Pugsley by Ellen Miles Page B

Amanda rolled her eyes and shook her head — but she was smiling. “This,” she said, “is Pugsley. Otherwise known as Mr. Pest.”

CHAPTER TWO
    “Pugsley!” Lizzie laughed out loud. “What a great name. And he’s such a cutie!” Lizzie could not get over how soft Pugsley’s ears were. She loved the sweet expression on his wrinkled face.
    Aunt Amanda rolled her eyes. “Sure, he’s cute,” she said. “You know I’m pug crazy. But my Jack and Lionel are well-trained little gentlemen. Pugsley is . . .” Aunt Amanda paused. “Well, there’s a reason his nickname is Mr. Pest. Pugsley is a handful; let’s just leave it at that.”
    “But Pugsley is only a puppy, right?” Lizzie asked. She was still petting his ears, but Pugsley was watching Josie put a party hat that said BIRTHDAY BOY on Max’s head. The pug’s strong little body started to quiver with excitement.
    I like that hat. I want that hat. I’m going to get that hat. Just wait until I get a chance. Watch me! Watch me! Watch me
!
    Aunt Amanda nodded. “He’s only about six months old,” she said. “And his owners love him. But they haven’t done much in the way of training, and it shows. He’s house-trained, but that’s about it. And he’s always misbehaving. The best thing to do is just ignore him when he’s acting out. He’s —”
    Just then, Pugsley ducked away from Lizzie’s hand and took off like a little brown rocket, making a beeline for Max. He barely slowed down as he approached the bigger dog, leaped up to grab the birthday hat in his teeth, and kept moving, barreling along toward the door.
    “Pugsley!” Amanda yelled. “Bring that back, you little —”
    Josie ran to the door to make sure it was shut. “He can’t get out,” she called.
    “Don’t count on that,” Amanda said. She turned to Lizzie. “Mr. Pest has escaped four times since he started coming here. You really have to keep an eye on him.”
    “What about ‘three strikes and you’re out'?” Lizzie asked. She knew that Aunt Amanda had a strict policy about bad behavior. Just like in baseball, every dog was allowed three strikes: three chances to mess up. But if a dog got more than three strikes by being mean to another dog or to a person, by running away or stealing from other dogs, or breaking any of Aunt Amanda’s other rules, that dog would not be allowed anymore at Bowser’s.
    Aunt Amanda blushed. “Well,” she admitted, “I guess I have a soft spot for pugs. And there’s something about that Pugsley. He’s a rascal, but he’s so cute. I keep giving him extra chances.”
    At the moment, Lizzie could see that Pugsley had dashed into the nap room, which was full of cozy corners for sleepy dogs. There were bunkbeds and soft round doggy beds, and three old couches with fleecy bedspreads on them. Some of the older dogs liked to spend most of their time in the nap room, snoozing the day away while the other dogs played and ran around.
    The nap room was a quiet, calm place. Until Pugsley blasted in, that is. He bounced from bed to bed, waking up every sleeping dog with his sharp little barks. He jumped right onto the nose of Hoss, the Great Dane, who liked to spend his days napping on the couch.
    Wake up! Wake up! Let’s go have some fun! Look at this hat I found
!
    “It’s like he’s telling them it’s time for the party!” Lizzie said, giggling as she watched. Hoss did not seem to think it was quite so funny.
    Aunt Amanda was trying to hide a smile. “Well, I guess he’s right!” she said. “It’s definitely party time. Let’s get everyone outside for games andcake.” She caught Pugsley and pulled Max’s birthday hat out of his mouth. Lizzie noticed that her aunt also snuck in a little kiss on Pugsley’s nose.
    Lizzie helped round up the dogs and move them toward the back door, which opened into a fenced-in play area. It wasn’t easy to get all the dogs to go to one place. Some dogs were eager to be outside and ran out with happy