Cody (3 page)

“So then what happened?” Ms. Dobbins asked. It was a few days after the firehouse visit and Lizzie was at Caring Paws. She hated to leave Cody, but she didn’t want to miss another Saturday of volunteering at the animal shelter.

Now Lizzie was telling Ms. Dobbins about what had happened with Gunnar, while they cleaned out a cage in the dog room. Ozzie, a beagle who had been staying at Caring Paws, had just been adopted. It was time to get his cage ready for the next dog who might need it. The other dogs in the room had barked like crazy when Ms. Dobbins and Lizzie first came in, but by now they had calmed down.

“It was so weird, because Gunnar
always
behaves. But this time it seemed like he was not listening. He just sat there, staring into space! Finally, Chief Olson went over and grabbed him by the collar. He had to pull Gunnar out of the way so the ambulance could go.” Lizzie frowned, remembering.

“Was the chief angry?” asked Ms. Dobbins.

“No.” It made Lizzie sad to think about it. “He wasn’t mad at all. He just kept shaking his head. And then he told me that Gunnar is going deaf.”

“Oh, dear,” said Ms. Dobbins. She handed Lizzie a squeaky toy, a red water dish, and a green fleecy blanket. They would all have to be washed for the next dog. “That’s too bad. But lots of dogs lose at least some of their hearing as they age. It’s not too hard to teach them hand signals for things like ‘sit’ and ‘come.’”

“That’s cool,” Lizzie said. “And Gunnar’s so smart! I bet he could learn those really fast.”

Now Ms. Dobbins was sloshing soapy water from a bucket onto the cage’s cement floor.
“Although,” she said thoughtfully, “I suppose that might not be enough for a firehouse dog.”

Lizzie sighed. “You’re right. That’s the problem. Chief Olson said that it just wasn’t safe anymore for Gunnar to roam all over the firehouse. He’s going to have to stay in the office from now on, or at home.” She knew her dad and the other firefighters would really miss having Gunnar around. They liked to brush him, or play tug with him, or slip him treats from the fridge.

“Did you know that some Dalmatians are
born
deaf?” Ms. Dobbins asked. She reached out a hand for the mop that Lizzie was holding.

Lizzie handed it over. “Really?” This was an interesting new dog fact!

Ms. Dobbins nodded. “Some people think it has something to do with their white coloring. White animals often have hearing problems, especially those with blue eyes. Remember that white cat we had in here for a long time? Daisy? She was a little deaf.”

Lizzie could picture Daisy, a big cat with a rumbly purr and a long white coat. She’d had one blue eye and one green one. “So do you think Gunnar is deaf because he is a Dalmatian?”

Ms. Dobbins shook her head. “No, in his case it’s probably just that he is getting older.” She finished mopping the floor and handed the mop back to Lizzie. “There. All done.” She brushed off her hands. “So, how’s that little Cody doing?”

“Better,” Lizzie reported. “He seems to understand what I mean by ‘Quiet’ even if he doesn’t always obey. But he’s still pretty wild. The worst part is how he pulls on the leash when you walk him. It’s driving us all crazy! Mom thinks we should try one of those prong collars, but I think they look like they would hurt the dog’s neck.”

“I know just what you need,” said Ms. Dobbins. “Have you met our newest shelter dog, Roscoe?”

“Not yet,” said Lizzie. “I’ve heard about him. He’s a big Rottweiler, right?”

“Big? He’s huge!” Ms. Dobbins laughed. “He’s
like a truck.” She put away the mop and bucket and started walking toward the back of the dog room. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

“Wow!” Lizzie stared into cage number three. Roscoe was a very impressive dog. He was brown and black, with muscles like a bodybuilder, a gigantic, blocky head, and paws the size of hamburgers. Lizzie was not afraid of dogs, but she could imagine that
some
people might be frightened by Roscoe.

“He’s very gentle.” Ms. Dobbins seemed to read Lizzie’s mind. “Wouldn’t hurt a flea. But he sure can pull when he’s on a leash!”

Lizzie felt a twinge in her shoulder. If little
Cody’s
pulling had made her sore, how could she handle Roscoe? One of her jobs at the shelter was exercising the dogs. But how would she ever be able to hang on to this big boy?

“That’s why we use one of these,” Ms. Dobbins said, showing Lizzie a tangle of red nylon webbing that was clipped to the front of Roscoe’s cage.
“It’s a head halter.” She opened Roscoe’s cage door and stepped inside. “It goes over his nose, and you clip the leash just under his jaw.” She demonstrated as she was talking. “Now you can walk him easily. It works by putting just a little bit of pressure on his nose, which is very sensitive. Even a little tug on the leash will remind him not to pull.”

Roscoe pawed at the halter.

“It’s a little itchy,” Ms. Dobbins explained as she came out of the cage with Roscoe on the leash. “But it doesn’t hurt him or anything. He’ll get used to it soon.” She handed the leash to Lizzie. “Go ahead, take him outside. You’ll see how it works.”

Lizzie gave Roscoe a pat. “Hello, Roscoe,” she said. “I’m Lizzie. Want to go for a walk?” Roscoe stopped pawing at the halter. His ears pricked up and his stumpy tail started to wag. He looked happily at Lizzie. “Good dog! Let’s go!” Lizzie led him toward the back door that opened into the exercise yard.

It was amazing! Roscoe didn’t pull at all. And when Lizzie wanted him to stop sniffing at a certain patch of grass, all she had to do was give the leash a tiny tug, just as Ms. Dobbins had said. The head harness was like magic!

“Do you happen to have one of those things in Cody’s size?” Lizzie asked Ms. Dobbins, when she had finished walking Roscoe. Lizzie’s mom would be arriving any minute to drive her home, where Cody was probably due for a walk himself.

“I had a feeling you’d ask that.” Ms. Dobbins held out a smaller green version of Roscoe’s harness. “Good luck!”

“Thanks! I’ll need it,” said Lizzie. “I have a feeling it’s going to take more than a head harness to tame Cody.”

Ms. Dobbins nodded. “You know what would be best for him? To be adopted by someone who also owns an older, calmer dog. I think your wild Cody needs a role model.”

Lizzie remembered Maria’s mom saying the
same thing, about how a dog like Simba would be a good influence on Cody. But Simba was a working dog! He didn’t have time to teach a young pup how to act. Then Lizzie thought of another dog she knew, a dog who was just as calm and mature as Simba. Lizzie’s eyes met Ms. Dobbins’s. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.

“It’s perfect!” said Lizzie. “It’s like it was meant to be. Cody
belongs
there. I mean, he’s a Dalmatian! It’s tradition!” Lizzie had been reading all about Dalmatians and their history as “carriage dogs,” who ran alongside horse-drawn fire trucks.

“They’ll all love him!” Maria predicted. “Especially now that he’s so much better behaved. That shows how well he can learn!”

Cody had learned so much, so quickly. Lizzie could hardly believe it! A little over a week ago Cody had appeared on the Petersons’ doorstep, a barking, pulling, jumping bundle of energy. And today, here he was, trotting down the sidewalk between Lizzie and Maria like a perfect little
gentleman. The head harness worked perfectly! Cody was a different puppy already. Lizzie would have loved to keep him forever, but by now she knew her mom would not agree to that. Mom liked Cody, but she did
not
like the way he shed little white hairs all over everything.

It was time to introduce Cody to the man who Lizzie and Maria — and Ms. Dobbins — believed would be the perfect owner for him. Who else but Chief Olson?

For one thing, Lizzie knew the chief was really going to miss having Gunnar at his side every minute of every day at the firehouse.

For another, she knew that the chief loved Dalmatians — and understood them, too! He would know just what to expect: the energy, the shedding, all of it — unlike the people who had given up Cody.

And finally, Cody would grow up with one of the world’s best dogs — Gunnar — as a teacher and friend.

“Maybe one day you’ll be a hero, too!” Lizzie told the prancing, spotted dog. Cody grinned up at her.

Sure, whatever! This is fun! I don’t know where we’re going, but I can’t wait to get there!

“Did you call Chief Olson to let him know we were coming?” Maria asked.

Lizzie shook her head. “No, and I told Dad not to tell him, either. I want to surprise the chief. He is not going to
believe
how much Cody has already learned.”

It took twice as long as usual to walk to the firehouse, since it seemed like everybody they passed just had to stop the girls so they could pat Cody and ask a million questions about the puppy. Cody had such a great personality! Everybody loved him.

When the girls finally rounded the corner near the firehouse, Cody pricked up his ears and sniffed
the air. For a moment, he strained at the leash — until Lizzie gave him a little tug to remind him not to pull. “I bet he smells Gunnar!” Lizzie said.

Cody did not hesitate when Lizzie pushed open the firehouse door. He pranced inside as if he already belonged there, tail high and ears on alert.

“Hey, look who’s here!” Lizzie’s dad called out. “Cody! My man!” He knelt down and opened his arms, and Cody ran to him, wriggling with happiness. He gave Mr. Peterson lots of sloppy kisses with his big pink tongue.

“Ooh, who’s this cutie?” asked Meg, a firefighter Lizzie knew well. Meg had adopted Scout, a German shepherd that the Petersons had fostered. Scout was training to be a search-and-rescue dog. Meg knelt down for kisses, too.

Soon Cody was surrounded by firefighters. He loved all the attention. The spotted pup gave big kisses to everyone who came over to hug and pat him.

This is the greatest! All these people love me — and I love them, too!

Suddenly, Lizzie’s dad jumped to his feet. “Oh — hey, Chief!” he said. “We were just —”

Chief Olson had appeared. He was standing there, watching. He had a funny happy-sad expression on his face, and Gunnar waited quietly by his side. “This can’t be the wild young pup I’ve been hearing about!” he said. “He looks pretty well-behaved to me.”

Gunnar stepped forward, and he and Cody touched noses. Gunnar’s tail was wagging.

“Gunnar likes him!” said Lizzie. “That’s perfect, because —”

Maria punched Lizzie in the arm. Their plan had been to let Chief Olson think it was all
his
idea to adopt Cody.

“. . . because it’s great when dogs get along,” Lizzie finished lamely.

Chief Olson didn’t seem to notice. He had knelt down to tousle Cody’s ears. “Well, aren’t you a good-looking fellow,” he said. “Healthy, strong —”

“And really smart!” Lizzie couldn’t help putting in. She didn’t care if Maria punched her again. “You wouldn’t believe all the things he’s already learned!”

“So he’s a quick study, is he?” asked the chief, looking thoughtful. He watched as Gunnar let Cody chew on his ear for a while before firmly batting the pesky pup away. “And you’re trying to find him a home?”

Lizzie couldn’t stand it one second longer. “Yes!” she said. “With you!”

Maria threw up her hands, laughing.

The chief was laughing, too. “As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what I was thinking. I have a feeling Gunnar would really like to show this pup the ropes. It would give our old boy something to do, a job. And I can see that Cody here will make
a great firehouse mascot when he’s all grown up.” The chief stood up and looked around at the other firefighters. “What do you all think?”

“Yes!” everybody yelled at once. Dad gave Lizzie a big high five.

Maria and Lizzie stood grinning at each other. Then Lizzie felt something tugging on her foot. “Cody!” she cried. “Quit eating my shoelaces!”

Everybody cracked up.

Lizzie and Maria headed home a little while later, with Cody walking perfectly on the leash. They were feeling happy and proud. “Mom will be so impressed that we already found a home for Cody!” Lizzie was saying as they passed the post office.

Just then, a woman who was walking in the other direction suddenly stopped. “Did I hear you call that dog Cody?” she asked.

Lizzie and Maria stopped, too. Cody sat back on his little butt and looked up at the woman. He didn’t bark or pull on the leash. The woman,
who was very thin with a sort of pinched-up face, reached down to pet him, but Cody ducked his head.

“That’s his name,” Lizzie said. “Do you know him?”

The woman looked confused and started talking fast. “Um — I think I used to know a puppy by that name,” she said. “But — it must have been another Cody. He looked like this puppy, but he sure acted different.” Then she walked off quickly, before Lizzie could say another word.

“Who was that?” asked Maria.

“I don’t know,” said Lizzie. She looked down at Cody, who was still sitting very quietly as he watched the woman walk away. “But I have a feeling Cody does.”

That night, after dinner, Lizzie and her family sat in the living room, eating apple pie with vanilla ice cream, a special dessert to celebrate Cody’s good luck in finding a home with Chief Olson. Lizzie wished she could forget about what had happened earlier that day. Who
was
that woman who had stopped Lizzie and Maria on the street? And why did she seem to recognize Cody? Lizzie could not stop wondering — and worrying. Somehow she just had a bad feeling about the whole thing. But she was trying not to let it ruin Cody’s last night at the Petersons’.

“Sit!” The Bean was standing by the fireplace. Cody stood in front of him, wagging his tail. The Bean held up a finger. “Tody, sit!”

Cody did not sit. He stood there with his head cocked to one side. He barked a few times.

That word sounds sort of familiar. I think this small person wants me to do something. But what? Maybe he wants me to bark.

“Sit!” the Bean said again, in a stern, deep voice like the one Dad used when he wanted Buddy to do something.

Cody barked again and wagged his tail harder.

“Sit!” the Bean said, in the happy voice Lizzie used for training. “Sit, sit, sit, sit, sit!” he pleaded. “Please?”

Lizzie laughed. She put down her dessert bowl and swooped the Bean up in her arms. “Are you training Cody?” she asked. The Bean nodded, with his lip stuck way far out. Lizzie knew he was just trying to copy what he had seen her do many, many times a day ever since Cody had come to
stay. It took a lot of work to train a puppy! She knew how frustrating it could be.

“But the uppy won’t sit!” the Bean wailed.

“Here’s what you have to do,” Lizzie said, setting the Bean back down on his feet. “Cody,” she said, turning to the spotted pup. “Sit!” She touched Cody’s back lightly, just enough to remind him of what it was she wanted him to do.

Oh, I get it! You want me to sit! That’s easy!

Cody plopped his little butt down and grinned up at Lizzie. “Good boy!” she said, laughing. “See, he’s just starting to learn what that word means,” she told her little brother. “Sometimes he needs a little help remembering.”

The Bean threw his arms around Cody and hugged him. “I love you, Tody,” he said.

Lizzie knew her whole family was going to miss having Cody around.

Suddenly, Dad slapped his forehead. “I almost
forgot!” He went to rummage in the pocket of the jacket he’d been wearing that day and came back carrying a little red rubber fire hydrant. “Chief sent this chew toy home with me, to give to Cody,” he said. “It used to be Gunnar’s.” He gave the toy to Cody, who immediately lay down and started chewing on it. When Buddy tried to steal it, Cody picked it up and ran behind Mom’s easy chair.

Then Charles went upstairs and came back with a play firefighter’s helmet. He and Lizzie put it on Cody’s head, adjusting the elastic strap under his jaw.

“Oh, he is
so
cute!” said Lizzie. “Quick! Quick! Somebody get the camera!” Lizzie couldn’t believe how sweet Cody looked in his fire hat, one big spotted paw holding the squeaking fire hydrant down so he could gnaw on it with his sharp white puppy teeth. Mom ran for the camera, and they snapped picture after picture. Everybody laughed when Buddy tried to steal
the fire hydrant again. This time he managed to grab it, and the two puppies zoomed around the room wrestling and growling and tugging over the new toy. Cody’s fire hat got knocked sideways, making him look cuter than ever.

A few moments later, the puppies were all tired out. Cody was snoozing on the rug, all curled up with Buddy. Lizzie could not help sighing as she looked at their cute, sleepy faces. Cody’s fire hat had finally fallen all the way off and Buddy was lying on it. One part of Cody’s lip was tucked up over a tooth, giving him a goofy look. They were so adorable together. Lizzie wished Cody could just stay with the Petersons, but she knew he would be happy with the chief. Being a firehouse dog was really something special.

Mom had put the Bean to bed. Now she came back into the room and saw that the puppies were sleeping. “How about a game of Scrabble?” she asked.

“But Scrabble is so —” Lizzie slapped a hand over her own mouth, before the rest of the sentence could come out. “Boring!” was the word she swallowed. Scrabble
was
boring, at least in Lizzie’s opinion. It was almost as boring as Candy Land, which the Bean liked to play over and over and over. But she had to admit it was just her opinion. She knew that not everybody agreed with her about Scrabble — although she was pretty sure Charles did, from the look on his face.

Just then, the phone rang. “I’ll get it!” Lizzie sprang to her feet, happy to have something else to do. Cody jumped up, too, and started to bark. “Quiet!” Lizzie said. Cody stopped for a second, just long enough for Lizzie to say, “Good boy!” and give him a pat. Then he barked a few more times as he padded after her into the kitchen, where she picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this — is this the little girl I saw today, with the Dalmatian?”

Lizzie frowned. Right away, she recognized the voice of the pinched-face woman. “This is Lizzie Peterson,” she said.

“Lizzie Peterson,” the woman repeated. “And your family fosters puppies, right?”

“That’s right.”

“And somebody gave you that Dalmatian to foster a little while ago?”

“That’s right,” Lizzie said again. She was about to mention that the “somebody” had gone off and left Cody tied up — at the wrong house! — but the woman interrupted.

“My husband would like to speak to you.”

By now, Mom had come into the kitchen. She gave Lizzie a raised-eyebrow look that meant “Who is it?”

Lizzie just shrugged and shook her head.

“Hello?” said a man’s voice on the phone. “I’m Tim Stone. And that Dalmatian you have? That’s our dog. Cody.”

Lizzie drew in a breath. She didn’t say a word. How
dare
these people, who had abandoned Cody, call him their dog?

“We couldn’t handle him, but my wife tells me that you can,” the man went on. “She said he was like a different dog, walking so nicely on the leash, and hardly barking at all.”

“Anybody
can handle Cody, now that I trained him!” Lizzie burst out.

“If that’s true,” the man said, “we want our puppy back.”