Rascal Read Free

ignore him. Finally, he sat right down next to her.
    â€œGood dog!” Lizzie exclaimed. She tossed him a dog biscuit.
    Rascal jumped up and snatched it out of the air. He gobbled it down. Then he took off again at high speed.
    â€œWell,” Lizzie said, laughing as she shook her head, “it’s a start, anyway.”
    Training Diary: Rascal
Day Two, Sunday
    Here is a list of some of the things Rascal has chewed in the 24 hours since he came to stay with us:
    The straps on Charles’s backpack.
    Dad’s favorite work gloves.
    (Right glove totally destroyed. Left one still sort of wearable, but missing thumb.)
    Lizzie’s math book.
    (Not that I mind.)
    The Bean’s yellow blankie.
    Mom’s new sandals.
    There were more items Lizzie could have added to the list, but it was too depressing. Rascal’s chewing habit was a real problem. On Sunday morning, after Mom found her sandals — or what
used
to be her sandals — on the bathroom floor, Lizzie got on to the Internet to do some research. What was the best way to train a puppy not to chew?
    The first thing Lizzie learned was: Don’t give the puppy a
chance
to chew things. After lunch, she and Charles and Dad closed off the kitchen with one of the Bean’s old baby gates. From now on, Rascal would have to stay in there. If he couldn’t roam the house, he would have fewer chances to find things to chew.
    â€œPlus, he won’t be able to jump all over the furniture,” Charles told Lizzie. Rascal looked back at them from inside the kitchen. He whined and barked and jumped up and down.
    Lizzie had also learned that it was a good idea to give a puppy his
own
things to chew on, toys that were made for a little dog with sharp teeth. She tossed Rascal a puppy-sized rawhide bone. He scrambled after it and sat under the kitchen table, gnawing happily.
    If only they had given me this yummy bone in the first place, thought Rascal. This was way, waybetter than any of the other things he’d tried to eat. And nobody was going to take it away from him, either. He was safe and sound in the kitchen, behind the gate. Life was good.
    Lizzie shook her head as she watched Rascal chew. She had never imagined that she would meet a dog she couldn’t train. But Rascal was a real challenge.

“Rascal sounds like a handful.” Maria offered Lizzie a Fig Newton from her lunch bag.
    â€œHe is,” Lizzie said. She took the cookie and started nibbling off the edges. Then she sighed. “I hate to admit it, but I’m not even sure what to do with him next.” She had already given up on the training diary. It was just too upsetting to have to write down every naughty thing Rascal did. Dealing with Rascal was a full-time job, and after only two days it was wearing her out. Being at school was almost like a vacation.
    â€œMaybe you just need a break,” Maria said. “I have a riding lesson after school. I bet Kathy could fit you in if you wanted to come.”
    Lizzie shook her head and popped the last bite of Fig Newton into her mouth. “I can’t,” she said, scrunching up her lunch bag. “We signed Rascal up for puppy kindergarten and it starts today.”
    â€œPuppy kindergarten?” Maria laughed. “What do they do, finger-paint and play with blocks?”
    Lizzie giggled, picturing puppies tracking finger-paint all over. Or would that be paw-paint? What a mess! “No, it’s just a series of classes to teach puppies basic obedience, like how to sit and walk on a leash. They also get used to being around other dogs. It’ll be fun.”
    And it did look like fun when Lizzie and Charles arrived at puppy kindergarten later that day. Dad dropped them off at the Littleton recreation center, promising to come back in time to watch the last ten minutes of class.
    Rascal pulled hard at the leash when he heard the sound of barking dogs. He practically draggedCharles up the stairs.