Lulu sang a money song as she hurried to Brutus’s house on Monday morning. Fleischman was usually waiting for her outside. Except today there wasn’t any Fleischman. Lulu gave him a minute. And then she gave him two minutes. And then she gave him three minutes—

“Three strikes and you’re out,” Lulu said to no one in particular. After which she announced, “So what if Fleischman isn’t here. I’m going to walk these dogs all by myself. I know I can walk these dogs all by myself.” She took a deep breath and said out loud, sounding a lot more sure than maybe she was, “I’M READY TO WALK THESE DOGS ALL BY MYSELF.”

And I have to admit that, for a little while, Lulu actually looked as if she were ready.

Because:

Brutus followed obediently as Lulu dropped biscuits and made him a dog-biscuit trail.

Pookie listened politely as Lulu coaxingly tooted her flute, after which she (as in Pookie, not Lulu) pooped.

And Cordelia, after Lucy said some gooey blah-blah-blahs to her in German, was persuaded to waddle out of her hiding place.

But as soon as Mister and Missus waved good-bye to their Cordelia and closed the front door, the morning got worse than it ever had been before.

Lulu, standing under a tree, said to the dogs, in one of her bossiest voices, “Okay, let’s move it—Brutus! Cordelia! Pookie!”—except she forgot, and rhymed the POOK part with BOOK. (This, as you may remember, hurts Pookie’s feelings. Which, as you may remember, you don’t want to do.)

Pookie, leaping up high in the air, fastened her pointy teeth onto Lulu’s jean jacket, holding on tight and yelping at the same time, while Cordelia slipped out of her collar and went dashing back onto the porch, where she hid herself deep, deep down in the pile of junk. As all this was going on, big Brutus, who wasn’t as dumb as he looked, circled wildly around and around the tree trunk, wrapping his leash around it just as tightly as Lulu had done on their very first walk together. And Lulu, who had been leaning against the tree as she tried (and kept failing) to shake off Pookie, discovered—too late! too late!—that she had been totally tied, by Brutus’s leash, to the trunk!

Totally, utterly, absolutely, embarrassingly, humiliatingly tied.

She couldn’t move her arms. She couldn’t move her legs. She couldn’t chase after Cordelia or shake off Pookie. And she certainly couldn’t untangle herself from the leash, still attached at the other end to Brutus, who was standing just out of her reach, triumphantly woofing.

(And if you find it hard to believe when I tell you that Brutus tied up Lulu on purpose, remember who’s in charge of this story—me!)

Lulu wriggled and wriggled, but she couldn’t get herself loose. So, after a while, she stopped wriggling and began to think about what she could do to get loose. And after a longer while, she started wriggling some more. Until finally, after feeling that she had been tied forever to the trunk of that tree, Lulu saw—well, you know who she saw—Fleischman.

Yup, there he was, good old Fleischman, strolling slowly down the street, playing “You Are My Sunshine” on his flute.

Just the person Lulu did not want to see.

Just the person Lulu needed to see.

Just in time to take another time-out.

 

I think we ought to discuss what’s going on here.

I don’t feel one bit sorry for Lulu—do you? You remember I said back in Chapter One that, since she met Mr. B, Lulu wasn’t as big a pain as she’d been. And not nearly as rude. But she sure was being extremely rude to Fleischman. Rude! Rude! Rude! And also ungrateful! For Fleischman helped her over and over, and said he was happy to help, and didn’t even want money from her for helping. And all Lulu did was boss him around and threaten that she would throw up on him, plus she wouldn’t be his friend, or even his teammate. Maybe she needs to keep staying tied to that tree until she says, “I’m sorry, Fleischman.”

Wait, I think she just whispered, “I’m sorry, Fleischman.”