THE DOG FOLLOWED ME UP THE STEPS TO THE porch and stopped. Wagging her tail, she looked up at me, and I looked down at her. Then I opened the door, and she trotted in without any hesitation, just as if she thought this was her home.

Mom must have heard the door, because she came out of her office.

“Hi, honey,” she said automatically, but then, instead of hurrying toward me for a hug, she stood still. I knew then I wouldn’t have to worry about her asking me how I got home. The cute little creature who had accompanied me grabbed all her attention.

“What’s—what do you have there?”

“A dog, Mom.”

“Yes, I can see that. But what’s he doing here?”

“She,” I corrected her.

I gathered the object of her question up in my arms.

“Be careful,” Mom said.

“She won’t bite,” I assured her. The dog didn’t resist at all—in fact, she snuggled close to me. It was the strangest sensation. I couldn’t remember ever picking up a dog before, and I wondered if this action always felt so good, so natural, to everyone.

“She followed me home,” I said, and immediately thought I should have said “us,” so Mom wouldn’t think I’d walked on my own. Fortunately, she didn’t notice, and I was relieved to see that she didn’t look upset at all about the dog. Just curious.

“Let me look at her,” she said. I put the dog down, and she went directly to Mom, who knelt, patted her, and looked her over.

“She’s probably not a stray. She’s very clean, and she looks well cared for. She must belong to someone.”

“There was no one with her,” I said. “I waited and looked around, but no one came after her.”

“Hmm. She must have run off, then. I’m surprised she’s not on a leash.”

I shrugged. “Maybe she was in her owner’s backyard and ran out.”

Mom frowned. “But she’s not even wearing a collar. That’s strange. Why don’t you look on the online community bulletin board? I’ll bet someone’s already reported her missing. And I’ll get her some water.”

I went to my room and logged on to my laptop. As I entered the Lakeside community website, I found myself hoping no one had posted anything about a lost dog yet. And I was in luck—no one had. The only missing pet reported was a cat. Of course, if the dog had scampered out of a backyard, there was a chance that the owner hadn’t yet discovered she was missing. On the other hand, it was already a half hour since I’d found her, and who knew how long she’d been wandering before that? If I had a dog like this, I’d know where she was every minute.

Mom appeared at my doorway. “I think she’s hungry. Honey, could you check and see if it’s okay to give a dog quinoa?”

I did a search—what dogs can eat—and found the answer quickly.

“Yes! If it’s cooked and plain. It looks like we should start with just a little to make sure it agrees with her.”

“Excellent!” Mom said, and disappeared. I hurried after her and caught up as she opened the refrigerator door in the kitchen.

“Mom, let me!”

She stopped and looked at me in surprise.

“I found her, Mom. She’s my responsibility.”

Her brow furrowed, as if she was puzzled. Then she nodded and stepped aside, and I located the bowl of quinoa in the fridge. I found a small, shallow dish, filled it, and set it down on the floor. The dog immediately left the water she was lapping up and attacked the quinoa.

“There were no dogs reported missing on the website,” I announced.

“Well, let’s keep checking. And maybe I’ll take pictures of her. I could make flyers to post.”

“I can take the pictures, Mom. And make the flyers.”

She smiled. “Oh. Okay, honey. Feel free to use my printer.”

“Thanks.”

“You know, Rachel, I’m thinking that she must be from around here somewhere. She’s too clean to have traveled far or for too long. I can post the flyers around the neighborhood tomorrow.”

“Or I could,” I said. “But we can keep her tonight, can’t we? If no one reports her missing on the website, of course.”

“Well… we should first check with the animal shelter too, to make sure no one’s called them.”

That was something I was more than happy to let Mom do. She took a picture of the dog and disappeared into her office with her phone. When she came out a few minutes later, she said, “All right. I contacted them and I sent along a photo. They haven’t gotten any calls, but they’re on alert. And they’re grateful we’re willing to take her in for the moment.”

“We should give her a name,” I said.

“I’m sure she already has one, Rachel.”

“Well, just a temporary name. Something we can call her while she’s here. Like, I don’t know, Sweetie or Sugar.”

“We’ll have to go out and get her some real dog food,” Mom said. “And we can walk her together tonight.”

I looked at her with interest. “You like her!”

She smiled. “I had a dog when I was young. A French poodle.”

“What was her name?”

“Fifi.”

The dog stopped eating for a minute and looked up at her. Then she resumed eating.

“Well, let’s call her that,” I said. “Fifi.”

The dog looked up again and scampered toward me.

“Mom! She knows her name!”

My mother laughed. “I’m not so sure about that. Maybe she’s just finished eating and she wants to play.”

Fifi followed me out the back door and began exploring the yard. She sniffed around the hedge and burrowed a little in the garden. I chased after her.

“Don’t dig up Mami’s bulbs,” I warned her. Honestly, it was almost as if she understood what I was saying! She turned away, spotted a squirrel, and chased it till it ran up the tree. She barked at it, and I was pleased to hear that it was a pretty soft bark. The neighbors wouldn’t be complaining about noise.

Then she snatched up a twig and brought it to me. I smiled. “Yeah, we’ve played this game before, haven’t we?” I threw the twig, and she ran after it and returned it. I continued to toss and she fetched, over and over again.

Mami came home, and she and Mom joined us outside.

“Oh, que lindo cachorrito,” Mami crooned. She was right—this was a very cute little puppy.

“Her name’s Fifi,” I told her.

“Fifi!” Mami repeated, and Fifi ran directly to her.

Mom looked at her watch. “We should go buy her food right now before the store closes,” she said.

We piled into the car—Mami took the driver’s seat and Mom sat next to her, while Fifi and I got in the back. Along the way to Main Street, Fifi pressed her face against the window and wagged her tail nonstop.

I knew where we were headed, though I’d never been inside the shop. After Mami found a parking spot, Mom got out and held my door so I could slide out with Fifi. I cradled her in my arms as we all made our way toward the storefront.

It was warm and bright inside Pet Palace, and the man behind the counter greeted us with a smile. “That’s one fine-looking dog!”

He held out a tiny dog treat, which Fifi accepted happily.

“Can you tell what breed she is?” Mom asked.

He gazed at Fifi thoughtfully. “There’s definitely some terrier in her. Maybe a little spaniel. How old is she?”

“We don’t know,” I said. “I just found her.”

He examined her more closely. “I’d guess around two. Are you taking her to the shelter?”

“No,” Mom said. “We’ll take care of her till we find her owner. Does she look familiar to you at all?”

He shook his head. “No, but I’m not the only shop in town. There’s another, at the Mall.”

“We’ll check with that one too,” Mom said. “For now, we need some supplies.”

She went off with the man, while Mami and Fifi and I browsed. I spotted a selection of leads and collars in different colors.

“We should get one of these,” I said to Mami, showing her the leads. “We’ll need to walk her, and I don’t want her running away from us.”

“Good point,” Mami said, and I chose one in yellow with a matching collar.

“Look,” I said as we rejoined Mom and the man at the counter. “We can have her name engraved on this collar!”

Mom smiled, but she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, honey. We don’t know what her real name is, and you don’t want to get too attached to her.”

Mami agreed. “Someone must be missing her very much.”

Maybe, I thought, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel too sorry for whoever that person was. After all, that person wasn’t missing her enough to post her loss immediately on the community message board.

We checked out and headed home. After dinner, I looked at the community board again, and there was nothing about a missing dog. As darkness fell across the neighborhood, Mami and I walked Fifi around the block.

“Do you like dogs, Mami?” I asked, as Fifi stopped to sniff a tree.

“Oh, yes. In fact, when I was a child, I wanted a dog so much!”

“Your parents wouldn’t let you have one?”

Mami smiled a little sadly. “They couldn’t, because of my father. Once, when they visited friends who had a dog, just for a dinner, he became violently sick and had to go to an emergency room. That’s when they found out he’d developed a severe allergy to dogs.”

“So you’re okay with Fifi staying with us for a while?”

“More than okay, my darling. I’m happy to host her!”

Back home, I put the pillow bed we’d bought for Fifi in my room, and she settled down on it. I did my homework and then got out my diary to record the events of the day. Normally, my most interesting accounts were the visions the sisterhood saw in the spyglass. Now, finally, I had something different and maybe even more exciting to write about.

When I finished recording the tale of finding Fifi, I added something else.

No one asked me how I got home from Ellie’s, and I didn’t tell them I walked alone. Maybe I should feel bad about my lie of omission.

I hesitated, gripping my pen tightly. Then I wrote, But I don’t.

I put the diary away and went out to the living room to say good night to my mothers.

“Did you check the community board again?” Mom asked.

“I did, after dinner.”

“Maybe check again,” Mom suggested.

I didn’t want to, and maybe I wouldn’t have if she hadn’t asked. But she did ask, I said yes, and I can’t tell a real lie. To my relief, there were still no reports of missing dogs. I brushed my teeth, put on my pajamas, and got into bed.

“Good night, Fifi,” I said softly.

Her ears perked up. She hopped off her pillow, jumped onto my bed, and curled up beside me. And it felt so right. Like she belonged there, with me. To me.