Snowball Read Online Free Page B

Mom, when she came in to see the Bean sitting alone in the tub, merrily pouring more water over his head. Snowball dashed by the bathroom door again, leaving a trail of water as Lizzie, Charles, and Sammy chased him.
    It took over an hour to catch both puppies, dry them off, get the Bean dried off, and clean up the bathroom. By the time they were done, everyone was exhausted. But when Dad got home, he said Snowball looked — and smelled — great. Maybe it was worth it.
    But Snowball had other ideas. Now he knew what “bath” meant. The chasing part was fun, butgetting wet was not. Next time they tried to give him a bath, he would run and hide.
    That night, Lizzie read about therapy dogs on the Internet. “Guess what?” she told Charles as they were brushing their teeth before bed. “The local therapy dog group is having a meeting next week. You can bring your dog in for a test. This could be the first step for Snowball to be a therapy dog! Then someday he could visit Mrs. Peabody.”
    Charles thought that sounded great. He knew Mrs. Peabody would love Snowball as much as he did.

Over the next week, Snowball kept getting healthier — and getting into more and more trouble! He chewed up one of Lizzie’s soccer shoes. He tried to dig a hole in the living room rug. He dragged his food bowl all over the kitchen. You couldn’t take your eyes off him for one minute. If you did, he would find something naughty to do!
    But he was learning, too. Lizzie was training him a little bit every day, and he could already sit, lie down, and come when you called him.
    On Thursday night, Dad drove Lizzie, Charles, and Snowball to the recreation center, where the therapy dog group was meeting. They found their way to the gym by following the sound of barkingdogs. Snowball pulled at his leash. He wanted to be a part of whatever was happening.
    â€œWow, cool!” said Lizzie as they entered the gym. There were about six dogs milling around while their owners talked and watched them play. “Look, it’s a Newfoundland,” Lizzie added. She pointed to a huge, shaggy black dog.
    Charles thought he looked as big as Mrs. Peabody’s dog, Bruno.
    â€œAnd a Pomeranian,” Lizzie went on, pointing to a tiny golden dog, “and some kind of husky.”
    â€œHello,” said a woman in a green sweater, coming up to them. “You must be Lizzie Peterson. I’m Ms. Barrett. We spoke on the phone. Oh! And is this your dog?” She smiled at Snowball.
    â€œThat’s Snowball,” Lizzie said. “And this is my brother, Charles, and my dad.”
    When Snowball heard his name, his ears perked up. He ran toward Ms. Barrett and jumped up on her. “Snowball!” Lizzie cried. “No jumping!”
    Ms. Barrett just laughed. “Why, he’s just a puppy!” she said. “Unfortunately, dogs have to be at least a year old before they can become therapy dogs. They need basic manners and some obedience lessons, too.”
    Lizzie blushed. “We’re working on that.”
    â€œOh, I’m sure you’ll do fine with him,” said Ms. Barrett. “Westies learn fast. With just a little more training, he’ll be a wonderful companion — and when he’s older, he’ll make a great therapy dog. Anyway, you’re welcome to stay and watch. We’re just having a little play time before we get started with our testing.” She showed them where they could sit on the bleachers.
    Charles was sad that Snowball could not become a therapy dog. Now the puppy wouldn’t be able to meet Mrs. Peabody. Snowball seemed sad, too. He whimpered as he watched the other dogs play. “Poor buddy,” Charles said, “you feel left out.” He pulled a toy out of his pocket. “Here’s your bone,” he said, showing the rubber chew toy to Snowball.“Want to play with this?” Snowball stopped crying and lay at Charles’s