I have learned to leave the tree alone. The family doesn’t want me playing with the tree toys or messing with the packages under the tree. The only thing I can do is drink the tree water. I like the tree water because it tastes a little different from the water in my bowl.

  I think the tree has something to do with one of the best days of the year—Christmas. Every year on Christmas, my family gives me great gifts. Two years ago, I received a new owl. Last year, Peach was my present! I can’t wait to see what happens on Christmas this year.

  With the tree in the living room, I awake every morning hoping it’s Christmas. I rush down the stairs to the tree. So far, Christmas hasn’t come. While I wait for Christmas, the packages under the tree multiply. I notice the red socks hang on the wall next to the tree. The brown truck with brown-suit man visits our home frequently, but he doesn’t bring boxes of treats. Or rather, I don’t think he has. Hannah doesn’t let us near the boxes or the door when he comes. She gates us in the kitchen or makes us go out in the backyard.

  I’m napping on the couch when Hannah comes home. She walks into the house and says hello to Peach and I. She lets us out in the backyard. After Peach and I race each other to the back fence, we sprint inside.

  Peach and I smell something delicious on our return to the living room. Peach spots the source of the smell first and goes to investigate. She stands on her hind legs with her front paws against the wall, trying to reach the red socks. A bone is sticking out of one of the red socks. The smell of the bone tells me that I want it now.

  While Peach reaches for the bone, I notice an orange dragon wing in the other red sock. I love squeaky dragon toys because they survive endless rounds of tug-of-war between Peach and me. We need to get the socks down.

  Even on her hind legs, Peach isn’t close enough to reach the red socks. I don’t think she can jump from the ground to reach it, either, but she is determined. While Peach leaps for the socks, I scan the room for ideas. She jumps straight into the air, but she isn’t close enough to knock the socks down. Peach doesn’t realize her effort is pointless. Over and over she bounces in the air, but I can’t come up with any better ideas.

  I bark at Peach, telling her to give it up. She stops jumping and whines. I don’t know what to tell her, so I grab the nearest toy to distract her. She takes the bait. We run laps around the living room, chasing each other and playing tug-of-war.

  A few minutes later, we are panting on the couch when the front door opens. Lucy and Ben walk into the room. They greet us with squeezes. We return the greeting with kisses, sneezes, and wagging tails. As Lucy pets my wrinkles, an idea pops into my pug brain.

  I leap off the couch and sit underneath the red sock. I bark at Peach to join me, but she keeps licking Lucy’s face. When Peach finally stops, she looks at me. Her eyes light up. She jumps off the couch and starts her air jumps for the socks.

  “Peach, what are you doing?” Lucy asks. She stumbles from the couch and wanders to us. Peach stops jumping. Peach and I sit with our eyes up, focused at the red sock.

  “They want the stocking,” Ben says. Lucy looks to the red sock. Her hand reaches for it.

  “Don’t give it to them,” Hannah yells from the kitchen. “It’s not Christmas yet.” Lucy’s hand falls to her side.

  “Sorry, Zelda. Sorry, Peach,” Lucy says. Peach and I collapse to the floor. She bends over and pets both of our heads, then walks into the kitchen. I turn to Peach. This isn’t over.

  The next day, I look for an opportunity to get the red sock, but I can’t figure one out. Peach and I are stuck staring at the toy while the scent of the bone teases us. It’s terrible.

  When we can’t take it anymore, we turn our gaze to the little cars under the tree. We do anything we can to distract ourselves from the socks. I drink tree water. Peach chases tiny balls around the house. When the dark comes, Peach and I cuddle with Lucy on the couch.

  When I wake up, Lucy is lifting me from the couch. I see the wing sticking out from the sock across the room. I need that toy. Lucy is carrying me somewhere, maybe up to bed. The sock is getting closer. We are going to walk right next to it. I shake my head to wake myself up. I have an opportunity. I can’t miss it.

  The red sock is a step or two away. I look down. It will be a far drop, but my pug legs are strong. I need to time my jump perfectly. I squirm a bit in Lucy’s arms. She loosens her grip. My hind legs tense. One more step. I leap for it.

  “Zelda!” Lucy screams.

  Time slows down in the air.

  I see the red sock and clasp my jaws around it while my paws scratch at the one next to it.

  I have the sock!

  Crash.

  I slam into the wall and fall. Time speeds back up. I can’t get my feet under me. I’m turning in the air. My back slams into the cold floor.

  Ow.

  “Zelda, are you okay?” Lucy asks.

  Peach is by my side. She nudges me and licks my face. I rise and look around. A red sock lies on either side of me. Peach steps to my left and sticks her head in one. She pulls the bone out. I see the wings sticking out of the other one.

  “Is everything okay?” Hannah asks. I hear footsteps on the stairs. My body hurts, but I squirm to the red sock. I stick my paw in it and pull the dragon to me. I grab the wing with my mouth and shake it free of the sock.

  “What happened here?” I turn to see Hannah looking at us. “I told you not to give them their stockings yet.”

  “Mom, I didn’t. Zelda jumped out of arms,” Lucy says.

  “And knocked both of the stockings down?” Hannah asks. Lucy nods. “That’s hard to believe.”

  “Mom, it’s true.” Hannah shakes her head. “I was carrying Zelda up the stairs, and she jumped for the stockings.”

  “I don’t know, Lucy.”

  “I swear, Mom.”

  Hannah looks at me. I chew on my dragon, trying to find the squeaker. Peach is in the bone zone beside me. I don’t make eye contact with Hannah or Lucy. I didn’t mean to get Lucy in trouble!

  “I’ll let it go this time, Lucy, but let’s wait until Christmas next year,” Hannah says.

  I hope Lucy isn’t mad at me.

  “Let’s go to bed,” Hannah says. They walk up the stairs. We follow them with our new toys in our mouths. Hannah tucks Lucy in bed like normal, but Lucy doesn’t let me under the blankets. I guess I can’t have it all.

  7

  Pug Ice Skating

  After the excitement of Christmas, my life slows down. Lucy allows me to sleep under the blankets with her again, and the cold wind and short days keep us inside. The white stuff covers the backyard, and I don’t smell any signs of life outside. Peach and I play with tennis balls or my new dragon to have a little fun, but we hope winter will go away soon.

  When the sunlight shines into the house one morning, I beg to go outside. Hannah lets us out into the backyard. The snow is everywhere, but the cold is bearable. Maybe I can go for a walk today. I need to find something fun to do.

  When Hannah lets us inside, I run to the front door. I sprawl across the front of the door so nobody can go out the front without me. But nobody tries to leave during the morning, and I accidentally fall asleep. When I awaken, Ben is sitting on the couch in the living room. I bark at him.

  “What do you want, Zelda?” he asks. I bark and paw at the front door. “Want to go for a walk?” When he says the word, a spark ignites inside me. I sprint circles around the room. My antics cause Peach to rise from her slumber. She barks at me.

  “What’s going on in here?” Nate asks, walking into the living room from the kitchen.

  “Zelda wants to go for a walk,” Ben says. “Can we take them?”

  “Sure. It’s not too cold today, and I could use some exercise,” Nate says.

  We are going on a walk!

  I run in circles until I make myself dizzy. When I stop to pant, Peach sits beside me with her tongue hanging out.

  Ben and Nate put on our harnesses. When we march onto the porch, the cold wind whips through my fur. I shiver, but I keep walking. Peach and Nate stand on the porch. Peach doesn’t want to move. I bark at her, and she slowly trots down the steps.

  We walk on the sidewalk between snow piles. The snow blocks the wind, and I don’t feel cold anymore. I try to find interesting smells, but the snow covers everything. I don’t mind the lack of smells. I’m just happy to be out on a walk.

  When we reach the end of our street, I catch a faint whiff of the first live scent on the walk. The scent of another animals is drifting from the direction of the pond. I lead us on a path in that direction.

  “Zelda wants to take the path to the pond,” Ben says.

  “Okay, we can do that,” Nate says.

  With Nate’s affirmation, I sprint forward. Ben runs beside me to the pond. Peach and Nate catch up to us a few minutes later. I look across the wide expanse of the pond. A group of ducks are walking across the water.

  Wait a minute? How are the ducks walking on the water?

  I stare at the ducks. Their paws move one step forward and then another step. They walk slowly across the pond.

  How do they do that?

  I turn to Peach for answers, but it is too late. She is in duck-hunt mode. With her body low to the ground, she slithers through the snow toward the ducks on the water. Nate trails behind her, leash in hand. I follow them. Peach stands close to the edge of the water. Nate reaches for Peach’s neck. He unhooks her leash.

  “You can let Zelda go, too. They won’t go anywhere, not in this snow,” Nate says.

  “What about the pond?” Ben asks.

  “This pond is frozen solid,” Nate says.

  “Are you sure?” Ben asks. Nate nods, so Ben unhooks my leash. My first instinct is to run like a crazy pug, but I realize Nate is right. In this snow, it’s hard to run anywhere. I look to the ducks. I want to figure out this duck-walking-on-water phenomenon.

  I walk to the edge of the pond. Peach’s attention is focused on the ducks, but she is hesitant to step forward. She isn’t sure about the water. I am not sure either, but the ducks can do it. If the ducks can walk on the water, we can do it too.

  I take a step forward. The water is cold and hard. I step with my other front paw so both of my front paws are on the water. Nothing happens. I walk a few more steps so all four paws are on the water. I don’t sink or even get wet. It’s strange.

  “Dad,” Ben says.

  “She’s fine,” Nate says.

  Following my lead, Peach takes a few steps on the water. We stand together. Peach looks at me with a glint in her eye.

  Uh oh.

  Then she goes for it. She takes off for the ducks at a full duck hunt sprint.

  “Dad!” Ben yells.

  “Peach!” Nate screams.

  I take off after Peach to stop her, but she falls to her side before she reaches the ducks. She slides across the water. I catch her quickly, and I try to stop myself next to her. I can’t get any traction. As I slide past her, the ducks scatter into the air out of our reach.

  Peach rolls over and stands. Ben and Nate are calling for us to return. The ducks are gone, so we trek toward Ben and Nate. When we are a few steps away from them, I hear the flutter of wings. I turn to see a few ducks land nearby. Peach turns and sees them. She drops down into sneak mode. After a few careful steps in the ducks’ direction, she propels herself at full speed toward them, but she doesn’t get enough traction. She loses her footing and falls on her belly. The ducks don’t even flinch.

  “Time to go home,” Nate says. I know those words. I better turn around. I bark for Peach. We trot carefully and slowly back to the snow. The ducks follow a few pug lengths behind us on the water. When we reach Ben and Nate, they leash us.

  “QUACK. QUACK.”

  Ben and Nate pull us back to the path, but we steal a glance at the ducks. They quack at us, urging us to come back and play another day. Or I think that is what they are saying. I don’t speak duck!

  Spring

  8

  Squirt

  After the brief break from the cold, winter returns. I lose track of how many days pass until the sun bursts forth and the white stuff fades away. When I am outside, I listen to the sweet sound of birds chirping. I am so happy when pug-walking weather returns.

  I spend more time outside, but Peach doesn’t join me yet. With her short fur and thin coat, it’s a bit chilly for her. Plus, she doesn’t like to get dirty, so the wet, muddy yard isn’t her favorite place. I am the opposite, trampling through the puddles and mud. I come in so dirty sometimes that Hannah takes me straight to the bath.

  This morning I come inside ready for breakfast, but our food bowls are on the table, out of our reach. Our toys are gone too.

  What is going on?

  Peach sits on the couch with her eyes bulging. She tilts her head, and I know she doesn’t have a clue what is happening, either. Ben bounds down the stairs.

  “Mom, Dad is back,” he says.

  “Okay. Can you leash Zelda and Peach? We are going to do the meet-and-sniff outside,” she replies. Ben leashes Peach and me. He stands by the door. Hannah walks over and takes the end of my leash.

  “Let’s go,” she says. He opens the door.

  I smell him first. He is standing next to Nate. Peach is already pulling Ben toward him. He looks like Peach with his tall pointy ears and half-smashed face. He is black and white, but Peach is taller and skinnier than he is.

  Peach reaches the dog first. They sniff each other. Peach’s eyes are bugging out more than normal. She is excited, but Ben drags her away.

  “Zelda, meet Squirt,” Nate says. I approach him with caution. We sniff a bit, but he doesn’t seem interested in us. He simply sits staring at us. I don’t get it.

  “Let’s take them to the backyard,” Hannah says.

  We walk into the backyard. Peach and I are freed first. Peach waits for Squirt by the gate. When he walks through the gate, Peach’s crooked tail starts wagging, and she lunges for him. He darts out of the way. She takes off, but he doesn’t chase after her. Instead, he meanders forward. Peach is all the way to the fence when she realizes Squirt isn’t chasing her. She turns around and trots in our direction.

  I turn to Squirt. He sits in the grass a few steps from the gate. I approach him and nip at him, trying to bait him into a game. This time, he takes the bait and starts to move after me. But after a few steps in my direction, he stops. I don’t get it. Why doesn’t he play with us?

  Peach tries again. This time I watch him closely. I can tell from his wide eyes that he wants to play. He starts to run after Peach, and then I see the problem. One of his back legs is weak. He can’t run with us. I bark at Peach to let her know. Peach stops and trots to me with her ears down.

  “Okay, I think they will be fine together. Let’s take them inside before they turn into mud balls,” Hannah says.

  “Zelda, Peach, inside!” Nate says. Peach and I run for the back door. Squirt waddles in behind us. Peach and I stake our claim on the couch. Squirt stops at our water bowl. I think he is drinking the entire bowl! Peach and I look at each other with disdain.

  After emptying our water bowl, Squirt spots our pile of toys. He wanders over and picks out an Angry Bird. He shakes it and brings it over to Ben. Ben grabs the other end, and they play tug-of-war. Peach darts for Squirt and rips the bird from his mouth. She prances with the toy in her mouth to the other side of the room. Squirt walks back to the toy pile and grabs an owl this time. Peach dashes for Squirt again. Squirt drops the owl, and Peach runs away with it.

  “Peach, let Squirt play,” Ben says. He grabs another toy and brings it to Squirt. Peach groans and slumps to the floor. We watch Squirt play tug-of-war with Ben. Squirt grows tired after a few minutes and plops on the floor.

  Lucy walks into the living room. She ignores us and sits next to Squirt on the floor. She pets his head, and he rolls over on his back. Lucy scratches his belly. Pangs of jealousy rip through me. That should be me. Or even Peach—just not Squirt. I hope he isn’t staying long.

  Peach and I keep our distance from Squirt for the rest of the evening. I expect him to leave at any moment, but by bedtime, it’s clear he is staying overnight. Hannah sets up a dog bed for him in their room, so Peach and I curl up in our usual spot with Lucy.

  Squirt stays with us for the next few days. Peach and I become protective of our family. When Norman visits, we know he is eventually going home, but we aren’t sure about Squirt. We don’t want him to stay. He steals some of our cuddle time with Lucy and our playtime with Ben. Plus, Squirt is the loudest snorer ever. He’s louder than Peach! I barely sleep with him around.

  I am the first dog awake the morning after the fourth dark sleep with Squirt. I walk downstairs. Hannah and Nate talk at the kitchen table.

  “When does Squirt leave?” Hannah asks.

  “I don’t know,” Nate says.

  “We can’t keep him forever,” she replies.

  “I know. But he doesn’t have a home right now. He has nowhere to go,” Hannah sighs. “Okay. A few more days,” she says, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

  “Yes. If nothing else, I’ll find another foster home for him. You know he could be a great dog,” Nate says.

  “I know. Let’s find him a home,” Hannah says.

  I am stunned and embarrassed. I never thought about where Squirt came from, why he is here, or if he has a family. It’s been a long time since Hannah and Nate adopted me, but I remember bits and pieces of life before here—the struggle to get food, the man who yelled, and the little girl who held me. Peach didn’t have a family before moving in with us, either. She used to spend everyday, all day, in cages.

  How could we be so mean? How could we forget?

  I hear the pitter-patter of paw steps on the stairs. Moments later, Peach and Squirt wander into the kitchen. I nod to Peach. Hannah places all three of our food bowls on the floor. Peach waits for Squirt to move first, letting him get the pick of the bowls. Squirt’s tail nub wags, and he eats his food first.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6