Chewy and Chica Read Online Free

puddle, she reviewed the rules for house-training in her mind. The first and most important rule: never yell at a dog or a puppy unless you caught her in the act. A puppy didn’t understand what she had done wrong, even if you showed her the puddle or (Lizzie shuddered at the thought) rubbed her nose in it.
    The second rule: when the puppy did the
right
thing, when she did her business outside, make a big deal out of it. Give her lots and lots of praiseand petting. Eventually, once the puppy got the idea, you could start to put a word to the action. As the puppy was peeing, you could say, “Hurry up!” or “Do your business!” After a while, the puppy would learn to go on command.
    It all seemed pretty straightforward, but Lizzie knew that house-training wasn’t always easy. For one thing, before she could praise her puppy for going in the right place — outside — she would have to
see
Chica do it again. Lizzie had begun to think that might take a while.
    “Not again.” Mom came into the dining room just as Lizzie wiped up the last of the mess.
    “It’s not her fault,” Lizzie said quickly. She did not want Mom to have any second thoughts about fostering these puppies. Even if training Chica turned out to be a bigger challenge than Lizzie had bargained for, she was determined to succeed at it. Besides, she already loved the tiny puppy. How could you not love thatimpish big-eyed face? “She’s from a puppy mill, remember? She probably spent her first few months in a cage. She didn’t have a chance to learn manners.”
    “Chewy did
his
business outside,” Charles reported happily. He had just walked into the room, cradling the brown-and-white puppy in his arms. “Didn’t you, you good boy?” He looked down at Chewy and made a kissy noise.
    Lizzie knew that Charles was trying to get to her, so she smiled. “Good for him,” she said. “Now all you have to work on is that chewing habit.” She pointed to Chewy, who was busy chomping on Charles’s shirt cuff.
    Charles cleared his throat. “No problem,” he said. “He’s a smartie. He’ll learn.”
    “All I ask is that you both keep a very close eye on your puppies,” said Mom. “Let’s keep the messes and destruction to a minimum.” She looked down at the floor. “I suppose we shouldroll up Aunt Nell’s rug for the time being and put it away.”
    “Totally unnecessary,” Lizzie told her. “I’m on the case. I promise to watch Chica every minute.”
    Dad had set up a puppy crate in the kitchen, and Charles and Lizzie settled their puppies in before dinner. Chewy and Chica looked happy and cozy, cuddled together in a pile on the red flannel sheet the Petersons used for all their foster puppies.
    “At least Chica won’t pee in there,” Lizzie said. That was one of the great things about using a puppy crate for training: dogs did not like to pee where they slept, so they would hold it while they were in the crate. (Of course, Lizzie knew it was not fair to leave a puppy in a crate for more than a couple of hours at a time, unless it was at night, when the puppy was sleeping.) After dinner, she would take Chica right outside, let her do her business, and praise her.
    Dinner was lasagna left over from the night before, with salad and bread. Buddy sat right next to the Bean’s chair, watching carefully for any scraps that might fall. Charles rushed through his dinner, in a hurry to get back to his puppy. Lizzie was on her second helping when she noticed that Mom had barely touched her first. Mom had not been talking much, either.
    Now Mom sighed. “I just can’t stop thinking about that puppy mill,” she said. “What a terrible place for dogs.”
    “Puppy mill?” Dad asked. “I’ve heard about puppy mills. Is there one around here?”
    Lizzie, Charles, and Mom took turns explaining where Chewy and Chica had come from.
    “So this Mr. Beauregard character bought the puppies out of a truck,” Dad said, “and Ms. Dobbins thinks the truck