Mary Labatt - A Puppy Is for Loving

To my grandmother, Sarah Morgan.

Text copyright 2007 Mary Labatt
Illustrations copyright 2007 Renata Liwska

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Labatt, Mary, 1944
A puppy is for loving / written by Mary Labatt; illustrated by Renata Liwska.

(Orca echoes)
ISBN 978-1-55143-477-3

1. Puppies--Juvenile fiction. I. Liwska, Renata II. Title. III. Series.

PS8573.A135P86 2007 jC813.54 C2007-903962-6

First published in the United States, 2007
Library of Congress Control Number: 2007930929

Summary: Elizabeth watches her grandmas collie birth six puppies, and then she helps to find homes for each and every one.

Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program and the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.

Typesetting by Teresa Bubela
Cover artwork and interior illustrations by Renata Liwska

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Printed and bound in Canada.
Printed on 100% PCW recycled paper.

010 09 08 4 3 2 1

It was summer. And every summer I went to my grandmothers farm. I couldnt wait to get there. As we drove up the long drive to the farmhouse I saw Grandma standing under the maple trees with her dog, Elsie.

My grandmother hugged us. Elsie barked.

Then Grandma led us into her big farm kitchen. I could smell fresh bread. The shiny wood floors squeaked. A breeze ruffled the curtains. Outside birds sang in the cornfields.

I climbed the wooden stairs to my blue and white bedroom. Upstairs the house smelled of lavender. When I threw down my backpack the bed creaked. I put my clothes in the old dresser. Flowered paper lined the drawers.

I could hear my parents and my grandma talking in the kitchen.

You should live closer to us, Mom, said my dad.

Yes, said my mother, you must be lonely here.

I held my breath.

Would my grandmother leave this magic place? Would she leave this place where my father and my uncles grew up? Would she leave this place where my Grandpa Fred died?

I cant leave, said Grandma. Her voice was clear and strong. I feel close to your father here. If you pull me up, Ill be like a tree with no roots.

My mother and father talked on and on about apartments in the city. They said she would like it there.

But Grandma just said no. My roots are here, she told them.

After lunch it was time for my parents to leave. Grandma and Elsie and I stood on the porch and waved. We watched the car wind down the lane.

I held Grandmas hand. Together we watched the car go over the hill. The sun felt warm on my head. We were alone now. Elsie sat quietly with us in the silence of the farm.

Well, Elizabeth, said Grandma at last. Youre here. And what a wonderful summer this will be.

I looked up at my grandmothers kind face. Her bright blue eyes twinkled. I have a surprise this summer, she said.

I held my breath. I loved surprises. Elsie thumped her tail.

You will never guess this surprise, said Grandma.

What is it? I couldnt wait to find out.

But Grandma just smiled.

Tell me, Grandma.

Well..., said Grandma. The corners of her mouth twitched.

What is it? I cried.

Its about Elsie, said Grandma, and its a very nice surprise.

I waited. Grandma smiled down at Elsie, and then she looked back at me.

Elsie is expecting puppies in three days!

I looked at Elsie.

Elsie looked the same. She had the same beautiful long nose and the same warm brown eyes. She had the same golden fur and the same white mane.

Grandma put her hand on Elsies head. We have to get ready for the puppies, she said. Elsie needs us.

Elsie poked her nose into my hand.

That afternoon Elsie and I went to all my favorite places on the farm. We went to the creek. We waded in the cool mud. I swung on the old rope that my dad used to swing on.

I listened for a moment. I thought I could hear the shouts of my father and his brothers from long ago. That must be what Grandma hears, I thought. That must be what she means by roots.

After supper my grandmother asked me to help her. We dragged two big cartons from the shed.

This is a whelping box, said Grandma. We need to put it together.

Whats a whelping box? I asked.

Its the box where Elsie will give birth to her puppies, explained Grandma.

I didnt see why Elsie would go in a big box.

Grandma and I dragged the cartons to the dining room. Elsie wants a secret place to have puppies, Grandma said. She pushed the chairs and table back to the wall.

Whats wrong with the kitchen? I asked.

My grandma shook her head. Not secret enough. Elsie will worry if someone comes to the door. She needs a room of her own.

Elsie watched while we pulled out pieces of a big box. She watched while we clipped them together.

The whelping box looked like a big square with a rug in it. It was about eight feet long and eight feet wide. Grandma got some old sheets and put them in the box on the rug.

Now, she said, you go in the whelping box with dog cookies. You can show Elsie that this is a good place.

I hopped in the whelping box and sat down. I showed Elsie the dog cookies. She stepped in the box with me.

Elsie needs to get used to the whelping box, said Grandma. Maybe you should lie down so that she can see you like it.

Grandma sat in her rocking chair to watch.

Elsie and I played for a long time. In and out of the whelping box we went. I took Elsies chewy bone in there. I gave her lots of cookies.

Suddenly Elsie stood up. She clawed at the sheets. She whipped them into a pile.

Whats wrong with Elsie? I cried.

Elsie scratched and scratched.

Shes nesting, said Grandma. She sat back in her rocking chair.

Elsie was trying to pull up the rug in the whelping box.

Whats nesting? I asked.

Elsie turned round and round. She scratched and scratched.

Grandma smiled. Elsie knows puppies are coming. Shes making a nest for them. Grandma rocked back and forth.

We watched Elsie scratch for a long time. At last she lay down on the pile of sheets.

That night I went up to bed in my little room. But Elsie stayed downstairs in the whelping box. A breeze blew the curtains. I lay still and listened to the crickets. Downstairs Elsie was scratching.

My heart soared at the thought of puppies.

When I woke up, the sun was shining bright and warm. Flies buzzed in the window. Far-off tractors rumbled in the fields. Dishes clinked in the kitchen.

I went down to the kitchen. Good morning, sleepy, said my grandmother. She held out a plate. Have a muffin. I just made them.