CHAPTER 8

As the dogs trailed after Napoleon, the streets got narrower and more crowded. Lulu had gone downtown with Jasmine loads of times, but she was usually being carried in a handbag or carrier. She’d never roamed the streets like this before, and it was exciting! Everywhere she looked there were cars and bikes and people and dogs! Everywhere she smelled there were new, strange smells. The smells of the city.

Lulu’s days were usually so carefully scheduled that she didn’t have time to stop and sniff a tree trunk or investigate a pee-covered rock. Now everywhere she looked, the world was full of possibilities. Brand-new paths were waiting to be discovered and explored!

What a wonderful afternoon, she thought as she and Hugo raced each other to a big stick and tugged on opposite ends of it with their teeth. It was such a relief to not constantly ask herself, “What would a tiny, fancy person do?” or, “How would @LulusPerfectLife behave?” For once, she was just asking herself, “What do I want to do right now?”

King had excitedly stopped to pee, or to smell pee, ten times already on one block, and it looked like he was having a lot of fun, so Lulu started to do the same. As she peed on the sidewalk next to a mailbox, she thought about the other dogs who would come to this corner later, smell her pee, and know she had been there.

This is kind of like tagging your location on Instagram, she thought. Only with more pee! This must be how it felt to be a real dog, she figured. And it felt good.

But still, she did miss being carried. And her paws were getting pretty dirty.

Then they passed a storefront Lulu hadn’t seen before, with a lot of pretty clothes in the window. Colorful sundresses, stylish boots, sparkly hats.

The humans in storefront windows are always so good at standing still, Lulu thought as she admired the outfits. This was exactly the kind of store Jasmine would take her to, buying an outfit for herself and a matching look for Lulu. It wasn’t quite the same, walking by a new store without her best friend.

She wondered what Jasmine was up to right now. It made her a little sad, not knowing, but then she remembered that Jasmine was the one who had left her alone this morning in the first place.

Probably regretting that she didn’t take me with her today, Lulu thought.

They had just reached the main drag, full of bustling shops and restaurants, when Napoleon suddenly veered away from the sidewalk and led them into a back alley, stopping next to a big stinky dumpster.

“This better not be where we’re having lunch,” Lulu huffed.

“No way,” replied Napoleon. “Today we eat like kings!”

Napoleon was shaking his head back and forth super fast and pawing at his neck.

What on earth, Lulu started to think, but when she saw Napoleon’s collar slip off his neck and over his head, she realized what was going on.

“Come on,” Napoleon said to the group. “You all do the same. Lose the collars.”

“But then no one will know who we are,” said Hugo.

“Where we’re going, we don’t want anyone to know who we are,” Napoleon said, staring intensely into the distance.

Whoa, thought Lulu. That’s cool. But wait a second! She had another thought.

“I might be recognized even without my tags,” she said. “I’m a very famous Instagram celebrity. I was just on a list called ‘35 Very Good Dogs You Simply Must Follow, or Else.’ Someone downtown might recognize me from one of my many critically acclaimed public appearances, like . . . the time I went to the dentist, or the time I went to the hardware store!”

“I can fix that,” said Napoleon, and he proceeded to muss up Lulu’s fur with his paws. There was an old broken mirror leaning against the dumpster, and he pushed it toward her so she could see her reflection. “See? Now you look like any old mutt from the pound.”

She turned to look. At first she barked: There was another dog in the mirror! Then she realized it was just her. Which made her bark even more, because she looked so different. She pouted at her reflection. She was a mess! Her hair was going every which way, and she even had some mud on her face! But she had to admit, if only to herself, that there was something freeing about being in disguise. As much as she loved the facials and the grooming and the dog Pilates, it was kind of nice to have the afternoon off from living @LulusPerfectLife.

Napoleon grabbed all the collars in his mouth and hid them behind the dumpster.

King let out a little whine. “Goodbye, King,” he said sadly to himself. “I’ll miss you.”

“You’re still King,” explained Lulu. “You just won’t be wearing your collar.”

“It’s not the same,” King whined again.

“It really is,” Hugo muttered under his breath. “You have a microchip anyway.”

“If anyone should be sad to lose their collar, it’s me!” Lulu said. “Mine was engraved in calligraphy with my name, address, and social media handles. I bet it cost billions of dollars.”

“Well,” Hugo said. “Zoe made mine in preschool. It’s irreplaceable.”

“If you’re all done whining about your collars, it’s time to go,” said Napoleon.

They fell in line behind Napoleon, and he led them farther down the alleyway, stopping outside the back door of a very fancy-looking shop.

“Behold,” said Napoleon, a glimmer in his eye. “The Chic Patisserie. The crème de la crème of bakeries, the fanciest downtown. The stuff here is the real deal, and I would know, since I’m sort of French.”

The dogs looked up at the door. King’s stomach grumbled loud enough for all of them to hear. Lulu had always wanted to try this place’s special treats . . .

“But they don’t allow dogs,” Lulu said. “Jasmine takes me everywhere, but even I’ve never been inside the Chic Patisserie.”

“Yeah, look,” Hugo said, nodding toward a sticker on the door. It was an image of a dog with a line striking through it. “Seems pretty strict.”

“You’re right,” King said, staring at the sign in terror. “That means if a dog goes in there . . . they put a line through it.”

“Have any of you ever tasted a delectable baked good from the Chic Patisserie?” Napoleon asked. The other dogs shook their heads. “Well then, today is your lucky day!”

“Are we going inside?” Lulu asked nervously, but with a tinge of excitement.

“Ha!” Napoleon laughed. “No. Real dogs eat what they want, when they want it, wherever they want it. Ta-da!”

He gestured behind them, and they all turned to look. Right behind them was a giant dumpster overflowing with treats from the bakery. Lulu’s jaw dropped. It was so beautiful: Croissants, eclairs, macarons! An old dirty cup! Well, maybe that wasn’t one of the treats . . . but everything else looked incredible.

“They put everything in here at the end of the day,” Napoleon explained. “If we don’t eat it, it’ll just go to waste.”

Then, without missing a beat, he jumped right in and started gorging on the fancy French treats. The other dogs looked at one another. None of them had ever eaten out of a dumpster before.

“Um . . . excuse me?” Lulu tried to get Napoleon’s attention. “I specifically asked you if we were going to be eating out of a dumpster, and you said no.”

Napoleon turned back to her with a mouth full of food. “No,” he replied. “You asked me if we were going to be eating out of that one.”

He gestured to the other dumpster, where they had hidden their collars. “We’re eating out of this one. Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .” Napoleon turned his attention back to his lunch.

“That is a fair point . . . ,” King said with a shrug.

Lulu had eaten out of the trash when she was a puppy, but she’d sworn she would never make that mistake again. Cotton balls did not sit well in her stomach! But this was different. This dumpster was full of lavishly decorated, delicious-looking snacks, fit for a princess. And from the looks of it, most of these pastries hadn’t been in the trash long. Some of them were still wrapped in beautiful white paper doilies that looked like snowflakes.

King jumped into the dumpster and immediately chomped down on an eclair, then Hugo joined him, and finally, so did Lulu. As soon as she sank her teeth into her first croissant, she knew she’d made the right decision. This was the most amazing food she’d ever eaten! She let out a few yelps of excitement and then a big howl. Napoleon, King, and Hugo followed suit, until they were all howling loudly with joy.

Lulu thought the only thing that could make this feast better would be if they were sitting inside at a table by the window, like the dignified canines they were. The more she thought about it, the more furious she became at the Chic Patisserie’s strict no-dog policy. How dare they deprive her of such wonderful cakes and cream-filled treats?

Just then, the back door to the bakery swung open and an employee walked out, carrying a few trash bags. When he saw the dogs, he dropped the bags and grabbed a nearby broom.

“Get out of here, you mangy mutts!” he yelled, chasing them with the broom.

Lulu scoffed as they jumped out of the dumpster and ran away from the angry man. “Mangy mutt?” she said in disbelief when they were a safe distance away. “Jasmine spent forty-five minutes on my blowout this morning! I get my haircuts at a very chic salon!”

Then she remembered playing in the fountain and Napoleon mussing up her fur. I guess I do look mangy, she thought. She wasn’t the only one offended. King was hanging his head in shame, Hugo was frowning, and Napoleon was snarling and running furiously in circles.

“‘Mangy mutts’! That was out of line,” he said. “Are we going to stand for that sort of language? That kind of treatment?! No! We have to do something!”

“What do you mean?” asked Hugo, whining.

“Let’s just say, if you like their day-old stuff, just wait until you taste the fresh pastries,” Napoleon said.

Hugo gasped. “You don’t mean . . .”

“I do mean,” Napoleon replied mischievously. “We’re going inside.”

They all looked over at the clean, fancy, dog-free bakery. The employee was gone now.

“We don’t have our collars,” Napoleon added. “No one will know who we are.”

“It was rude of that human to call us mangy,” added Lulu, warming up to the idea.

“Then follow me,” Napoleon said, and ran back toward the door. The others followed close behind.

The employee had left the door propped open slightly, and Napoleon easily nudged it the rest of the way with his nose so the dogs could get through. They soon found themselves in a fancy kitchen. It smelled so good, but before Lulu could even take a full breath, the kitchen erupted in chaos.

“Dogs! Dogs!!! There are DOGS in the KITCHEN!”

Gosh, Lulu thought. Humans can be so loud. Always yapping! They could really use some training . . .

Someone screamed and dropped a tray of hot croissants, which bounced all around on the floor. A baker tried to grab Napoleon, who was leading the charge. But as the baker ran around the kitchen, he slipped on a buttery croissant and went flying through the air, landing in a giant bag of white flour. The bag exploded! Now the flour was absolutely everywhere, covering the kitchen staff, the dogs, the counters—everything—in a thick layer of powder. Suddenly the people looked like snowmen, and the dogs looked like . . . snowdogs.

The dogs ran out of the kitchen and into the front of the bakery, which, even amid the commotion, Lulu noticed was very fancy. It looked like a place she’d enjoy a lot, if she weren’t being chased by a bunch of angry bakers with rolling pins.

A couple of kids started cheering, excited to see dogs, and Lulu noticed some young teenagers giggling uncontrollably as Hugo jumped up onto a nearby chair. But the rest of the bakery staff rushed into action. The cashier tried to catch them, but they ducked underneath tables, sped away from her, and ran around the counter in circles. Lulu barked—she felt alive! Sure, if Jasmine saw her right now, she’d be in a lot of trouble, but she was having fun! She watched as Napoleon grabbed a full baguette in his mouth and then ran toward the front door. She grabbed a blueberry scone for the road and followed him, darting behind a chair that had a bunch of chic silver balloons tied to it.

King and Hugo raced outside and joined them just as a baker came out the door waving a rolling pin wildly around over his head, shouting at the top of his lungs into a cell phone, “Animal control! I need animal control!”

They glanced at one another, and when Napoleon nodded, they all made a run for it. They kept running until the baker was far behind them. Napoleon, leading the herd, yelled back at them, “We have to wash away this evidence.”

“Yes!” Lulu agreed. “We’ll need a bath. A big one!”

“Back to the fountain?” Hugo asked, out of breath.

“That’s too far,” King pointed out. “It’s all the way back at the park.”

“I know just the place,” Napoleon said, with a devious glint in his eye that was starting to look familiar. He led them around the corner and toward a big iron gate. Lulu knew immediately where they were: the public pool. The biggest bath in town.

Without thinking, Lulu followed Napoleon as he nudged the gate open, ran across a big patio full of kids, and then dove into the pool.