Lizzie Peterson flopped down on her bed. “Aaaah,” she sighed. She was tired, but happy. Triple A Dynamic Dog Walkers had really taken off lately. She and her best friend, Maria, were business partners. They had started small but now they walked up to twelve dogs a day, every day, after school. This Tuesday afternoon had been a busy one, but Lizzie knew that every dog on their route had gotten plenty of attention and exercise, not to mention pats and love. She felt good about that.

Afterward, Lizzie had come right home and whipped through all her homework. Now there was still a half hour left before dinnertime, and it was Charles’s turn to set the table. Lizzie smiled to herself as she picked up the brand-new iPod she’d bought with her hard-earned dog-walking money. As long as they helped with chores, maybe little brothers were worth all the bother. And soon, she thought with a smile, the Bean (her youngest brother, whose real name was Adam) would be old enough to help, too. Then she’d have even more free time.

Lizzie popped in her earbuds and plugged in the cord. She leaned back onto her comfy pillows and scrolled through her song list to find the one she wanted to hear. Wanted? More like needed. Lately Lizzie was in love with a song called “Angel Mine” by Toni Bleu. There was just something about it, the way the singer’s voice wove the melody around the beat of the drums and the strum of the guitar. The song gave Lizzie tingles every time she heard it. She loved to sing along, even though Charles made fun of the way she sounded when she had her earbuds in. The words were kind of sappy, but Lizzie didn’t care.

Angel Mine, you’re the dear one,

Angel Mine, be with me now.

Angel Mine, I’ll always love you,

Angel Mine, that is my vow.

Lizzie knew that the song was meant to be a guy singing to a girl he loved, but in secret she liked to imagine herself singing it to a dog. Someday, when Lizzie was grown, she knew she would have a dog that was hers alone, her very own dog that she didn’t have to share with anyone. She loved Buddy, her family’s adorable brown-and-white puppy, and she often sang silly songs to him. But Buddy belonged to all the Petersons. He slept in Charles’s room most nights, hung out in their mom’s office while she worked on her newspaper articles during the day, and happily greeted each family member whenever they came home. They all loved Buddy, and Buddy loved them back. Lizzie knew she was lucky to have a puppy in the family. But still, she longed for a dog of her very own.

“Angel Mine,” she sang, as her eyes slid over the “Dog Breeds of the World” poster that hung near her bed. If she could have any dog, which breed would she choose?

Maybe she’d pick a fluffy white Samoyed, or a huge tawny mastiff. She considered the saluki, an elegant Egyptian breed, or a ropy-haired Bergamasco, from Italy. It was hard to choose. She got up and went over to look at her collection of glass dog figurines, picking each one up for the thousandth time. She liked to arrange them in different groupings, according to whether the dogs would get along and be friends. She knew the characteristics of every breed: labs were friendly and athletic, bulldogs were clownish and stubborn, poodles were energetic and smart. And every individual dog within a breed had a personality, too. She believed her glass poodle loved to go for rides in the car, and the bulldog was a snuggle bug. The golden retriever had a favorite toy it carried around, and the Great Pyrenees was a very picky eater. Every dog was different.

That was one reason Lizzie loved fostering puppies. For some time now, her family had been taking in puppies who needed homes, caring for each one until they could find it the perfect owner. Lizzie and her family had gotten to know all kinds of puppies: big puppies, small puppies, fluffy puppies, and smart puppies. They’d cared for lazy puppies and brave puppies, spoiled puppies and wild ones. Lizzie had loved every single one of them. It was never easy to give them up when the time came, but it was always a great feeling to see a puppy find a happy forever home.

Lizzie sighed and flopped back down on her bed. Even though she didn’t have a dog of her very own yet, she was so lucky. Her life was full of dogs. She had Buddy. She had her foster pups. She had the dogs she and Maria walked every day. Then there were the dogs at her aunt Amanda’s doggy day care, where Lizzie helped out sometimes, and the dogs at Caring Paws Animal Shelter, where Lizzie volunteered on Saturdays. All dogs, all the time. Could life get any better?

Lizzie settled into her pillows and pushed the “play” button again to listen to her favorite song for the fifth time in a row. “Angel Mine,” she sang along drowsily, “you’re the dear one.”

Suddenly, she popped up, eyes wide open. Someone was knocking on her door. “Lizzie?” Mom called, as she pushed open the door. “Are you sleeping?”

Lizzie rubbed her eyes. Had she been sleeping? Maybe she had dozed off for a moment. “I’m awake,” she said.

Mom came over to touch her forehead. “You’re not sick, are you?” she asked.

Lizzie yawned and shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Mom frowned. “You’ve been working hard lately with all these dogs,” she said. “Maybe you and Maria need to think carefully about taking on so many clients. And maybe you could think about something other than dogs once in a while. You need some balance in your life. I don’t want you to get sick, and I don’t want your schoolwork to suffer….”

“I already did my homework.” Lizzie didn’t need to hear the rest: she’d listened to this lecture before, many times. She pointed to her desk, with her folders all neatly lined up. She knew Mom would never let her keep her business going if her grades started to slip.

Mom nodded. “Okay,” she said. “I guess I’m just surprised to find you asleep in the evening. You didn’t even hear the phone ring, did you?”

“The phone?” Lizzie asked.

“Dr. Gibson just called,” said Mom. “She needs our help with a puppy.”