Free Kristy and the Snobs by Ann M. Martin Page A

eat, wanted dessert, too.
    Claudia brought all the food upstairs, then realized it was seven o'clock and time to switch the TV for the Kid-Kit. She did so, wolfed down part of her sandwich, then began carrying the trays to the kitchen so she could help Mallory clean up.
    The bell and the triangle were quiet for a full five minutes before Jordan asked for an aspirin for his headache. It was during the next lull that Claudia peered down into the rec room to see what Vanessa and Nicky were up to. She saw them both sitting in front of the TV, their shirts pulled up, examining their tummies and chests. "What are you doing?" she called.
    "Counting," Nicky called back.
    "Counting what?"
    "Our spots."
    "Uh-oh,"   said Claudia,   and she dashed
    downstairs to find that, just as she'd feared, poor Mr. and Mrs. Pike had two new chicken pox patients.
    "Bedtime, you guys," she announced, and neither one objected.
    Chapter 12.
    Louie was in bad shape. Everyone could see it. Even David Michael. He didn't understand it, but he could see it.
    "He's falling apart," Mom said one Saturday as she and Louie returned home from a trip to the vet. "He's simply old. Nothing is working very well anymore."
    It was true. Louie had lots of accidents now, so we had to keep him in the kitchen and the family room, where there were no Oriental rugs. His arthritis was worse, and we could tell he was in a lot of pain. He didn't move unless he had to, and when he did, it was a big effort. Now, instead of calling Louie for dinner, David Michael brought dinner to him.
    "After all," said my brother, "when I'm sick, Mom brings me my meals on a tray, so I'm kind of doing the same thing for Louie."
    Even though he didn't feel well, Louie tried to be the same good old collie as always. For
    instance, he usually tried to get to his feet and over to the back door so somebody could let him out before he had an accident. It's just that often he didn't make it. He was too slow. One day, the day before Mom took him back to Dr. Smith, he staggered to his feet as David Michael was approaching him with his dinner.
    "You need to go out, Louie?" my brother asked. "Okay, hold on a sec." David Michael set the bowl down. He went off in search of his slicker since it had begun to rain, and returned to the kitchen in time to see Louie's hindquarters disappear through the open basement doorway.
    "Louie!" David Michael cried. "No! Wait!"
    Ever since Dr. Smith had told us about Louie's eyesight, we'd tried to keep the door to the basement closed, but now and then one of us would forget. It just hadn't become a habit yet. Which was too bad, because a steep flight of fourteen stone steps led from that doorway into the dark cellar below.
    David Michael grabbed for the banister with one hand and Louie's collar with the other, even though Louie had already stumbled down the first couple of steps. Thank goodness Louie moves slowly, otherwise he probably would have fallen headlong to the bottom of the stairs. As it was, he and David Michael fell several
    more steps together and David Michael banged his face on the banister and wound up with a black eye.
    It was that accident that prompted Mom to take Louie to Dr. Smith the next day. And it was at that visit that Dr. Smith said Louie was deteriorating rapidly (translated into regular speech, that meant "getting worse fast"), and suggested injections. I hadn't gone with Mom to the vet and didn't ask what the injections were for. I didn't really want to understand. All I did know was that Dr. Smith said she could try a last resort with Louie - she would give him special injections two times every day.
    Needless to say, this was not easy to fit into our schedule, although of course we agreed that it must be done, since no schedule was more important than Louie. We finally worked out a plan where Mom left the house early and drove Louie to Dr. Smith's for his first injection of the day, while Watson took care of breakfast and seeing us Thomas kids