddy. Buddy grabbed Pooh happily and thumped his tail, leaving Mr. Duck facedown and forgotten.
    “Told you so,” said Charles.
    Lizzie gritted her teeth. Charles had really been bugging her lately. What a pest! But she had better things to think about: a new foster pup was going to arrive any minute. She gave Buddy a bedtime snack of two of the little lamb-chop biscuits. Then she and Charles went downstairs to find Mom and Dad in the kitchen, setting up the puppy crate. Lizzie had brought down her letter to Kit Smithers. She leaned it against the salt-shaker on the kitchen table so she’d see it the next morning and wouldn’t forget to mail it.
    The very first time she had seen a puppy crate, Lizzie had thought it looked like a cage. She had thought it would be mean to keep a dog in such a small space. But by now, after her family had fostered so many puppies, she knew better. Lizzie knew that a crate was a great way to give a puppya place of its own, like a little cave where it felt safe and sound. She knew that a crate could help with house-training, since most puppies didn’t like to go to the bathroom where they slept, and that it could help with bad habits like chewing, because if a puppy was shut up inside his crate, he couldn’t get into tempting things like old shoes or the garbage.
    Lizzie went to the hall closet to find the red flannel sheet the Petersons had used over and over again with different puppies they had fostered. She held it to her nose and took a big sniff. Even though they washed it between puppies, it always had that special, delicious puppy smell. She brought the soft old sheet to the kitchen and folded it up so it made a cozy bed inside the crate.
    Charles had gone into the living room to round up a few puppy toys, and he tucked them inside the crate, too. Mom got out the dishes they used for foster puppies, and Dad filled the water bowl.“What a team!” he said as he looked around the kitchen. “I think we’re all ready.”
    As if Aunt Amanda had heard him, there was a knock at the back door, and she burst in, towed by a sleek, muscular brown puppy with a pure white bib and paws and a funny, squashed black face framed by floppy ears. His big brown eyes shone. He wagged his short stubby tail as he pulled the leash right out of Aunt Amanda’s hands and danced and pranced his way around the kitchen, greeting each of the Petersons in turn.
    “Look at him! He’s all muscle. What a little tank,” said Dad.
    “Jack! Slow down, buddy!” Aunt Amanda sounded exasperated, but she was laughing, too. Lizzie could see that it was hard not to laugh around this puppy. What a clown! He snuffled and sniffed at everything, reminding Lizzie of Pugsley, a naughty little pug the Petersons had fostered. But this dog was much bigger than a pug and had longer legs.
    “Hello, Jack.” Lizzie squatted down to pet him. The puppy snorted happily and licked her face all over.
    Hi! Hi! Hello! What fun to meet somebody new!
    “Is he a boxer?” Lizzie asked Aunt Amanda.
    Her aunt smiled and nodded. “Good guess.”
    It wasn’t exactly a guess. Lizzie had practically memorized the “Dog Breeds of the World” poster in her room. But even though she knew what boxers looked like, she had never met one before. Jack was adorable! And he sure was a ball of energy.
    “How old is he?” Charles sat down on the floor next to Lizzie so he could get his own face licked.
    “Jack is about nine months old.” Aunt Amanda laughed as she