Celebrate the Season--The Twelve Pets of Christmas Read online

  Quinn sighed as she stroked Buddy’s head. He really was a great dog. How could she help others see the Buddy she knew so well?

  Then she heard the bells ringing.

  Someone had opened the front door!

  “Hang on,” Quinn promised Buddy. “I’ll be right back!”

  She slipped out of Buddy’s pen and hurried toward the door. A middle-aged woman and her son were standing near the front desk, looking around.

  “Welcome to the Marion Animal Shelter,” Quinn said brightly. “How can I help you?”

  “We’re getting a dog!” the little boy yelled gleefully, jumping up and down so much that his red baseball cap fell off his head.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” his mom said, laughing as she held up her hands. “Let’s settle down a little, Charlie.”

  Quinn smiled. “Would you like to meet some of our animals?” she asked. “I can give you a tour.”

  “Thanks,” the woman replied. “I’m Ms. Ferrino. And this is my son, Charlie.”

  “I’m Quinn. I’ve been volunteering here since September,” Quinn replied. “Mrs. Alvarez, the director, is here, too—she’ll be back in a minute if you have any questions about the adoption process.”

  “Where are the dogs? Can I pet them?” Charlie asked, starting to jump up and down again.

  “Easy, cowboy,” Ms. Ferrino said, making Quinn laugh.

  “They’re right this way,” Quinn told Charlie. “Have you ever had a pet dog before?”

  “No, but I’ve always wanted one,” Charlie replied. “I love dogs! If we had a dog, it could sleep in my bed, and I would walk it four times a day and feed it good food and we would be best friends.”

  Charlie’s enthusiasm made Quinn smile even bigger—but something in Ms. Ferrino’s face gave her pause.

  Ms. Ferrino gently laid her hand on Charlie’s shoulder and said, “Remember what we talked about,” in a low voice.

  Charlie’s feet stopped jumping. He nodded. Now Quinn was even more confused.

  “Sorry about that,” Ms. Ferrino explained. “I should’ve mentioned this earlier.… The dog isn’t actually for us.”

  “Oh,” Quinn replied. “So you’re just… visiting?”

  “Actually, my work is interested in adopting a dog,” Ms. Ferrino explained. “I’m a nurse’s aide at Candlewick Assisted Living Community. We’ve been talking a lot about adopting a dog for the residents. The companionship would be great for them, but a dog is too much responsibility for them to handle on their own.”

  “It is a lot of work—especially walking them during the winter,” Quinn said, nodding in agreement.

  “But I know our residents miss having pets,” Ms. Ferrino said. “A dog for them to pet and play with would make Candlewick feel even more like home.”

  “What an awesome idea!” Quinn said. She started racking her brain, trying to think which dog at the shelter would be the perfect fit. “Is there any specific type of dog you have in mind?”

  “Well…” Ms. Ferrino began.

  “Puppy! Puppy! Puppy! Puppy!” Charlie cheered.

  Ms. Ferrino wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “We can look at the puppies today, but I think they might be a little too energetic for our residents,” she replied. Then she turned back to Quinn. “Maybe a midsized dog—not too big,” she continued. “And not a puppy, but on the young side.”

  “Personality?” Quinn asked.

  “Gentle, definitely,” Ms. Ferrino said. “And loving and kind. Most of our residents enjoy a quieter lifestyle—and we’d want a dog who could adapt to that.”

  “That makes perfect sense,” Quinn said. “Let me introduce you to some of our dogs! We’re also having a special promotion right now—the Twelve Pets of Christmas—”

  “Oh, yes!” Ms. Ferrino said. “I heard an ad on the radio about it. In fact, that’s what made me decide to stop by today after I picked up Charlie from school.”

  Yes! Quinn cheered to herself. But she wanted to act as professionally as Mrs. Alvarez, so she just smiled and said, “Great! Then you already know that if you adopt one of our featured pets, there’s a discount on the adoption fee. Now, this is where our dogs and puppies live until they find their ‘furever’ homes. If you want to meet anybody, just let me know.”

  Quinn had watched Mrs. Alvarez give tours often enough that she knew when to step up—and when to stay out of the way. That’s exactly what she did, giving Ms. Ferrino and Charlie a chance to explore a little on their own. If they had trouble, Quinn would be happy to offer suggestions. But usually, people were able to find the perfect pet on their own.

  Thump-thump-thump!

  Quinn perked up immediately. She knew exactly what was making that thumping noise—Buddy’s tail as it started wagging! Could this be it? Had Buddy found a family at last? It wasn’t exactly the kind of home Quinn had imagined for him… but maybe having a lot of older adults to dote on him was exactly what Buddy deserved after all the time he’d spent at the shelter.

  “Mom! Mom!” Charlie called out. “I like this one! Can we meet him?”

  “Okay,” Ms. Ferrino called back.

  Quinn stepped forward to open Buddy’s cage. He bounded right over to Charlie and licked the side of his face. Charlie dissolved into giggles as he nuzzled Buddy’s soft fur.

  And Buddy? He’d never looked happier!

  “He seems like a nice dog,” Ms. Ferrino said. “How old is he?”

  “We’re not exactly sure,” Quinn began, “but our vet thinks he’s probably seven or eight years old.”

  Ms. Ferrino’s face fell a little. “Oh.”

  Quinn knew that wasn’t a good sign. “He’s a great dog,” she said quickly. “One of my favorite dogs ever!”

  Ms. Ferrino smiled kindly. “I can tell!” she replied. “But we were hoping to adopt a younger dog for Candlewick. It’s going to be a very different environment there, you know. It might be too much for an older dog to adapt to.”

  Quinn nodded slowly. That made sense—even if it wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear. Remember, we want to find the best pet for every situation, she reminded herself. Not force something that isn’t meant to be.

  “We have a lot of other dogs who are looking to be adopted,” Quinn said. “How about… let’s see… maybe Nana?”

  Ms. Ferrino laughed. “Nana? We already have a lot of Nanas at Candlewick,” she joked. “And Grandmoms, and Grammies, and Pop-Pops, and Grandpas…”

  Quinn laughed, too. “Nana is named after the dog in Peter Pan,” she explained. “You know, the one who takes care of Wendy and her brothers? But you can change her name, of course.”

  “Come on, Charlie,” Ms. Ferrino said. “Let’s go meet this Nana dog.”

  A flicker of disappointment crossed Charlie’s face. “Can I hang out with Buddy?” he asked. “Look—I think he likes me!”

  “Oh, he definitely likes you,” Quinn told Charlie. It was undeniable—from the way Buddy had rolled onto his back so Charlie could scratch his tummy to the way Buddy’s tongue was lolling out of his mouth. Buddy was clearly smitten with Charlie.

  “Nana’s actually just two pens down,” Quinn explained. “She’s a three-year-old golden retriever mix and she’s so sweet! We started calling her Nana because she likes to take care of the other animals. Sometimes the new dogs are really scared when they first arrive, and Nana always wants to cuddle up to them and help them feel safe.”

  “Really?” Ms. Ferrino said. “That’s incredible!”

  “Here she is,” Quinn said as she opened Nana’s pen. “Nana! Come say hi!”

  Ms. Ferrino knelt down and held out her hand. “Hi, Nana,” she said in a soothing voice.

  Nana rose to her feet, wagged her tail, and nuzzled Ms. Ferrino’s hand. Ms. Ferrino’s smile grew.

  “Wow, she really is a sweetie,” Ms. Ferrino said as she stroked Nana’s silky coat.

  “I’ll let you get to know her a little better. Let me know if you need anything,” Quinn said as she step
ped back to check on Buddy and Charlie. She recognized that look on Ms. Ferrino’s face, though—and she had a feeling that Ms. Ferrino and Nana were going to be just fine.

  Back in Buddy’s pen, Buddy had sprawled across Charlie’s lap. Charlie didn’t seem to mind, though. He was busy telling Buddy all about his favorite video game.

  “How’s it going?” Quinn asked as she sat down next to Charlie.

  “Good!” Charlie replied. “Buddy and me are friends now.”

  “I can tell,” Quinn said. “You’re great with dogs. So, do you have any pets at home?”

  Charlie shook his head. “But my uncle has a dog, Smoky, and he lets me take care of him whenever we go to his house,” he said. “And one time when my uncle went on a business trip, Smoky got to stay at our house for three days!”

  “Wow!” Quinn said. “I bet you had fun!”

  “We had the best time,” Charlie replied. “I took really good care of Smoky. And I learned a lot about having a dog.”

  For a moment, no one spoke.

  “Maybe someday I’ll get to have my very own dog,” Charlie said.

  “I’m sure you will,” Quinn replied. “And when you get a little older, you can help out at the shelter—just like me! And then you can play with dogs whenever you want.”

  Charlie’s face lit up, just as Ms. Ferrino walked up to them.

  “So how did—” Quinn began… but she didn’t need to finish her sentence. One look at Ms. Ferrino’s smile told her all she needed to know.

  “I think we found Candlewick’s newest resident!” Ms. Ferrino announced happily. “Nana is the perfect dog for us. I know everybody—residents and staff—will love her as much as I do!”

  “That’s awesome!” Quinn cheered. “If you’ll just follow me, you can fill out an application. It only takes a day or two to process, and then your adoption will be final.”

  “Mom?” Charlie spoke up. “Can I stay here… with Buddy?”

  Ms. Ferrino faltered for a moment. “Um—sure—if it’s okay with Quinn, I guess.…”

  “Fine with me,” Quinn said quickly. Charlie and Buddy looked so happy together. In fact, they looked like they belonged together.

  At school the next day, Quinn made sure to get to her art class as early as possible. She needed to ask Mr. Spaulding for a favor—a big favor—and she wanted to make sure she got off on the right foot.

  The art studio was all set up to begin a new unit: sculpture. There was a slab of damp clay at each workstation, along with an assortment of cool-looking tools, including hooks, loops, and dowels. They seemed really interesting, and Quinn was so eager to try sculpting that she almost reconsidered her special request.

  Almost.

  The students started filing into the room, each one choosing a different workstation. One of Mr. Spaulding’s rules was that everyone had to switch seats at the start of a unit. “Artists need to see the world from all different angles,” he had said. “You don’t want to get stuck in the same old seat, staring at the same old things.”

  Eliza Evans, one of the most popular girls at Marion Middle School, dropped her backpack at the workstation next to Quinn’s.

  “Hey,” Quinn said with a little wave.

  “Hey,” Eliza replied. She glanced curiously at the box on Quinn’s workstation. “What’s that? An early Christmas present?”

  “Not exactly,” Quinn said, giggling. “It’s actually—”

  Just then, Mr. Spaulding entered the room. Quinn grabbed the box and got up so fast that her chair screeched across the floor. She knew she had to catch Mr. Spaulding quickly, before he started class, if she wanted to make her special request.

  “Mr. Spaulding?” Quinn asked as she hurried up to the teacher. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Sure,” he replied as he reached for his art apron. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes,” Quinn replied. “I just—I was hoping I could ask you a favor.”

  Mr. Spaulding raised an eyebrow as he nodded at her. “Go ahead.”

  “Would it… would it be okay if I work on my own project during the sculpture unit?” Quinn asked, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I could make up the sculpture work during Christmas break so that I don’t miss out.”

  Mr. Spaulding frowned. “I have a pretty strict policy about this sort of thing, Quinn,” he began. “If one student wants to get out of a unit, the next thing you know, everyone wants to skip out on the assignment.”

  Quinn’s heart fell. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, she thought. I can’t imagine any other teacher letting me off the hook.

  “But I have been known to make exceptions in exceptional cases,” Mr. Spaulding continued. “Why do you need to work on an original project during class time, Quinn?”

  Quinn opened the red box to show him the ornaments. “Over Thanksgiving, I painted a bunch of ornaments to benefit the Marion Animal Shelter,” she explained. “And it turns out they were a really big hit! I got forty-seven custom orders at the gala last Saturday!”

  “Wow!” Mr. Spaulding replied. “Impressive—and unsurprising. These look great, Quinn. You should be very proud.”

  “Thank you,” Quinn said, beaming from the praise. “The only problem is—that’s a lot of ornaments. And my dad says I have to finish my homework before I can paint them at home.”

  “Very sensible,” Mr. Spaulding said, nodding.

  “And I guess I just feel a lot of pressure to get all the ornaments finished before Christmas,” Quinn continued. “Especially since I’m going to donate half of the profits to the animal shelter.”

  Mr. Spaulding tapped his chin thoughtfully. As Quinn waited for him to respond, she started to feel a teeny, tiny, itty-bitty flicker of hope.

  “You make a compelling case,” he finally said. “This certainly is a time-sensitive art project, and for a very good cause. A cause that’s close to my own heart, I should add. I adopted my cat, Penny, from the Marion Animal Shelter nine years ago.”

  “You did?” Quinn exclaimed.

  “Can’t imagine life without Penny,” Mr. Spaulding said, chuckling to himself. “Yes, Quinn, you have permission to paint ornaments during class time, with the expectation that you will complete the sculpture unit on your own time during the holiday break.”

  “Thank you!” Quinn exclaimed happily. “I promise I’ll work extra hard on my sculpture project! I’ll—I’ll even do extra-credit assignments!”

  Quinn scurried back to her seat as Mr. Spaulding began to teach the class about sculpture. His introductions to a new topic always included a PowerPoint slide show, which gave Quinn time to gather all the supplies she would need to paint ornaments instead of sculpt clay. She could tell that the other students were watching curiously as she put away the clay tools and got out her paintbrushes. Even Eliza at the next workstation was intrigued.

  At the end of Mr. Spaulding’s presentation, the students started working with the damp, heavy clay—except for Quinn.

  “No clay?” Eliza asked in a low voice. “How come?”

  In a hushed whisper, Quinn told her all about the ornament-painting project.

  “That’s incredible!” Eliza said when Quinn finished. She looked genuinely impressed.

  “Thanks,” Quinn replied. “I really love being a volunteer at the shelter, and I wish I could help all the animals there find homes. So I’m glad that the ornaments can help pay their expenses. It gets really expensive to take care of so many animals. You wouldn’t believe how much food Mrs. Alvarez has to order every month. And the vet gives her a pretty big discount but, you know, medicines and surgeries and checkups can get really expensive.”

  “I didn’t know kids were allowed to volunteer at the animal shelter,” Eliza said.

  “You have to take a special class and get permission from your parents,” Quinn explained. “It’s one of my favorite things to do. I’ve loved animals ever since I was little.… I used to have this big plan to have twenty pet cats!”

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bsp; “Twenty pet cats!” Eliza said, cracking up.

  Quinn smiled sheepishly. “I know—crazy,” she replied. “I think that’s when my dad started introducing me to art. Twenty paint sets is a lot easier to handle.”

  “Oh, I’m not laughing at you,” Eliza said quickly. “I’m laughing because I had a plan like that when I was little, too. I wanted to have an orange cat, a gray cat, a tabby cat, a tuxedo cat.…”

  Quinn started to laugh. “A cat collection!” she said.

  “Collect them all!” Eliza added, laughing even harder.

  “Girls…” Mr. Spaulding said in a warning voice.

  Quinn and Eliza immediately stopped laughing and got back to work. Mr. Spaulding liked it when students enjoyed art class… but he never hesitated to let them know when they were having a little too much fun.

  “So what kinds of things do you do at the shelter?” Eliza asked. “Is it, like, cleaning cages and scooping litter boxes?”

  “Sometimes,” Quinn admitted. “But most of the time, I get to play with the animals so that they learn how to trust people. Sometimes I answer the phones or file paperwork. It depends on what Mrs. Alvarez needs on any particular day.”

  “My parents and I have been talking about getting a cat,” Eliza said thoughtfully. “I mean, they’ve been talking about a cat; I’ve been begging for a cat.”

  Quinn stifled her laugh. “I know what that’s like,” she said. “I begged my dad to let us adopt our cat, Piper, for, like, six months.”

  “They’re not sure I’m responsible enough yet,” Eliza said, rolling her eyes. “But how can I show them how responsible I am if they won’t give me a chance to prove it?”

  “I know, right?” Quinn exclaimed. Then she had an idea. “You know, if you adopt a pet from the shelter and it doesn’t work out, you can return it for up to a year.”

  “Really?” Eliza looked surprised. “People do that?”

  “Sometimes,” Quinn said. “I mean, obviously it’s not ideal, and that’s not what anybody ever wants, but sometimes it just isn’t a good match.”

  “That’s so sad.”

  “It is. But what I mean is—you could tell your parents that if you don’t take care of the cat, they can bring it back to the shelter,” Quinn said.