Rascal by Ellen Miles Page B

puppy.
    Mom came over to give the woman a hug. “Susan works with me at the paper,” she explained to the rest of the family. “She’s a proofreader there. She catches all the mistakes in the articles I write.”
    By then, Charles had joined Lizzie. He was stroking Rascal’s wiry coat. “What kind of dog is Rascal?” he asked.
    â€œHe’s a Jack Russell terrier,” said Lizzie and Susan at the same time.
    Lizzie had recognized Rascal’s breed the moment she saw him. He looked just like the Jack Russell on her “Dog Breeds of the World” poster: small and muscular, with a short, stubby tail. His ears stood up halfway and then flopped over, and he had a sharp, pointy black nose and bright, shiny black eyes. He was curious and ready for action!
    Susan nodded at Lizzie. “So you’ve heard of thisbreed. I never had, until my kids saw one in the movies. Once they saw that dog, they bugged me and bugged me and bugged me to get a Jack Russell terrier. They thought it was the cutest dog they ever saw.”
    â€œJack Russells are definitely adorable,” Lizzie agreed.
    â€œSo we went to a pet store and picked out this puppy,” Susan went on. “He seemed like the friendliest one in his litter.”
    â€œA pet store?” Lizzie knew that pet stores were not the best place to buy puppies. If Susan had gotten her puppy from a breeder or a shelter, she would have learned a lot more about what to expect from a Jack Russell. Those dogs were all energy!
    Susan nodded. “I know, that probably wasn’t so smart. But the kids wore me down.” “How old is Rascal?” Charles asked. “About six months old,” Susan told him.
    By this time, Rascal was ready to get down. He started churning his legs so much that Lizzie finally bent over and put him on the ground. He ran right over to the flower bed and pounced on a red tulip, pulling Lizzie along.
    â€œHey!” said Mr. Peterson. “Lizzie, keep him out of the garden.”
    Lizzie tugged on the leash, but Rascal ignored her. He pounced on a yellow tulip, and then on another red one. He was so cute and funny to watch that for a moment they all just stood there laughing. But finally Lizzie picked him up and set him down on the lawn, away from the garden.
    Hey! What’s the big deal? I was having fun! Rascal twirled around three times to the right and three times to the left, then jumped straight up in the air a few times, barking the whole time. By the time he finished, he’d forgotten all about the tulips. Yahoo! The soft grass felt great under his feet. Life was good.
    â€œAnyway, he’s a sweet guy, so friendly and happy. But he’s also been nothing but trouble since we got him,” Susan was saying. “He barks. He jumps all over the furniture. He chases the neighbor’s cat. He chews everything, and he doesn’t listen to a thing I say.” She jiggled the baby she was holding. “I just can’t deal with him anymore. I have three kids to take care of, too.”
    â€œWe’ll take him!” Charles said. He was on his knees next to Rascal. Lizzie was holding the puppy’s leash, and Charles was trying to get him to shake hands.
    â€œWhoa, wait a minute, kiddo,” said Mom. “I’m not so sure about that.”
    â€œBut you told me all about how you found homes for those other puppies!” said Susan. “I was hoping you could do the same for Rascal.”
    â€œYeah! Please, Mom?” Lizzie said. “We don’t have to keep him forever. We can just be his foster family until we find the right home for him.” She looked down at the puppy, who was chewingon Charles’s shoelaces. He really was pretty cute for a little dog. Usually Lizzie liked big dogs much better, but Rascal seemed like such a fun puppy — even if he did have a lot of bad habits. “I’m sure we can train him so he’ll behave