Rocky Read Free

this guy Albert. I feel kind of mad at him, and I might not be able to hide it. He acts like a dog is like a CD player, or a toaster, or — or just something you can toss away if it’s not living up to your expectations.”
    Mom nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I understand. I’ll go in on my own.”
    Lizzie waited in the van, arms folded, feeling angrier by the minute. But her anger fell away when she saw Mom come out the door, carrying a white puppy with brown and black splotches. Lizzie threw open the door of the van. “Rocky!” she said.
    The puppy looked up at her, his funny flat face wrinkled with curiosity.
    How do you know my name?
    Lizzie held open her arms, and Mom leaned in to put Rocky on her lap. The puppy was surprisingly heavy, and his short fur was soft. His head seemed huge, and his droopy jowls made him look like a wise old man. He had a big, flat, wrinkly face; broad shoulders; a wide, muscular chest; and short, stocky legs. His stubby tail wagged hopefully as he looked up at Lizzie. He snorted and licked her hand as she petted him. He was a funny-looking little thing, just adorable. “Hello, you silly boy,” Lizzie murmured as she petted him. Rocky sighed and settled into her lap.
    The puppy was asleep by the time Mom buckled in and started the van.
    And he was snoring loudly by the time she turned back onto Terrace Street.

“You know,” Mom said, as she drove toward home, “this Albert person really was not such a bad guy. I think he just got in over his head. He had no idea how much responsibility it is to own a dog.”
    Lizzie put a hand on Rocky’s head. “Still,” she said. “Didn’t he care at all about where Rocky ended up?”
    “He did,” Mom said. “He told me he was planning to have a long talk with anybody who called. He was going to ask the right questions, about whether they’d had a dog before and how they planned to care for a puppy. All that stuff.”
    Lizzie sniffed and looked out the window. “Well, that’s good.” She still wasn’t so sure about Albert Lowell, but what did it matter anymore? “We’ve got you now,” she whispered into Rocky’s little rosebud-shaped ear. He snorted in his sleep, and his ear twitched. Lizzie smiled. Now the Petersons were fostering this puppy, and that meant they would keep him safe and sound and happy until they could find him the perfect forever home. “Right, Rocky?” Lizzie whispered again. Rocky answered with a long, loud snore.
    When they pulled into the driveway, Dad’s red pickup was there, too. “They’re home,” said Lizzie. “Wait ’til everybody meets Rocky!” She made sure the puppy’s leash was clipped on, and led him out of the van and into the front yard.
    Rocky snuffled and sniffed his way up the walk, stopping to investigate each blade of grass and every tulip. Lizzie tried to keep him moving, but Rocky was stubborn. And he was strong. He was not a big puppy, but he was all muscle. When Lizzie pulled on the leash, he just set his short, squat legs and pulled back harder.
    Who’s the boss here? Don’t rush me!
    Lizzie laughed. She could be stubborn, too. But for today, at least, she decided to let Rocky have his way. After all, it was his first day in a new place, with a new family. She stood patiently as he snorted and snuffled. His flat, wrinkly face was so cute, and she loved the way his jowls shook when he found an especially interesting smell.
    The front door opened. “What have we here?” Dad asked, poking his head out. “Is this the famous Rocky that Mom called me about?”
    “Rocky!” said Charles from behind Dad. He and the Bean pushed their way past their father and ran outside to meet the new puppy. Buddy followed them, running headlong toward Rocky, his tail wagging and his eyes bright.
    Rocky looked up just in time to see them all coming at him. His eyes grew wide. He tilted his head at Lizzie, wrinkling his forehead.
    More people? And a dog?
    Quickly, Lizzie scooped him up. “Slow