Ann Martin: Jessi Ramsey, Petsitter

"They better," Kristy replied. "I don't think Claud told you exactly how many pets they have. There are three dogs, five cats, some birds and hamsters, two guinea pigs, a snake, lots of fish, and a bunch of rabbits and turtles."

I gulped. What had I gotten myself into?

Chapter 3.

As soon as I saw Mr. and Mrs. Mancusi, I realized I knew them — and they knew me. They're always out walking their dogs, and I'm often out walking Squirt in his stroller, or baby-sitting for some little kids. The Mancusis and I wave and smile at each other. Until I met them, I just didn't know their names, or that beside their dogs they owned a small zoo.

This is what I heard when I rang their doorbell: Yip-yip, meow, mew, chirp, cheep, squawk, squeak, woof-woof-woof.

By the way, I am a pretty good speller and every now and then my teacher gives me a list of really hard words to learn to spell and use in sentences. On the last list was the word cacophony. It means a jolting, nonharmonious mixture of sounds. Well, those animal voices at the Mancusis' were not jolting, but they sure were nonharmonious and they sure were a mixture.

The door opened. There was Mrs. Mancusi's pleasant face. "Oh! It's you!" she exclaimed, just as I said, "Oh! The dogwalker!"

"Come on in." Smiling, Mrs. Mancusi held the door open for me.

I stepped inside and the cacophony grew louder.

"SHH! SHH!" said Mrs. Mancusi urgently. "Sit. . . . Sit, Cheryl."

A Great Dane sat down obediently. Soon the barking stopped. Then the birds quieted down.

Mrs. Mancusi smiled at me. "So you're Jessi," she said. "I've seen you around a lot lately."

"We moved here a few months ago," I told her, not mentioning that, in general, the neighbors hadn't been too . . . talkative.

Mrs. Mancusi nodded. "Is that your brother I see you with sometimes?" she asked. (A bird swooped into the room and landed on her shoulder while a white kitten tottered to her ankles and began twining himself around them.)

"Yes," I answered. "That's Squirt. Well, his real name is John Philip Ramsey, Junior. I have a sister, too. Becca. She's eight. But," I added, "we don't have any pets."

Mrs. Mancusi looked fondly at her animals. "I guess that makes us even," she said. "My

husband and I don't have any children, but we have plenty of pets. Well, I should start — "

At that moment, Mr. Mancusi strode into the front hall. After more introductions, his wife said, "I was just about to have Jessi meet the animals."

Mr. Mancusi nodded. "Let's start with the dogs. I guess you've already seen Cheryl," he said, patting the Great Dane.

"Right," I replied. I pulled a pad of paper and a pencil out of my purse so I could take notes.

But Mr. Mancusi stopped me. "Don't bother," he said. "Everything is written down. We'll show you where in a minute. Just give the animals a chance to get to know you. In fact," he went on, "why don't you talk to each one? That would help them to feel more secure with you."

"Talk to them?" I repeated.

"Sure. Say anything you want. Let them hear the sound of your voice."

I felt like a real jerk, but I patted the top of Cheryl's head (which is softer than it looks) and said, "Hi, Cheryl. I'm Jessi. I'm going to walk you and take care of you next week."

Cheryl look at me with her huge eyes — and yawned.

We all laughed. "I guess I'm not very impressive," I said.

On the floor in the living room lay an apricot-colored poodle.

"That's Pooh Bear/' said Mrs. Mancusi. "Believe it or not, she's harder to walk than Cheryl. Cheryl is big but obedient. Pooh Bear is small but devilish."

I knelt down and patted Pooh Bear's curly fur. "Nice girl," I said. (Pooh Bear stared at me.) "Nice girl. . . Um, I'm Jessi. We're going to take walks next week." Then I added in a whisper, "I hope you'll behave."

The Mancusis' third dog is a golden retriever named Jacques. Jacques was napping in the kitchen. He tiredly stuck his paw in my lap when I sat down next to him, but he barely opened his eyes.

"Now Jacques," began Mr. Mancusi, "is only a year old. Still pretty much a puppy. He tries hard to behave, but if Pooh Bear acts up, he can't help following her lead."

"Right," I said. I tried to think of something creative to say to Jacques, but finally just told him I was looking forward to walking him.

"All right. Cats next," said Mrs. Mancusi, picking up the kitten. "This little fluffball is Powder. He's just two and a half months old. But don't worry. He knows how to take care of himself. Also, his mother is here."

"Hi, Powder," I said, putting my face up to his soft fur.

Then Mrs. Mancusi set Powder on the ground and we went on a cat-hunt, in search of the other four. Here's who we found: Crosby, an orange tiger cat who can fetch like a dog; Ling-Ling, a Siamese cat with a very loud voice; Tom, a patchy gray cat with a wicked temper; and Rosie, Powder's mother.

Next we went into the Mancusis' den, where there were several large bird cages holding parakeets, cockatoos, and macaws.

"Awk?" said one bird as we entered the room. "Where's the beef? Where's the beef? Where's the beef?"

Mr. Mancusi laughed. "That's Frank," he said. "He used to watch a lot of TV. I mean, before we got him." I must have looked astonished, because he went on, "It's natural for some birds to imitate what they hear. Frank can say other things, too, can't you, Frank?"

Frank blinked his eyes but remained silent.

"See, he isn't really trained," added Mr. Mancusi. "He only talks when he feels like it."

Mrs. Mancusi removed the bird that had landed on her shoulder earlier and placed him in one of the cages. "Often, we leave the cages open," she told me, "and let the birds fly

around the house. I'd suggest it for next week, but most people don't feel comfortable trying to get the birds back in the cages, so maybe that's not such a good idea."

It certainly didn't sound like a good one to me.

I started to leave the den, but Mr. Mancusi was looking at me, so I peered into the bird cages and spoke to Frank and his friends.

In the kitchen were a cage full of hamsters and a much bigger cage, almost a pen, that contained two guinea pigs. I looked in at the hamsters first.

"They're nocturnal," said Mrs. Mancusi. "They're up all night and asleep all day. You should see them in the daytime. They sleep in a big pile in the middle of the cage."

I smiled. Then I looked at the guinea pigs. They were pretty interesting, too. They were big, bigger than the hamsters, and they were sniffing around their cage. Every so often one of them would let out a whistle.

"The guinea pigs are Lucy and Ricky. You know, from the 7 Love Lucy show," said Mr. Mancusi. "They shouldn't be any trouble, and they love to be taken out of their cage for exercise."

"Okay," I said, thinking that Lucy and Ricky looked like fun.

We left the kitchen and walked toward a sun porch. The job, I decided, was going to be big but manageable. I could handle it.

Then I met the reptiles.

The aquarium full of turtles wasn't too bad. I don't love turtles, but I don't mind them.

What was bad was Barney.

Barney is a snake. He's very small and he isn't poisonous, but he's still a snake. A wriggling, scaly, tongue-flicking snake.

Thank goodness the Mancusis didn't ask me to touch Barney or take him out of his cage. All they said was I'd have to feed him. Well, I could do that. Even if I did have to feed him the insects and earthworms that the Mancusis had a supply of. I'd just try to wear oven mitts. Or maybe I could stand ten feet away from his cage and throw the worms in.

"Nice Barney. Good Barney," I whispered when the Mancusis stopped and waited for me to talk to him. "You don't hurt me — and I'll stay away from you."

Next the Mancusis showed me their fish (about a million of them), and their rabbits (Fluffer-Nut, Cindy, Toto, and Robert). And after that, they took me back to the kitchen, where they had posted lists of instructions for caring for each type of animal, plus everything I'd need to feed and exercise them — food