Free Notes From a Liar and Her Dog by Gennifer Choldenko

cooler now. It really is too hot for a jacket, especially standing in the sun.
    I sit down on the straw bale and wait for Pistachio to do his business. He is so busy smelling, he forgets to pee. “Go on, pee,” I whisper. “We don’t have all day, you know!” Once before, I left him too long in my pocket and he peed right there, a hot liquid running down my leg. I definitely don’t want this to happen again. I look at the sun, wondering what time it is. Eleven? Eleven-thirty? This is close enough to themiddle of the day, I think, so I take out Pistachio’s tiny white heart pill and poke it down his throat, hold his mouth closed, and massage his neck the way the vet showed me how. Then I let him down. “Now, pee,” I hiss at him, but he is so busy smelling the bale of straw that he pays no attention to me. He is very thorough about his smelling. One whiff won’t do. He must smell every square inch. “Come on!” I say.
    “Hey, Ant,” Just Carol calls. Her voice seems close. Pistachio is down by the rocks now, sniffing his way to the chain-link fence. I wonder if I can get to him in time, when I hear Just Carol, even closer this time. “Ant?”
    There’s nothing I can do except hope she doesn’t see Pistachio. “Yes,” I say.
    “Whatcha doin’?” she asks in an easy, friendly tone of voice.
    “Oh, I was just looking at the lions,” I say, nodding toward them and away from Pistachio. “They sure are lazy.”
    “A little nap, a sunbath, a sip of water…tough life, isn’t it?” she says as Junior, the male lion, nuzzles one of the lionesses. Just Carol is absorbed in watching them, so I glance to see where Pistachio is again.
    “You ready?” Just Carol asks. “Because it’s lunchtime. Mary-Judy doesn’t like it if we’re late. She’ll get worried the lions had an early dinner and come hauling up here in the zoo truck to find us.” Just Carol smiles.
    “Okay,” I say. I will walk down a bit with her, thentell her I forgot my jacket, which luckily I did take off. Then I’ll run back and scoop up Pistachio. I glance at him. He is all the way over by the fence now.
    “I know you brought your lunch…did you bring something to drink, too? I don’t know about you, but I’m really thirsty,” Just Carol says. She is walking fast. I am walking slow, hoping she will slow down, too. But she doesn’t. She walks on ahead of me.
    We are getting farther and farther away from Pistachio. My heart is jammed up in my throat and beating loud in my head. I’m sweating big drips. I steal a glance back and I see Pistachio’s brown body near the lion chain link. The lions will eat him if he goes in there. This idea hits me hard, like I jammed my finger in the door. “Wait here!” I whisper. “I—I forgot my jacket.” I am so scared, my throat has closed up. I can barely speak.
    I run back, hoping she won’t follow me, but I can’t help it if she does, now. Pistachio is too near the fence. He is so small, he could go under. I head back to where I last saw him, but now I can’t find him. I stop. I look around. Where is he? “Pistachio!” I call through my closed-up throat. Then I hear his high-pitched yip and I see the sudden excited motion of his small body out of the corner of my eye. I turn around. There he is. In with the lions. He’s barking at them, his stubby tail straight in the air.

9
A H IPPOPOTAMUS O ATH
    A t first, the lions ignore him. They are too busy sunning themselves to notice. Maybe they think Pistachio is a fake dog, or too little to care about one way or the other. I am almost to the fence now. “PISTACHIO! COME! COME!” I pound my leg with my hand.
    Pistachio ignores me. He is jumping around, barking his head off, daring them to get him. Daring them to fight. Then, suddenly, one of the lionesses snaps to attention. Her whole body tenses. A streak of energy arches through her. She crouches and leaps, all in one smooth motion.
    “PISTACHIO!” I scream, shoving my arm under the