Chapter 8

Chapter eight On the way home from the animal shelter, we stopped at Pets for U and Me to buy Cheerio's supplies. I picked out a food bowl with a doggy bone on the bottom of it. I got a water bowl, too, and a neon blue collar. My dad got a crate and a sheepskin mat to put inside it. Cheerio picked out a squeaky toy shaped like a banana. My mom arrived at the cash register carrying a big package of something called wee-wee pads. "What are those?" I asked. "I've been reading up on how to train a puppy. Cheerio will have to be trained to go to the bathroom outside," she said. "If he starts

sniffing or turning around in circles, then he probably has to go. And if we're inside when this happens, we direct him to the wee- wee pad. That way, he'll learn to just go on the pad when he's inside the house." "Ewww," Emily groaned. "You're not putting those gross things down in my room. Katherine would hate them." "Don't worry," I told her. "Cheerio doesn't want to hang out with you guys, anyway. He's not interested in watching Katherine catch flies." "Good," Emily said. "Because we're not interested in watching him wee-wee." When we got home, Cheerio ran around and sniffed the entire apartment. He sniffed every piece of furniture until he found my dad's slippers, which he keeps tucked under his favorite leather chair. "Oh no, you don't," my dad said, diving for

his slippers. But Cheerio was fast, and got one of them in his mouth before my dad could reach it. "That's my slipper," my dad said. "Drop it." Cheerio didn't. In fact, he bit down even harder. My dad reached down to take the slipper out of Cheerio's mouth. He pulled, but Cheerio pulled harder. It was a major tug-of war At last, Cheerio let go. My dad flew backward and bumped into the table where my mom kept her grandmother's glass vase.

Crash! Boom! Bam! The vase fell off the table and smashed into a million pieces. "Now look what you've done," my dad said to Cheerio. "Actually, Dad, you did it," I pointed out. "I can see this dog is going to cause a lot of trouble," he answered, shaking his head. My mom came in from the kitchen carrying a broom and a dustpan. "Cheerio and I are so sorry about the vase,

Mom," I said. "I know it was your grandma's." "Oh no, Hank. Grandma's vase is in the kitchen cabinet. I bought that old vase at a yard sale for fifty cents." While she swept up the mess, my dad turned to Cheerio, who had no idea he had done anything wrong. "Don't wag your tail at me," my dad said to him. "If you're to be in this family, you have to follow the Zipzer rules. No slipper chewing. No furniture sniffing. Is that clear?" Cheerio turned his head to one side, as if to say, I have no idea what you're talking about, but do you happen to have a hamburger in your pocket? "And while we're at it, Hank," my dad went on. "There are dog-care rules for you, too. I expect you to walk Cheerio every day. He must always be on a leash. And you are to keep his water bowl full and feed him every day. These are the responsibilities you assume when you get a dog." "No problem, Dad," I said. "I will be the

picture of responsibility, I promise." I lifted Cheerio into my arms. "Let's go to our room." "Don't forget to take one of the wee-wee pads," my mom said. "We don't want Cheerio having an accident on the carpet." "Cheerio says he would never do a thing like that, Mom." "I didn't hear that dog say one word," Emily snorted. "That's because you don't speak puppy," I told her. "You only speak lizard." I went into the kitchen and took a wee-wee pad from the package. Tucking it under one arm, I picked up Cheerio with the other and headed to my room. Once we were inside, I put him down on the carpet. "Okay, boy, let's play catch," I said. I tossed the pad on my bed, then went to my desk drawer to look for my pink rubber ball. I found it and rolled it across the rug. Cheerio watched it go by. Nothing moved but his head.