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little note attached to the crate’s door.
Jack is downstairs,
it said in Dad’s writing. Whew.
    By the time she went down to breakfast, Dad was washing up the skillet he had used to make his famous blueberry pancakes. Charles and his friend Sammy (Sammy always showed up for blueberry pancakes) had finished eating and were playing on the floor with Jack and Buddy while the Bean sat at the table, singing a little song to himself as he finger-painted with the syrup thatwas left on his plate. “Good morning, sleepyhead!” Dad gave Lizzie a kiss on the top of her head. “Mom’s already upstairs working. Want me to make you some pancakes?”
    “That’s okay.” Lizzie wasn’t thinking about breakfast. She was thinking about Jack’s new home. “Guess what? I thought of the perfect forever home for Jack!”
    Dad raised his eyebrows. “Really? That’s great!”
    “Who?” asked Charles.
    “Mary Thompson! She’s perfect. She works at home, she has a big yard, and she loves dogs. All the things Eileen said Jack needed,” said Lizzie. “I’m going to call her.”
    “She won’t take him.” Charles went back to playing tug with Jack. “She already has two dogs.”
    Mary Thompson was a writer who had recently moved to Littleton. Lizzie had met her when Mary had adopted Cocoa and Cinnamon, Buddy’s sisters. Now Mary had become a friend, and sheand the Petersons got together regularly so the puppies could have a family reunion.
    Lizzie stuck her tongue out at Charles. What did he know?
    “Well,” Dad said, “I suppose it might be worth a try. But why don’t you give her another half hour or so before you call? People like to sleep late on weekends.”
    Lizzie didn’t mind waiting. She was positive Mary would say yes, no matter what Charles said. She grabbed a piece of toast and headed upstairs. The door to Mom’s study was closed. Lizzie knocked gently. “Mom? Did Kit Smithers write again?”
    Mom looked tired. “Morning, sweetie. I’ll check one more time. But I’m in a real pickle with this article, and I can’t keep interrupting my work to look for your e-mail.” Mom clicked a few keys and smiled. “Looks like there is something from her! Now that you and Kit are such friends, you canwrite to her from your own e-mail account. I’ll forward it to you so you can read it on the other computer.”
    “Thanks, Mom!” Lizzie ran down the hall and sat at the computer.
    Dear Lizzie,
    What a shame that Jack ate your copy of
Mountain Girl.
(If I was a stuck-up writer, I might say he had good taste!) My dog Jasper used to eat things all the time when he was a puppy. He was a black Lab, and they are famous for eating things. Once Jasper ate a box of rubber bands! But he learned, and I bet Jack will, too. Can you send me a picture of Jack? I’m dying to see what he looks like.
    Your friend,
    Kit Smithers
    Lizzie smiled as she read the letter. Then she wrote back quickly.
    Dear Kit Smithers,
    Too bad you live in Texas, so far away. Otherwise you could adopt Jack. See how cute he is? But I think I might have found him a home. Wish me luck!
    Your friend,
    Lizzie Peterson
    She attached three of the cutest pictures she had taken of Jack, sent the e-mail, then went back downstairs to call Mary Thompson.
    “Hi, Mary! It’s Lizzie.” Lizzie raced through her hellos and asked about Mary’s puppies. Then she told Mary all about Jack. Well, maybe not
all
about him. She left out some of the truth about his strange eating habits. “He’ll be the perfect addition to your family!” she finished. “When can we bring him over?”
    “Oh, Lizzie.” Mary sighed. “I would love to help you, but I can’t possibly take on another dog.”

CHAPTER TEN
    “You know that I adore Cocoa and Cinnamon,” Mary went on, “but the two of them keep me plenty busy. Some days I can barely get any writing done, and my house is in a state.”
    Lizzie’s face fell.
    Charles and Sammy came in from outside just then, with Jack and Buddy