The Bark Before Christmas by Laurien Berenson Page A

smacked a kiss on his nose. “The bazaar isn’t even open yet. You guys are coming later with Dad. Besides, you need to get dressed first.”
    â€œDressed now, ” Kevin insisted.
    I plopped him down on the countertop, opened a drawer, got out a knife and sliced his apple into several long wedges for easier eating. Then I reached over, opened the back door, and whistled the Poodles inside.
    As usual, Tar led the way. He likes to think that he’s the leader of the pack and he’s lucky that the bitches are gracious enough not to disabuse him of that fallacy.
    Running full tilt across the deck and through the open door, Tar hit the hardwood floor and went sliding past me. Feet scrambling for purchase that wasn’t there, the big Poodle careened into the water bowl on the other side of the room. The bowl has a weighted base but it wasn’t enough to withstand that kind of onslaught.
    Bowl and dog both went flying. Tar bounced off the wall as water sprayed out over the floor. Watching the unexpected show from his perch on the counter, Kevin squealed in delight.
    Meanwhile, the remaining Poodles were still standing in the open doorway letting a draft of frigid air into the house. They’d been savvy enough to anticipate trouble and wise enough to want no part of it. When I waved the crew inside and quickly shut the door, Raven, Casey, and Augie scooted past me and disappeared down the hallway.
    Eve picked her way daintily across the kitchen floor. She wrinkled her nose at the small flood and carefully avoided stepping in any puddles. Faith just stood and stared reproachfully at Tar.
    â€œWhat do you think you are?” I said to Eve as I grabbed a handful of paper towels and began to mop up the mess. “A cat?”
    â€œA cat!” Kevin chortled happily. “Eve thinks she’s a cat.” He flicked a piece of apple into the air. It was headed in Eve’s direction but Tar leapt up and caught it on the fly.
    â€œHey,” I said. “No feeding dogs from the kitchen counter.”
    â€œNot a dog,” Kev corrected me. “Eve’s a cat.”
    Davey looked up from his cereal and shook his head. “You’re going to regret starting that,” he said.
    â€œTell me about it,” I grumbled.
    Over by the sink, the empty water bowl had finally rolled to a stop, still resting on its side. Tar followed the dish, staring at its unfamiliar configuration with his head tipped to one side in confusion. After a moment, he reached out a front paw and batted it. The bowl spun in a small circle, then wobbled briefly before dropping flat on the floor. Amazed by his accomplishment, that big silly Poodle leapt up in the air and barked.
    Breakfast at the Travis/Driver household. On good days, it’s a zoo. On bad days, you don’t even want to know.
    I lifted Kevin down off the counter and set him on the floor. “Your clothes are on your bed,” I told him. “Go upstairs and get dressed.”
    â€œAlready dressed,” Kevin argued. He pushed out his lower lip in a pout. “Ready to go.”
    â€œYou can’t go to the bazaar in your pajamas.” I walked the toddler to the kitchen door and gave him a nudge toward the stairway. “Dad’s upstairs. He’ll help you.”
    â€œI can help him,” Davey volunteered. He was already dressed. He picked up his glass and bowl and dumped them in the sink.
    â€œThanks. That would be great. I want to get to bazaar early. You know, before anything has a chance to go wrong.”
    â€œAt Howard Academy?” Davey wasn’t facing me, but I saw his shoulders stiffen. “Nothing ever goes wrong there.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œIsn’t that the perfect school? Where the perfect kids go?”
    Davey started to follow his younger brother from the room. I laid a hand on his shoulder and stopped him.
    â€œWait,” I said. “Stay here a minute and talk to