Dawn and the Disappearing Dogs Read online

  Stacey’s parents used to be very overprotective of her, because Stacey has diabetes. But by now Stacey has proven she knows how to take care of herself. She does, too. She gives herself shots every day (can you imagine?) of this stuff called insulin, which her body doesn’t produce well enough. She’s also really careful about what she eats: no sweets or junk food for Stacey!

  Being treasurer is kind of a fun job for Stacey. She loves math, and she’s great at it. Plus, she loves to collect and save up our dues. We pay dues on Monday every week, and the money goes for club costs like Claudia’s phone bill, or Kristy’s transportation. (We pay Kristy’s brother to drive her across town to Claud’s house three times a week.) It also covers supplies for our Kid-Kits, which are boxes full of toys and games that we bring along on rainy-day jobs. Kids love them. (Kristy thought them up, of course.) And sometimes we just blow some money on a pizza party for ourselves — if we can convince Stacey to break into the treasury, that is!

  I’ve already told you a little bit about my stepsister — and best friend — Mary Anne. But there’s still lots you don’t know. For example, I’m not Mary Anne’s only best friend. She and Kristy have been best friends since before they knew how to walk! Mary Anne and Kristy even kind of look alike. Mary Anne has brown hair and brown eyes and she’s pretty short. Mary Anne also happens to be the secretary of the club. She keeps the neatest, tidiest notes in our record book. She knows everybody’s schedule, and she keeps track of all of our clients. I don’t know how the club would function without her.

  I think Mary Anne is naturally neat and tidy. Maybe that comes from being the only child of a very neat and tidy father. Mary Anne is also very sensitive (she cries if she even thinks about something sad happening), a good listener (I guess that goes along with being sensitive), and a true romantic. Mary Anne is the only member of the club with a steady boyfriend. His name is Logan Bruno, and he is very sweet.

  By the way, you know how I said that Mary Anne and her father are very neat and tidy? Well, they really had a shock when Richard (that’s Mary Anne’s father) married my mom and they moved into our old, old farmhouse. Know why? Because my mother is the most disorganized, sloppy person on earth. Believe me, we’ve had to do a lot of adjusting and compromising to make our “new” family work. Neatness vs. sloppiness is not the only issue we differ on, either. For example, Mom and I eat only health food, and Mary Anne and her father love steaks. It’s not easy, but we’re all learning to live together.

  You may be wondering what my BSC job is. Well, I’m what’s known as the alternate officer. I can jump in and take over anyone’s job, if I’m ever needed. For example, when Stacey moved back to New York for awhile, I was treasurer. I like being the alternate officer. It’s a special, different job, and since I like to think of myself as a real individual, it’s perfect for me. It suits my style. Besides, I’d hate to have to fuss with a notebook or an envelope full of money at every meeting. I just like to be with my friends.

  Speaking of notebooks, I should tell you about one other thing we do in our club. We each spend some time every week writing up the jobs we’ve been on. We also read what everyone else has written. The club notebook is sort of a chore to keep up with sometimes, but it’s also very, very useful. It keeps us up to date on our clients — and on each other.

  I think the only person who really, really enjoys writing in the club notebook is Mallory Pike. Mal wants to be a writer and illustrator of children’s books, and she just loves to write. She even keeps a journal.

  Mallory is one of our two junior officers. The other is Jessi Ramsey, who is Mal’s best friend. Unlike the rest of us, who are all thirteen and in the eighth grade, Mal and Jessi are eleven and in the sixth grade. They are both great sitters, but neither of them is allowed to sit at night unless they are sitting for their own families. That’s why we call them junior officers. They do a lot of afternoon sitting, which helps free the rest of us for nighttime jobs. That way, everybody gets plenty of work.

  Mallory’s probably such a good sitter because she’s had a lot of practice with kids. She’s the oldest in a family of eight. (Remember Nicky and Claire from the Krushers game? They’re her brother and sister.) Mal has red hair and freckles and glasses and braces, all of which she’d rather do without. She’d like to be grown-up and glamorous, but she knows she’ll have to wait awhile for that.

  Jessi comes from a much smaller family. She has a younger sister and a baby brother, plus her aunt lives with the family. Jessi is beautiful, with soft brown skin, black hair, and enormous brown eyes. She’s a really talented ballet dancer who is very serious about her art. She may actually be a professional ballerina one day!

  There are two more members of our club, but they weren’t at our meeting that Wednesday. In fact, Shannon and Logan only sometimes come to meetings, because they are associate members. They fill in whenever we’re totally booked with jobs. They have really saved our necks a few times. Shannon Kilbourne is a girl from Kristy’s new neighborhood, and Logan Bruno is, as I mentioned before, Mary Anne’s boyfriend.

  So, that’s the BSC. Our meetings are almost always fun, and the time usually flies by. That Wednesday was no exception. I was surprised when Kristy announced that it was time to adjourn. Then, just as we were getting ready to leave, the phone rang. I grabbed it. (Whoever’s nearest usually answers, and I happened to be closest.) It was Mrs. Mancusi. “I know it’s short notice,” she said, “but my husband and I just decided to take a little trip this weekend. We’re desperate for a pet-sitter.”

  Guess who ended up with the job? That’s right. Me. Not Kristy, who’s nuts about dogs. Not Jessi or Mallory, who are horse-crazy and also adore all animals. Not even Mary Anne, the cat-lover. Even though our club is full of people who are wild about animals, I was the only one available for the coming weekend. But it was fine with me. After all, work is work. And besides, as I’ve said before, it’s not as if I hate animals.

  “I sure wish I could have taken that job,” said Jessi, after our meeting had ended and we were getting ready to leave. “I really like pet-sitting for the Mancusis. It’s not necessarily easy, but it’s fun. I love their guinea pigs, Lucy and Ricky.”

  “Remember that time you thought their hamster was sick?” asked Mal.

  “I’ll never forget it,” said Jessi. “I was so worried about him. But then ‘he’ turned out to be a ‘she,’ and she wasn’t sick at all — she was pregnant.”

  “That’s how we got Frodo,” said Mal. Frodo is the Pike’s hamster. “And you guys got Misty.” Misty is Frodo’s sister, and she lives with the Ramseys.

  Jessi smiled. “Yeah, that story had a happy ending. Anyway, Dawn,” she said, turning to me, “when I pet-sat, the Mancusis gave me this information sheet about their animals. You know, what their names are, what kind of food they eat, how often they need to be walked, that kind of stuff. It was really helpful, and —”

  “And I have it right here,” said Mary Anne triumphantly, pulling a sheet of paper out of the club record book. “I saved it, just in case we needed it again sometime.”

  “Good job, Mary Anne,” said Kristy.

  “You are so organized,” I said. “Let’s see that list.”

  * * *

  At home that night, I studied the list carefully. There was a lot to learn about the Mancusis’ pets! “Pooh Bear eats the low-cal chow,” it said, “and it’s important that Jacques gets a fish-oil capsule after his dinner.” Further down, it said, “Don’t be surprised if Frank talks a lot — he’ll be lonely, and glad to see you.” (Frank’s a talking bird.) “Make sure Barney’s cage is covered,” the list went on.

  I would definitely remember that. Once Mary Anne was visiting while Jessi was taking care of the pets, and Barney got out of his cage. This was not funny. See, Barney’s a snake. (They did find him and get him back into his cage, but it wasn’t easy. Mary Anne still shudders whenever she hears the name Barney.)

  I felt pretty prepared by the time I went o
ver to the Mancusis’ on Friday night. They weren’t planning to leave until Saturday morning, but Mrs. Mancusi had asked me to come over ahead of time just to get acquainted with the animals.

  I could hear the dogs barking as I walked up to the door — and there were some other sounds, too. Like meows and chirps and jungle screeches. I smiled to myself as I rang the doorbell. Dawn Schafer, Zookeeper. That’s what I was going to be.

  Mrs. Mancusi opened the door. A big parrot was perched on her shoulder and she was holding a rabbit in her arms. She used her knee to push Cheryl, the Great Dane, out of the way of the door. “Hi, Dawn,” she said. “Come on in! We’re just giving the animals a chance to run around, since I’m sure you’ll want to keep them in their cages over the weekend.”

  I nodded. Then I thought of something. “Is — is Barney out?” I asked.

  Mrs. Mancusi smiled. “No, he gets lost too easily. He’s in his cage, safe and sound.”

  Good. Then I was safe and sound, too.

  Mrs. Mancusi left to put the bird and the rabbit back in their cages. When she returned, she introduced me to the dogs, even though I already knew which was which. She seemed to expect me to talk to them, so I said things like “Pleased to meet you, Pooh Bear,” even though I felt kind of silly chatting with a dog. Then we walked through the rest of the house, and I met all the other animals.

  “That must be Ling-Ling,” I said, pointing to a Siamese cat. Ling-Ling yowled, loudly.

  “That’s right!” said Mrs. Mancusi. “I guess you’ve done your homework.” She seemed impressed. “And here are Rosie and Powder,” she said, bending to pat two fluffy white cats.

  “Powder is Rosie’s mother, right?” I asked.

  “Yes, she is. Let me see. Tom, the gray cat, is outside right now. He has a nasty temper, so watch out for him. And I’m not sure where Crosby is. He’s an orange tiger cat. He loves to play fetch, believe it or not.”

  Next stop was the den, where the bird cages are. I heard all kinds of chirps and twitters. “I used to have a bird, a long time ago,” I told Mrs. Mancusi. “A parakeet, I think he was. His name was Buzz, and once he flew into a bowl of mashed potatoes.” Mrs. Mancusi laughed.

  Just then, from behind me, I heard someone say, “You got the right one bay-be — uh huh!”

  “That must be Frank,” I said. Jessi had told me that Frank gets a lot of his lines from TV — especially commercials.

  Mrs. Mancusi nodded. “At first we tried to break his TV habit, but he loves to watch so much that we hate to deprive him.”

  After the birds, Mrs. Mancusi showed me the fish, the rabbits, the guinea pigs (good old Lucy and Ricky), and the hamsters (none of which looked pregnant, fortunately). Then we went to the sunporch. That’s where the reptiles live. Mrs. Mancusi seemed to love them just as much as the cats and dogs. She cooed over the turtles and whispered sweetly to Barney. “And here’s our latest addition,” said Mrs. Mancusi, stopping in front of a big aquarium. “This is Petie.”

  I bent to look inside, expecting a new kind of turtle or maybe a frog. But what I saw made me give a little shriek and jump back. “What — what is that?” I asked. “A baby dragon?” In the aquarium was this huge lizardlike thing, with spines all down its back.

  She laughed. “She does look like one, doesn’t she? No, she’s an iguana. Isn’t she beautiful? She comes from Mexico, and she’s the sweetest thing. Some iguanas will bite, but not Petie. You can pick her up, if you want.”

  You might think that touching Petie was the last thing I wanted to do. And I’ll admit that I wasn’t quite ready to go that far yet. But you know what? There was something about that iguana that I really liked. I can’t explain it. She was just as scaly as Barney, but she looked … friendlier. And even though she had those spines, I somehow knew right away that she was totally harmless. “Hi, Petie,” I whispered into the tank. I smiled at her, and I could have sworn that she smiled back. Suddenly I was looking forward just a little bit more to my weekend as a zookeeper.

  * * *

  On Saturday afternoon, I went back to the Mancusis’ and let myself in with the key Mrs. Mancusi had given me. Cheryl, Pooh Bear, and Jacques practically threw themselves at me as soon as I opened the door. They seemed thrilled to see a human being, even if it was one they didn’t know very well. “Okay, okay,” I said, patting each one of them. “We’ll go out in a few minutes.”

  I headed into the kitchen and found the new, revised list that the Mancusis had left for me. Using it as a guide, I walked through the house, checking on the animals and making sure each one had food and water. Then, just as I was about to check on the reptiles, I heard the doorbell. The dogs started barking so loudly I could hardly hear myself think. I ran back to the front door. I peeked through the peephole, even though I was pretty sure who it was, and then I opened the door.

  “Hi, Jessi,” I said. I’d talked to her the night before, and we’d arranged for her to stop by while I was checking the pets. Jessi lives very near the Mancusis, and since she loves animals, she didn’t need much of an excuse to drop by.

  “Hi,” she said. “I brought Becca and Charlotte and Squirt with me. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Fine with me,” I said, bending down to poke Squirt in the tummy. Squirt is Jessi’s baby brother, and he is so, so cute. His real name is John Philip Ramsey, Jr., but everybody calls him Squirt. Becca is Jessi’s sister. She’s eight and a half, and she’s a smart, fun little kid. Charlotte Johanssen is also eight; she’s Becca’s best friend.

  “I was just about to check the reptiles,” I said. “You won’t believe the new one they got.” I led everybody out to the sunporch, and introduced them to Petie. Jessi thought she was pretty cool-looking, but Charlotte and Becca weren’t impressed. They only like soft, fluffy animals.

  Cheryl had followed us to the sunporch, and now she began to nuzzle my hand. “Oh, right,” I said. “I guess you’re ready for your walk. Do you all want to come along?” I asked Jessi and the kids.

  “Yes!” yelled Charlotte and Becca. “I’ll walk Pooh Bear!” added Becca.

  “I’ll walk Jacques!” said Charlotte.

  “Fine with me,” I said, “but I better walk Cheryl. She’s so big she could pull both of you down the sidewalk.” We gathered up the leashes, called the dogs, and headed out the door. Jessi put Squirt in his stroller, and we started down the street. The dogs were so happy to be out that they practically danced along the sidewalk. We probably looked like some kind of circus parade. I saw this one car slowing down, as if its driver wanted to watch us go by.

  We walked around the block a few times, and finally the dogs began to settle down enough so that I could relax and enjoy the beautiful day. Then I noticed something weird. That same car I’d seen when we first came out — it was an ordinary-looking dark green one — had passed us about three more times, going more slowly each time. We weren’t that fascinating to watch, I thought. Or were we? Was somebody watching us for a reason? Were Becca and Charlotte in danger? I told Jessi what I’d noticed, and she and I decided that it would be best to go inside and give Charlotte and Becca our standard “don’t-talk-to-strangers” speech.

  “They’ve heard it before,” said Jessi, “but you can’t be too careful.”

  We took the dogs inside and settled them down. We talked to the girls, and then Jessi took them (and Squirt) home. I double-checked the pets to make sure they were set for the night, locked the door, and headed home myself. That car had given me a creepy feeling.

  I got up early on Sunday and hurried over to the Mancusis’. Normally I sleep in on weekends — I love to stay in bed as long as I can — but I knew those animals would be waiting for me. Not because they liked me especially, but just because I would be the one feeding them or cleaning their cages or walking them.

  The dogs went nuts again when I let myself in. Cheryl jumped up and licked my nose. Pooh Bear darted off to get a rawhide toy, and then pranced around with it as if he were showing it off to me. Jacques ran to
the kitchen, found his leash, and ran back to me, holding it in his mouth. “All right, you guys,” I said. “Be patient. We’ll go for a walk in just a minute.”

  At the word “walk,” all three of them went totally nuts. “Oops,” I said, covering my mouth. “I mean, we’ll go for a W-A-L-K.” This time, only Cheryl went nuts. “Oh, no!” I said. “You even know how to spell that word.” I patted her on the head. “I’ll just be a second,” I said. “I want to check the other residents of the Mancusi Zoo.”

  I’d already gotten used to talking to the dogs. It didn’t seem like such a strange thing to do anymore, at least not when I was all alone with them. They couldn’t really understand what I was saying, but they cocked their heads, looked right at me, and raised their eyebrows as if they were doing their best to make sense of everything I said.

  I picked up my instruction sheet and started to work my way through the house. First, I checked in the laundry room and made sure the cats’ food and water dishes were full. Ling-Ling ran to me as soon as she heard the dry food spilling into her bowl, and right behind her came an orange-y cat. “Crosby!” I said out loud. “How are ya?” He hardly glanced at me; he was headed straight for the food. By the time I had finished filling up the water bowls, all five cats were chomping away.

  I decided that I’d wait to feed the dogs until after I’d walked them, so my next stop was the hamsters and guinea pigs. Their cages were in the kitchen, and when I walked in, the first thing I heard was a funny whistling noise. “What is that?” I asked Cheryl, who was following along behind me. Of course she didn’t answer. I shrugged. “Oh, well,” I said. I checked the instruction sheet to see how much food to put out, and next to the guinea-pig notes I saw this: “Don’t worry about that whistling noise. It’s normal. Ricky does it more often than Lucy.” Well, that explained that. I put out food for the hamsters and for Lucy and Ricky. Then I noticed that their cages could use some cleaning. I turned around to find the cedar chips, and almost ran over Cheryl. She looked up at me with her big brown eyes and gave a little whimper.