Mad Dog by Dandi Daley Mackall

Author:Dandi Daley Mackall
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUVENILE FICTION / Religious / Christian
ISBN: 9781414332604
Publisher: Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Published: 2008-08-31T16:00:00+00:00

Twelve

Kat helps us get the dogs to the car. Popeye helps me carry the kennels. We’re still only using two kennels because I don’t have the heart to put the Pomeranian or the frightened terrier into cages again.

Dakota climbs in front. Mrs. Coolidge doesn’t allow animals in the front seat of her new car, even though the car’s big enough for a couple of horses, so that leaves me in back with all the dogs.

“Mrs. C.,” Dakota reasons, “don’t you think we should at least call the activities director and tell her we’re on our way?”

“No, sirree,” Mrs. Coolidge answers. “We don’t want to give them fair warning.”

“But it’s all set up, isn’t it?” I ask. “I mean, they know we’re coming. They’re up for this pilot pet program, aren’t they?”

She doesn’t answer.

“Mrs. Coolidge?” I press. “They want our dogs, don’t they?”

“Well, not exactly. Not yet,” she admits. “Consider this an audition. A tryout.”

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Dakota says.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Mrs. Coolidge says. “Don’t be such a worrywart. The board at Nice Manor approved our pet project, although they left the details to their activities director.” She adjusts her air-conditioning vent, even though she hasn’t turned on the AC yet. “The problem is their activities director. As soon as she found out I was behind the project, she got cold feet. I’m afraid Miss Golf and I have a history.”

This can’t be good. Mrs. Coolidge should have told us before now. “What if nobody’s there to meet the dogs?” I ask.

The woman shoots me a frown in the rearview mirror. “It’s all under control,” she says. “I have an inside man.”

“An inside man?” Dakota repeats.

“Woman, actually,” Mrs. Coolidge clarifies. “Her name is Buddy, and she’s got spunk. Believe me, our Miss Golf is no match for Buddy.”

I don’t ask anything else, and neither does Dakota. I’m trying to picture an inside woman with spunk who goes by the name of Buddy. It’s enough to keep me busy until we get there.

Nice Manor is set back from the road and surrounded by trees. The brick building isn’t a skyscraper or anything, but there must be at least five stories. Hard to believe this is an old people’s home. They probably fix up the outside and leave the inside junky.

“Out you go!” Mrs. Coolidge commands.

“You’re not coming?” Dakota sounds terrified.

“Places to go, people to see,” Mrs. Coolidge explains.

I have to hang on to the Pomeranian so he won’t bolt out of the car when Dakota opens the door. The terrier acts like she’s glued to my thigh, but I wrestle her loose and hand her to Dakota. The other dogs are banging to get out of their kennels. Dakota leashes the terrier and the Blab while I juggle the Pom and the bulldog.

Mrs. Coolidge taps the steering wheel. “Call my cell when you’re ready to be picked up.”

Dakota and I back away from the car, our dogs straining at the leashes. I feel like I did the first time I was dropped off at a foster home.

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