How to Look for a Lost Dog by Ann M. Martin

located.
    I sit on my hands and try to remember every single thing that’s in my mother’s box. Finally I phone my uncle again.
    He answers on the first ring. “Everything all right?” he asks.
    â€œRain might be in Elmara!” I cry. “There’s a blonde dog with seven white toes at the shelter. Someone brought her in a few days ago. Can we go to Elmara, please? Please?”
    â€œI’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at 9.00 a.m.,” says my uncle.

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The Happy Tails Animal Shelter in Elmara, New York
    By 8.45 the next morning I am sitting on our porch, just in case Uncle Weldon arrives early. He arrives at 8.55, and I jump up from the couch, call goodbye to my father, and run across our yard to the truck.
    Uncle Weldon and I are in a good mood on the drive to Elmara. We talk about homonyms and prime numbers, and I tell him about Parvani’s mother. “Parvani cries a lot at school,” I add. “I think she’s very sad. I cheer her up with homonyms.”
    The closer we get to Elmara, the more I talk.
    â€œUncle Weldon! Uncle Weldon! There’s a sign for ‘Happy Tails Animal Shelter’! ‘Tails’ has a homonym. ‘Tales’. That’s a good sign, isn’t it? Isn’t it a good sign? I think it is. I’m sure Rain is the 23-pound blonde dog with the seven white toes that someone brought in. Both 23 and 7 are prime numbers.”
    â€œRose.” My uncle interrupts me. “Don’t get too excited. Just in case.”
    â€œJust in case what?”
    â€œJust in case the blonde dog with white toes isn’t Rain after all. Okay?”
    â€œOkay,” I say. But I’m bouncing up and down in my seat, feeling happy.
    Uncle Weldon puts on his indicator, and we turn left and rumble along a dirt road. I see a sign that says “Happy Tails – just ahead”. Soon the road ends in a parking lot by a long low building. Now I see a bigger sign that says “Happy Tails”. Under the words are a painting of a dog and a cat curled up together, their tails entwined.
    â€œWhere do we park? Where do we park?” I cry.
    â€œRose, calm down,” says my uncle. “Here’s a parking space. And over there I see a sign that says office. Let’s go.”
    I run ahead of my uncle, through the parking lot, and along a walk to the office sign. I pull open a door. Inside I see a waiting room with a desk and a lot of hard plastic chairs. Some of the chairs are occupied. Most of them are empty. I don’t pay any attention to the people in the chairs. I’m only interested in the man behind the desk.
    â€œRose, slow down!” my uncle calls after me, but he’s laughing.
    I step up to the desk, stand on tiptoes, and say to the man, “My name is Rose Howard. I called yesterday about my dog.”
    I explain about Rain again, and the man begins to smile. “Yes,” he says. “We were hoping you would come in. Just a moment. Let me get the shelter manager.”
    He speaks into a phone on the desk and a few minutes later a door at the back of the room opens and a woman walks through it. She’s holding a leash and saying, “Come on. Come on, girl.”
    I watch the leash as it follows the woman through the door, watch and watch, until finally I can see what’s at the other end.
    â€œRain!” I cry.
    I run to her. Rain seems confused at first. Her eyes dart around the room as she looks at the strange people.
    But then they settle on Uncle Weldon and me, and she begins to leap and jump and yip and bark.
    I slide onto my knees and throw my arms around Rain. She wiggles so hard that her entire body vibrates. Then she puts her front paws on my shoulders and licks my face.
    â€œRain,” I say again. I look behind me at Uncle Weldon. “It’s really her,” I whisper.
    I see that my uncle is crying. Then I see that the woman with the leash is crying, and so is the man