Bandit (2 page)

When Lizzie went back inside Al’s, she saw Maria and her father still talking to the lady holding Bandit. “Dad’s coming to get me,” Lizzie told them. “Luckily, he isn’t on duty today.” Lizzie’s dad was a firefighter. “He feels kind of bad about making you wait with me until he gets here.”

Mr. Santiago nodded. “That’s okay. We’re not really on any schedule. I have lots to do up at the cabin, fixing the roof and getting things set for the winter, but we’ll manage.” He looked over at Bandit and smiled. “Maria and Mrs. Kenyon here have explained everything. This little guy needs help. I’m sure Maria’s mom won’t mind waiting, either.”

Lizzie could tell that Mr. Santiago had fallen under Bandit’s spell, just like everyone else. She followed Mr. Santiago’s gaze. Bandit’s eyes sparkled back at her and he gave his head a quick shake.

Hi, there! I knew you couldn’t stay away from me for long.

Lizzie felt her heart swell. What was it about this tiny pup? He really was irresistible. Now she noticed the name tag on the lady’s apron:
VELMA KENYON.
“Can I hold him, Mrs. Kenyon?” she asked, reaching out for the pup. She was dying to hug him.

Mrs. Kenyon hesitated. “Ooh, I just hate to let him go,” she admitted. “But I guess I’m going to have to hand him over sometime, so it might as well be now.” She kissed the top of Bandit’s head.
“You sure are a charmer,” she told the puppy. “I won’t forget you.”

Lizzie stepped forward and took Bandit into her arms. He was light as a feather, and so, so soft. He squirmed around just for a moment, nuzzling Lizzie’s cheek and breathing his sweet warm puppy breath on her, then settled in comfortably.

Okay. Now what are we doing?

Maria giggled. “It’s like he’s saying, ‘So, what’s next?’ ” she said.

“Maybe what’s next is that he should go out for a walk,” Lizzie said. Bandit had on a little baby-blue collar with a matching leash attached.

“Good idea. I bet Simba could use a walk, too,” Maria’s dad said.

Lizzie felt something in her hand. The check from their breakfast. In all the excitement, she’d
never paid it. Juggling Bandit carefully, she handed it to Mrs. Kenyon, along with the bills from her pocket. “I got pancakes
and
a puppy,” she said. “That’s a breakfast to remember.”

It seemed like no time at all before Lizzie’s dad arrived, pulling into the parking lot in his red pickup. “Well, well, well,” he said, as he strode over to the grassy area where Lizzie and Maria were walking Bandit. “What have we here?” He knelt down and let Bandit come over to sniff him.

Lizzie laughed as the tiny pup pulled her along, bounding like a bunny over to Dad.

“What a cutie,” Dad said, scooping him up and giving him a kiss on the head. He smiled down at Bandit. Then he looked up at Lizzie, and his expression grew serious. “If this pup really does need a heart operation, we’re taking on an awfully big responsibility,” he said. “Mom and I agreed to take him, since you seem to feel so strongly about helping him. But it may not be easy.”

“I know,” said Lizzie. “And thanks, Dad. Thanks for coming to get us.”

Mr. Santiago put a hand on Dad’s shoulder. “I appreciate it, too. We’d better be shoving off,” he said.

“So should we,” Dad told Lizzie. “I already called Dr. Gibson, and she said we should bring him straight to her office so she can try to figure out what’s wrong with him.”

Lizzie still had a hard time believing that there was
anything
wrong with Bandit. He looked and acted perfectly normal. But Dad was right. They had to get him checked out.

Bandit hopped into Dad’s pickup as if he’d been riding in it all his life. Lizzie held the puppy snug in her arms as Dad drove to Dr. Gibson’s office. Bandit didn’t whimper or squirm around at all; he just watched out the window, enjoying the scenery. Every so often Lizzie kissed the top of his head. She had never thought she
could fall in love so fast—especially with a little dog.

Dr. Gibson was waiting when they arrived. “Aha,” she said, when she saw Bandit. “Here’s our little patient.” Smiling, she lifted him from Lizzie’s arms. “Oh, aren’t you the cutest?” she said, rubbing noses with him.

The vet tech at the front desk giggled.

“What?” Dr. Gibson asked.

“I’ve just never seen you act quite like that around a dog,” she said. “All kissy-poo, I mean.”

Dr. Gibson shrugged. “It only takes a second to see that this guy is something special,” she said. She turned to Lizzie and her dad. “I’ve asked Carolyn here to make some calls to all the vets in the area, in case someone knows this pup and has treated him. I sure would like to see his file. But meanwhile, I’ll give him a good checkup and get back to you as soon as I can.” She started to walk back toward her examining rooms.

“Wait,” said Lizzie. “You mean we have to leave him here?”

Dr. Gibson turned. “I think that’s best. It may take me some time to figure out what’s going on with him. And I need to make a call to an old friend of mine from veterinary school. He’s a surgeon who works in a fancy animal hospital in Boston, and he may be able to help us if Bandit really does need an operation. Anyway, I promise to call you as soon as I know.”

Lizzie ran over to give Bandit one last kiss on the head. She could hardly stand to leave him, but Dr. Gibson was right. The most important thing right now was to find out exactly what was wrong with him.

At home, Lizzie tried to keep busy, playing some of her favorite games with Buddy. She put her hands behind her back and tucked a small treat into her left hand. Then she brought both hands out in front. “Which hand, Buddy?” she asked.

Wagging his tail hard, Buddy sniffed both hands carefully. Then he nudged her left hand with his nose.

“Good boy!” Lizzie cried, opening up her hand.

Later, they were playing tag in the backyard when she heard the phone ring. She dashed inside to grab it before anyone else could. Maybe it was Dr. Gibson.

But it was only Maria. “How’s Bandit?” she asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Lizzie said. “I’m waiting to hear from the vet.” She explained that they’d had to leave the puppy at Dr. Gibson’s office. “How’s the cabin?” she asked, feeling a pang of longing for the tall pines and the cozy fireplace.

“Okay, but kind of boring without you,” said Maria.

“I’ll come next time. Anyway, I better get off the phone in case Dr. Gibson is trying to reach us.
Call me again tomorrow—I should know more by then.”

Finally, an hour later while Lizzy was trying to teach Buddy to bark on command, the phone rang again. This time, it was Dr. Gibson.

“Lizzie?” she asked. Her voice sounded serious. “You can come get Bandit and take him home with you.”

Lizzie’s heart lifted for a moment. “That’s great!” she said. “But—?”

Dr. Gibson paused. “Maybe I should talk to your parents,” she said.

“You can tell me!” said Lizzie. She thought she might die right that moment if she didn’t know the truth.

“Well,” said Dr. Gibson. “What it said in that note was true. Bandit does need heart surgery. And he needs it soon.”

It didn’t take long for the rest of Petersons to fall in love with Bandit, just like Dad and Lizzie had. For the rest of that weekend, Mom whispered baby talk to the puppy as she fed him his meals. Dad lay down on the rug and let Bandit climb all over him. Charles made a special place mat for Bandit, colored with pictures and sayings like
WELCOME, BANDIT!
And the Bean followed Bandit everywhere, laughing his googly laugh every time the puppy licked his hands or face.

Lizzie wondered if Buddy would get jealous, but he didn’t. He obviously loved Bandit as much as everyone else did, and the two puppies spent
hours playing. Buddy seemed to understand that he had to be careful with his new friend.

Lizzie laughed as she and the rest of her family watched them wrestle gently on the living-room floor on Sunday afternoon.

“Look, Buddy’s pretending to let Bandit win,” she said, as the tiny black-and-white puppy stood over the sturdy brown one. Buddy grinned a doggy grin up at Bandit, whose eyes were bright with excitement. Bandit wagged his tail victoriously.

I may be small, but I’m mighty!

“Aww,” said Dad. “Good boy, Buddy.”

“Are you sure it’s okay to let them play like that?” Mom asked. “What about Bandit’s heart?”

Lizzie and Dad both nodded. “Dr. Gibson said it was fine,” Lizzie told her mom. “He isn’t supposed to tear around outside, but he doesn’t seem to want to do that anyway. And she said he might
get tired easily and need lots of naps.” The vet had explained to Lizzie and her dad that Bandit was born with a problem in his heart—something Lizzie didn’t quite understand that had to do with valves. It wasn’t uncommon, according to Dr. Gibson, and it wasn’t usually too hard to fix, at least not for a surgeon with experience. But if it didn’t get fixed, or if the operation did not go well, Bandit could die.

Lizzie went over to pick Bandit up. Immediately, he forgot all about playing and squirmed comfortably into her lap, gazing up at her with his shiny black eyes. “You’re a cuddle-bug, aren’t you?” Lizzie asked him.

Sure, whatever you say. Just keep on petting me.

Dad came over to pet Bandit, too. He shook his head. “I tried to resist, but I can’t help myself. I just love this dog.”

“Why would you try to resist?” Charles asked. He and the Bean were lying on the floor, petting Buddy.

“Well.” Dad cleared his throat. “I mean, maybe it’s not a good idea to get too attached to a dog who could—who might not—” He looked helplessly at Mom.

“Who might not stay with us for too long,” Mom said quickly, and Charles and the Bean both nodded. They knew what it meant to be a foster family; you had to give up puppies even if you came to care for them very much.

But Lizzie knew that was not what Dad had meant. She knew that he was worried that Bandit might not make it. If he didn’t get that operation soon … She closed her eyes. She didn’t even want to think about that.

The operation was going to be very, very expensive. The night before, when they had gone to pick up Bandit, Dr. Gibson told Lizzie and Dad how
much it would cost. When Dad’s eyes bugged out, Dr. Gibson added, “And that’s half-price. My vet-school buddy down in Boston said he would give us a break because of Bandit’s circumstances.”

Lizzie was trying hard to think of ways to raise money, for the operation and for Bandit’s trip to Boston. She’d written a few things down on a piece of paper in her dog scrapbook, a three-ring binder she had begun to keep with photos and descriptions of all the dogs her family had fostered. On the front of the notebook she had made a collage of all the cutest puppy pictures she could find. Buddy’s picture was right in the middle, of course.

Bake sale?
she had written under the heading
BANDIT FUND-RAISING IDEAS
, even though she knew that her family would end up eating most of the cookies she would make to sell.
Raffle?
came next, even though she couldn’t think of anything to sell raffle tickets for. She didn’t know
how to make a quilt, like the one they raffled off every year at the library, and she couldn’t afford to buy a shiny new bike for a prize.
Save allowance?
was the last thing on her pathetic list, and as Lizzie looked at it she sighed. It would take her until she was about fifty-three years old to save up enough money for a heart operation.

Lizzie was just thinking that maybe Maria would have some ideas after she got home from the cabin, when the phone rang. It was Maria. “We got home early,” Maria said. “Actually, we came home early on purpose—because we couldn’t wait to see Bandit again! How is he? Can we come over? Uncle Teo just showed up for a visit, and he wants to meet the ‘truck stop dog.’”

Lizzie put her hand over the phone as she checked with her parents. Then she spoke to Maria again. “Sure,” she said. “We’ll fill you in on all the news when you get here.”

Mom went to put the kettle on for tea while
Lizzie and Charles helped Dad straighten up the living room. Bandit followed Lizzie everywhere, trotting along behind her as she tidied the coffee table and plumped up sofa pillows. Charles tried to put all of Buddy’s toys into a basket, but no matter how fast he worked Buddy worked faster, pulling them back out one by one and shaking them in his mouth as he ran around the room.

When the doorbell rang, Lizzie ran to open the door. There on the porch stood Maria, her parents, and Simba, along with a big, burly man with a shaved head and—Lizzie spotted them right away—tattoos on both of his huge, muscular forearms.

“Hi, Lizzie,” said Maria. “This is my uncle Teo.”

“There he is,” Maria squealed, pushing past Lizzie to run toward Bandit. She plopped down on the floor with him, scooped him up, and nuzzled her nose into his neck. “Ooh, he’s even cuter than I remembered.”

Lizzie, still standing at the door, remembered her manners. “Come on in,” she said to Maria’s parents and her uncle. Mom and Dad came into the living room to say hello, and soon everyone was standing in a circle around Bandit, cooing over him.

“Oh, the poor little thing,” said Mrs. Santiago, when she heard that it was true about him needing a heart operation.

Mr. Santiago knelt down to pet Bandit. “You’re gonna be just fine, big guy,” he said softly.

Now Bandit lay on his back, squirming happily and waving his front paws in the air. Charles, Maria, Lizzie, and the Bean sat on the floor near Bandit, taking turns petting him.

Yes! I’m the center of attention. This is how I like it. This is how it should always be.

Lizzie glanced up at Uncle Teo. He stood with his arms folded and a slight smile on his face as he watched the others hover over Bandit. Lizzie nudged Maria and raised her eyebrows.

“Don’t you like Bandit, Uncle Teo?” Maria asked.

Uncle Teo grinned and shrugged. “He’s okay, I guess. I’ve just never been into little dogs. Plus, he’s just kind of …” He held out his hands. “I don’t know. Fluffy.”

Lizzie noticed that when Uncle Teo moved his arms, his tattoos moved, too. The one on his left forearm was of a group of palm trees, and they looked as if they were waving in the wind. That was kind of cool.

“How about some coffee or tea?” Mom asked, and the grown-ups all followed her into the kitchen. The Bean toddled after them, calling out “Cookie for the Bean?” in his most pleading voice.

“So,” said Maria, when they’d left, “what about his operation?”

Lizzie sighed. “Charles and I made a list of all the things we’ll need to do to help Bandit.” She grabbed her notebook and read aloud. “ ‘Number One: Take good care of him until he gets his operation.’ That’s easy. We’re used to taking care of puppies. ‘Number Two: Figure out how he’s going to get down to Boston and back.’ That’s a lot harder.”

“No, it isn’t,” yelled someone from the
kitchen. “I’ll take care of that. Transportation is my job.”

Uncle Teo! Lizzie grinned at Maria. Her uncle really was a good guy, even if he hadn’t fallen in love with Bandit like everyone else.

“I wonder if he’ll take him in his big rig,” Charles whispered.

Lizzie shook her head. “No, silly,” she said. “I really doubt that truckers are allowed to have dogs with them on the road.”

“Actually,” said Maria, “lots of them do. Dogs are good company when you’re driving for hours a day. Uncle Teo used to have a really sweet pit bull mix named Roscoe, but he had to give him away because Roscoe kept getting carsick.”

Charles stuck out his tongue at Lizzie. Then he got up and headed into the kitchen, just in case Mom had decided to hand out cookies, Lizzie
guessed. Buddy jumped up and trotted after him, probably for the same reason.

“Oh,” said Lizzie. “Well, that’s great, then. Now all we have to do is figure out how to do Number Three on the list: ‘Raise twenty-five hundred dollars.’”

Maria’s mouth fell open. She stared at Lizzie.

“That means two thousand, five hundred dollars,” Lizzie explained.

“I know what it means,” said Maria. “I just can’t believe what I’m hearing. That’s a lot of money.”

“Dr. Gibson said we don’t have to raise it all at once,” Lizzie told her friend. “She went ahead and scheduled Bandit’s surgery for next week, and we can pay afterward.” She reached out to pet Bandit’s soft ears. “But we’re going to have to figure out how to raise all that money.” She opened her notebook again and read the fund-raising
ideas she’d written down. They sounded even stupider this time.

“What about some kind of dog business?”

Lizzie looked up to see Uncle Teo leaning in the doorway. He’d been listening. She felt her face flush and knew she was blushing. “What do you mean?” she asked him.

“Well, I know Maria loves dogs, and from what she tells me you’re even more dog-crazy than she is. There must be some way to make money around that.”

Lizzie thought for a moment. “We did have a dog wash one time, when my family was fostering Chewy and Chica, a pair of Chihuahua puppies. It was fun, but it sure was messy—and it didn’t raise that much money.”

“Well, how about walking dogs? Aren’t there people around here who might need their dogs walked while they’re at work?” Uncle Teo gestured
when he said “around here,” and the palm trees waved in the wind again.

Lizzie and Maria stared at each other. Why hadn’t they thought of that?

“Uncle Teo, that’s a great idea.” Maria jumped up to hug him.

Uncle Teo shrugged modestly. “I’m an idea man,” he said. “I have a few other ideas about raising money for that scamp’s operation. I’ll let you know how those turn out.” He winked, then turned to go back into the kitchen.

“A dog-walking business,” said Lizzie. “It’s so perfect. What should we charge? A dollar a walk? Two dollars?” She started to write things down in her notebook. “How about three dollars for a twenty-minute walk? Does that sound fair? And—hey!—I have the perfect name. We’ll call ourselves AAA Plus Dog Walkers. I read somewhere that AAA is a good business name because
it’ll be the first listing in the phone book. Plus it sounds good, like we’re the best. People would want to trust their dogs to the best, right?” She looked up at Maria. Why was her friend so quiet? Oops. Maybe because she had been talking nonstop, so Maria had not had the chance to speak. “Right?” she asked again.

“Sure, I guess so,” said Maria. “I like everything you said. Except—maybe the name. I think I’d rather call our business something a little more … more interesting. After all, it’s not like we’re going to be in the phone book, anyway. We’re just going to make posters, right? Or go around and knock on doors to introduce ourselves? So we could be called, like, Dynamic Dog Walkers. Or something.”

“I still like AAA Plus,” Lizzie said, folding her arms.

Maria was quiet for a moment. “How about this?” she finally said. “Since you’ll probably be
walking dogs in your neighborhood, and I’ll be walking them in my neighborhood, we can each have our own business, with its own name.”

Lizzie stuck out her hand. “It’s a deal,” she said, smiling. She was already sure that her dog-walking business would raise way more money than Maria’s.

“Just one thing,” added Maria. “Can you please, please try not to make this into a contest?”