A Triple Pickle Jinx didn’t turn out to be as fun as Lizzie had imagined it would be. First of all, Charles wouldn’t even answer to his name. He said the whole thing didn’t count because Lizzie wasn’t really one of the Pickle Jinxers. The Bean liked his name, but he was off to a bath and bed right after dinner, so Lizzie didn’t get to use it much.

And calling Mom “Elizabeth-Maude-Peterson-how-could-you!” got old pretty fast. Like, after one time. Especially when Lizzie also had to spend so much time explaining how their family was Oscar’s only hope, and how she would make sure that Buddy got enough attention, even if he did have to be shut up in a room half the time while Oscar was there (the other half they would keep Oscar shut up, which seemed fair), and a bunch of other stuff to get her family to agree to keep Oscar until they could find him a forever home.

“Which better not take too long,” were Mom’s last words on the topic.

The next afternoon, Lizzie had to spend even more time explaining to Charles why he should help her by watching Oscar and playing with him in the backyard. “That way I can take Buddy along while Maria and I walk dogs,” she said.

“I don’t get why you can’t take Oscar, so I can play with Buddy,” Charles said.

“Because.” Lizzie sighed. Wasn’t it obvious? “Because Oscar doesn’t get along with other dogs.”

“It was your idea to foster him,” Charles reminded her. “But I’ll make you a deal. I’ll stay with Oscar if you promise that next time we have a Pickle Jinx I get to call you whatever I want. Or you have to call me … let’s see. How about Most Perfect Brother? Even without a Pickle Jinx. Like — starting now.”

Lizzie nodded wearily. “Fine. Whatever, Most Perfect Brother.” As soon as Charles took Oscar into the backyard, she grabbed Buddy’s leash and hurried out to meet Maria.

Maria did not make things easy, either. “Oh,” she said. “You brought Buddy.” She didn’t say much else until they had picked up their first client, a German shepherd named Tank. “It always complicates things when you bring another dog along,” Maria said finally, as Tank trotted along next to her. He was a strong young dog who walked very nicely as long as he was wearing his head harness.

Lizzie stared at her friend. “I thought you, of all people, would understand,” she said. During recess that day, she’d told Maria all about “the Oscar situation.” “Buddy deserves some extra attention, since we have to keep him and Oscar apart.”

Maria shrugged. “Yeah. I understand,” she said. “I understand that whatever you’re doing is the most important thing, and if it makes more work for me, that’s okay. In your mind, anyway.”

Ouch. Lizzie felt the sting of Maria’s words. She opened her mouth, then shut it again. She really didn’t want to get into a fight with her best friend, especially when they had a business to run together. Anyway, she couldn’t deny that it was true. Maria had taken up the slack — or had been forced to find extra help — for AAA Dynamic Dog Walkers a few times recently, when Lizzie was busy with foster puppies who needed lots of attention.

“There are other things I’d like to be doing, too, you know.” Maria sounded a little less mad now. “I miss being at the stables all the time, for one thing. Sometimes I wonder about this business. I wonder if we’ve bitten off more than we can chew.”

Lizzie pictured herself and Maria as puppies, each biting into one end of a giant T-bone steak. She couldn’t help herself. She burst into giggles. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you’re being serious.”

She told Maria what she’d imagined, and Maria laughed, too. “You’re right, it sounds funny. It’s just something my mom says,” she said.

Lizzie had to admit that Maria was right. It did complicate things when Lizzie had another dog along. Even Buddy, who was well behaved. It made it hard for Lizzie to walk two other dogs, for example. Plus, Buddy wanted to sniff and play with all the other dogs, which made each walk take longer than it should. “Let’s just split up and finish the rest separately,” she said to Maria after they’d walked the first six dogs. “I’ll do Dottie and Scruffy and Ginger, deal?”

“Deal,” said Maria. They linked pinkies and shook.

“And we’ll figure out a way to make our business work better,” Lizzie promised. “Soon. As soon as I find a home for Oscar.” She knew she had to do whatever it took to keep her business partner — and her best friend — happy.

Lizzie headed for Dottie’s house. Dottie was a Dalmatian who was almost totally deaf. She was a sweet girl, and Lizzie had enjoyed learning hand signals as a way of communicating with her. Come to think of it, though, Dottie did not get along with all dogs. She generally liked smaller ones, so Lizzie knew it was okay to bring Buddy along when she walked Dottie. But when she was around big dogs, like Tank and Atlas, Dottie would get all growly, showing her teeth. Dottie acted grouchy sometimes, just like Oscar.

Lizzie watched carefully as Buddy and Dottie sniffed each other. First they both stood very, very still as they touched noses. Then their tails began to wag, almost as if they were saying, “Okay, everything’s fine between us.” Buddy put his backside in the air and splayed his front legs in front of him, in the “want-to-play?” position, and Dottie mimicked his move. They had a brief, non-growly wrestling match, then jumped to their feet and looked expectantly at Lizzie. She laughed. “I guess you’re ready for your walk,” she said. “Let’s go.”

After she’d brought Dottie home, Lizzie fetched Scruffy, the little Morkie (that meant Maltese plus Yorkie) pup. He looked a little like a dirty white mop — a very cute dirty white mop. He and Buddy also made friends right away, and soon they were prancing down the street carrying a big stick together, tails waving proudly.

Lizzie watched, and she thought. Poor Oscar might never get to have doggy friends like this unless he learned how to get along with other dogs. But how was that going to happen if Aunt Amanda kept him separate from all her other clients, and the Petersons kept him separate from Buddy?

Then she had an idea. What about Ginger?