Read Online Snowball by Ellen Miles - Free Book Online Page B

a real hero.
    â€œBut what breed is the puppy?” Lizzie asked.
    Dad shook his head. “Bruce Olson said it was some sort of terrier.”
    Lizzie groaned. “Oh, no, a little dog?” she asked. Lizzie loved dogs as much as Charles did, but not
all
dogs. She mostly liked big dogs, like golden retrievers and Labradors and Great Danes. She always said they were “real dogs.” They were dogs you could play with and throw sticks to and hug around the neck. Lizzie said that little dogs didn’t count.
    Dad felt the same way. “No such luck,” he said as he pulled up at Littleton’s main stoplight. “I think Bruce said the dog was white and kind of fluffy.”
    Lizzie rolled her eyes.
    â€œWhite and fluffy sounds great!” Charles said. “It’s probably really cute!”
    â€œRight, and yappy, too,” said Lizzie. “Oh, well. It’s still a puppy. This’ll be great. Do we have enough food at home? What about a crate for it to sleep in? Where are the toys we got for Goldie?”
    â€œMom’s taking care of all of that,” Dad said. “She’s getting everything ready.” He paused for a second. “But we’re not going straight home with the puppy. First we’re going to the vet. I already called and made an appointment. Mr. Olson said the puppy looked like it needed some attention.” He pulled the truck into Olson’s gas station, turned off the engine, and looked at Charles and Lizzie. “This puppy will probably need some extra care. Are you two ready for that responsibility?”
    Charles nodded hard.
    So did Lizzie.
    Dad smiled. “I know you two can work hard when it comes to taking care of a puppy. You showed that when we had Goldie. Mom and I were proud of you. That’s part of why we decided to foster another puppy.”
    Charles couldn’t stand waiting another minute to see the new puppy. “Can we see it now? Please?”
    â€œSure,” Dad said. “Mr. Olson told me he’d be waiting for us in the garage.”
    Charles opened the door, jumped out of the truck, and headed straight for the garage.
    â€œHey there, Charles!” called a tall man in blue coveralls. “Bet you’re here to buy some new snow tires!” Mr. Olson was always joking around.
    Charles shook his head.
    â€œOil change?”
    â€œWhere’s the puppy?” Charles demanded. Usually, Charles loved to joke with Mr. Olson. But today he was on a mission. A puppy mission.
    Mr. Olson smiled. “Right over here,” he said, leading Charles to a quiet corner.
    Charles looked into the big, dented cardboard box and saw two round black eyes looking back up at him. “Ohh,” he said softly. The puppy was white and fluffy, all right. But its coat was dirty and matted in places. It had triangular ears — one that stood up and one that flopped over — and short little legs and a short little tail, and the cutest little face Charles had ever seen.
    â€œHe’s a good boy,” Mr. Olson said. “Hasn’t even been crying.”
    â€œIt’s a boy!” Charles told Lizzie, who had just joined him at the box.
    Lizzie peered down at the puppy. “It’s a Westie!” she pronounced after a moment.
    â€œA
what
?” Dad asked, looking into the box.
    Lizzie knew all her dog breeds by heart. She had a poster in her room that showed every kind of dog there was and told all about their personalities. “A West Highland white terrier,” Lizziesaid. “I was just reading about them. They’re very smart and very energetic.”
    Dad looked doubtful. “This one doesn’t seem too peppy,” he said.
    It was true. The puppy was sitting up, but it didn’t seem excited to see new people. Its black eyes weren’t shiny, and Charles could see that the inside of one of its ears was all red. It looked like it must hurt. The puppy gazed back up at them