The Puppy Plan Page 2

  The thing about mums is, they always get the last word.

  3

  How to Be Persuasive

  I chewed my nails all the way to Frank’s. I had promised myself never to chew my nails again because I know it is not what celebrity people do, and Molly says that if we are going to Get Anywhere with our Celebrity Club, we must not bite our nails any more. So I had painted them with this shiny stuff which I thought looked and like the real nail varnish my sister, April, wears but it actually tastes with a capital G! There is one problem I have found though. If you are truly stressed and anxious about something, you will always find a way to stop thinking about the taste and you will always bite your nails anyway. So that’s what I was doing on the way to Frank’s house.

  I just kept thinking and turning it over in my head: ‘What if the whole class has already been there and all the puppies have gone? What if Frank laughs at me and says, ‘Ha ha! You are too late, Summer Holly Love!’ and what if there’s not much room in the room and I have to stand too close to him and try not to be sick because of the smell of his socks? Because if I was sick because of the smell of his socks, he might be angry and not let me take one of the puppies. And what if Mum just takes one look at the puppies and says, ‘NO WAY HO-ZAY,’ like they do in films and then Frank laughs and says, ‘I told you you needed Parental Consent!’

  ‘Does Frank’s mother know we are coming to look at these puppies?’ Mum asked, breaking her way into my most anxious thoughts.

  Why do mums always worry about other mums knowing whether you are coming round or not? Molly’s mum, Mrs Cook, is always happy to see me whenever I turn up and she says, ‘It’s nice to see you girls playing together,’ and she always gives us flapjacks with apricots in, which she knows are my favourite.

  I just shrugged and said, ‘Frank said to come round.’

  Mum sighed and muttered something about ‘getting this over and done with’.

  I rang the bell and we waited. I thought we might hear yapping or barking as Frank said there were eight puppies, but there was not a sound of a dog at all.

  Frank opened the door and Mum took a step back. The sock smell was particularly of a whiffy nature.

  I held my breath and tried to speak quickly so that I wouldn’t have to breathe in the honking smell.

  ‘Hello, we are here because I have got Parental Consent to have an appointment with you about the puppies.’

  Frank grinned and led us into his house. His mum was in the kitchen. I was really very surprised to see that she was quite clean and normal-looking. She did not smell of socks at all. The kitchen was even tidier than our own, in actual fact.

  Mum had got her ‘Isn’t this nice? I’m ever so delighted to be here’ smile on. The mums started a chat about school and how lovely it was that they had children in Year Four now and what a difference it made.

  I didn’t know how much of a difference it could make to anyone what year we were in, but mums are always saying things like this. Molly says she thinks it’s all a secret language that only mums understand. They say these things to each other that we think are dull and make no sense, but then they always seem to have picked up all kinds of information that we don’t want them to have about our lives. And they always say they got it from someone else’s mum. Maybe the government gives you a secret handbook when you become a mum that tells you the language so you can learn it in time for your children to start school. Governments do that kind of thing. I’ve seen it on telly.

  Anyway, Frank did a circly thing with his eyes and beckoned to me to follow him. He obviously thought that mum-conversations are totally baffling and dull too. We went out of the kitchen into the room where the washing machine was. I hoped he wasn’t going to ask me to wash his socks while I was there.

  ‘Why are we in here?’ I asked. ‘I thought you were going to show me the puppies.’

  ‘They’re in here, stupid,’ said Frank. He obviously does not know that to be a truly successful sales-person you have to be charming and polite. Not rude and smelly.

  He pointed to a large box in the corner of the room. I heard a small snuffling noise and rushed over to have a look. I could not believe what my eyes were telling me. On the far side of the box, snuggled up against Meatball, were the tiniest, cutest, squidgiest ever in the whole world!

  ‘Why have they all got their eyes closed?’ I asked Frank, as I suddenly felt a little bit confused.

  ‘Don’t you even know that?’ Frank asked in his huffy, girls-are-the-stupidest voice.

  I felt my face going a bit red and hot which I don’t like as it doesn’t go extremely well with the colour of my hair which is what I like to call auburn, but my sister, April, calls ginger.

  ‘Well, they’re very much obviously not asleep, are they?’ I said importantly. ‘I can see with my own eyes that they are moving around – unless they are sleepwalking?’ I asked, feeling pleased with myself for coming up with this brilliant explanation.

  ‘Duh, stupid – they can’t open their eyes,’ he said with what can only be described as a very smug, know-it-all grin on his unattractive features.

  I put my hands on my hips to show that I was not a girl to be messed with or talked to in that manner. ‘In that case, Frank Gritter, you have broken the Sales and Tradespersons Description Act,’ I said importantly. (Luckily I knew about this because Molly told me that if you are selling something you have to be truthful about all the details of what precisely you are getting, otherwise the government can put you in prison.) ‘Who wants a puppy who can’t open its eyes?’

  ‘Oh, shut up,’ said Frank. ‘These little guys can’t open their eyes because they are not even two weeks old. You would know this if you had been listening to what I said this morning. They are still being weaned. They should open their eyes any day now. That’s why you can’t take one home yet, even if you definitely want one and have definitely got Parental Consent. You can have one at seven or eight weeks. They’ll be ready at half-term actually.’

  I made a mental reminder to go and look up what ‘weaned’ meant. And also to check in a book whether or not Frank was telling the truth about the puppies not being able to open their eyes yet. I did not want to be sold a dog who could not fetch a stick or a ball. How would I teach it tricks if it could not see? I could not be a Responsible Dog-Owner-Type person if I could not train my dog. Anyway, I certainly was not going to ask Frank about my Concerns, as it would show that I was a tiny bit ignorant of dog-type Issues, and then he might not think I would be a suitable owner of a .

  ‘Can I hold one?’ I asked.

  He reached into the box and picked up one of the puppies. ‘It’s a girl,’ he said. A golden girl.

  Frank put her into my arms. I could almost have held her in one hand only. And I nearly squealed when I touched her. She was the and thing you have ever imagined. And she made small grunty piggy noises that made me want to squeal even more. But I didn’t want to frighten her, so I just kept the squeals inside and gently stroked her.

  That was when Mum and Mrs Gritter came in.

  ‘So here’s the whelping box,’ said Mrs Gritter.

  ‘Whelping’: another word I absolutely had to remember to look up later.

  ‘As I said, the puppies can’t leave their mother yet, but if you want to put your name down for one, we can arrange for you to come back in a few weeks.’

  I looked up at Mum, all ready to be most . I had decided I wanted the puppy I was holding more than even I wanted to be the winner on Seeing Stars, and I was most determined to let Mum know this. But I didn’t have to.

  Mum looked at me holding Honey (that’s what I knew I had to call her) and opened her mouth to say something like, ‘We’ll let you know,’ which is her usual way of telling people that she’s not interested. Then Honey stretched in my arms and sort of yawned in a very definitely cute kind of way.

  Then Mum’s face went a funny blotchy red.

  She closed her mouth.

  Then she opened it a
gain.

  Then she raised her eyebrows, sighed loudly and finally said:

  ‘Isn’t she gorgeous?’

  I think in the end Honey was more persuasive herself than I could ever have possibly been on my own.

  4

  How to Be Prepared

  So that was it – Mum couldn’t go back on her word now. I was that I called Molly and told her about it straight away. She was too and said Honey could be an Honourable Member of our Celebrity Club, because lots of famous people have famous pets. Especially dogs, which they carry under their arm when they go shopping. (Although that would be a difficult thing to do with a fully grown-up Labrador.)

  Then, because I was still hyper-excitable, as soon as my sister April came home I very speedily filled her in on all the details too. April is older than me – twenty-two or some other ancient age – and works in town for an office of people who are lawyers and they are called Stingy and Gross. Apparently lawyers are always called something like Stingy and Gross. Never Mr Stingy and Ms Gross, just Stingy and Gross. Molly says it’s so you know they are lawyers and not normal human beings.

  (Molly and I don’t want to work in town when we are older, because when we’re older we’re going to be famous, of course, and go on telly about our Celebrity Club and tell everyone how we shot to fame in an important and glamorous manner by winning all the votes in Seeing Stars. So probably then we’ll be so famous we won’t have to live at home with our mums any more like my sister April does; we’ll live in a pent-flat suite, I expect.)

  ‘April, we’re getting a ’ I screamed. This was how I very speedily filled her in on all the details.

  ‘Typical,’ she said, with an older-sister SOPHISTICATED sigh. ‘I start life in the working world, and you get a puppy.’

  She says that about everything. When we got the new big flat telly with all the different channels she said, ‘Typical. I start life in the working world and you get a digital plasma telly,’ and when we went to Spain for a holiday last year without her because she said she wouldn’t be seen dead on holiday with her ‘baby sister’, she said, ‘Typical. I start life in the working world and you go to Spain.’ What does she expect? Life doesn’t stop because April Love’s Started Life in the Working World. That’s what Mum says, and I agree.

  The thing is, it probably is a bit unfair, because I know that April wanted a puppy when she was still at school, but Mum always put her foot down about it. But then April probably didn’t ever have a friend at school whose dog had just had puppies so that she could take Mum to see them. In fact, I don’t know if April had any friends at all at school anyway.

  When April had stopped doing her sophisticated sighing she said she would like to take me shopping at the weekend to get some stuff for Honey. I was actually quite shocked by how really kind and helpful this was, as April is not usually that interested in doing things with me.

  But when I told Mum she laughed and said, ‘April’s such a shopaholic she’d go shopping for bags of mud if that was all there was left on the planet.’

  As I have already explained, Mum is well known for saying the weirdest things.

  On the way back from Frank’s house the night before, I had kept on thanking Mum over and over again for saying yes to having Honey. She had smiled, but I could tell she was wondering why on earth she had said yes, because she put on a sort of stern face and said, ‘I haven’t forgotten your part of the bargain, Summer. You are going to help out with this animal. I don’t want to end up doing all the work, even if I do think Honey’s sweet.’

  Mrs Cook once told me that when there is Tension in the Air, people often DE-FUSE THE TENSION by telling a joke. I thought it would be a good idea to have a go at doing this myself.

  ‘You are so funny, Mum!’ I said.

  ‘Eh?’ said Mum.

  ‘“Honey’s sweet!” Haha! Geddit?’

  Mum groaned. But I think at least the Tension was now De-Fused, as she didn’t say any more about how much hard work it would be to have Honey.

  Anyway, she was right, I had promised to help. So before the weekend I thought I’d better Be Prepared for the shopping trip and find out about exactly all the special equipment a new puppy needs.

  I asked Molly the next day at school. I didn’t want to ask Frank as it was becoming clear he was such an annoyingly know-it-all dog-owner type, and anyway, I wanted to steer clear, as it was Friday so the sock aroma would be at its peak.

  Molly and I were both already big fans of the telly programme about training your dog called Love Me, Love My Dog, which is presented by a very scary-looking woman who dresses from her top to her toes in black shiny leather. Her name is Monica Sitstill. She speaks in a teachery voice and is always telling off bad owners for not training their dogs properly. It is a funny programme to watch, until you start to think that you could end up being one of those bad owners who can’t train their dogs, and then it doesn’t seem quite so Amusing. I would not like Monica Sitstill to come to my house and talk in that teachery way to me.

  ‘Monica Sitstill has written a book which is all based on her programme, you know,’ said Molly. Molly knows everything about everyone who’s famous. That’s why she started the Celebrity Club in the very first place.

  I gasped. ‘Has she? Then I must get it. It will tell me how to Be Prepared for my new and how to train her.’

  ‘Indeed,’ agreed Molly. ‘Let’s go to the library at lunchtime and get a copy, then we can start Making A List.’

  Molly loves making lists. She says that it is the only way in life that a girl can be EFFORTLESSLY EFFICIENT. And it’s what famous people do. That’s why they never miss a party and always remember never to wear the same dress more than once at any one Celebrity Event.

  So we went to the library and got a copy of the book, which was also called Love Me, Love My Dog. It had a picture on the front of Monica Sitstill in a black leather outfit as usual and she was pointing out of the cover as if she was pointing at me, which I did find rather scary, and there was a huge dog sitting at her feet and gazing up at her in an adoring manner. The photo proved that she is obviously a very good trainer of dogs indeed if she can train a dog that big.

  This was the list we made:

  A dog crate was a very expensive thing, and I didn’t know what Mum would think about this, so I made a mental reminder to ask her before I gave April the list on Saturday and let her Run Riot with Mum’s credit card. Apparently April is always Running Riot with Mum’s credit card, given half the chance.

  When Mum says this I always get a very strange and funny picture in my head of April snatching Mum’s card and sprinting off down the street like an Olympic-style athlete, shouting loudly at the top of her head and throwing bottles and things at police officers. I’m sure that’s what a riot is, because it’s what you see on the news sometimes, but I don’t think April would really Run Riot like this as it would mess up her long blonde straight hair.

  When we had finished the list I asked Molly if she would like to come shopping with me and April, and she said, ‘Do the stars shine at night?’

  Which is Molly’s way of saying, ‘You betcha.’

  In other words – yes.

  5

  How to Use Your Initiative

  The weeks between seeing Honey for the first time and finally bringing her home to live with me for ever and ever were the longest weeks I have had to live through in my whole long life. I truly honestly do not know how I survived. But Molly helped me through it by phoning and coming round lots and lots to talk about Honey and sort out the things we had bought for her and get the house ready.

  Molly and I read the Love Me, Love My Dog book about a million thousand times until I could actually quote chunks of it off by heart. I learned that ‘weaning’ is when the puppy starts to eat proper puppy food and stops having so much of its mother’s own milk, and that a ‘whelping box’ is where the puppies are born and stay until their eyes have opened and they can walk. Mum started off being ever so
impressed by my instant recall of all dog-related facts and figures, but I think in the end I might have annoyed her ever so slightly.

  ‘Summer – that’s enough! I know you have to de-worm a puppy dog every four weeks, I know they can’t be left on their own for more than an hour to start with, and I know that I’m beginning to seriously blinking regret saying you could blinking have the blinking animal in the first blinking place!’

  Hmm. Mum was getting a bit stressed and anxious about what Life With Honey was going to be like, so I did my best to calm her and reassure her that I knew what I was doing and it would all be all right in the end.

  The night before we had arranged to go and collect Honey, April came home early for tea. She always seems to arrive home early when it’s lasagne, even if Mum doesn’t tell her that’s what we’re having. I think she’s got special lasagne-radar-smell-o-vision and smells it across town before it’s even in the oven.

  ‘A friend of mine knows someone who works at the new vets’ surgery in town,’ she told me.

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘You told me that when we went shopping. And you mentioned it quite a few several times last night.’

  April seemed to be very keen on getting Honey registered with this new vet in town. I had thought her only interest was going to be in shopping for all manner of dog-type equipment, especially as she is always telling me that she is far too busy at work in her office to do anything other than really important things like go shopping.