“This poor dog,” Georgia said. “It’s like giving a pet to a sloth. Or a mole. Or a—”

I didn’t even hear the rest. I was already down on the ground saying hi to my new dog (!!!!) and getting licked all over my crazy grinning face with a thousand sloppy kisses all at once.

(And NO, that’s not the “first kiss” I told you about in chapter 1. Give me a break!)

“We got him at the shelter,” Mom told me. “His last family couldn’t keep him, but he’s already house-trained, and they said he knows a few commands too. Why don’t you try some out?”

“Sit, boy!” I said, but the dog just looked at me.

“Lie down!” I tried, and he licked my shoe instead.

“Shake?” I asked doubtfully.

That’s when he sat down.

“I guess we’re not going to call him Einstein,” Georgia said.

But I didn’t care. So what if he wasn’t the world’s smartest dog? I’m not exactly the world’s smartest kid.

Still, I did have one huge decision to make. What the heck was I going to name this little guy?