Tales from a Not-So-Perfect Pet Sitter, Page 4

  OMG! They were so CUTE, I almost . . . melted into a . . . puddle of . . . sweet, sticky . . . um, goo!

  When Chloe and Zoey came over to visit, they immediately fell in love with the dogs too. . . .

  CHLOE AND ZOEY MEET THE DOGS!!

  Holly and one sleepy puppy took a little nap, while the six other pups ran around my room, getting into all kinds of mischief.

  The smallest puppy cuddled with Brianna’s teddy bear, one chewed on a gym sock, while another played hide-and-seek under my bed.

  They were SO cute !!

  I told Chloe and Zoey that my only worry was having to leave the dogs alone in my bedroom for extended periods, like during meals.

  That’s when Chloe said she had already thought about that problem and had come up with the PERFECT solution. She reached into her backpack and took out what looked like two old-fashioned cell phones.

  Then she said . . .

  CHLOE GIVES ME A BABY MONITOR SET FOR THE DOGS!

  Her mom had used it for Chloe’s little brother when he was an infant.

  Chloe explained that I was supposed to leave the speaker unit in my bedroom with the dogs and take the receiver part with me.

  Then I’d be able to hear what the dogs were up to in my bedroom. Now, how COOL is THAT ?!! This baby monitor was a brilliant idea and would make taking care of the dogs A LOT easier.

  “Until you decide to use them, I think we need to hide them somewhere,” Chloe said, looking around the room. She grabbed my backpack off my chair and placed the baby monitor set inside. “Perfect!”

  “Thanks, Chloe! Now, if I could only get rid of my parents for the entire evening! I’m afraid they might hear the dogs!”

  That’s when Zoey said she had already thought about that problem and had come up with the PERFECT solution.

  She reached into her purse. “Here, Nikki! TWO MOVIE TICKETS!!” she exclaimed.

  “Thanks, Zoey! But how am I supposed to take eight dogs to a MOVIE?!!” I asked, confused.

  “They’re NOT for YOU, silly! They’re for your PARENTS! I bought tickets for the prequel of that new sci-fi blockbuster! It lasts three and a half hours! With the travel time there and back, your parents will be out of the house AND out of your hair for most of the night!”

  I gave Chloe and Zoey a really big HUG! They’re the BEST BFFs EVER!!

  Thanks to them, I was going to be the PERFECT PET SITTER!!

  !!

  THURSDAY—6:30 P.M. AT HOME

  At first I was going to keep the dogs a secret from Brianna.

  Mainly because she has a nasty habit of BLABBING any and everything to Mom and Dad.

  But there was no way I was going to be able to hide eight dogs from Mom and Dad without a little help.

  I didn’t have a choice but to trust her.

  Do you want to know the ONLY thing more exhausting than taking care of Brianna?

  Taking care of SEVEN little Briannas with bigger ears and more hair on their backs.

  So it was no surprise when they fell completely head over heels in love with each other at first sight. . . .

  BRIANNA HUGS HOLLY AND HER PUPPIES!

  I didn’t realize how much she and the puppies had in common:

  1. They’re really loud and smell funny.

  2. They’re wiggly, messy, and like following me around the house.

  3. They could use some additional potty training.

  AND

  4. They can get away with practically anything because they’re SO ridiculously CUTE!!

  They’re like sisters and brothers from another mother!

  However, the downside is that now Brianna is pestering me nonstop about “playing with the doggies.”

  I was in the kitchen doing my geometry homework when she walked in.

  “Nikki! Can I let the doggies out of their cage and play with them for a little while?

  PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE!”

  “Not until I finish my homework, Brianna. If you let them out of their cage, you have to keep a close eye on the puppies. Or else they’ll get into trouble.”

  Brianna pondered what I’d just said and tapped her chin in thought. “Trouble? Like, what kind of trouble?” she asked.

  “Brianna, if you let the dogs out of their cage, they can get into all SORTS of trouble! Okay?”

  “So, do you mean trouble like tearing up the pillows, digging up Mom’s plant, and pooping in Dad’s favorite chair?” she asked casually, and then batted her eyes all innocentlike.

  I turned and stared at my little sister in disbelief.

  “Brianna! Don’t tell me you let the dogs out of their cage?!” I groaned as I slammed my book shut.

  There was just NO WAY I was going to finish my homework while babysitting eight NINE unruly animals.

  “Okay! If you DON’T want me to tell you that I let the dogs out of their cage, then I WON’T! Can I have a cookie?” Brianna quipped.

  OMG! I was SO mad at Brianna that I wanted to release all my frustration by screaming into a pillow.

  But I couldn’t, because the puppies were busily pulling every ounce of stuffing out of each one.

  Cotton was scattered everywhere.

  It looked like there had been a major snowstorm right in the family room.

  That’s when Brianna pointed and said . . .

  “JUST GREAT!!” I sighed. “Okay, Brianna! Here’s your chance. You can take care of the dogs while I clean up this mess. If Mom and Dad see this, I’M DEAD MEAT!”

  “Thank you, Nikki!” Brianna squealed. “I’m gonna be the best doggie sitter EVER! I got lots of practice taking care of Rover the fish a few weeks ago, remember?”

  How could I forget?

  “Please! Don’t remind me!” I exclaimed. “Just take the dogs up to my room and keep them out of trouble. And don’t forget the doggie snacks. You’re going to need ’em!” I said, handing her a box of doggie doughnuts.

  Brianna tossed one into her mouth and chewed. “YUM!! It’s bacon-’n’-cheese! I LOVE these things!”

  “They’re not for you, silly! If you offer the pups a doggie snack, they’ll follow you anywhere.”

  “Oh! I knew that!” Brianna grinned sheepishly. “Who wants a doggie snack?!” she asked, waving one in the air.

  The dogs immediately stopped unstuffing the pillows and happily scampered up the stairs after Brianna and the doggie snack.

  I have to admit, it was really nice to have a little “me time” away from Brianna and the dogs.

  Frantically restuffing and sewing pillows while pricking my fingers bloody was actually a lot EASIER than trying to entertain eight rambunctious dogs and one bratty little sister.

  But forty-five minutes later, as I was finishing up, I was suddenly overcome with paranoia.

  At first I thought I was feeling faint due to the loss of blood.

  But I couldn’t exactly put my finger on it.

  Probably because they were numb from being poked with the needle over and over.

  Something was just . . .

  WRONG!

  Finally I figured it out.

  “It’s quiet. TOO quiet!” I muttered to myself. “Brianna is up to something!”

  That’s when I raced toward the stairs.

  “Brianna! What are you doing with the dogs?!” I yelled on my way up. But there was no reply. “You’d better answer me, or else. . . .”

  At the top of the stairs I found a sign, sloppily written in red crayon.

  It was Brianna’s handwriting!! . . .

  There was yet another sign farther down the hall that said . . .

  Of course, I decided to totally ignore her VERY RUDE and unprofessional signs.

  I had a good mind to report PAW SPA to the Better Business Bureau. But I digress. . . .

  I followed the sound of classical spa music toward Brianna’s bedroom.

  That’s when I noticed that Mom’s battery-powered candles gently lit the hallway, while the floor had been sprinkled with fl
ower petals for dramatic effect.

  “Wow. Brianna really went all out for this make-believe spa,” I thought. “The pink rose petals are actually a nice touch!”

  But she didn’t stop at just the roses. A few feet down the hall she had scattered lilacs and gardenias.

  “Wait a minute. . . .” I frowned. “Where did she get these?!” For some reason, they looked awfully familiar.

  Okay, I was starting to get nervous.

  Near my bedroom door I saw scattered leaves, shrubbery, twigs, and . . . roots?!

  Which made me VERY worried.

  But I totally lost it when I saw the fresh dirt and confused worms scattered over Mom’s new rug!

  Brianna’s bedroom door was locked, so I pounded on it with my fists.

  “BRIANNAAAAAAAAA!!!!” I screamed. “I can’t believe you completely MUTILATED Mrs. Wallabanger’s prizewinning flower garden!!”

  That’s when a strange little woman wearing fake-diamond cat-eye glasses, a long scarf, a kiddie paint apron filled with Mom’s spa essentials collection, six-sizes-too-big red heels, and way too much makeup and jewelry very cautiously opened Brianna’s door and poked her head out.

  She glared at me, scrunched up her nose, and hissed . . .

  ME, BEING SHUSHED BY A STRANGE LITTLE WOMAN!

  I couldn’t believe my eyes! It was . . .

  Miss Bri-Bri ?!

  Also known as Madame Bri-Bri, Fashionista Hairstylist to the Stars.

  And now, apparently, the owner of the trendy new PAW SPA for non-“hoomans”!

  She stared at me as I stared at her.

  I knew right then and there that I was in for a . . .

  VERY!

  LONG!!

  NIGHT!!!

  !!

  THURSDAY—7:30 P.M. AT HOME

  “SHHHHHH! Zis eez a relaxation spa, dah-ling!” Miss Bri-Bri scolded me. “Did you not understand zee sign?!”

  “First of all, don’t you dare SHUSH me! I’m the one in charge here!” I shot back. “Second of all, your signs were barely legible! I hate to break it to you, madame, but you can’t spell worth BEANS!”

  “Sorry, I know nothing about zee beans that you speak of. Miss Bri-Bri eez very busy, dah-ling! Unless you are a puppy with le spa reservation, I must ask you to leave. We enforce a strict ‘no hoomans allowed’ policy! Read zee sign, please!”

  Then she slammed the door right in my face. BAM!!

  “Miss Bri-Bri! Er, I mean . . . BRIANNA, I’m about three seconds from going APE CRAZY on you if you don’t open this door!” I growled. “ONE!! . . . TWO!! . . . THREE!! . . .”

  Suddenly the door was flung open.

  “Dah-ling! Please! You MUST calm down. Or I’ll be forced to call SECURITY. BUT if you agree to keep all of zee flowers you saw in zee hall a big SECRET, then Miss Bri-Bri will give you a DISCOUNT on le peanut butter facial! Deal?! Yes?!”

  I could not believe Miss Bri-Bri was trying to BRIBE me!

  She could NEVER buy my SILENCE after completely DESTROYING poor Mrs. Wallabanger’s prized flower garden next door!!

  Although, that DISCOUNT on a facial DID sound like a pretty good deal!

  I LOVE going to the spa and getting those fancy-schmancy treatments. But I digress. . . .

  “For your information, spas have ALMOND SCRUB facials! NOT peanut butter facials!” I corrected Miss Bri-Bri. “And PLEASE don’t tell me you opened Dad’s gallon container of natural no-salt, no-sugar peanut butter that he was saving for his birthday and put it on the dogs’ faces?”

  “Okay, then! Miss Bri-Bri will NOT tell you she opened zee big birthday bucket of natural peanut butter! But she NEVER, EVER put a drip of zee peanut butter on zee dogs’ FACES!” she exclaimed. “What kind of a spa do you think this eez? So please! Do not worry about zat, dah-ling!”

  “Thank goodness!” I muttered to myself, and breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Today we have a special on zee FULL-BODY peanut butter massage. So I put zee peanut butter ALL OVER zee DOGS’ BODIES,” Miss Bri-Bri announced proudly. “Now zee dogs eez very relaxed! SEE?”

  I looked behind her and gasped!

  Holly and her seven puppies were puke brown and covered in peanut butter. . . .

  DOGGIES AT THE PAW SPA!

  “OMG! What have you done?! These dogs are COMPLETELY covered in Dad’s BIRTHDAY peanut butter!!” I shrieked hysterically.

  “Bah! Nonsense!” Miss Bri-Bri waved her hand at me dismissively. “I make zee dogs booty-ful. If zee dogs don’t look good, I don’t look good.”

  “Admit it, Miss Bri-Bri. You totally screwed up. These dogs look like some furballs that a giant cat coughed up after eating 139 peanut butter cookies,” I complained. “Are you even a licensed spa professional?!”

  “No need to be rude, dah-ling!” Miss Bri-Bri huffed. “Zee situation eez under control! My spa assistant-in-training, HANS, has prepared a special bath. All zee peanut-butter-covered dogs will be squeaky clean very soon. HANS! Please come clean zee dogs! NOW!”

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes when she mentioned her assistant, HANS!

  I will NEVER, EVER forget that guy!

  Hans the TEDDY BEAR was the assistant on duty at SALON BRIANNA the day Miss Bri-Bri accidentally chopped off my ponytail back in February!

  And he’s an INCOMPETENT IDIOT!!

  But WHATEVER!

  Personally, I didn’t care if the TOOTH FAIRY was going to help SANTA CLAUS give these dogs a bath.

  As long as they were CLEAN, back in their CAGE, and HIDDEN in my room before Mom and Dad got home from the movie!

  Miss Bri-Bri and I herded Holly and her puppies into the bathroom to put them into the tub for a quick bath.

  That’s when I realized we had three very BIG problems:

  1. Her poorly trained teddy bear assistant, HANS, was floating upside down in the tub.

  2. The tub wasn’t filled with water. It was filled with . . .

  MUD?!!!

  AND

  3. It wasn’t just ordinary mud. The smell of that steaming cesspool was foul enough to peel the baby ducks right off the bathroom wallpaper!

  “Brianna! WHY is there MUD in this bathtub?!” I screamed. “And why does it smell like something DIED in the mud and is STILL in there rotting?”

  “Wee! Wee! Dis mud eez made of zee finest, filthiest dirt, hand-selected from Mrs. Wallabanger’s MANURE compost pile by Miss Bri-Bri herself,” she boasted. “You will not find another mud bath like it anywhere in zee world, dah-ling!”

  ME, GAGGING AT THE HORRID STENCH OF MISS BRI-BRI’S MANURE AND MUD SPA BATH!!

  OMG! The hot mud and manure bath smelled so bad, it actually singed my nose hairs.

  It was like I could actually TASTE it.

  “EWW!!” I gasped, and plugged my nose. “That’s it, Brianna! I’m shutting you down!” I yelled. “This pretend spa is CLOSED. Sorry! But this has to be in violation of at least a dozen city health codes!!”

  “But, Nikki, I’m NOT finished yet!” Miss Bri-Bri Brianna whined. “After the mud bath, Hans was going to give the dogs a jelly manicure. See?” She held up a jar of grape jelly and a plastic spoon.

  “WHAT are you talking about? It’s a GEL manicure, NOT a jelly manicure!” I corrected her. “Now get your teddy bear out of this tub so I can clean up this STINKY mess!”

  “Hans? HANS!! Get out of that tub or you’re FIRED!!” Miss Bri-Bri screamed as she grabbed his leg and tugged on him really hard.

  THIS is what happened. . . .

  OMG! I couldn’t believe it! Hans flew across the room like a torpedo and landed headfirst right in the toilet with a huge SPLASH!

  Of course, Miss Bri-Bri and I totally FREAKED OUT because thanks to Hans, NOW we were dripping with manure and TOILET WATER!

  EWWWWWW !!! . . .

  And by the time Brianna and I had chased down the dogs and herded them BACK into their cage, we were covered with manure, toilet water, and PEANUT BUTTER !!

  Surprisingly, taking care of the EIGH
T dogs has NOT been my most difficult task. It’s been taking care of Miss Bri-Bri Brianna!

  Sorry, but all night she’s been acting like a PACK OF WILD DOGS !!

  The last time I checked, Hans was still floating in the toilet. Which wasn’t so bad, considering the fact that the toilet was ten times more sanitary than that manure mud bath!!

  The dogs were FILTHY.

  The bathroom was FILTHY.

  And even Brianna and I were FILTHY.

  There was just no WAY I could clean up all this FILTH before my parents got home.

  Unless they were coming home in two weeks!!

  My mom and dad were going to FREAK when they discovered not ONE dog, but EIGHT sticky, peanut-butter-covered dogs hiding inside their FILTHY house!!

  I was a complete FAILURE!! And the WORST pet sitter EVER!!

  Although, judging from the looks of Brianna, I was probably an even WORSE babysitter !

  So I decided to do what any normal responsible teen would do when faced with EIGHT dogs and ONE bratty little sister covered in manure, toilet water, and peanut butter.

  I flopped down in the middle of the bathroom floor . . .

  Closed my eyes . . .

  And burst into TEARS!!

  !!

  THURSDAY—8:00 P.M. AT HOME

  I don’t know exactly how long I’d been lying on the bathroom floor crying. I just remember hearing the doorbell ringing and wondering three things:

  1. Why Mom and Dad were home so early from the movie theater.

  2. Why they were ringing the doorbell instead of using their key to the front door.

  AND

  3. Whether they were going to ground me until my SENIOR year of high school or my FRESHMAN year of college.

  Finally, Miss Bri Bri Brianna poked her head in the bathroom and told me what I already knew.

  “Nikki, you better come downstairs quick! Someone is at the front door ringing the doorbell!” she exclaimed. “And if it’s Mom and Dad, I’m going to go lock myself in my bedroom and play Princess Sugar Plum. But if they’re REALLY mad, just tell them I ran away. Okay?”