Puggleton Park #1, page 1
PENGUIN WORKSHOP
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York
First published in the United States of America by Penguin Workshop,
an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York, 2024
Text copyright © 2024 by Deanna Kizis
Illustrations copyright © 2024 by Penguin Random House LLC
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Paperback ISBN 9780593661246
Library Binding ISBN 9780593661253
Ebook ISBN 9780593661260
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Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
About the Contributors
_146884326_
For Keaton, a most talented editor indeed—DK
For Mum—HP
Chapter One
It is a truth everyone knows that all dogs need a forever home, and for Penelope the pug, this was no different.
Penelope was a stray in Puggleton Park, you see, although it was not always this way. She had a collar, and a name tag, which meant she had an owner. But for the life of her, Penelope could not find the Lady to whom she belonged.
If you have ever been to Puggleton Park, then you know it’s a lovely place right in the center of London. There are acres of grass to picnic upon, beds of bluebells to sniff, and a bubbling brook from which to drink. If you stand in just the right spot, you can even catch a glimpse of Buckingham Palace looking ever so much like a tall, frosted wedding cake.
Everyone in the city loved to visit Puggleton Park—especially Penelope. A kindly pup just shy of eleven months old, she was fond of gnawing bones, playing fetch, and eating dog biscuits. She was also well known for kissing humans she especially liked, and her manner was gentle, although she was rather untrained. This was not Penelope’s fault, of course, but the fault of her Lady’s—a caring woman who simply could not help spoiling her dog.
On the day Penelope got lost, she and her Lady had been having a most splendid time. They played fetch near a grove of old oak trees, picked bluebells from the field, cooled their feet in the bubbling brook, and finally found the perfect spot for a well-deserved picnic.
While her dear Lady ate raspberry tarts, which were her favorite, Penelope lay at her feet, chewing the dog biscuit she always got as a special treat. Feeling satisfied, Penelope gazed at two nearby fox terriers who were rolling over one another in a pretend battle that was growing most energetic indeed.
“Come play with us!” one of the terriers said during a brief pause in the match.
“No, thank you,” Penelope said, rolling over with a yawn. The sun was warming her belly, you see, and it made her drowsy. Besides, I prefer the company of my Lady to any other, Penelope thought, just as her owner reached over to give her a scratch and a pat. There is no reason to move.
Suddenly, something caught her eye.
Oh, but it was the most dreadful squirrel.
I should say now that Penelope did not care for squirrels in general, but this one was more dreadful than most, with his ratty tail, shifty eyes, and huge buckteeth. She watched in dismay as he darted up to her Lady’s picnic basket, plucked up a raspberry tart, and ran.
But this simply would not do! So, like any good pug defending her Lady’s property, Penelope barked, “Stop, thief!” and raced after her prey.
And what a race it was!
* * *
Penelope chased Dreadful Squirrel past the playing puppies, through the field of bluebells, and over the bubbling brook. They raced past the old oak trees and dashed across a green meadow, zigzagging this way and that. She almost caught him near Swan Pond, his tail a mere acorn’s length away from her snapping jaws, but at the last moment, Dreadful Squirrel darted up a tree with a taunting “Pleased to make your acquaintance!” And just like that, he—and the raspberry tart—were gone.
Oh, but Penelope was furious, for she truly hated to lose. However, she was also wise enough to know when it was time to accept defeat and go back the way she came.
She looked to the right and saw nothing but trees. She looked to the left and saw nothing but grass. That was when she realized she was lost. Not a little bit lost, mind you, a lot bit lost.
* * *
A cloud passed over the sun, and suddenly the park loomed large and threatening. Fear began to pump in Penelope’s veins, and worry struck her brain like lightning. There was a loud clap of thunder overhead, and she did a most unfortunate thing: She started to run blindly forward in the first direction her little legs could take her!
She ran, and she ran, and she ran. The question, of course, is whether Penelope was running toward her Lady, but I’m afraid she was not.
You must get a hold of yourself, Penelope! she thought as she stopped to catch her breath. After a few moments, she was calm, and put her nose to the ground to try to find a way back. But to her dismay, her trail went thisaway then thataway, then every which way.
As the skies darkened, Penelope’s friend Moon rose high in the sky. Tired and hungry, she realized she would not find her Lady that night. There is nothing worse than to want something so desperately, she thought, only to find one has not the energy to seek it.
She spied a nearby park bench and decided it would have to serve as her shelter for the night. So she curled up, feeling lonely, vexed, terrified—and very hungry indeed!
Penelope’s last thought as she drifted off to sleep was that she would surely find her Lady the next day. For anything else to happen would be too horrible! And horrible things didn’t happen to pugs. They simply didn’t. Yet in the back of her mind a thought wiggled: But what if they do?
Chapter Two
When Penelope awoke, a heavy rain had fallen in the night, and the ground was soggy. She took a sniff of dirt and that’s when she realized that any chance of finding the trail back to her Lady had been washed away.
“Well, what is it we have here?” asked a duck who was on a morning stroll with her ducklings. “A pug on her own in the park? I have never seen the like!”
“And I do not like to be the first,” said Penelope. “But, you see, I’ve lost my Lady. Perhaps you’ve seen her?”
“How would I know?” said the duck. “Since I’ve never seen you?”
Penelope introduced herself and proceeded to describe her Lady. She was very tall (of course, to a pug, all humans are) and had a delightful scent that reminded Penelope of fresh red apples.
“I’m afraid I’ve seen no such human,” said the duck. “Although I only pay attention to the humans who throw bread in Swan Pond, and even then I barely notice them.”
“It could be worse, I suppose,” said Penelope.
“Why do you say that?” asked the duck.
“Because I’m certain my Lady is looking for me.”
“But what if she isn’t?”
“Isn’t what?”
“Isn’t looking for you?”
Penelope paused at this frightful thought, then quickly put it out of her mind.
“She is,” she said. “She simply must be.”
“I wouldn’t know about such things,” said the duck, as wisps of clouds floated across the sky like cotton candy. “But if you can’t find your Lady, then I’m afraid you will become a lone.”
“What is a lone?”
“A lone is a lost dog who has no Lady.”
“But I don’t want to be a lone,” said Penelope.
“Who would?” said the duck. She turned and walked away, instructing her ducklings to follow, for they had lingered far too long.
For the rest of the day, Penelope searched for her Lady to no avail. Then she searched the next day, and the day after that, and even more days after that. But weeks passed, and Penelope could not find her Lady, nor did her Lady
Sometimes Penelope would see ladies and gentlemen walking their dogs, and she’d call out, “Have you seen my Lady?” But neither hound nor poodle had seen her anywhere.
Penelope realized she simply had to accept the truth: She was a lone.
Chapter Three
If you feel terribly sad about Penelope being lost in Puggleton Park, do not despair.
She had gotten herself into the worst sort of trouble, it’s true, but she was also resilient.
If you don’t know what resilient means, let me tell you now: A pug—or a human, or a toad, or any other kind of creature—who is resilient is able to handle all kinds of difficulty, whether it’s a meal made of mushy vegetables, stepping on a red ant nest, or being very lost indeed.
Because she was resilient, Penelope soon figured out how to make her way in Puggleton Park.
In the morning, she ate the delicious scraps that people dropped from their picnic baskets. At midday, she took herself for a walk along the brook and organized her thoughts.
In the afternoon, she chased Dreadful Squirrel—who was quite dreadful, after all—but he always got away somehow or other.
In the evenings, she either frolicked in the rose gardens outside the Grand Hall, or if there was a ball, Penelope was sure to attend.
She did not go inside, of course. Even a pug needs an invitation for that.
Yet Penelope believed that happiness could be found outside a ball just as easily as it could be found inside. So she sat near the entrance and watched the ladies of London come and go.
Their colorful clothes and hairstyles were very grand indeed, but Penelope wasn’t there just to watch. Each time a lady got out of her carriage, she sniffed the air, hoping to recognize her Lady’s familiar scent. But, to her dismay, she never did.
* * *
One night, after another ball, Penelope curled up under her favorite bench and snuggled into a pale green velvet coat that someone had lost in the park, which she now cleverly used as a bed. (That’s how resilient she was.)
Why do people lose so many things in the park? Penelope wondered as she stared at her friend Moon. People have a great many things, but they cannot keep track of most of them. Not even pugs.
But what could she do? She was, after all, much too small to do anything big in this world.
Moon’s belly was as full as a puppy’s at Christmas. Sometimes she was large. Other times she was just a tiny sliver. Sometimes Moon was not there at all. Yet all the animals knew the power of Moon, whether she was crescent or full, present or missing. The birds flew where Moon sent them. The raccoons found food in her light. Time was told by her comings and goings. Even oceans moved by the way of Moon.
“One cannot simply lie there doing nothing, Penelope,” Moon said, big and bright in the night sky. “Large or small, we all have a part to play in the world.”
Penelope had to admit that Moon had a point. So, by her silver light, she made a very important decision: If her Lady could not find her, she would simply have to go out and find her Lady herself.
Chapter Four
The very next night, Penelope was sitting outside another ball when she noticed a lady shivering in a pale green velvet dress. Then she realized why—she was without a coat!
Not having a coat is a very unfortunate thing, Penelope thought. After all, I am most unwilling to go anywhere without mine.
Wait! she thought. I have an idea!
She raced across Puggleton Park, found her park bench, and grabbed the cozy green coat she used as a bed. Then she ran as fast as she could with the coat in her mouth, tugging it over branches, leaves, and mud.
I hope that lady is still there! Penelope thought.
And she was.
Penelope was very proud as she walked up to the lady and laid the pale green velvet coat at her feet.
“Oh, my goodness!” the lady cried. “I do believe that is my coat!”
Indeed, it was her coat. The same coat that Lady Diggleton, as she was known, had lost in the park earlier in the year.
She reached for the coat, and Lady Picklebottom, who considered it her duty to tell her closest friend what to do at all times, became most alarmed.
“Don’t touch that, Lady Diggleton!” she said. “That coat is filthy! Just look at the rips! Look at the mud! I daresay this pug found your coat and used it as some sort of bed!”
Lady Diggleton thought a moment, and said, “If that’s the case, then she must be a very clever pug indeed.”
The kind lady leaned down and reached for the little pug’s collar. “So your name is Penelope,” she said.
Penelope wagged her tail.
“My name is Lady Diggleton. I do believe you must be lost.”
Penelope wagged her tail again.
“I shall have my footman summon the dogcatcher at once,” said Lady Picklebottom, raising a finger.
“There’s no need,” said Lady Diggleton. “I’m taking this pug home with me.”
Lady Picklebottom’s eyes widened. “I must tell you, my dearest friend, that this is far from wise,” she said. “Animals are noisy—and dirty, too. Which is why it has long been my firm belief that animals belong on a farm.”
She leaned in and laid a hand on Lady Diggleton’s arm. “And do not forget that you have been through so much this year. You need peace and quiet.”
Lady Diggleton nodded. “I appreciate your kind advice, Lady Picklebottom,” she said. “But I simply cannot leave this pug out here in the cold. She can spend the night with me, and in the morning, I will begin to search for her owner.”
The next thing Penelope knew, Lady Diggleton got into her carriage and a footman placed her in the lady’s lap. Then Lady Diggleton tucked her under the pale green velvet coat, and Penelope felt ever so warm. Tomorrow she will help me find my Lady! Penelope thought as sleep began to make her eyes heavy. And then I will be able to go home at last.
Chapter Five
The next morning, Penelope opened her eyes and realized that she was lying on a green velvet pillow that perfectly matched a nearby green canopy bed. All around her was floral wallpaper festooned with flowers and birds. Clearly, she was in someone’s bedroom. But whose bedroom was it? And whose house?
Oh yes! she remembered. There was a ball. There was a coat. There was a lady whose last name was Diggleton…
Penelope sat up with a start. Lady Diggleton was going to help her find her Lady, and her days as a lone would be over at last!
Without warning, a young woman with a dutiful face, wearing a simple but clean brown dress, walked in.
“I’m Abby, the lady’s maid,” she said, “and you must be the pug I’ve been hearing about all morning.” She started to make Lady Diggleton’s bed. “I, for one, can’t believe it. A pug? In this house? As if I don’t have enough to do?”
Penelope gazed at the lady’s maid, tilting her head in thought. Abby really didn’t need to do anything on her account, except bring her to Lady Diggleton.
“I’ve got the sewing, mind you, and the shopping, too,” Abby continued. “But I’ve been told to get you ready. Get a pug ready! I’ve never heard of such a thing! Doesn’t everyone know I have so much to do?”
Abby picked Penelope up like a sack of potatoes and brought her into the largest bathroom she had ever seen, inside of which was the most gigantic tub she had ever seen, inside of which was the most enormous mountain of bubbles she had ever seen. But before Penelope could so much as whimper, Abby plunged her into the suds and began to give her the most ferocious bath she’d ever received.
It was as though Abby had six hands: two to keep Penelope’s scrambling body in the water, two to scrub her back and belly, and two to splash suds all over her ears and face.
“You must stop wriggling, Penelope!” Abby cried. “You’ll only make this take longer, and I’ve got ever so much to do!”
