Hotel for Dogs by Lois Duncan ch 10-2
He glanced up as the girls approached him.
“Hello, girls,” he said. “Do either of you happen to know who this Andi Walker is?” If Tiffany had not been with her, Andi might have been tempted to say no. As it was, that wasn't an option. “I am, sir,” she said in a small voice.
“Then you're the one who put this on the board this morning?” Mr. Strode was frowning. His brows drew together across the top of his nose in a straight gray line. “This board is only for notices pertaining to school activities — club meetings, sports events, and things like that.” “I'm sorry,” Andi said. “I didn't know. I mean, I didn't really think —” “No notices of any kind should be posted on this board without my permission,” the principal said. “I'm sorry, sir,” Andi said again. She glanced at Tiffany, who was twisting her hands together nervously. It was obvious that she was not going to say anything.
“Please, sir,” Andi said quickly, before she could lose her nerve, “could we have permission to post another notice? I don't need this first one up any longer because all our puppies have been spoken for, but my friend here has five of them and if we don't find homes for them right away, her father is going to drown them.” “That's a sad situation.” Mr. Strode's expression softened. For a moment Andi thought he was going to say yes.
Then slowly he shook his head.
“Even in this case,” he said regretfully, “I can't let you use the school bulletin board for a personal notice. If I let you do that, in fairness I'd have to let everybody else do the same. Everyone has something he or she would like to advertise. Pretty soon we'd need ten boards to hold all the ads for dogs and cats and gerbils and goldfish.” His statement was reasonable. There was no way to argue with it. Even if there had been, fifth graders couldn't get anywhere arguing with a school principal. Still, to Andi, nothing was reasonable if it meant the lives of five puppies.
She worried about them all afternoon. As she turned the pages of her history book, she saw, instead of pictures of United States presidents, five sad little Airedale-bulldog faces.
When she glanced across at Tiffany, bent over her own book, she felt like snatching something up and throwing it at her. How could she just sit there like that and do absolutely nothing?
If they were my puppies, I'd think of some way to save them, Andi told herself bitterly. If I couldn't find homes for them, I'd hide them and raise them secretly. I'd train them to do tricks, and when they were grown I'd sell them to a circus. The more she thought about it, the better the idea seemed to her. Surely the funnier-looking a dog was, the better a circus would like it. The whole idea of a circus was to make people laugh. Training dogs was not too difficult, either. She had trained Bebe to shake hands and roll over and bark when she wanted a treat. It couldn't be much harder to teach more exotic things, such as walking a tightrope and dancing and jumping through hoops. By the time the final bell rang, Andi was bursting with excitement.
“Tiffany!” she cried, rushing to catch up with her. “Wait a minute! I have an idea.” Tiffany turned hopefully, but once Andi had explained the plan to her, she did not seem enthusiastic. “I don't know,” she said. “I've never trained a dog. Besides, I don't know where I'd hide them.” “Don't worry about little things like that.” Andi brushed the problems aside. “I have a place where we can keep them, and I'll help with the training. We'll get a book about teaching animals circus tricks. All you have to do is keep it a secret until they're ready to give a performance.” Debbie, when Andi described her plan to her, did not share her enthusiasm, either. “Tiffany's an awful baby,” she said doubtfully. “It's hard to imagine her keeping a secret if somebody tried to make her tell it.” “I know,” Andi said. “I don't like that part of it, either. Still, we have to save those puppies. I haven't even seen them, and I love them already just the way I do Tom and Dick and Hairy.” “I guess you're right,” Debbie agreed with a sigh. “We'll just have to take the chance.” When they reached Tiffany's house that afternoon and saw the puppies, they had no doubts that what they were doing was right. The pups were big ones, much larger than Friday's, with shaggy Airedale hair and square bulldog faces, but their stubby tails never stopped wagging. They tumbled and rolled and bounced, falling over their feet to be the first to greet their guests.
“What clowns!” Andi picked up the nearest puppy and hugged it while the rest swarmed about her, yipping their jealousy. “We'll give them the big, green bedroom upstairs next to MacTavish.” “When your father comes home from work tonight, you can tell him you gave the puppies to some classmates,” Debbie said firmly to Tiffany. “But don't you dare say who those classmates are or what they're going to do with them.” Getting the puppies to the hotel was a nightmare. There were so many, and they were so wiggly and squirmy. There was an alley behind Tiffany's house that ran the length of the block, but beyond that there was only the sidewalk. Andi and Debbie each carried two puppies, and Tiffany one. Everybody they passed turned to stare at them.
“Where are you going?” one lady asked. “To a dog show?” A mother with a baby came by, and the baby squealed, “Tigger! Tigger!” and nearly fell out of his stroller.
“Those aren't tigers, honey,” his mother explained to him. “They're doggies. And such a lot of them!” But the baby kept shrieking, “Tigger! Tigger!” all the way down the street until his mother took him around a corner.
Two little boys passed on bicycles, waving and shouting. The puppies yipped back at them and squirmed with delight. They would have loved to have been able to get down and chase the bikes.
“We're almost there,” Debbie panted, as they came to the final block. “Just a little farther and — oh, no!” “What is it?” Andi asked, and turned her head to see what Debbie was looking at. Now it was her turn to say “Oh, no!” Coming toward them along the sidewalk was Jerry Gordon.
