“Is that a dog?”
CHAPTER TWO
Charles threw open the door of the van and leapt out, forgetting all about the rain, the thunderstorm, and his bare feet. “Oof!” He tackled the running dog, banging his knees and elbows on the pavement. “Hold on there,” he said. “I’ve got you now.” He hugged the dog close, noticing the way he shook and shivered with fear. “It’s okay, big guy,” he murmured into one of the dog’s floppy ears.
The dog really
was
a big guy. He probably weighed more than Charles did. Charles had to lie on top of him, using all his weight to hold him still. There was another loud clap of thunder, and the dog tried to jump up.
Yeow! Get me out of here
.
The dog squirmed desperately in Charles’s arms. He was strong as well as big. But Charles hung on tightly and he did not get away.
“Moose!” Aunt Amanda stood at the door of her business. Her face was as white as chalk. “Oh, Moose. You nearly scared me to death.” She rushed out to where Charles and the dog lay tangled in a heap on the ground. “Poor Moose,” she said as she grabbed the dog’s collar.
Poor Moose? Charles looked down at his wet jeans, now with holes torn in both knees. He rubbed his sore elbows. What about poor Charles?
“Great catch, Charles,” Aunt Amanda called over her shoulder as she tugged Moose, tail between his legs, back toward the building. “I hate to think what might have happened if he’d made it out to the road.”
Charles and Mom followed Aunt Amanda inside. “Poor dog. Was it the thunder that scared him?” Mom asked.
Aunt Amanda knelt on the floor and rubbed Moose down with a towel. She nodded. “This puppy is the biggest scaredy-cat I’ve ever seen.”
“Puppy?” Charles asked. He’d never seen a puppy this big. His huge chunky head and giant chunky paws reminded Charles of Scooby-Doo’s.
Aunt Amanda nodded. “He’s not even a year old. He’ll get even bigger than this when he fills out a little more.” She let go of the puppy for a second and he shook himself off, shimmying his whole body from ears to tail.
Charles went over to pet Moose, hoping to help the scared puppy calm down. Moose pulled away at first, but Charles moved slowly, scratching Moose’s ears until the big pup relaxed and leaned against him. Moose was a beautiful dog. His short, shiny coat was silvery gray, with blackspots all over. He had a white bib on his chest and a white stripe up the middle of his face. Two of his big, chunky paws and the tip of his skinny tail were white, too. Moose was so tall that his head was on the same level as Charles’s. His big brown eyes looked right back into Charles’s, and Charles practically had to reach up to scratch his ears. It wasn’t like petting Buddy, who came up to Charles’s knees. “You’re not a scaredy-cat,” Charles said to Moose. “You’re a scaredy-dog.”
Lizzie and Mom laughed, but Aunt Amanda was still frowning. “It’s not funny,” she said. “Not really. I feel terrible for him. He’s afraid of thunderstorms, he’s afraid of mailboxes, he’s afraid of little kids and wrapping paper. Oh, and the vacuum cleaner and the blender and anything that moves too fast or too suddenly. Moose is one petrified pup. He’s afraid of his own shadow.”
“Are all Great Danes like that?” asked Lizzie.
Charles was not surprised that Lizzie knew what breed the puppy was. She knew everything about dogs, and every night she studied the “Dog Breeds of the World” poster that hung on her bedroom wall.
But Aunt Amanda shook her head. “It’s not a common behavior problem for the breed, as far as I know. It may be because Moose spent his first six months chained up behind someone’s house. He wasn’t exposed to much except the side of a garage, so everything is new and different to him.” She sighed. “I really hate to have to tell the Brewers about this.”
“The Brewers?” asked Mom.
“His owners. Al and Karine, and their little girl,
CHAPTER TWO
Charles threw open the door of the van and leapt out, forgetting all about the rain, the thunderstorm, and his bare feet. “Oof!” He tackled the running dog, banging his knees and elbows on the pavement. “Hold on there,” he said. “I’ve got you now.” He hugged the dog close, noticing the way he shook and shivered with fear. “It’s okay, big guy,” he murmured into one of the dog’s floppy ears.
The dog really
was
a big guy. He probably weighed more than Charles did. Charles had to lie on top of him, using all his weight to hold him still. There was another loud clap of thunder, and the dog tried to jump up.
Yeow! Get me out of here
.
The dog squirmed desperately in Charles’s arms. He was strong as well as big. But Charles hung on tightly and he did not get away.
“Moose!” Aunt Amanda stood at the door of her business. Her face was as white as chalk. “Oh, Moose. You nearly scared me to death.” She rushed out to where Charles and the dog lay tangled in a heap on the ground. “Poor Moose,” she said as she grabbed the dog’s collar.
Poor Moose? Charles looked down at his wet jeans, now with holes torn in both knees. He rubbed his sore elbows. What about poor Charles?
“Great catch, Charles,” Aunt Amanda called over her shoulder as she tugged Moose, tail between his legs, back toward the building. “I hate to think what might have happened if he’d made it out to the road.”
Charles and Mom followed Aunt Amanda inside. “Poor dog. Was it the thunder that scared him?” Mom asked.
Aunt Amanda knelt on the floor and rubbed Moose down with a towel. She nodded. “This puppy is the biggest scaredy-cat I’ve ever seen.”
“Puppy?” Charles asked. He’d never seen a puppy this big. His huge chunky head and giant chunky paws reminded Charles of Scooby-Doo’s.
Aunt Amanda nodded. “He’s not even a year old. He’ll get even bigger than this when he fills out a little more.” She let go of the puppy for a second and he shook himself off, shimmying his whole body from ears to tail.
Charles went over to pet Moose, hoping to help the scared puppy calm down. Moose pulled away at first, but Charles moved slowly, scratching Moose’s ears until the big pup relaxed and leaned against him. Moose was a beautiful dog. His short, shiny coat was silvery gray, with blackspots all over. He had a white bib on his chest and a white stripe up the middle of his face. Two of his big, chunky paws and the tip of his skinny tail were white, too. Moose was so tall that his head was on the same level as Charles’s. His big brown eyes looked right back into Charles’s, and Charles practically had to reach up to scratch his ears. It wasn’t like petting Buddy, who came up to Charles’s knees. “You’re not a scaredy-cat,” Charles said to Moose. “You’re a scaredy-dog.”
Lizzie and Mom laughed, but Aunt Amanda was still frowning. “It’s not funny,” she said. “Not really. I feel terrible for him. He’s afraid of thunderstorms, he’s afraid of mailboxes, he’s afraid of little kids and wrapping paper. Oh, and the vacuum cleaner and the blender and anything that moves too fast or too suddenly. Moose is one petrified pup. He’s afraid of his own shadow.”
“Are all Great Danes like that?” asked Lizzie.
Charles was not surprised that Lizzie knew what breed the puppy was. She knew everything about dogs, and every night she studied the “Dog Breeds of the World” poster that hung on her bedroom wall.
But Aunt Amanda shook her head. “It’s not a common behavior problem for the breed, as far as I know. It may be because Moose spent his first six months chained up behind someone’s house. He wasn’t exposed to much except the side of a garage, so everything is new and different to him.” She sighed. “I really hate to have to tell the Brewers about this.”
“The Brewers?” asked Mom.
“His owners. Al and Karine, and their little girl,
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