We stepped back inside our living room, grabbed Mrs Fink and stampeded like crazed elephants over to her place. When she opened the door, I raced inside and there he was, the cutest dog in the whole world! He was fast asleep on her shaggy gold rug, snoring like a bear. For a little dog, he has a big snore.

Man, did he look great!

“My cherry strudel,” Mrs Fink said. “I left a whole plate of it here on the coffee table. Where’d it go?”

I went over to Cheerio and scratched him gently behind the ears. He yawned and opened his eyes. When he saw me, he wagged his tail so fast, I thought he was going to take off like a helicopter.

And when he smiled, there were cherry strudel crumbs stuffed in all his teeth – bottom and top.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Fink,” I said. “He has a terrible sweet tooth.”

“That’s OK, darling,” she said. “There are still poppy-seed Danish pastries.”

I carried Cheerio back to our flat, and everyone was completely over-the-moon happy to see him alive and well. My mum picked him up and danced around the room. Frankie and Ashley gave him about a million pets each. Even my dad put out his hand and said, “Shake, Cheerio.” Cheerio, being the nutcase that he is, didn’t put his paw out to shake, but he did spin around in a circle until he fell over in a heap.

“That’s our Cheerio,” I said, and we all laughed.

Ding-dong.

“I bet that’s McKelty,” Frankie said.

I realized that was the first time I had thought about Nick McKelty since Cheerio had disappeared – which just shows you how things you think are important are not so important compared to the things that are really important. You know what I mean? Good, because I’m not sure I do.

Anyway, it wasn’t McKelty.

It was none other than the bacteria twins, Emily and Robert, decked out in their finest flu-germ gear.

“So you didn’t go as a princess after all,” I said to Emily.

“And Robert didn’t go as a knight,” she answered. “You were right, Hank. We’re flu germs through and through.”

Then she and Robert each pulled out a trophy from behind their backs.

“We won first place!” Emily grinned, holding the trophy above her head.

“Long live the pus pockets!” Robert added.

“Everyone loved them,” Papa Pete said. “But what really clinched the trophy was their interpretative dance, showing the influenza virus spreading an infection. It was phenomenal.”

“Oh, that sounds so creative,” my mum said. “Show us, kids.”

No one had to ask them twice. Emily and Robert skipped around the room, waving their hands and pushing their stomachs out and spewing imaginary germs into the air. I’m not sure, but I think they danced (if you want to call it that) to the tune of “I’m a Little Teapot”, which Emily hummed as she skipped.

I wish you could have been there. It was something to see.

I have to confess something. As I watched Emily and Robert, I did think that my sister was … well … pretty weird. I mean, you’d probably think the same thing if your sister was a dancing pus pocket.

But then I realized that maybe she thought I was weird for being a table in an Italian restaurant. What’s weird to one person might be normal for another person. Papa Pete’s words rolled around and around in my head.

Never ever be ashamed of who you are. Because who you are is one terrific kid.

Everyone in the room was smiling at Emily and Robert. My mum was clapping. My dad was tapping his toe. Papa Pete and Mrs Fink were dancing so close, they almost looked like one whole elephant. Frankie was doing a little freestyle break dancing and Ashley was waving Cheerio’s paws around.

There we were, each being exactly who we were.

And you know what? It was really fun.