Dog Days in the City

Chapter 1

THE MYSTERIOUS BOX

The dog had been in surgery fifteen minutes. I paced the lobby of Eastside Veterinary Clinic, looking for tasks to busy myself with while I waited. It felt like marbles were rolling around in my stomach.

Most of the time Dr. Stern performed routine surgeries, like spaying female cats, but today a dog named Buster was having his ear drained. He had large, floppy ears, and one day he’d shaken his head so hard, it broke a layer of blood vessels in one ear. This wasn’t a life-threatening surgery—at least, that’s what Daniel, the vet tech, told me—but it was the first time there’d been a big surgery since I started helping out at Eastside.

I loved being at Dr. Stern’s neighborhood clinic, learning as much as I could about animals, and most of the time I wasn’t alone in the lobby. Surgery Fridays were usually Miss Janice’s administrative days. She’d email X-rays to other clinics for second opinions, file blood work results, and return phone calls and emails, but since the summertime was usually pretty quiet with all the family vacations, Dr. Stern had given her the day off today.

Miss Janice was the office manager, and she lived in one of those shiny new buildings downtown. I only knew that because she loved to chat about her building’s great amenities, like an indoor pool where she took water aerobics classes, and the free Wi-Fi, oatmeal raisin cookies, and hot coffee in the building lobby. Sometimes she even took naps on the roof-deck. "What building amenities do young people enjoy these days? she had asked me once while organizing desk papers, and I laughed and told her, Front stoops—that’s pretty much it."

Even though I could have taken the day off, too, I jumped at every chance I could to spend time at Eastside. Mom and Dad had been lecturing me on not taking my hobby too seriously lately, but I didn’t care. To me, this wasn’t just a hobby. Taking care of Hamlet the pig had made me realize that animals were my passion. Besides, now that I wasn’t on the gymnastics team anymore, I had more free time to devote to volunteering at the clinic.

Everyone in my family had jobs this summer, and my friends were all busy, too. Tom, my brother and the oldest of us Shilling kids, was home from college and working as a barista at City Beans, a coffee shop downtown. My oldest sister, Ellen, was nursing her wounded ego that she didn’t get into a fancy private college by taking an online literature course with Ohio State University. She wanted to get a head start on her college credits before moving into the dorms this fall. Sarah, my next oldest sister, had a part-time job at an ice cream shop, and Amelia, my little sister, was going to soccer day camp. Helping out at the veterinary clinic was my thing.

Humming to myself, I opened a plastic flap on the top of the massive lobby aquarium to feed what Lou—Dr. Stern’s son and Amelia’s best friend—called the Kingdom. Lou named it that because of the ornamental objects he’d selected to decorate the tank: a medieval-looking castle, a dragon skull, and two hollow logs where the fish liked to hide.

Good morning! I said, shaking the small container of flake food until some peppered the surface of the water. A cherry barb swam up first. These were the small reddish fish with a dark strip through the middle. After the barbs, Dalmatian mollies, and rasboras gobbled up the flakes, I retrieved the frozen bloodworms from the minifridge. It was totally creepy handling them, but part of working at a vet’s office is dealing with gross stuff, and these freshwater fish species were omnivores. I wrinkled my nose and quickly flicked a few bloodworms into the water tank. All right, kings and queens of the Kingdom! Enjoy your breakfast of champions! I said, closing the feeding flap on the top of the aquarium.

Rap, rap!

I spun around. An older man peered through the clinic windows, his knuckles knocking gently on the glass. It was Mr. Takei. I’d known him for years because he lived a few blocks away and always hung out at the community center where Mom worked. Most of the people who brought their animals to this small veterinary clinic were people from the neighborhood. That’s what also made it fun. I got to know all my neighbors better, and I learned how to help them keep their pets healthy.

Mr. Takei held up a large, clear plastic bag with yellow liquid inside.

I knew just what that was!

I unlocked the front door and retrieved the bag, careful to hold it by the zipped-plastic top so the contents wouldn’t spill on me. I scrunched up my nose, trying not to get a whiff of it. Yuck! Somehow I’d have to get used to these types of tasks if I wanted to be a veterinarian one day, like Dr. Stern. She tested animal blood, poop, and pee every day—not to mention handling the Kingdom’s bloodworms, too!

Good morning, Mr. Takei! I said. How’s Cocoa doing?

Cocoa was the Takei family’s little gray pug. He’d been admitted two weeks ago for an upset stomach, and the pH level in his first urine test was abnormally high. I didn’t know all the reasons why this was a bad thing, but that’s exactly why I wanted to spend more time shadowing Dr. Stern at Eastside. I had so much to learn about working with animals.

Much better, Josie, thank you, Mr. Takei said, adjusting his eyeglasses. But we’ll see after this test, I suppose. Is your mother working at the community center today?

Yep! I glanced at the clock behind me. I think her shift starts at eleven or twelve.

Wonderful. I’ll see her there later on. Have a nice day, Josie, and thank you!

Happy to help! I’ll give Cocoa’s sample to Dr. Stern right away. Bye!

I closed the door and carefully set the urine bag inside a small wire basket where it wouldn’t tip over. I scribbled down Cocoa Takei’s Urine Sample with today’s date on a yellow sticky note and attached it to the bag. I pretended to take a picture of it with my fingers—click, click!—and imagined what message I’d text to Lucy, my best friend, if I had a cell phone. Lucy loved animals, but she got grossed out by things, too—even more than me! It was hilarious.

I felt my shoulders sag a little as I reached for the broom. At least, it used to be hilarious. Now things were just strange between us.

I’d quit the gymnastics team back in January. Lucy and I had been gymnasts together forever. It’s how we met, back in second grade. Even though we went to different schools—I went to public school, and she went to private—the sport had always bonded us. We didn’t have that anymore, and I could tell Lucy wasn’t happy with me about it. Since I’d left the Level 5 team, it felt like every time I mentioned Dr. Stern or one of the animals I worked with, Lucy would roll her eyes or have some snarky comment. Often she’d zone out texting her private school friends, even though she knew that made me feel left out. Sure, we still hung out with the Three Stoops crew—what we called our neighborhood friends—but sometimes it was like my sweet best friend was transforming into my snarky fifteen-year-old sister, Sarah.

My gaze shifted to the clock on the wall. Thirty minutes into surgery. The back of my neck tingled, the way it always does when I’m worrying about things. I sighed and went back to keeping myself busy. I restocked the front desk display holders with pamphlets on pet insurance, city bus maps, and pet microchip information. I adjusted all the plastic lobby chairs until they were lined up at perfect angles. I checked on the Kingdom again, and all the fish had gobbled up the remaining bits of food.

A cat meowed loudly from down the hall. You okay, Storm? I called out as I leaned the broom and dustpan against the wall of the lobby bathroom. Be right there.

Just behind the front desk in the lobby was a swinging door. I pushed it open and entered the hallway where we kept the large, wire kennels containing animals we treated and boarded. There were four kennels, two stacked on top of two, tucked away from the main lobby of the clinic but before you reached the surgery door.

I stuck my fingers into one of the top cages, feeling the giant cat’s soft, orange fur against my skin. Normally I wouldn’t touch a caged cat; being cooped up and away from their families sometimes made them nervous, so they’d bite or scratch. But I’d known Storm for years, because she belonged to the children’s librarian, Ms. Fischer. Sometimes she let Storm roam around the children’s zone, where she’d curl up on a reading beanbag in the sunshine. Storm was really friendly with people. But with other cats? Not so much. Storm had gotten into a little scuffle with another cat, probably a stray, according to Dr. Stern. We weren’t quite sure which cat picked the fight, and the other cat was never found. Ms. Fischer had discovered Storm on her back stoop, meowing and bleeding from her ear, so she brought her in to Eastside. Dr. Stern gave Storm a few stitches—I was lucky enough to be able to watch, and it wasn’t gross at all—and Storm’s wound was healing nicely. She was also eating and drinking, which was a good indicator that she was feeling better.

There, there, you’re all right, I assured her in a soothing voice. Why don’t you take a little catnap? I scratched along her neck in the spot that made her purr, being careful not to touch her stitches. But Storm didn’t want to lie down in the kennel. She popped up on her paws and circled the cage again, meowing. It wasn’t unusual for cats to dislike being kenneled, but something about her behavior definitely seemed off. Storm hadn’t been this uneasy all morning. I knew I wasn’t a veterinarian or anything, but how she was acting didn’t seem to relate to her recovery.

It was like she was . . . nervous.

I felt a jolt down my spine. Animals could sense things humans couldn’t. There were loads of reports about wild animals fleeing their homes before an earthquake. We didn’t get earthquakes in central Ohio, but we did get tornadoes. What if . . .

BZZZZZZZ!

I nearly jumped out of my skin, then laughed at my silly reaction. It was just the front door buzzer. Maybe that’s Ms. Fischer checking on you on her way to the library! I said to Storm cheerfully, giving her a final pet along her back. Storm meowed, as if protesting me leaving. I’ll be back in a few minutes.

I swung open the lobby door just in time to see someone rush down the street, wheeling a delivery cart behind him or her. A massive cardboard box rested in the vestibule between the air-conditioned indoors of the clinic and the city streets, completely blocking the clinic entrance. By the size of the box, I guessed that it contained seven or eight bags of dog food. I groaned. Those bags were heavy. I knew from experience! Most of the supply delivery people at least said hello and had me sign for receiving the packages and wheeled them into the lobby. It was probably a new employee or college student on summer break who just didn’t care about manners.

Even though there were no more appointments scheduled that morning that I knew of, there could be an animal emergency or someone dropping off pet samples, like how Mr. Takei stopped by earlier. The giant box needed to be moved. I cracked my knuckles. I was strong. There was no way I’d disturb Dr. Stern and Daniel in a sterilized operating room because I couldn’t handle an unexpected pet food delivery. Somehow I’d figure out a way to push the heavy box inside.

I walked toward the door and realized the usual printed delivery sticker with a shipping bar code stuck on top of the box was missing. There was something else in its place—a regular old envelope. Two words were scribbled on it in messy, hard-to-read handwriting.

My hand touched the vestibule doorknob, and I paused, making out the letters on the envelope.

First, J.

Then O.

It felt like all the blood drained from my face.

Josie Shilling.

The mysterious giant cardboard box was addressed to me—and there were loud scratching noises coming from inside it!

AWW-ROOOOO!

The note could wait. I wasn’t about to let animals sit inside a hot box in the summertime! I opened the door and clawed at the wide sticky tape on the box, my heart beating faster with excitement. As the cardboard shifted beneath my trembling hands, the noises inside grew louder and more urgent.

Barks. Yelps. Squeals and howls.

Rip, rip.

I tore off the tape and unfolded the box flaps.

Chapter 2

SEVEN SURPRISES

RUFF!

Inside the box, the cutest tiny black- and brown-colored puppies leaped into the air, yipping loudly. I reached out to pet them. Tiny wet tongues licked my hands and baby claws scratched at my forearms.

Whoa, whoa there! I laughed as they wrestled with each other, scrambling for my attention, as if they were just as surprised to see me as I was to discover them.

Awww! What are you little guys doing here?

I plucked the envelope off the cardboard box, tearing it open and pulling out the letter tucked inside.

Dear Josie,

You don’t know me, but I saw you on the news a few months ago, back when you had that pig and were trying to find it a home. I found this litter of puppies in a back alley with no mom around. My landlord won’t let me keep them any longer, and I’m having trouble finding someone to help. The city shelters are overcrowded. Then I remembered you and that pig. You’re good with animals, and someone in the neighborhood told me you help out at the clinic sometimes. I knew I could count on you to find these puppies homes. . . .

Good luck!

I bent down and ruffled a puppy’s head. "Poor things, with no mama! You guys sure are adorable. Let’s see. How many of you are there?"

I tried to count them through the clumsy puppy tumbling, but it wasn’t easy. The puppies were mostly black in color, with various tawny- and tan-hued markings on their chests, paws, and faces. As they wrestled, climbed, and jumped, they looked like one big puppy kaleidoscope.

I scratched the back of the nearest puppy. I only knew a few dog breeds, but these puppies looked a bit like Mr. Johnson’s old German shepherd, Gruff. He was super smart and and loyal. Mr. Johnson had taught Gruff to run next to him on his evening jogs without a leash, and Gruff always stayed right by his side. Maybe these pups had some German shepherd in them, too. But their fur was a little shorter, reminding me a bit of the black Lab, Buster, who was in surgery today. Maybe they were mixes of both breeds.

One. Two. Three. My eyes darted around the box. Four. Five. Six. Wait—did I count that one twice? Puppy Number One tried to climb on top of Three and even got his front paws halfway out of the box. He was strong and fearless for a little pup!

Oh no, rock climber, I scolded. You’re going to stay right there until I count all your siblings. Hang on, hang on, it’ll just be a second. . . .

I loosely closed the top of the box, and the fluffy puppies started a loud protest of barking and scratching. Don’t worry, I assured them in a calm voice. I learned at Eastside that it wasn’t what you said to animals that mattered, it was how you said it. I’ll let you guys out in a few minutes.

I looked around the vestibule. I needed to get the box inside the clinic, into a safe, enclosed space so I could count them and figure out what to do next. Plus, it was getting really hot in this little space. . . . The pups needed air-conditioning!

I pushed the box inside the clinic with all my strength, inch by inch across the lobby tiles, locking the front door behind me. I didn’t want the puppies slipping out while I was counting them!

As I pulled the box across the floor another foot or two, a memory flashed through my mind, making me smile. When Hamlet was a piglet last winter, she’d once leaped over our backyard fence, taking me by complete surprise. She had been so strong and fast! I couldn’t underestimate how curious these puppies might be, even if they were tiny.

Once we were secured inside, I moved to the front desk and tapped on the iPad to double-check the online calendar, and I scrolled to today’s date. Buster the dog was the only surgery scheduled today, and under Notes someone had typed in office day. Perfect! Sometimes Dr. Stern had back-to-back patient appointments after surgeries, but not today. Probably because she had a lot of prep work for that big conference coming up—I’d overheard her talking to Daniel about it earlier that morning.

I’m baaaaack! I said to the puppies, opening up the top