Free Birdie For Now by Jean Little Page B

bird?
    Whatever it was, the puddle still waited. She sighed a little more loudly than she needed to and started to go for a cloth.
    â€œI’ll do it,” Dickon said, leaping up so fast that Birdie tumbled off his knees onto the hard floor. The little dog gave a startled yip, but the boy’s attention stayed on the task. He grabbed the cloth and mopped up the floor. Then he stared at the cloth. His nose wrinkled up.
    â€œWhat’ll I do with it? Where should I throw it out?”
    His mother looked at his disgusted expression and laughed.
    â€œRinse it out in the toilet and hang it out on the line for next time,” she said. “We don’t have dozens of floor cloths.”
    â€œIn the … toilet?”
    â€œThat’s right. Where do you think mothers rinse out diapers?”
    â€œThey don’t,” Dickon said firmly. “They use disposables. I’ve seen them on TV.”
    â€œWell, if you think this dog you prize so highly will wear a disposable diaper …” she said, grinning in spite of herself.
    â€œOkay, okay.” He cut her off and vanished into the bathroom.
    Birdie whimpered and then, bravely, stood up and went after him, making a big detour to get past Julie.
    Boy and dog returned.
    â€œDid you see that? She followed me,” Dickon boasted.
    â€œI saw. You go fix up a bed for her. She’d better sleep in the kitchen.”
    â€œShe can sleep in my room.”
    â€œNo, she cannot. It isn’t healthy. She’ll be fine in the kitchen. And if you want her to stay, shouldn’t you take off her leash?”
    â€œSorry, girl,” Dickon murmured and undid the clip.
    Julie Fielding held her breath, ready for Birdie to fly away or leap at his throat. But the little dog stayed close to Dickon, sniffing at his laces.
    He found an old clothes basket, put a thick towel into it and patted it down.
    â€œJump in, Birdie,” he said. “Come on, my sweet Birdie.”
    She sniffed the outside of the basket and then leaped in, turned around twice and lay down.
    â€œBrilliant Birdie. See how she likes it,” he began.
    Before the words were out of his mouth, his dog had tipped the basket over, scrambling out, and set off to explore the rest of the small kitchen.
    Julie soon realized that the kitchen was not going to work. Birdie made her too nervous underfoot like that. And the basket took up too much space.The bathroom was even smaller.
    â€œYou win,” she told her son. “Move her bed into your room. But remember, you sleep in your bed and she sleeps in hers.”
    â€œOf course,” Dickon said, his eyes gleaming.
    He looked for his pup. Where was she? How did you keep track of a dog who only knew how to heel and stay and come when she was on her leash? How could he make her behave without Leslie’s help?
    He found her in his room, chewing up a piece of Lego. When he rushed to rescue it, she backed away and squatted.
    â€œOh, no!” he moaned.
    During supper, she chewed up one of the sealskin moccasins his father had brought him after a trip to the Arctic. Dickon took what was left away from her and hid it deep in his wastebasket. He scolded her in an angry whisper. The confused little dog began to squat once more.
    Dickon’s mother shrieked and Dickongrabbed the sinner and shot outside with her. She dribbled all the way.
    â€œOh, Birdie, NO,” her boy moaned.
    Ten minutes later, much to her new master’s surprise, she started barking at the door.
    â€œNobody’s there,” he told her. The doorbell chimed.
    Jody and Poppet stood outside.
    â€œWe heard the great news so we brought Birdie a homecoming present,” Jody said. She handed Dickon a chew toy and two old tennis balls. Poppet looked at the balls as though she knew they were hers.
    â€œEven though real dogs are much more bother than dream ones, real ones are way better once you get used to them,” Jody said. “I thought