As soon as dinner was over, Lizzie took Teddy and Buddy out back for a pee. Then she scooped up the tiny orange pup and headed upstairs. After a quick phone call to Maria to tell her about the newest foster pup, Lizzie brought Teddy into her room. “We’re going to figure this out,” she told Teddy as she put him down on her bed, “no matter how long it takes.”

She began to pull books off her shelf, reading the titles out loud. “Puppies for Idiots,” she said. “Training Your Dog the Positive Way. A Hundred and One Dog Tricks.” She stacked the books on the foot of her bed. Then she pulled out a few more for good measure. “All About Dogs. Help! My Puppy Is Driving Me Crazy.” She laughed at the last one. “That’s a good one for you, Teddy. You’re not driving me crazy, but I noticed that Dad’s eyes were practically spinning around in his head during your latest bark-a-thon.”

She settled herself comfortably on her bed with Teddy on her lap. He was so tiny and weighed so little — even less than some cats Lizzie had held. Maybe even less than Samson, the new class guinea pig at school — who, admittedly, was pretty big for a guinea pig. “Are you sure you’re really a dog?” she asked him, using one finger to scratch him between the ears. All dogs liked that. Sure enough, Teddy liked it, too. His eyes blinked closed and he sighed happily, then licked Lizzie’s hand. “Well, I guess you are.” Lizzie smiled down at him and shrugged. Teddy sighed again and settled in for a nap.

Lizzie opened one of the books in her pile, All About Dogs. It was a book about dog breeds, with pictures and lots of information — lots more than fit on her “Dog Breeds of the World” poster. She checked the index in the back for “Pomeranian,” then flipped to page 273: “‘A member of the Toy group, this spunky breed makes a wonderful companion or assistance dog,’” she read out loud, stroking Teddy’s soft fur. “‘Brave and confident, smart and trainable. Loves to please.’”

Lizzie grinned. Dr. Gibson was right: she was not usually crazy about smaller dogs. But these personality-filled Pomeranians were like big dogs in tiny dogs’ bodies. Reading on, she discovered that Pomeranians were actually descended from big dogs like Samoyeds and huskies, dogs that pulled sleds in the frozen north or herded sheep in the high mountains. “No wonder I like you,” she said to Teddy. “Your great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparents were big dogs.”

She read that Pomeranians were playful, enthusiastic, and energetic. Since they were also very sensitive and tuned in to their owners’ wishes, they were often used as therapy dogs. “How about that, Teddy?” she asked. Teddy snorted a tiny little snore and squiggled down in her lap, making himself more comfortable. Lizzie laughed and petted him. All this breed talk must be making him sleepy.

Lizzie put that book aside and started to leaf through the other ones, looking for advice on how to stop a dog from barking. There was a lot of information. “I’ll never remember all this,” she said to herself. She picked the little pup up off her lap and got up to find a notebook, a pen, and some sticky notes. Then she settled in again, with Teddy curled up next to her on a pillow. Asleep, he looked exactly like a stuffed toy.

“Maybe that’s what your first owners really wanted,” Lizzie murmured, touching his soft ears. “A pretend dog. They couldn’t deal with a real-dog who did real dog things like barking.”

Poor Teddy. It wasn’t his fault. It said right in the breed information that Pomeranians were known for barking a lot. His owners should have checked that out before they decided what kind of dog to get.

Lizzie began to read and take notes. She had learned a little about barking problems when they had fostered Cody, but this time she learned a lot more.

She learned that dogs bark for all kinds of reasons: boredom, anxiety about being alone or other worries, excitement (that was Teddy!), fear, and to alert their owners to danger. Or to what they thought was danger, like a delivery man coming to the front door. Some dogs barked at other dogs, or with other dogs, like if another dog in the neighborhood was barking. And some dogs barked just to get attention.

Lizzie read that it was best to ignore a barking dog, wait until he stopped, then reward him with a treat. She thought about that. Instead of ignoring Teddy’s barking, she had scooped him up into her arms. He had quieted down the first few times, but not the last time.

“Oops,” she said. Maybe giving him that kind of attention had not been the best way to stop his barking. But how could she ignore that high-pitched yapping that went on and on and on? With Teddy, she might never get to the giving-him-a-treat part.

She read some more. A couple of books suggested that you should spray a barking dog with water, or tap him on the nose, or get a special collar that would shock him, or spritz him with a bad-smelling spray when he barked — but there was no way Lizzie was doing any of those things. She did not like to punish dogs; she liked to train them with praise and treats instead. She tossed those books onto the floor.

One book suggested that you should “interrupt” the barking with a whistle or a clap, then as soon as the dog was quiet for even a second you should praise him and give him a treat. If you added a word when you gave him the treat, like “quiet” or “hush,” you could start teaching the dog to quiet down when you said that word.

Lizzie remembered how she and Maria had trained Cody, whose main problem had been barking when someone came to the door. They had set up a situation where Maria came to the door and knocked. Cody started to bark, but Lizzie waited until he stopped, just to take a breath, then immediately said, “Quiet! Good boy,” and gave him a treat. After about a million repetitions, Cody got to the point where he could stay quiet for at least a few seconds before he began barking again. Maybe something like that would work with Teddy.

Lizzie closed the last book and put it on the pile. This wasn’t going to be easy, but she was determined to do her best. One thing that all the books agreed on was that it was important to make sure that a barking dog got lots and lots of exercise, since a tired dog was less likely to bark. “That’s simple,” Lizzie said, looking down at the sleeping puppy on her pillow. “Starting tomorrow, Mr. Teddy Bear, you will be the official mascot of Triple A Dynamic Dog Walkers.”