Teacher's Pet Read Online Free PDF

Scout?
    Scout shakes his coat once and looks up at me.
    â€œSure!”
    Scout grins and wags his tail.
    â€œGood. That’s settled,” Mr. Carlson says as he bends to pick up Scout’s leash. “You’re sure it won’t hurt his foot to guide me?”
    â€œScout’s honor,” Gran says, with a chuckle.
    Mr. Carlson grins. “That’s a good one, Dr. Mac.”
    Scout whines just a tiny bit and scootches closer to Mr. Carlson. He looks up at his companion, waiting. Why doesn’t Mr. Carlson pet Scout? That little whine was Scout’s way of asking for attention. Maybe my teacher’s not much of a dog person.
    â€œWhy don’t you give him a hug,” Gran suggests. “I think Scout could use some reassurance.”
    Mr. Carlson pats Scout’s head. “That’s the kind of thing I have trouble remembering,” he admits. “I still feel awkward around him. Between teaching again and getting used to Scout, my brain is ready to explode. I feel like a kid—a kid with too much homework and a pop quiz every day.”
    I know exactly what that feels like.

Chapter Six
    T his is torture.
    I am locked in a speeding van with my grandmother and my biology teacher, who spend the two-hour drive to the guide-dog school yakking about mice and frogs and microscopes. I wish someone would develop one of those sci-fi transporters. We’d be with the dogs in no time!
    Scout sleeps by Mr. Carlson’s feet. I thought maybe he could sit next to me, but Gran said no. I think she wants Scout to be as close to Mr. Carlson as possible, to help them bond. I don’t know why Mr. Carlson didn’t click with Scout right away. Maybe it’s because he never had a dog before. I just hope it doesn’t hurt Scout’s feelings. Even working dogs need a little TLC—tender loving care.
    The guide-dog school is on the edge of a busy town called Franklin. The school reminds me of a college campus, with low brick buildings and walking paths that wind around beautiful gardens. As we park in the visitors’ lot, we see a small group of blind people with their dogs and instructors walking down the sidewalk toward town.
    I sit up straighter. The guide dogs are gorgeous: they’re golden retrievers, black Labs, and German shepherds. They walk quickly with their heads up, tongues lolling out of their mouths, and tails wagging eagerly. An entire school devoted to people and dogs—sign me up!
    Before Mr. Carlson takes Gran to the veterinary center, he introduces me to John Liu. John was his instructor. He trained Scout and taught Mr. Carlson how to work with the dog.
    John (he says I have to call him that) has short black hair and is wearing jeans, a dark green polo shirt, hiking boots, and a faded Mets baseball cap. He looks more like a mountain climber than a teacher.
    â€œPleased to meet you,” I say as I shake his hand. Gran is big on hand shaking.
    â€œPleasure to meet you, too,” he says.
    â€œWe thought you might be able to show Maggie around,” Mr. Carlson says.
    â€œI’d love to,” John answers.
    We agree to meet at the van later. Gran, Mr. Carlson, and Scout leave to visit the school’s clinic. John turns to me.
    â€œNow, Maggie, I could give you a tour of the grounds, complete with video presentation and an armful of brochures.”
    Oh, no. That sounds like a class trip to the Museum of Boring Things. I want to see dogs!
    He pushes up the brim of his cap. “But I remember what it felt like to be a kid,” he continues. “Follow me.”

    We walk down a grassy hill to a long building that has dog runs jutting out one side. I hear barking. My heart starts to beat faster.
    We step through the door of the building and—wow!—a litter of German shepherd puppies! They look to be about four weeks old, chasing, tumbling, and playing in a giant puppy pen. The mom dog is napping in the corner. She lifts her head