“She’s just having fun,” Mom said. “She doesn’t know it’s bad. Like when you were little and you had no idea that throwing peas at your brothers drove me crazy.”
“Well …” I said, “but that’s different. Peas are gross. And mud is gross! Why does she like it so much?”
“It probably feels new and goopy and exciting,” Mom said. “Like when you met Jell-O for the first time.”
I didn’t remember that, but there were pictures of me in our family albums with my face and hands and high chair covered in shiny grape-flavored speckles. All right, fine. So even I played with my food when I was little. But I got over it pretty fast!
I pulled the hood of my raincoat up and ran out into the yard. Buttons didn’t see me coming. She was having far too much fun covering herself in mud. When I scooped her up, she didn’t look anything like herself. She was muddy and dripping from tip to tail. And she had the most enormous grin on her face.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Why are you crazy?”
Buttons draped her paws over my arm and snuggled into my chest. I could feel her heart beating through my fingertips. She was so little. Maybe Mom was right and she really didn’t know she was being bad. But how could I get her to stop?
Pippa and Michelle thought muddy Buttons was the funniest thing they’d ever seen. They stood around the sink and helped me while I gave her yet another bath. I left my raincoat on so my clothes underneath wouldn’t get wet. Buttons didn’t even try to jump out. She was too interested in exploring my friends’ hands to see if they were hiding any more treats.
Finally she was clean again. We wrapped her in a towel and took her into the living room, where she promptly fell asleep on the couch. Soon after that, Michelle’s dad picked her up, and then Pippa’s mom called to ask if Pippa could stay for dinner, since she was stuck at the office. So Pippa and I did our homework in the living room, next to sleeping Buttons.
“You’re so lucky,” Pippa said out of the blue while I was working on a Spanish work sheet. I like those because they’re easy for me — my grandparents on Mom’s side only speak Spanish, so I’ve spoken it since I was little.
“Lucky? Why?” I said. “I’m totally not. Have you met my brothers? It’s like torture living in this house.”
“It seems like fun,” Pippa said wistfully. “It’s always really quiet in my house.” It sure wasn’t quiet here. I’d been wondering whether Pippa could really concentrate on her homework with all the noise going on. I mean, I’m used to it but, for instance, right at that moment, Miguel was blasting his music upstairs, Oliver was in the downstairs office talking to Miru on the telephone, Carlos was watching TV in the den, and Mom was clattering around in the kitchen. I was pretty sure deaf people three blocks away could hear my house.
“And now you have a dog, too,” Pippa added. She patted Buttons, who went snnzzzrr snnzzrrt in her sleep and rolled closer to Pippa’s hand. “I wish we could have a dog.”
“What kind would you want?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Pippa said. “One that gets along with Mr. Pudge. Maybe a poodle like yours.”
“Hmph,” I grumbled. “You should get a real poodle instead. Want to see pictures of what they’re supposed to look like — when they’re not all muddy and wet?”
“OK.” Pippa followed me into the den and I opened my file of photos on the family computer. Carlos turned up the volume on the TV and ignored us. He was watching something on the History Channel. Seriously! As if he could get any more boring.
I clicked on a photo of a toy poodle at a dog show. She looked so perfect and neat and precise. Nothing like the snoozing ball of fluff in the other room.
“Isn’t she precious?” I said to Pippa.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought Buttons would look like,” Pippa said. “I mean, I thought all poodles looked like that.”
“Me too!” I said.
Carlos glanced at us, flipped off the TV, and left the room. Fine with me. I always feel like I’m winning when I can get my brothers to go away. Especially since they just ignore me when they’re in the same room as me anyway.
“Let’s pick out a dog for you,” I said, clicking on the Internet. “There are so many cute little ones.”
I showed her Malteses and Yorkies and shih tzus and Pomeranians and papillons and all these cute mixes of little dogs that were really sweet, too. Pippa giggled and went “Awwww!” at every photo. She liked the papillons best because of their funny big butterfly ears and tiny faces, so we decided she should get one of those.
After about half an hour I left her at the computer and went to check on Buttons.
And guess what I found?
Carlos was playing with her!
AHA!” I cried. “You like the dog! You do! You loooooove her!”
“I do not!” he said, jumping to his feet. His face was turning red. “I just wanted to see what other tricks she could learn.”
Buttons was sitting politely on the couch next to him. She looked over her shoulder at me with this serious Excuse me, I’m very busy learning here face.
“Is it working?” I asked.
Carlos rubbed his head. “Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled.
“Like what?” I said. “Show me.”
Carlos was acting all “whatever” but I could tell he was actually kind of excited. “Buttons, shake,” he said, holding out his hand.
And Buttons put her paw in his hand!
“Oh my gosh!” I yelped. “She did it!”
“Good shake,” Carlos said, giving Buttons a treat. She stood up and gobbled it out of his hand. “We’re working on ‘stay,’ ” he said to me. “Buttons, sit.” He did the same hand motion as before and she sat down again on the couch cushion. “Buttons, stay.” He put his hand out flat toward her. Then he took a step back. And another step. Buttons sat still, staring at him. I was practically holding my breath. He took another step back. Buttons was quivering with excitement.
“Good stay! Come here!” Carlos said. Buttons flew off the couch and ran over to him. She jumped and leaped around his feet as he dropped treats in her mouth.
“So she is pretty smart, huh?” I said.
“I guess she’s pretty smart,” Carlos admitted. “I only have to show her about six or seven times before she gets it.”
“Show me how to teach her tricks,” I demanded. “I want her to know everything.”
“We should take her to a class when she’s a little older,” Carlos said. “When I thought we were going to get a Border collie, I found these tricks and obedience and agility classes not too far away. Maybe Buttons wouldn’t be too bad at them.”
“She’d be amazing!” I said. “I bet you she’d be top of her class.”
“That’d be kind of cool,” Carlos said. He smiled at Buttons. Yeah, he totally did.
I was proud of my little dog. But it made me a little grumpy, too. Buttons was acting like exactly the dog Carlos had asked for. So why couldn’t she be more like the dog I’d dreamed of?
Just then Mom called us into the kitchen to get our plates for dinner. Buttons came romping along with us, rrrrrrfting excitedly. I was about to tell Mom about her brilliant tricks, but then Buttons accidentally careened into her food dish, knocked all the kibble into her water bowl, spilled all the water on the floor, and somehow managed to get wet kibble crumbs all through her fluffy fur.
So it didn’t seem like the best time to tell everyone how smart she was.
Carlos told Danny a little bit about it at dinner, though. Danny went “ha” and said, “Any dog can learn to sit. Merlin can catch a tennis ball in his mouth in midair.”
“Ooooo, all hail the great and wondrous Merlin,” I said. Pippa giggled.
Carlos gave Buttons a thoughtful look, like he was thinking about how to train her to do that, too. I thought it might be hard, since her head was only about the size of a tennis ball itself.
“Yeah, well, a Rottweiler can tear off your hand with one bite!” Miguel
said with relish.
Pippa looked horrified and so did Mom. “I don’t think that’s true,” Mom said.
“OK, I made it up,” Miguel said. “But they look like they can!”
“You’re deranged,” I said to him.
Oliver didn’t say anything. He was moping again. I guess his phone call with Miru had gone badly.
After Pippa went home, I went back to the computer and looked at the photos of poodles again. Maybe I would feel better once we could give Buttons a proper poodle haircut. Even if she couldn’t wear a dress, she could at least have cute little puffs of fur around her ankles.
Danny and Oliver came into the den to watch a baseball game, and Danny spotted the photo I had open.
“Oh, man,” he said. “What are you plotting now?”
“This is what a poodle should look like,” I said. “See how pretty and delicate she is? This will be Buttons as soon as she’s old enough for a haircut.”
“That dog looks completely ridiculous,” Danny said. Oliver made a face and nodded, which made me mad. I was hoping Oliver would support me, since he seemed to actually like Buttons.
“Buttons is going to look like a little princess!” I said. “Even if I can’t put ribbons on her!”
“What are those?” Danny demanded. He leaned over my shoulder and pointed at the round, fluffy rosettes on the top of the dog’s hips. “Are those BUTT PUFFS?”
“They’re not butt puffs,” I said. “They’re rosettes.”
“That is a puff of fur on either side of the dog’s butt,” Danny said. “Those are BUTT PUFFS. You want our dog to have BUTT PUFFS.”
“I think they’re pretty!” I said.
Oliver slapped his forehead and sat down on the couch, shaking his head.
“Well, I don’t care,” Danny said, turning away. “It’s not my dog anyway.”
That’s right, I thought. She’s my dog. Or she’s supposed to be. Even if she won’t wear pink. Then I had an idea. Mom said no dresses … but maybe there was another way to make Buttons a little more pink and princessy.
After school on Tuesday I went up to my room. Pippa had her after-school art class on Tuesdays, so she wasn’t there with me. I took that class with her last year, but I only wanted to draw pretty dresses with neat pencils and markers, and the teacher made me do all these messy things with clay and paste and glue and watercolors, and I ruined a perfectly nice pink skirt that way, so I told Mom I didn’t want to do it anymore.
I opened my bottom dresser drawer and pulled out a big clear box. Inside, all my nail polish is arranged by color: pale pinks in the top row, bright pinks in the middle, and reds at the bottom. I love painting my nails. I’m the only girl I know who can keep my nail polish from chipping for four whole days straight. Except when bratty Isaac steals my ribbon and I have to chase him around the playground — that usually ruins my nail polish, which is another reason why it makes me so mad.
I picked out two bright pinks and two pale pinks and took them downstairs to the living room. I just had to decide whether to do all of Buttons’ nails the same color, or different for each paw. It was going to look so cute! I was really excited. Then my dog and I would have matching nails and everyone would be able to tell that she was mine.
Oliver was sitting on the couch letting Buttons chase his hand around in circles. She would play-growl and pounce on it, and then he’d sneak it away and hide it under a cushion, and she’d go dig dig dig with her little paws trying to get to it. When I came in, he had just flung a blue cotton blanket over her head. The blanket-covered blob was yipping and leaping about like this was the most thrilling thing that had ever happened to her.
Oliver spotted the nail polish in my hand before I even said anything. “Uh-oh,” he said.
“Don’t you try to stop me,” I said, wagging my finger at him. “Buttons will love it!”
“Buttons will hate it,” Oliver said.
“Hate what?” Carlos said, coming in from the yard. His eyes went straight to the nail polish in my hands. “No! Rosie, no!”
“SHE’S MY DOG!” I yelled. Buttons popped her head out from under the blanket. Her fur was all fluffed up around her face like she’d gone through a dryer. She yipped when she saw me and came to the edge of the couch, leaning toward me and wagging her tail.
“See?” I said. “She’s excited.” I sat down on the floor, but then I remembered that Mom always makes me spread out an old towel under my hands when I paint my nails. Which is silly, because I am the only person in this house who can actually manage not to spill something, but I follow the rules so she’ll keep buying me new polish. So I got up and went out to the linen closet to get a towel.
When I came back, my four bottles of nail polish had mysteriously vanished.
“Oliver!” I said. “Did you take my nail polish?”
“What nail polish?” he said innocently. Buttons rolled over and Oliver rubbed her tummy. I couldn’t tell from his face whether he was really the thief or not.
“Carlos, give it back,” I said, putting my hands on my hips.
Carlos lifted his hands in the air. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said.
I stamped my foot. “Where is it? Give it back!”
“I’m pretty sure this is a nail-polish-free zone,” Oliver said. Carlos nodded.
“You’re not going to stop me,” I said, pointing at them. I turned and ran upstairs. I had more nail polish. I was going to do this. Most importantly, I was going to do this before Mom got home from the boutique. I wasn’t sure if she’d stop me, but I was sure that if she saw how cute it looked before she could stop me, she’d let me do it again.
I pulled out a few more bottles of pink nail polish and ran downstairs. Now my towel was gone. Buttons sat on the couch blinking at me like, What’s all the running around for?
“Stop it!” I shouted at Carlos and Oliver, stamping my foot. This time I took the nail polish with me when I went to the linen closet. When I got back to the living room, Miguel and Danny were there, too. It’s like some kind of smoke signal goes up when one brother is torturing me; somehow all the others suddenly turn up to join in.
“Tell me you’re not going to do this,” Danny said, frowning at the nail polish.
“A Rottweiler would bite your hand off if you tried it,” Miguel offered, making things up again.
“Well, it’s a good thing we have Buttons instead of a Rottweiler!” I snapped. I spread the towel on the floor in front of the couch and sat down on it. I set one of the nail polish bottles right next to me. My brothers all hovered around staring.
“Buttons, come here,” I said, patting the towel.
“Don’t do it, Buttons!” Danny cried dramatically. But Buttons jumped down onto the towel and came over to sniff my hand. I patted her head.
“Good girl,” I said. “Now sit.”
Buttons tried to chew on my thumb. “No,” I said, pulling my hand away. I made the hand gesture I’d seen Carlos do. “Sit.” Buttons tilted her head at my hand, and then sat.
“Man. I feel like my powers are being used for evil,” said Carlos.
“Buttons, shake,” I said, holding out my hand. Buttons lowered her head and licked my palm. Carlos snickered, so I just picked up Buttons’ paw. She sat there and let me hold it. Her tongue was hanging out and she smiled up at me. See, I knew she could be a good dog.
“Good girl,” I said. I reached for the nail polish with my free hand.
It was gone!
I felt around the towel looking for it, but it had vanished just like the others. I hadn’t even noticed my brothers moving. One of them must have darted forward to grab it while I was looking at Buttons.
“You guys are so mean!” I said.
“You’re the one that’s mean!” Carlos said. “Doing something like this to poor Buttons.”
“You don’t understand because you’re a boy,” I said, trying to sound all superior the way he usually does. “Buttons is a girl, like me, so she’ll like ha
ving pretty pink nails.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Oliver said. “I mean, she’s a dog. Why would any dog want their nails painted? It’s going to look silly, Rosie.”
“No, it won’t,” I said. I didn’t have to argue with them. I had another bottle of nail polish in my pocket. When I pulled it out they all groaned, but I ignored them. I shook it and then twisted off the cap carefully, scraping the brush against the side of the top so it wouldn’t drip.
Of course, I had to let go of Buttons’ paw to do that. Buttons sat still for a moment, but once the nail polish was open, she tilted her head and stood up. She took a small step forward and sniffed at the bottle.
SNNNNZZZT! She sneezed loudly and with enough force to knock herself over on her butt. I grabbed for her paw, but she bounced up and backed away.
“Buttons, come here,” I said, holding the brush in one hand and reaching for her paw with the other. Buttons took another step back, looking from me to the brush with a wary expression.
“Seriously, Rosie,” Oliver said.
“It’s not like you need to make her more embarrassing,” Miguel said.
“Shut up!” I said furiously. “Buttons, COME HERE!”
Buttons hesitated for another moment, then turned and fled around the back of the couch.
My brothers exploded into cheers.
“WOOO!” Danny shouted. “Buttons does something right!”
“She proves she’s smart again!” Carlos cried, applauding.
“Yeah!” Miguel yelled. “Run, Buttons! Run for your life!”
“Shut up!” I screamed. “You guys are SO MEAN!”
I jumped up and stormed out of the room. I threw the nail polish brush in the sink on the way upstairs. I didn’t feel like going back to save the rest of my nail polish, which I figured my brothers would hide as soon as I left.
I was mad at my brothers, but I was more mad at Buttons. She ran away from me! Why didn’t she want to do anything I wanted to do? How dare she agree with my brothers? The whole point was that I was finally supposed to have someone on my side! Someone else small and girly and pretty, who didn’t need to make a lot of noise and mess to have fun.