Rascal (2 page)

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.

“Anyway, 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.”

“We'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.

“Whoa, wait a minute, kiddo,” said Mom. “I'm not so sure about that.”

“But 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.”

“Yeah! 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 chewing
on 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 better.”

“The kids have done a tremendous job with the other puppies we've fostered,” Dad reminded Mom.

“I know,” Mom said. “But this puppy really seems like a lot of work.”

“He's completely housetrained,” Susan said. “He
never
makes mistakes.”

“See, Mom? He's smart,” Lizzie said. “He'll learn fast. He just needs more attention than Susan can give him.”

“Well,” Mom said slowly. “If you're really ready to take this puppy on . . .”

“Yay!” yelled Lizzie and Charles together. Rascal sprang to his feet and spun around, barking.

Just then, a blue car pulled into the driveway. “Maria!” Lizzie said. She had forgotten all about
the riding lesson — and now she had the perfect excuse to put it off. Obviously, she was going to have to stay home and help with the new pup.

Rascal the troublesome puppy had arrived at just the right time.

Lizzie had recently read that it was a good idea to keep a diary for dog training, so she decided to start one for Rascal.

“So, this is the new puppy?” Sammy watched as Rascal tore around the yard, barking at everything and nothing. Sammy, Charles's best friend, lived next door.

“Good thing I didn't bring Rufus and Goldie,” said Sammy. “I think you have your hands full already.” Rufus was an older golden retriever, and Goldie was a younger one. Goldie was the first puppy the Petersons had ever fostered. It had been really hard to give her up, but at least she now lived right next door.

“I don't know.” Lizzie sighed. “Maybe they would be a good influence on Rascal. He's out of control!” Lizzie had learned a lot about training dogs — from the Internet, from books, and from dog trainers she had met — but she wasn't sure any of it would work with this puppy. He definitely had a mind of his own, and enough energy for a whole
pack
of dogs.

“Mom sure wasn't happy when he ran into the living room and jumped onto the couch,” Charles agreed.

“And from the couch to the chair to the coffee table,” Lizzie added. “I don't think his feet touched the floor once.”

Rascal wondered why nobody was chasing him. It was fun to run around in circles, but much
more
fun when somebody chased you. He barked some more. Why weren't the children playing with him?

Rascal dashed toward Lizzie and away again, looking over his shoulder. “He wants me to chase him,” Lizzie said. “But there's no way I'm getting into that game. He needs to learn that the best way to get my attention is to come over and sit quietly.”

“Ha!” said Charles. “Like he'll ever do that!”

“If we wait long enough he might,” Lizzie said. “And if he does, he'll get a biscuit.” She showed Charles and Sammy the dog biscuits in her pocket. “That's called positive reinforcement. If he does something good, he gets a treat. The books say it will work better than yelling at him.”

“Hmm,” said Charles. “Maybe we should tell Mom about positive reinforcement. If I got ice cream for finishing my homework, I'd probably do it sooner.”

“I think my mom already knows about it,” said Sammy. “She promised me a new baseball glove if I keep my room clean for a month.”

While they were talking, Rascal had finally stopped barking and running around the yard. Lizzie could tell that he was looking at her. She pretended not to notice. He came closer, cocking his head curiously. She kept pretending to ignore him. Finally, he sat right down next to her.

“Good dog!” Lizzie exclaimed. She tossed him a dog biscuit.

Rascal jumped up and snatched it out of the air. He gobbled it down. Then he took off again at high speed.

“Well,” Lizzie said, laughing as she shook her head, “it's a start, anyway.”

There were more items Lizzie could have added to the list, but it was too depressing. Rascal's chewing habit was a real problem. On Sunday morning, after Mom found her sandals — or what
used
to be her sandals — on the bathroom floor, Lizzie got on to the Internet to do some research. What was the best way to train a puppy not to chew?

The first thing Lizzie learned was: Don't give the puppy a
chance
to chew things. After lunch, she and Charles and Dad closed off the kitchen with one of the Bean's old baby gates. From now on, Rascal would have to stay in there. If he couldn't roam the house, he would have fewer chances to find things to chew.

“Plus, he won't be able to jump all over the furniture,” Charles told Lizzie. Rascal looked back at them from inside the kitchen. He whined and barked and jumped up and down.

Lizzie had also learned that it was a good idea to give a puppy his
own
things to chew on, toys that were made for a little dog with sharp teeth. She tossed Rascal a puppy-sized rawhide bone. He scrambled after it and sat under the kitchen table, gnawing happily.

If only they had given me this yummy bone in the first place, thought Rascal. This was way, way
better than any of the other things he'd tried to eat. And nobody was going to take it away from him, either. He was safe and sound in the kitchen, behind the gate. Life was good.

Lizzie shook her head as she watched Rascal chew. She had never imagined that she would meet a dog she couldn't train. But Rascal was a real challenge.

“Rascal sounds like a handful.” Maria offered Lizzie a Fig Newton from her lunch bag.

“He is,” Lizzie said. She took the cookie and started nibbling off the edges. Then she sighed. “I hate to admit it, but I'm not even sure what to do with him next.” She had already given up on the training diary. It was just too upsetting to have to write down every naughty thing Rascal did. Dealing with Rascal was a full-time job, and after only two days it was wearing her out. Being at school was almost like a vacation.

“Maybe you just need a break,” Maria said. “I have a riding lesson after school. I bet Kathy could fit you in if you wanted to come.”

Lizzie shook her head and popped the last bite of Fig Newton into her mouth. “I can't,” she said, scrunching up her lunch bag. “We signed Rascal up for puppy kindergarten and it starts today.”

“Puppy kindergarten?” Maria laughed. “What do they do, finger-paint and play with blocks?”

Lizzie giggled, picturing puppies tracking finger-paint all over. Or would that be paw-paint? What a mess! “No, it's just a series of classes to teach puppies basic obedience, like how to sit and walk on a leash. They also get used to being around other dogs. It'll be fun.”

And it did look like fun when Lizzie and Charles arrived at puppy kindergarten later that day. Dad dropped them off at the Littleton recreation center, promising to come back in time to watch the last ten minutes of class.

Rascal pulled hard at the leash when he heard the sound of barking dogs. He practically dragged
Charles up the stairs. “Hey!” Charles yelled. “Take it easy!”

“Looks like someone needs to learn some leash manners,” said a college-age girl who was arriving at the same time. She stuck out her hand. “I'm Jamie, your teacher. And this is —?”

“Rascal,” Lizzie said. “We signed him up yesterday. We just got him on Saturday.”

“Oh, right,” said Jamie. “You're the family that's been fostering puppies. Charles and Lizzie Peterson, right? I've heard all about you. Isn't one of your puppies going to be a guide dog?”

Charles and Lizzie exchanged a look. They were getting famous for fostering puppies! Cool. Lizzie nodded. “That was Shadow,” she said. “Our last foster pup.”

“That's awesome,” said Jamie. “Good for you.”

She pushed open the door to the gym, and the barking got louder. “Oh, wow,” Lizzie said when she saw all the puppies. There were six of them —
no, seven! Eight! They were running and tumbling and wrestling and biting one another. One of them, a tiny brown dachshund, was peeing in the corner while its owner chatted with the owner of a baby bulldog.

“Oops,” Lizzie said, pointing to the mess.

Jamie shrugged and pulled a roll of paper towels out of her tote bag. “It's all part of puppy kindergarten,” she said.

“You can let Rascal off his leash,” Jamie added as she headed over to clean up the puddle. “We keep the door shut so the puppies can play safely when they first arrive. That way they burn off some energy.”

“But —” Lizzie began. She wasn't sure how Rascal would get along with other dogs. They had decided to wait a few more days before introducing him to Goldie and Rufus.

“Just keep an eye on him!” Jamie called as she went to talk to another owner.

“Okay, Rascal, here you go!” Charles said, removing the leash.

Yahoo! Freedom at last! That leash thing was horrible. Didn't they understand that he needed to run and play? Plus, he had a job to do. He had to let all these other dogs know who was in charge.

The second he was free, Rascal dashed away, zooming around the gym. He ran up to one puppy after another, pouncing on each of them and making it clear that he was the boss. The tiny dachshund pounced right back, but the bigger bulldog trembled in fear, backing up against his owner's legs. Next Rascal jumped on a black Lab puppy, and a German shepherd with gigantic ears, and two poodles, one black and one white. Rascal stole a squeaky football toy from a shaggy black pup and chased a funny corgi puppy with short legs under the bleachers.