are reclaimed bricks from an old farmhouse on Highway 5. You let that animal pee on antiques.”
“Sorry.” I try to make it right with him. “If you have a hose, I would gladly wash them down for you.”
“Never mind. I don’t have time for that.”
“Here, Mr. Mason, take my card. If you call me, I’ll give Bailey a free walk someday when he needs one.”
He holds it in his hand for a moment and shakes his head. “How can I trust you with him if you can’t control these two. I should find a different walking service entirely.”
“These are new clients for me. We still have to get used to each other,” I explain.
“Huh!” Mason Man grunts and stuffs the card in his back pocket. Maybe he’ll use the number for Dad to complain later.
Mistake number six of the day becomes ticking off one of Dad’s local dog-walking customers, and a meaty, scary-looking one at that.
day one, mistake seven
What if Mason Man cancels our walking service for Bailey? My first day on the job and I screw up. What will Dad say? I’m going to have to call him right away. But first I rush the dogs back to the Bennetts’ house and take them inside, so we can’t get in any more trouble. They’re panting hard, so I head for the kitchen to fill their water bowls.
Pong puffs hot breaths through my pant legs as he follows close on my heels. Ping snaps up a rubber goose and honks it as he runs around with it lodged in his teeth. Look at me. Pay attention to me. I have a toy, you don’t. I grab it from him and toss it as far as I can so the noise stops. His toenails scrabble across the hardwood floor as he chases after it. Despite the walk and extra attention, the two still seem desperate for company; it’s going to be hard to leave them. Let’s face it: back home, I’ll be alone, too. Ping shakes the goose at me. “Listen, your mom’s going to be home in an hour,” I tell them. “I can’t stay and play.”
Both sets of ears perk up at the word play. They haven’t really heard anything else. I guess it wouldn’t hurt if I hung around and tossed the goose for them for a little while.
At this moment my cellphone rings. Uh-oh! Did Mason Man already complain to Dad? I try to be super professional answering the call. Dad bought me this phone because of his business and insists I answer it a certain way. “Hello, Noble Dog Walking. Stephen here. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Stephen. It’s Delilah Bennett. Have you finished with the boys’ walkies?”
Ping honks his goose hello.
I stick my finger in my other ear. “Yes, Mrs. Bennett. We’re back at your house right now.”
“Perfect. As it turns out, I’m going out on another flight. Mr. Bennett won’t be home till late.”
“You want me to give them their supper?”
Pong lifts one ear up straight and tall at the last word.
“Yes, please. A couple of those little white boxes of sirloin stew for Ping. It’s in the cupboard. Half a tin of liver barkies for Pong. His is in the fridge. And Stephen?”
“Yes, Mrs. Bennett?”
“Would it be possible to throw in an extra walk for them? Around seven o’clock?”
“Um, sure.” This may make up for losing Dad a customer if Mr. Mason cancels his service. The dogs watch my mouth and face, ears up, tongues out. “An extra walk,” I repeat.
The mere mention of the W-word makes them go crazy. Ping wags so hard he flips over. Pong jumps up and places his long toes on my chest. They’re super happy and they like me. It’s like having two dogs of my own. Closest I ever got to owning any dogs was while playing Minecraft. But I’m going to have to abandon them now, unless I suggest something that’s totally against Mom’s rules. “Um, Mrs. Bennett, can Ping and Pong hang out at my place?”
“That would be perfect. I’ll pick them up from your house later, then.”
I hang up and set out the stew and barkies for the dogs, and they race each other to finish. The winner? Ping. He polishes off his own, then muzzles into the greyhound’s food and snarfs the rest of that up, too. No wonder Pong is so skinny.
With Dad’s delicious dog treats, I manage to get both dogs sitting long enough to snap on their leashes — so much work and we’re only a couple of houses away.
As we walk, I know this is definitely a huge mistake to bring the boys home. Mistake number seven. I sigh. We aren’t supposed to have any animals in the house because Mom’s so allergic. Still, she’s on the Paris–Amsterdam–London run and will be away for three more days. I’ll keep them outside in the yard the whole time. This should only be for a few hours. For just awhile longer, they won’t be lonely.
Luckily, I keep a tight grip on the leashes. I hear the bass pumping before I see it: the orange Beetle driving by at a clip. And what kind of VW makes an engine noise like that? Ping and Pong pull forward to attack, they’re so mad. Do they remember our last encounter? As I struggle to keep them back, I notice a different person driving this time. I could swear it’s our principal, Mrs. Watier.
My eyes follow the Beetle as it crosses the intersection and doesn’t turn. Hmm. That is the street where Mrs. Watier lives. Did she really drive for a wedding dress fitting in that old VW when she has a perfectly good TZX? And how did she even get the Beetle from her arch-enemy Mr. Sawyer?
day one, mistake eight
Back at home, Ping and Pong shove each other around, snapping and growling to get inside first. As fast as we enter the house, I take them straight to the backyard, where I push them out to the patio.
When they realize I’m not joining them, Ping begins barking and Pong scratches madly at the sliding door.
“You have each other. Now play!” I call to them in frustration. But it’s no use. Pong is going to tear up the screen if I don’t let him in.
Fine. I slide the door open and take them downstairs to the family room. With a laminate floor and an easy-clean leatherette couch, the dog hair shouldn’t be a big deal. I can wipe and sweep it up. There, I turn on the Wii. From the screen, Jessie’s avatar grins at me. It feels like at any moment, one of those round knob hands will wave at me.
I click onto my avatar, which has the same brown eyes as I do, plus the shaggy black hair. Compared to Jessie’s, mine has a straight-line mouth and eyebrows shaped in high arches, which make it look like it’s worrying. Jessie’s seems like it’s happy and excited, just like Jessie. Having the real Jessie around made me happy, too. We had fun together. I only wish he were here to play bowling with me.
I wonder if Renée likes Wii. Anyhow, I’m not totally alone. I do have the hounds. They scramble alongside of me toward the screen. They bark their cheers when the ball strikes down all the pins. I get about six strikes in a row. If I could do this well in any of the sports at school, I’d have lots of friends.
Then I download a movie called Dog Hotel and we all relax — Pong sprawls across the entire couch, his horse-head heavy on my lap; Ping lies on his back on the loveseat, paws in the air, tummy cooling
