dumb jokes but only tripped once, knocking into a bowl of chips, which the dogs “vacuumed” right up for him.
I greet Roselyn and Gingerbread, who looks sleek and healthy and walks with only the slightest limp. “Mrs. West called to wish us well and to thank us for relocating Swift,” I tell her. Until we find him a new home, Swift has been staying with Gran’s friend Dr. Haverford, who’s retraining him.
Dr. Haverford joins in the conversation. “Swift is a very smart dog. He’s already getting used to my cat, and he’s responding well to training.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Roselyn says.
Some of the eighth-grade boys, our game’s loudest cheerleaders, have shown up, mainly for the feast. “What’s this?” asks one of them, examining a platter of food.
Sunita answers. “It’s an Indian dish my mom made called
masala murgh
—it’s really glorified roast chicken.”
“Yum, chicken,” the boy says, digging in.
“Try my dad’s concoction,” Taryn suggests. “It’s aspicy dish from Brazil called
feijoada
—pork and bean stew.” The boys load up their plates with stew as well.
“Don’t forget my mom’s cookies,” David adds, pointing to a batch of cookies decorated like basketballs. I don’t see how the boys can add one more thing to their plates, but they manage to pile on a few cookies each. I eat one, too. Darla sidles up to the table and picks up two slices of take-out pizza, the ones Gran and I had delivered. Well, not everyone can be a gourmet cook!
After we all eat, I go up in front of the room and try to shush the crowd. “I want to take this moment to thank everyone who came out to support our effort today,” I begin. People stop chatting and turn to listen. “Between ticket sales and contributions, we’ve raised over a thousand dollars for Gingerbread’s Greyhound Rescue!” Rousing cheers fill the living room. I continue. “Soon there will be greyhounds available through our adoption Web site—great dogs like Whistle and Gal, who are running around somewhere in my house as we speak. We’re lucky to have the services of Dr. Haverford, a colleague of Dr. Mac’s.” I point to him, and he waves his hand at the crowd. “He’s already retrained one of the dogs, Swift, who’s justbeen placed with a new owner in Maple Glen. He’s donating his time to retrain more of Speedway’s retired dogs so that they’ll be well-adapted to the outside world before they move in with their new owners.” Everyone claps.
Taryn comes over with Gal, whose tawny fur looks gorgeous after a bath and brushing. “I’d like to announce that I’m about to adopt a Speedway dog,” Taryn states. “I am the proud new owner of Gal!” More hearty claps. “Finally, a pet who can go on morning runs with Mom and me.” Everyone smiles. Mrs. Barbosa gazes proudly at her daughter.
I round up Whistle, who looks great in his new purple collar. He’s sharing a flattened pig-in-a-blanket with Sherlock. “We happen to have another handsome greyhound from Gingerbread’s Greyhound Rescue with us today. Meet Whistle.” Oohs and aahs ripple through the room. “If there are any prospective owners out there, please raise your hands.”
Coach Williams’s hand shoots up. He steps to the mike. “I’ve been looking for an athletic pet to keep me company. What do you think, Whistle?” Whistle rests his snout on Coach’s knees. “It’s settled,then,” Coach says.
Roselyn inches her way up. “I’d like to offer my services as a staffer for your rescue booth at Speedway.” Her green eyes sparkle.
“Really?” I’m beyond excited—that’s one of the key logistics we haven’t figured out yet. “Are you sure you want to work at Speedway again?” I ask.
Roselyn nods. “I have Dr. Mac’s Place to thank for giving me the courage to face my brother again. After your visit to the track, I called Manny. I told him he was doing the right thing and I wanted to help. Since then, things are much
I greet Roselyn and Gingerbread, who looks sleek and healthy and walks with only the slightest limp. “Mrs. West called to wish us well and to thank us for relocating Swift,” I tell her. Until we find him a new home, Swift has been staying with Gran’s friend Dr. Haverford, who’s retraining him.
Dr. Haverford joins in the conversation. “Swift is a very smart dog. He’s already getting used to my cat, and he’s responding well to training.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Roselyn says.
Some of the eighth-grade boys, our game’s loudest cheerleaders, have shown up, mainly for the feast. “What’s this?” asks one of them, examining a platter of food.
Sunita answers. “It’s an Indian dish my mom made called
masala murgh
—it’s really glorified roast chicken.”
“Yum, chicken,” the boy says, digging in.
“Try my dad’s concoction,” Taryn suggests. “It’s aspicy dish from Brazil called
feijoada
—pork and bean stew.” The boys load up their plates with stew as well.
“Don’t forget my mom’s cookies,” David adds, pointing to a batch of cookies decorated like basketballs. I don’t see how the boys can add one more thing to their plates, but they manage to pile on a few cookies each. I eat one, too. Darla sidles up to the table and picks up two slices of take-out pizza, the ones Gran and I had delivered. Well, not everyone can be a gourmet cook!
After we all eat, I go up in front of the room and try to shush the crowd. “I want to take this moment to thank everyone who came out to support our effort today,” I begin. People stop chatting and turn to listen. “Between ticket sales and contributions, we’ve raised over a thousand dollars for Gingerbread’s Greyhound Rescue!” Rousing cheers fill the living room. I continue. “Soon there will be greyhounds available through our adoption Web site—great dogs like Whistle and Gal, who are running around somewhere in my house as we speak. We’re lucky to have the services of Dr. Haverford, a colleague of Dr. Mac’s.” I point to him, and he waves his hand at the crowd. “He’s already retrained one of the dogs, Swift, who’s justbeen placed with a new owner in Maple Glen. He’s donating his time to retrain more of Speedway’s retired dogs so that they’ll be well-adapted to the outside world before they move in with their new owners.” Everyone claps.
Taryn comes over with Gal, whose tawny fur looks gorgeous after a bath and brushing. “I’d like to announce that I’m about to adopt a Speedway dog,” Taryn states. “I am the proud new owner of Gal!” More hearty claps. “Finally, a pet who can go on morning runs with Mom and me.” Everyone smiles. Mrs. Barbosa gazes proudly at her daughter.
I round up Whistle, who looks great in his new purple collar. He’s sharing a flattened pig-in-a-blanket with Sherlock. “We happen to have another handsome greyhound from Gingerbread’s Greyhound Rescue with us today. Meet Whistle.” Oohs and aahs ripple through the room. “If there are any prospective owners out there, please raise your hands.”
Coach Williams’s hand shoots up. He steps to the mike. “I’ve been looking for an athletic pet to keep me company. What do you think, Whistle?” Whistle rests his snout on Coach’s knees. “It’s settled,then,” Coach says.
Roselyn inches her way up. “I’d like to offer my services as a staffer for your rescue booth at Speedway.” Her green eyes sparkle.
“Really?” I’m beyond excited—that’s one of the key logistics we haven’t figured out yet. “Are you sure you want to work at Speedway again?” I ask.
Roselyn nods. “I have Dr. Mac’s Place to thank for giving me the courage to face my brother again. After your visit to the track, I called Manny. I told him he was doing the right thing and I wanted to help. Since then, things are much
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