Jingle Bell Bark Read Online Free PDF Page A

they’re cute. All puppies are cute. Pet shops thrive on just that very thing. The problem is that not all puppies are healthy or well raised. What else do we know about this woman?”
    â€œShe works in the theater department at the Long Ridge Arts Center. She’s the director of the Christmas pageant. She’s been in charge of it for years.”
    â€œAh yes.” Aunt Peg smiled happily. “I understand my nephew is to have a key role as a Wise Man. He had me running his lines with him over the phone yesterday.”
    â€œThat couldn’t have taken very long,” I said. “He only has two.”
    â€œDon’t complain, it could be worse. I’m told this year’s flock of sheep may well spill off the stage.”
    â€œNot if Ms. Morehouse has anything to say about it.” Faith, who had been snoozing beside the couch, got up and put her head in my lap. I ran my hands around the sides of her head and scratched beneath her ears. A Poodle “in hair” can only be patted in very specific places. Even though Faith had been out of show coat for more than a year, I still couldn’t bring myself to rub the top of her head. “She keeps those kids under pretty tight control. You should have heard her reading them the rules earlier.”
    â€œFunny,” Peg mused.
    â€œWhat is?”
    â€œThat her standards should be so high when it comes to her work and so low when applied to producing puppies. I think this Rebecca Morehouse may be a bit of a conundrum.”
    And Lord knew, we needed more of those.
    â€œWhen is Davey’s next play practice?”
    â€œWednesday after school. I thought I’d introduce myself to Ms. Morehouse afterward. Maybe ask her a bit about her puppies. If Alice is determined to buy one, the least I can do is try and get some more information for her.”
    â€œYou don’t suppose the poor things will be sitting outside in a box again?” Aunt Peg sounded justifiably outraged.
    â€œI doubt it. Alice said she had to turn in her deposit today because most of the litter was already spoken for.”
    â€œPeople should know better . . .” Aunt Peg muttered darkly.
    Isn’t that the truth?

    â€œI need a new note for play practice,” Davey said the next day after school.
    He was sitting at the kitchen table doing his homework while I stood nearby, working my way through Eve’s long mane coat with a pin brush and a Greyhound comb. Usually I do most of the major grooming in the basement, but it was December, the basement was cold, and Eve and I had both decided we would be more comfortable in the kitchen. Fortunately, her grooming table is portable.
    â€œWhy?” I looked up. Notes had been known to go astray, but Davey couldn’t have lost that one. I had handed it to Henry myself.
    â€œThere’s a substitute bus driver and she doesn’t know where anyone is supposed to go.”
    My hands kept working as I considered that. “Maybe Henry will be back tomorrow.”
    â€œI don’t think so. She said we all needed to bring new permission slips from our parents so she could get everyone’s routes sorted out.”
    Which is why, at eight-fifteen Wednesday morning, I was once again standing outside on the icy sidewalk, waiting for Davey’s bus to appear. If nothing else, motherhood teaches you the virtue of patience—whether you want to learn it or not.
    The bus was a couple of minutes late. Davey used the extra time to make snowballs from the dusting that had covered the grass overnight and throw them at the front door. His aim was pretty good but, predictably, by the time the bus arrived he’d gotten as much snow on himself as he had on the house.
    Probably hoping I wouldn’t notice that he was clutching one last snowball, Davey dashed past me and scooted up the steps. Even though it was clear I’d been waiting, the door immediately began to whoosh shut behind him. I