Stick dog comes to town, p.1
Stick Dog Comes to Town, page 1
Dedication
To: MEJ
(YGATB)
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1: Mutt’s Shoe Collection
Chapter 2: A Magic Tree
Chapter 3: Pine Cones Are Delicious
Chapter 4: Sweet and Minty
Chapter 5: Wait a Minute
Chapter 6: There’s a Banana in Your Ear
Chapter 7: Stop Being So Bossy
Chapter 8: Jerky and Santa
Chapter 9: Wow
Chapter 10: What About Us?
Chapter 11: Giants
Chapter 12: Fish
Chapter 13: Karen Is Sparkly
Chapter 14: Long-Term Planning
Chapter 15: Karen Hops On
Chapter 16: The Ultimate Shake
Chapter 17: Wait!
Chapter 18: One More Thing
Chapter 19: Finished
Chapter 20: Christmas Morning
About the Author
Back Ad
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
Mutt’s Shoe Collection
Mutt was on the old couch cushion in Stick Dog’s pipe below Highway 16. He was surrounded by shoes. He had recently discovered that shoes were his new and absolute favorite things to chew on. So whenever the dogs were out and about searching for food, they searched for shoes for Mutt too.
They had collected more than a dozen so far. They found shoes in garbage cans that Poo-Poo knocked over by ramming headfirst into them. They found shoes at Picasso Park, on the side of the road, and lots of places.
Mutt chewed on a blue basketball sneaker at this particular moment.
“How’s the shoe, Mutt?” Stripes asked. She and Poo-Poo sat side by side to stay warm. It was winter.
“It’s fantastic,” Mutt said after dropping the shoe from his mouth. He didn’t want to be impolite. “Just fantastic.”
“What’s fantastic about it?” Poo-Poo asked. He wasn’t making fun; he was curious. “Why’s it better than chewing on a Frisbee? Or a mitten or something?”
“It’s a great question,” Mutt answered. “You see, with a shoe it’s just the entire chewing experience. It’s such a complete thing.”
Stripes asked, “How so?”
“Shoes have different materials and textures and parts,” Mutt explained. “The soles are usually soft and rubbery—a real relaxed and rhythmic chewing experience. The heels on fancy shoes can be hard, which is great for gnawing. And leather shoes are great for shredding. And I haven’t even told you about the best part.”
“What’s the best part?” asked Poo-Poo.
“Shoestrings,” Mutt said. “When I chew a shoestring, it often gets between my teeth. I can pull it back and forth. It’s a very satisfying feeling.”
Poo-Poo and Stripes nodded their understanding, and Mutt got that sneaker back in his mouth. He went after the shoestrings first.
Stick Dog smiled. He had been listening to his friends’ conversation from where he stood at the entrance to his pipe, staring out at the meadow and forest. There was a five-inch-thick layer of snow on the ground.
So far, it had been a gray day—for a couple of reasons.
It was cloudy—that was the first reason.
But they had also been unsuccessful in their search for food in the morning. The garbage cans at Picasso Park were all empty. It had been too busy in town to stop by Mike’s Magnificent Meats to see their friend, Lucy—and see if she could sneak them some meaty scraps. Stick Dog had never seen so many humans bustling around the town’s shops.
Their unsuccessful food search had made the gray day even grayer.
Then, around noon, everything brightened.
It started to snow—the very first snowfall of winter. And Stick Dog felt his spirits lift. The day felt just a little less gray. It was still cold—and he and his friends were still hungry. But there was something about the fresh snowfall that seemed to bring a magical brightness to the day.
And now, Stick Dog thought it seemed especially true. It was dusk. The remaining sunlight painted the sky in gold and pink. And the snow all around him glittered and reflected those bright colors.
Stick Dog was content to stand there—cold as he was—and watch how the day shifted into evening. He would have stayed there, no doubt, for several more minutes if someone didn’t suddenly race out of the forest and across the meadow.
It was Karen, the dachshund.
And she had some news—startling news.
Chapter 2
A Magic Tree
Karen hustled into the pipe, slipping and sliding to a stop.
“I found a magic tree!” she exclaimed, breathing hard.
“A magic tree?” Stick Dog asked. You could tell by the tone of his voice that he didn’t believe in magic trees. But you could also tell he was curious about what Karen thought she had found.
“That’s right,” answered Karen immediately. Her little dachshund body vibrated with energy and glee. A fine mist of melted snow sprang forth from her fur every time she shook. “Magic.”
“There’s no such thing as magic, Karen,” Poo-Poo said.
“What about that one time I caught my tail? January sixteenth!” Karen said quickly. “That was the most magical day of my life!”
Stick Dog didn’t want the conversation to devolve into the existence—or nonexistence—of magic. He quickly refocused the subject.
“Karen,” he said. “Why don’t you tell us how you discovered this tree?”
She nodded her head with incredible vigor and began her story.
“I went to Fountain Square to get a drink,” Karen began.
Karen’s friends all knew exactly where she meant. There was a small square on Main Street in the nearby town. In the middle of the square was a fountain where the dogs had gotten fresh water to drink many times at night when no humans were around. It was close to Mike’s, the store where their friend, Lucy, lived.
“I was really thirsty—and that fountain always has nice water,” Karen continued. She looked around to make sure everybody else was listening. She liked being the center of attention like this. “Well, when I got there the water was totally frozen solid, which was a bummer.”
Stick Dog didn’t mention that the fountain had likely been frozen for at least a month. Instead, he said. “That’s too bad. What happened next?”
“I heard a siren,” Karen answered. “And I remembered what you always say, Stick Dog.”
“I’ve always said that when we hear a siren, we should hide,” Stick Dog said. “In case it’s the dogcatcher or something. So, I bet you left that fountain and hid somewhere.”
“That’s exactly what I did!” Karen exclaimed. “I heard the siren and ran to hide under a big pine tree that was close to the fountain.”
“Tell us all about it,” encouraged Stick Dog.
“Okay, I will!” Karen went on enthusiastically. “Did you know that near pine tree trunks there’s a nice open space?!”
“I did know that,” Stick Dog answered. “Pine trees make great hiding spots because the branches hang down so low at the bottom.”
“Right, right,” Karen said. “Well, I was under that tree waiting for that siren to go away. It only took a few seconds. So I started out of that hiding place to get a drink of water from the fountain. I was still really thirsty.”
Stick Dog said, “I thought you said the water in the fountain was frozen.”
“That’s right. I did say that.”
“So, umm, did you search for water someplace else?” asked Stick Dog.
“Why in the world would I do that?” Karen replied. “When the fountain was right there?”
“But you knew the water in the fountain was frozen.”
“I knew the water was frozen before I hid under the pine tree,” Karen explained. “I didn’t know it would be frozen after I stopped hiding.”
“Oh, umm, okay,” Stick Dog said, resisting the urge to smack a paw against his forehead. “And how long were you hiding?”
“I’d say about fifteen seconds or so.”
“And you thought the ice in the fountain might have melted in that fifteen seconds?”
“Sure,” Karen said with happiness and innocence in her voice. “I’m a believer, Stick Dog. I like to surround myself with tons of positive energy and believe that awesome things can happen. That’s one of the things that makes me special!”
Stick Dog couldn’t help it. He had to smile.
“You are quite special, that is for certain,” he said. “So did the ice melt?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why not.”
“I never made it back to the fountain.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s when the magic happened!”
“How did the magic happen?”
“I hit my head! Isn’t that wonderful?!”
Chapter 3
Pine Cones Are Delicious
“Hitting your head was the magic part, Karen?” Stick Dog asked.
“That’s right!” she answered, pointing at the top of her head.
“Karen,” Poo-Poo interjected. He seemed compelled to speak. He was, as you know, quite an expert on this subject. “I’ve hit my head into hundreds of things. I’ve bashed into tree trunks, big rocks, garbage cans, swing sets—all kinds of stuff. The pain is quit
“Thanks for that unique insight, Poo-Poo,” Stick Dog said, and then turned to Karen. “I guess we’d all like to understand how hitting your head was magical.”
“Well, it wasn’t the actual hitting of my head,” Karen revealed. “It’s what I hit my head into!”
“And what was that?” asked Stripes.
“It was the strangest pine cone I’ve ever seen!” Karen exclaimed. “That’s what made that pine tree a magic tree. It was covered in magic pine cones!”
The entire group—even Stick Dog—found this fascinating. They stepped even closer, forming a tight circle around her. Karen spun slowly there as she provided more and more information.
“The pine cones were not shaped like pine cones at all.”
Stripes asked, “What shape were these magic pine cones?”
“They were long and skinny—with hooks on one end. Like a curve.”
Mutt asked, “What color were these long, thin, hooked, magic pine cones?”
“They weren’t brown like regular pine cones,” Karen answered, her eyes stretched wide. “They were red and white and sort of, like, striped!”
Poo-Poo asked, “How many of these long, thin, hooked, red-and-white-striped, magic pine cones were there?”
“Hundreds and hundreds!” Karen yelled.
“Karen,” Stick Dog said calmly. “How were these, umm, magic pine cones in the tree?”
“They hung on the tree—just like regular pine cones.”
“Fascinating,” Stick Dog said, more to himself than to his friends. Karen’s description was so specific and detailed that he had little doubt that she had actually discovered something. He didn’t suspect that they were actually, you know, magical. But he was certainly interested in finding out more about the objects that Karen described. Next time they were in town and close to the fountain, he would like to investigate that tree.
But there was still something Stick Dog didn’t know. And that something would make him change his mind quickly about investigating that tree sometime in the future.
Karen wasn’t all the way done with her description yet. She had left out the most important detail.
She had saved the best for last.
“There’s one more thing,” Karen said in a quieter, more dramatic voice. “It’s the most magical thing of all!”
“What?!?!” Stripes, Mutt, and Poo-Poo screamed in unison.
“Those magic pine cones,” Karen began, and paused. She lifted one eyebrow and grinned from the corner of her mouth. It was certainly evident that she liked building up the suspense of the moment. “Are delicious! I licked one!”
Mutt, Poo-Poo, and Stripes stared at Karen. They couldn’t believe what she just said.
They all knew, after all, that you can’t eat pine cones.
Then the four of them jerked their heads toward Stick Dog.
He said just one thing.
“Let’s go!”
Chapter 4
Sweet and Minty
It didn’t take long for the five dogs to reach Fountain Square. Once they got to the edge of town, they scurried and skittered around parked cars, garbage cans, and benches. They stayed safely hidden from the few humans who were around.
They snuck their way to Fountain Square in three minutes.
And they saw the huge pine tree.
It was exactly as Karen had described. It was big. It was close to the fountain. And it was covered with lots and lots of those magical pine cones that she was so excited about.
Stick Dog stuck his head out from the left side of a bench and looked left and right. He looked left and right again. There were no humans very close. He thought they could make it without being seen.
“Okay,” he said, turning back to his friends. “We’re going to do exactly what Karen did earlier. We’ll duck under those low-hanging branches of the pine tree and hide by the trunk. Then we’ll check out the red and white things.”
“Stick Dog?” Karen asked.
“Yes?”
“I’m going to stop by the fountain on the way to get a drink of water,” she said. “I’m still thirsty.”
“The water is frozen, Karen,” he said quickly. “You can’t drink it.”
“How do you know that?” Karen asked.
“Because you were there earlier tonight and it was frozen then,” Stick Dog said. He didn’t want to get into this now—not while the coast was clear. “Just eat some snow. That will relieve your thirst. That’s what we always do in the winter.”
“Oh, Stick Dog, Stick Dog,” Stripes said. She seemed to be talking on Karen’s behalf. “She’s not hungry, she’s thirsty. She doesn’t want to eat something. She wants to drink something.”
Mutt and Poo-Poo seemed to rally to this way of thinking. They nodded their heads in agreement and chimed in with their own comments.
Poo-Poo said, “You can only drink liquids, Stick Dog. Everybody knows that.”
Mutt added, “Snow is not a liquid.”
Stick Dog closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. He pictured the trees outside his pipe from earlier—when winter’s first snowfall began to cover their branches in a soft, glistening white. He exhaled slowly, opened his eyes, and responded to his friends.
“You’re all correct about everything, of course,” Stick Dog said. “But I think we’ve talked about this before. In fact, I seem to remember talking about this very subject at the beginning of every winter.”
“Talk about what?” Karen asked.
“How snow is kind of like frozen rain,” Stick Dog began to explain. He did his best to remember what he told his friends at the first snowfall the previous year. And the year before that. And the year before that. And, you know, all the years before that. “If you get some snow in your mouth it will melt very quickly and turn into water.”
“But we need to drink a liquid, Stick Dog,” Poo-Poo argued. “A liquid.”
“Water, umm, is a liquid,” Stick Dog whispered slowly.
“Oh, right.”
Stick Dog decided to stop talking. Instead, he leaned down and took a big bite of snow from the ground. He lifted his head, squeezed his lips together, and allowed the snow to melt in his mouth. It only took a couple of seconds. Then he swallowed as loudly and deliberately as he could.
This was all Karen, Poo-Poo, Mutt, and Stripes needed to see. All four of them quickly plunged their muzzles into the snow, took some bites, waited for it to melt into water, and then swallowed. They did this several times each.
“Well, how about that?” Mutt said. “It really does work. Thanks for telling us about it, Stick Dog.”
“No problem,” he replied. He eyeballed the route from the bench to the big pine tree and deemed it safe again. “Come on!”
Stick Dog raced out from behind the bench and crossed the snow-covered square—passing by the fountain as he did. When he reached the big pine tree, he skidded to a stop. He lifted one of the lower branches into the air and all the other dogs ducked beneath.
There was not a ton of room underneath the tree, but there was enough for them to settle in.
“Do you think we’re safe in here, Stick Dog?” Stripes asked.
“I think so, yes,” Stick Dog answered as he looked around. “I don’t think a human could ever see us through this tree’s thick branches. And I highly doubt any human will come in here. It’s even a little warmer in here with the branches and pine needles blocking the wind. It’s nice.”
These assurances from Stick Dog helped everyone relax.
“Then what do we do now?” Mutt asked.
Stick Dog didn’t hesitate to answer.
“I think we should try these red and white things,” he said. “Right now.”
“They’re not things, Stick Dog,” Karen corrected. “They’re pine cones. Magic pine cones.”
“If you say so, Karen,” Stick Dog answered quickly. “Magic pine cones it is.”
