A senior Miniature Schnauzer employed as a very distinguished nanny has his paws full trying to prove he’s still the dog for the job in this sweet and “chaotically entertaining” ( Kirkus Reviews ) middle grade novel that’s The Secret Life of Pets meets The Vanderbeekers series. Every day, Lord Tennyson the Miniature Schnauzer does his very best to care for the six McNiff children and keep them from destroying their pink New England farmhouse—and the rest of the town for that matter. But when summer vacation brings the kids home together all day, his chaos-containing skills are put to the ultimate test. Baby Sweetums is still refusing to walk, nap, or listen to anyone; Ezra is trying to keep a snake as a secret pet; Annie and Mary’s fighting is worse than ever; and Pearl and Tate are scared of just about everything. And when a particularly tempting troop of baby chicks arrives at the house, even Lord Tennyson finds he can’t stay on his best behavior. As the chaos begin to spiral out of hand, though, something truly awful happens: Mr. and Mrs. McNiff seem to be considering getting “a real nanny” to care for their big brood! Can Lord Tennyson get the McNiffs’ hijinks under control and teach them to behave before the summer’s out? Or will this most unusual nanny find himself out of a job and back in the doghouse? "A lively role-reversing family story...Makechnie invites readers into a sometimes frenetic household that’s frequently suffused with love and laughs. Humor abounds in quirky details—avian creatures named after Downton Abbey characters, Tenny’s formal inner dialogue and love of the film Mary Poppins —while the siblings’ bickering, teasing, and supportive interactions ring true." -- Publisher's Weekly ― April 24, 2023 "The writing is strong, and Lord Tennyson has an arch, competent manner in keeping with his professional role model, Mary Poppins....Chaotically entertaining." -- Kirkus Reviews ― May 1, 2023 Amy Makechnie is an author of books for young people of all ages. Her novels include The Unforgettable Guinevere St. Clair , Ten Thousand Tries , and The McNifficents . Stay in touch with Amy by subscribing to her newsletter at AmyMakechnie.com. Chapter One: The McNiffs Go to the Beach CHAPTER ONE The McNiffs Go to the Beach IN A LARGE PINK FARMHOUSE at 238 Marigold Lane lives a most unusual nanny: Lord Tennyson, a short, middle-aged gentleman with white whiskers and a royal pedigree. If he could speak, it would be with dignity and a touch of an English accent. If he wore clothing, he imagines he’d wear a suit of gray silk and a striped bow tie. But he does neither because Lord Tennyson is a dog, a miniature schnauzer to be exact, who wears only a blue-and-green collar that has teeth marks in it from when Sweetums was going through a particularly bad biting phase. Despite his distinguished appearance and pedigree, he was not spending his morning caring for a dignitary’s son or the daughter of the president. Rather, his duty was herding the unruly McNiff children from the old pink farmhouse into the old red farm truck for the first swim of summer vacation. There were six of them: two boys and four girls. As you can imagine, getting all of them to and from the lake was not an easy task. There were swimsuits, sunscreen, towels, toys, and countless cheese sticks to pack. (Lord Tennyson loved cheese sticks, so he packed a few extra for himself.) There was whining and shushing and clambering and squishing into one another as the children jockeyed for their favorite grubby, crumb-filled seats. There was yanking on seat belts or trying to disregard them altogether until Lord Tennyson’s stern, reprimanding eyebrow demanded buckling. By the time they finally set off, Lord Tennyson was already panting from the incredible effort and early-morning heat. (After all, he always wore a lovely coat of fur.) He settled onto nine-year-old Ezra’s lap, relishing in his favorite part of any ride: sticking his head out the window and allowing his tongue to flap in the wind. Long strings of drool trailed behind, which was a completely undignified look, but without a linen handkerchief, unavoidable. This luxury did not last long. Lord Tennyson, always in high demand, was immediately snatched off Ezra’s lap by eleven-year-old Mary. “Oh, sweet baby,” Mary cooed, holding him like he was the infant and scratching his stomach. Lord Tennyson did not appreciate being yanked and grabbed. Also, he was not a “sweet baby.” Yet he understood that humans had a great need to baby talk to furry, adorable creatures like himself. He also tolerated most anything from his charges for belly scratches. “I had Tenny first,” Ezra said, pulling him back off Mary’s lap. Mary frowned, her brown eyes narrowing behind her cat-eyed frames. Mrs. McNiff, whom Lord Tennyson called Honey (because that was what Mr. McNiff called her), glanced in the rearview mirror expectantly. This was Lord Tennyson’s cue to wriggle loos