Free Goldie by Ellen Miles Page B

pulled the zipper of his coat down a few inches.
    “Meet Goldie,” he said. Charles saw two chocolate-brown eyes, a pair of floppy ears, a twitching black nose, and a furry, golden face all streaked with soot.
    “A puppy!” Charles yelled.

“What?” Mom stared at Dad.
    He didn’t look back at her. “Yup,” he said to Charles. “It’s a puppy. A golden retriever. She’s only about ten weeks old. I don’t think she’s hurt, but she’s a pretty scared little girl.”
    The puppy peeked out at this new place. She wanted to explore and run and sniff and taste. But first — was it safe? She had to know.
    Carefully, Charles moved closer. Very slowly, he put his hand up near the puppy’s nose so she could sniff him. “She’s beautiful,” he whispered.
    “Doggy!” yelled the Bean.
    The puppy flinched at the loud noise. “It’s okay,” Charles told her softly. “You’re safe.”
    “Paul —” Mom began. Charles could tell by hismom’s voice that his dad had not told her about the puppy.
    “I know, Betsy,” Dad said, holding up his hand. “I should have asked first. But she’s such a little thing, and she’s been through so much.” He pulled out a chair and sat down. The puppy peered from his jacket with big, frightened eyes.
    Lizzie was staring at the little dog. “She is the cutest thing I ever saw,” she said finally. “We’re keeping her, right?”
    The grown-ups looked at each other.
    “Look,” said Dad. “This little pup is going to need a home. The people who owned the house and barn that just burned down aren’t going to be able to keep Goldie. They asked me to take her — just until we can find her a good home.”
    “A foster puppy!” Lizzie said. Before they had adopted the Bean, the Petersons had taken care of a couple of foster children, kids who had needed a safe, temporary home.
    “We’ll take care of her,” Charles said.“We’ll feed her and walk her and brush her and teach her manners and show her tricks and clean up when she makes mistakes and —”
    “Charles,” Mom said.
    “We’ll make sure she’s happy and safe forever and ever,” Charles finished.
    “Charles,” Mom said again. “Hold on there, bucko.” She folded her arms against her chest and leaned against the refrigerator.
    Charles couldn’t stand it. “Please?” he begged. “Please?”
    “Your father and I will need to talk this over,” Mom said. “It’s a big decision.”
    Just then, the back door swung open and Sammy strolled in. “Knock, knock,” he said.
    “Who’s there?” Charles asked automatically.
    “Kayak,” said Sammy as he picked up a plate and helped himself to the last piece of French toast in the skillet. Charles’s best friend came next door for a second breakfast at the Petersons’ nearly every morning.
    “Kayak who?” Charles asked.
    “Kayak you a question?” Sammy said. Both boys cracked up.
    Mom rolled her eyes. “Have some breakfast, Sammy,” she said.
    “Thanks!” Sammy said cheerfully. He pulled out the chair next to Charles’s, sat down, and reached for the syrup. Then he glanced at Mr. Peterson and almost dropped the syrup bottle. “Whoa!” he said. “A puppy!”
    “Her name is Goldie,” Charles reported. “We might get to keep her.”
    “I bet Rufus looked just like that when he was a puppy,” Sammy said. “‘Course, that was before I was born, so I don’t remember.” Sammy’s dog was a golden retriever, too. Rufus had been around as long as Charles could remember. He was a big, strong dog with a beautiful reddish-gold coat and a sweet face.
    “Golden retrievers are one of the most popular breeds in America,” Lizzie said. “They’re also oneof the most intelligent, loyal, and athletic.” She was quoting from her “Dog Breeds of the World” poster. Lizzie knew every fact about every dog, from Airedales to Yorkies.
    “Rufus isn’t so athletic anymore,” Sammy said. “He just lies there looking sad most of the time. He used to