The next day was Sunday, and I begged my dad to let Ron come over and play with me and Summer.  "Please? Please, Dad? I promise, we'll be good and not bother you and we'll make sure Summer doesn't have an accident and we'll watch her so she doesn't run away or nothing. Pl-e-e-ase, Daddy?"

I gave him my best big-eyed puppy dog stare, the one that always gets my uncles Sirius and Remus to do whatever I want.  They say I'm irresistible when I look at them that way.

Sometimes it even works on my dad.

Dad considered.  "All right.  Ron can come over, till supper.  But you and him and that blasted nuisance have to play outside or in the kitchen, unless you put Summer in her crate.  I have to brew one batch of Stomach Soother and then I'll be done and reading over some of my patients' charts in the den.  They're on the table, so don't touch or move them, all right?"

"Yes, sir.  I won't touch ‘em," I promised.  Those charts were so Dad could look over what patients he had to see and what problems they had and if they needed surgery or something.  Because Uncle Matt was away, he took some of that stuff home to work on.  "Thanks, Dad! Can you Floo Ron's mum?"

"Yes, give me a minute."

I ran into the kitchen, where Summer was chewing one of her chew bones, and did a happy dance.  "Hooray, Summer! Guess what? Ron's coming over.  And boy, are we gonna have some fun now!"

* * * * * *

"Cool! A dog!" Ron cried when he saw Summer for the first time.

Summer wagged her tail and licked him happily, she loved meeting new people.

We took her out in the backyard.  "She likes to fetch things," I told Ron and showed him how Summer would chase a stick, a ball, almost anything. 

Ron had a hat he'd been wearing and it fell off while he was running after her.

Quick as lightning, Summer turned and doubled back and grabbed it.  Then she took off full speed across the grass.

"My hat!" Ron yelped, and chased her.  "Hey! Give it here, girl!"

But of course Summer didn't.  She loved to play keep away.

I tried to trap her inbetween us, but she ducked under my feet and knocked me over, escaping the trap. "Blast it, Summer!" I cried, getting annoyed.

She just kept running, circling round the garden, Ron's red hat flopping all over.

"How do we get it back?" asked Ron.  He was panting, and wiping his forehead with his hand.

I thought for a minute.  Then I remembered something Uncle Matt had said. "Uh . . .lemme get a treat."

I ran into the house to get a dog biscuit.

"Summer, want a treat?" I called, and she dropped the hat instantly and ran over to me, wagging her whole back end.  "Good girl!" I said, she gobbled the treat, and I petted her.

Ron grabbed up his hat and wrinkled his nose.  "Yuck! Dog drool!"

I laughed.  "She drools all over my socks too."

Ron put his hat on the small table on the lawn, where Summer couldn't get it.  Then we played some more fetch until Summer got tired and we went inside the kitchen.

Dad gave us lunch, and I fed Summer bits of my ham sandwich under the table. Then I asked Ron if he wanted to draw some pictures.  I had a new set of markers that colored in jeweled sparkle tones.

"Sure.  Then can we play with your other toys, Harry?"

"Yeah," I said, knowing Ron hardly ever got to play with anything new, all his toys were handed down from his brothers, mostly.

I got out the parchment and the markers and we drew at the kitchen table, where the art wall was hung.  Any pictures I made went up on that wall, so everyone could see them. The art wall was something my mum had invented to keep me from scribbling all over the wall when I was two. 

I got busy drawing a picture of Summer, who was taking a snooze under the table.

"What are you drawing, Ron?"

"Picture for my mum," he replied, coloring with a pink shimmery marker.  "She likes pretty flowers and butterflies and all that mushy girl stuff.  You know."

"Oh," was all I said, though I really didn't know, since I could hardly remember my mum, and I didn't have any sisters living with me.

It took us about an hour or so to finish our art work and I left my picture to dry on the table and said I was going to go potty and then meet Ron in my room when I was done. 

"Okay, Harry.  I'm almost done, lemme just write my name." Ron said.

"Don't forget to close the puppy gate," I reminded as I was leaving.  Dad had put up a gate to keep Summer in the kitchen, so she didn't get into any more trouble.

"Sure," Ron muttered, writing quickly.

I headed over to the bathroom, going through the den on my way.  I saw that Dad had left some of his charts and a potions text out on the long table there.  He must be in his lab brewing, like he'd said he was gonna do.

Ron met me in my room a few minutes later and we started to play with my train set, my stuffed panther Inky, and some of my Quidditch figures.

* * * * * *

 We played for a long time, I had just managed to rescue one of my men from the clutches of the horrible terrible Spider Monster (Ron had made him up, he was really scary with sixteen legs and a hundred eyes and  venom that could kill you dead in aminute) for the third time when I heard my father  yelling.

"Son-of-a-bitch! You ate my potions text! And my patients' charts! You crazy animal, what do you think you are, a dog or a goat?"

Ron and I just looked at each other. "Uh oh.  Sounds like your dad's pretty mad, Harry."

I nodded.  "Ron, didn't you shut the gate like I told you?"

"Uh . . .I might have forgot."

I groaned.  "Great.  Now I'm gonna get blamed for not watching her."

Sure enough, the next thing I heard was Dad, calling, "Harry James Severus, come over here, right now."

"Coming, sir!" I walked reluctantly down the hall to the den.

Dad was standing with his hands on his hips, and Summer was cringing in front of him, a piece of parchment still in her jaws. 

The den was a mess.  Bits and pieces of paper were shredded all over, on the floor, the table, and a trail of paper led into the kitchen as well.  Summer had ripped apart Dad's potions book and the charts on the table. 

Not only that, but she'd also gotten into the trash, knocking it over and dragging the garbage out all over the kitchen floor and the den.  Banana peels and apple cores and leftover corn and stale bread and stuff littered the carpet.

Ron's eyes nearly popped out of his head.  "Holy Merlin!" he whispered.

"Merlin's shorts! How'd she do all this in an hour?" I wondered, gaping at the awful mess.

"That's what I want to know, young man," Dad said sternly. "How did she get out of a locked kitchen and tear apart my bloody potions book and my charts? Has she suddenly developed magical powers? Or did a certain little boy forget to close the gate? Well?"

"Uh, well, you see . . ." I began, trying to cover for my friend.

"It was my fault, Healer Sev," Ron interrupted, hanging his head.  "Harry told me to shut the puppy gate, but I forgot to close it all the way and she must have slipped out.  Sorry, sir." He whistled at the dreadful mess.  "Merlin, but I never knew a dog could wreck a place like my brothers."

I almost laughed at that.  I guess living with Fred and George is kind of like living with two mischief-making puppies. 

Dad was not amused. "Harry knows better than to leave Summer alone without making sure the gate is latched, so you are not totally to blame, Ronald." He fixed me with a very disappointed look.

I winced and hung my head.  "Sorry.  I'll help clean up."

"You most certainly will," Dad said, then conjured up a trash bag. "Start picking up the paper. I'll clean the garbage, lucky there wasn't any chicken bones in it that she could've eaten." He picked up Summer and pulled the scrap of paper out of her mouth.  "You've been very bad, puppy! Bad dog! No eating paper! No!" He waved the paper in front of her nose, then tapped her sharply on the nose.  Summer yelped.  "Next time I catch you chewing paper, I'll hex your mouth shut . . . permanently!"

He looked so mad that I wasn't sure if he meant it or not.

Then he marched off to the kitchen and put Summer in her crate, kind of like when he sends me to my room when I've been naughty.

He waved his wand and the garbage was put back in the pail where it belonged, but the rug was stained with it and it smelled.  So Dad cast a cleaning spell and the rug was back to normal after that.  But Dad was not happy at all. 

He watched as Ron and I crawled around picking up pieces of paper and stuffing them in the trash bag, scowling like he wanted to hit something.  "I cannot believe the blasted nuisance ate my charts! Not to mention my potions manual."

"Dad? Can't you just . . .fix them with a spell?"

"No, Harry, I can't!" snapped my father.  "You can repair most things with a Repairing Charm, except wet paper that's been torn to bits. I could reform the paper into a sheet, but the words would be meaningless."

"Oh," I said, feeling really bad now.

"Oh indeed.  Matthew owes me a new potions text.  It's a good thing we keep copies of my patients' charts in the office, otherwise that bloody shredding machine would be shipped over to America on the first available fireplace."

I winced.  "Dad, she didn't mean to."

"I don't care, Harry! She's destroyed several things ever since she set foot here and I want it to stop.  Because by the time Matthew comes back, I'm going to need a psychologist."

I had no clue what that was, but it didn't sound good. I didn't say anything though, just kept picking up all the tiny bits of paper.  Sometimes that's the best thing to do when my dad's mad . . .keep my mouth shut.

It took us forever and then some to finish picking up all the paper and when we went into the kitchen to throw out the trash bag, Ron cried, "Oh no! My mum's picture!"

He knelt to pick up the chewed parchment.  Looks like Summer had managed to get up to the table and chew up our artwork.  Mine had several bites taken out of it too.  But Ron was worse off than mine.

"I'm sorry, Ron.  We should've stuck them on the wall."

Ron looked about to cry, he'd worked a long time on his picture.  "Stupid dumb dog!"

"Summer's not dumb!" I said, even though I was upset with her too, I didn't like Ron calling her names.  "She's little and doesn't know better, like Ginny."

"Ginny would've gotten spanked if she'd done this," said my friend.

That was probably true.  "You can't spank a puppy, Ron," I said.  Well, maybe you could, but I never would and neither would my dad.  I think.

Ron scowled at the dog crate.  "If she were mine, I would!"

"Yeah, right." I snorted.  Ron talks all tough, but he'd never hurt a cute little puppy like that.  "You can make another one," I said.

"I guess.  But it won't be as good." He looked at his first drawing unhappily.  Then he said, "Hey, Harry.  Where's the box of chocolate from Honeydukes I brought over?"

"I dunno.  Wasn't it on the table?"

"I thought so." Ron looked puzzled.

We looked on the table.  No chocolate.  And there wasn't any on the floor either.  "Maybe Dad took it and put it someplace?" I considered. 

Ron shrugged.  "Guess so.  Why don't you ask him?"  He sat down and started to make a new picture for his mum, Molly.

But Dad said he didn't even see the chocolate, and it should be wherever we had left it. 

Only it had disappeared.

I couldn't figure it out. 

I helped Ron finish his picture and then it was time for him to Floo home for supper.

"Bye, Harry! See you later! Hope that crazy dog doesn't eat your homework." Then he threw a handful of Floo Powder down and shouted "The Burrow!" The flames turned green and Ron jumped into them and went back home.

"Dad? What could've happened to the chocolate? It was right here on the table."

"Maybe that idiotic dog ate it," Dad growled. 

I laughed, for it seemed impossible that a puppy could eat an entire box of chocolate.  Including the box. 

I looked at Summer.  She didn't look like she'd eaten a whole box of chocolate.  She was eating her dog food like she was starving to death. 

But once again, I was wrong, as I learned the next morning, when I got up to take Summer outside and found her terribly sick, she'd thrown up all over and had diarrhea too, and she was just lying there on the floor, looking like she was gonna up and die. 

I almost puked from the smell, but I managed to hold my nose.  "Ugh! Gross!"  Then I yelled as loud as I could for my father.