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Dog Diaries

James Patterson




  Copyright

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Copyright © 2018 by James Patterson

  Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  JIMMY Patterson Books / Little, Brown and Company

  Hachette Book Group

  1290 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10104

  JimmyPatterson.org

  Facebook.com/JimmyPattersonBooks

  Twitter.com/Jimmy_Books

  First ebook edition: December 2018

  Originally published in Great Britain by Penguin Random House UK, May 2018

  JIMMY Patterson Books is an imprint of Little, Brown and Company, a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The JIMMY Patterson Books® name and logo are trademarks of JBP Business, LLC.

  The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

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  ISBN 978-0-316-48749-8

  E3-20181025-JV-PC

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  The First Day: A Lot of Tuesdays Ago…

  Today… Friday: The Catch-A-Doggy-Bone Kennel

  The Sleep Room

  The Food Room

  The Rainy Poop Room

  The Picture Box Room

  Jawjaw’s Room

  The Backyard

  Then there’s one last place…

  10 p.m.

  Saturday

  6:12 a.m.

  10 a.m.

  10:28 a.m.

  A Quick History of Us…

  11:45 a.m.

  11:57 a.m.

  8:30 p.m.

  Sunday

  8:16 a.m.

  9:07 a.m.

  10 a.m.

  10:03 a.m.

  3:56 p.m.

  4:15 p.m.

  8 p.m.

  8:45 p.m.

  Monday: Training Day 1!!

  4 p.m.

  Tuesday

  4 p.m.

  Wednesday

  4:30 p.m.

  6:28 p.m.

  8:45 p.m.

  Thursday

  9:08 a.m.

  9:37 a.m.

  1p.m.

  5p.m.

  Friday

  8:45 p.m.

  Saturday

  7:28 a.m.

  8 a.m.

  9:30 a.m.

  9:42 a.m.

  9:53 a.m.

  9:56 a.m.

  9:58 a.m.

  9:59 a.m.

  11:47 a.m.

  10:30 p.m.

  How to speak Doglish

  About the Authors

  Jimmy Patterson Books for Young Readers

  Newsletters

  For Michelle, Dizzy, and Odie—my park pals.

  —SB

  OOOOOOH! You opened it! You actually opened my book!

  I’ve been waiting for ages, and now a human-youngling is finally reading the beginning of my story.

  This sure is a waggy-tail-icious moment! I don’t think I’ve been this excited since… since… since I spotted a raccoon out by the trash cans and chased it up a fence!

  That was a good day… IT WAS TERRIFIC… one of the greatest, but this is even greater!

  I love humans, and I bet you’re a really tremendous one.

  Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy!

  Okay, I need to calm down a little if we’re going to get this story told.

  Hmmm… what to do first?

  Oh yeah! Here’s a gift just for you. It’d be rude of me not to share my best-best-BEST treasure.

  MY FAVORITE STICK!

  It’s yours, I insist. One end is a little chewed, but the rest of it is excellent. Don’t crunch it all at once.

  There—now you’re my really real person-pal and we can start the story properly.

  Sit!

  Sit!

  Down!

  Ha ha… I’ve always wanted to say that to a human.

  Okay. If you’re comfortable, I’ll begin…

  I remember it like it was yesterday.

  The happiest moment of a mutt’s life, when you see your pet human for the first time, and you know instantly that you’re going to be BEST FRIENDS forever.

  That’s how it was when I met mine, and OH BOY do I have a great pet. But I’m getting ahead of myself. You don’t even know who I am.

  I should probably start this story the way you humans like to, with an introduction. Us pooches don’t normally bother with things like that. We usually prefer to take a polite sniff of each other’s butts and—HEY PRESTO!—we’ve got all the information we need. But for you, my non-furry reader, I’ll make an exception.

  My name is Junior—hello! Or should I say, HERROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW?

  If you hadn’t guessed already, I’m a dog. Yep… shiny-nosed… licky-tongued… floppy- eared… bow-wow-woof-woof… and you’re holding my daily doggy diary in your five fingery digits.

  Consider yourself extremely lucky, my person-pal. In this book, you’ll find the story of my life so far with my brand-new family, and it’s a HUMDINGER!

  Now, I know what you’re thinking. You’re sitting there, wrinkling up your forehead as we speak, saying “A dog’s diary?” to yourself and picturing my furry little paws typing away at a computer or scribbling in a notebook. Don’t be so people-brained… Ha!

  You may also be wondering why on earth I would be keeping a journal. That’s what princesses locked in towers, or grandmoos and grand-paws get up to, right?

  WRONG!

  In case you didn’t know, all canines keep diaries. IT’S TRUE! We always have, ever since the DAWN OF DOG… all the way back to the time of the cavepeople and their saber-toothed terriers…

  Just not in the same way that humans might.

  Why do you think we all stop to sniff every corner and streetlight and fire hydrant on our morning walk?

  Never thought about it, huh?

  Well, I’ll tell you.

  We’re snooping on the local gossip, checking who’s been around, and generally keeping up to date with what’s happening in the neighborhood. To us, having a good snuffle is like reading the news.

  You see, dogs keep smell diaries. Every pee and poop tells a tale, dontchaknow? But let’s not panic just yet. I’m not about to ask you to stop and sniff my… ummm… you-know-what.

  Nope, with the help of some booky brainiac humans, my story has been written down. Incredible, huh? They can do ANYTHING nowadays. And you can safely enjoy every word without having to worry about all the whiffs and stinks. IT’S EXCELLENT! EVERYBODY WINS!

  So, where was I?

  Oh, yeah, my pet human. I guess the day I came to live with him and his family is the best place to begin my diary. It’s my happiest day of them all, so far.

  Only last year, my life was a seriously different bowl of kibble.

  Like so many of my furry friends, I was serving life in the slammer… the clink… pooch prison!

  You guessed it. My luck had run
out and I found myself locked away in the scariest place in the whole world. Scratch that—THE WHOLE UNIVERSE!

  There are no ear scratches or belly rubs or nose boops in that place, let me tell you. No siree! The humans who work there shuffle past, ignoring you, and don’t even want to play ball! I KNOW! IT’S HORRIFIC!

  That place is one great big boredom-fest. It’s enough to turn even the bounciest pup into a small microbe of misery in no time.

  BUT… I’m not there now, ha ha!

  Yipp-yipp-yippee, I can’t wait to tell you this part.

  All righty. Do you have spare snacks to keep us both happy as we scamper through the next few pages together?

  You do?

  EXCELLENT!

  The First Day:

  A Lot of Tuesdays Ago…

  I was sitting in the backyard of a house with the old lady called Grandmoo who smells like ointment and bug spray, the Mom-Lady, and the little one with a voice like a dog whistle staring down at me.

  Mom-Lady had collected me from the shelter earlier that day, and it was all SO EXCITING! She bought me a new green collar with a jingly tag on it, and I got to ride up front in one of those moving people-boxes on wheels. I had to concentrate really hard so I didn’t pee on the seats with happiness.

  Later, though, we were just waiting around for something, I guess… or someone. It seemed to go on forever and was very confusing.

  I looked up at the three different-sized ladies and tried to figure out what they were thinking about. I’d been hoping for a treat or two and was even trying out my best puppy-dog eyes on the oldest one, but so far it hadn’t worked.

  The littlest person (her name is Jawjaw) was complaining and grumbling because she said I was going to mess up her room. What room? We were in the yard! At this point, my understanding of the Peoplish language was pretty crummy, but I could tell she wasn’t happy with me. I wagged my tail and jumped up a few times, leaving muddy paw-prints on her knees (humans LOVE that), but she pushed me away, grunting.

  This can’t be it, I thought to myself. It’s just like the shelter. No one wants to play.

  But… one person did…

  “Hey!” a boy’s voice shouted from inside the house.

  Mom-Lady called to it, and a skinny kid with messy hair and long, gangly legs clomped out through the back door.

  That was it! That was the moment I laid eyes on my pet human for the first time. It makes my tail go crazy just remembering it.

  “Surprise!” shouted Mom-Lady.

  “Is that…?” My pet human gasped. He looked completely shocked, like he’d just swallowed a hornet’s nest.

  “It’s a dog!” Grandmoo said.

  “Well, yeah,” mumbled my pet human, “but does he…?”

  Jawjaw grumbled about something again. I was beginning to think I didn’t like her all that much. She certainly didn’t like me.

  “I mean, is he… mine?” my pet human asked.

  “Yes,” said Mom-Lady. “He’s yours, Ruff.”

  RUFF! The best-best-BESTEST name in all the world.

  Before I knew it, Ruff was down on the ground and I was planting as many slobbery licks on his cheek as I could. He smelled like junk food and broken rules, and his face tasted like mischief. I loved all of it. They say you never adore anything as much as your first pet, and I couldn’t agree more.

  Don’t get me wrong—I’d known plenty of other humans back before I wound up in the dog shelter, but none of those were mine to keep.

  Finally I had a buddy for life. Just look at him…

  His full name is Ruff Catch-A-Doggy-Bone. I know! What are the odds a human would have such a poochish name!?!

  He smiled down at me, and I jumped about his legs, nipping and bouncing and yipping. It’s what us dogs call “The Happy Dance.”

  Hey… don’t judge. I was having the time of my little life, and once you’ve finished this book, you’ll be Happy-Dancing all over the place, I’ll bet.

  Anyway, just when I thought things couldn’t get any better… any more

  TERRIFICALLY WONDERFUL

  Ruff said the two most magical words I think ever existed.

  They’re so powerful, these words can leave you wagging your tail for days.

  Agh! I’m not sure I can even tell you what he said, it makes me so overexcited.

  Okay… breathe, Junior.

  Breathe in…

  Breathe out…

  Breathe in…

  Breathe out…

  Right, I’m ready.

  Ruff looked down at me.

  He smiled his goofy human smile, then patted me on the head, opened his mouth… and said it:

  HE JUST SAID IT!

  I swear, I could have exploded into a billion little doggy pieces at that moment. Someone was telling me I was a GOOD BOY!

  So there it is… the beginning of my story. We’re on here and you’re still here reading with me. I knew you would be. Great, isn’t it? Well, there’s plenty more to tell you, so don’t go anywhere just yet.

  My life with the Catch-A-Doggy-Bone family had finally begun, and it’s all fun and games from here on out in our BRILLIANT home.

  Come and see if you don’t believe me…

  Today… Friday:

  The Catch-A-Doggy-Bone Kennel

  Okay… if I tell the story properly… like PROPERLY-PROPERLY… you stand to learn quite a lot from my BRILLIANT diary. I’d say every human in the world could use a few tips on how to live a little bit more like us pooches. After all, who’s happier than a dog?

  Think of this book as a MUTT MANUAL… CANINE CLASS… DROOL SCHOOL… and you’ll be enjoying a more SMELL-TASTIC life in no time.

  Let’s start with a wander around my home. It’s not as big and grand as some of the enormous kennels over on the far side of town, but for the Catch-A-Doggy-Bone pack, it’s just right.

  Our family kennel is warm and cozy, and FULL of all the things a dog needs to get by—when you know where to look.

  Now, if you’re going to live just like a MASTERFUL MUTT, you need to learn all the coolest hiding places, things to sniff, spots to stash your snacks and toys (a pooch’s life is not worth living without those), escape routes, and vantage points for barking at people walking through your neighborhood. You name it, I’ll teach you where to find it.

  If your kennel is anything like mine, it’ll be stuffed full of all these and more.

  C’mon… I’ll show you the best parts.

  The Sleep Room

  A pet human’s sleep room is practically a jungle gym to us dogs. It’s filled from top to bottom with amazing things to taste and smell and play with, and where all the best hugs and scratches happen. Let’s not forget it’s also the one place in the whole kennel where little brothers and sisters almost never dare to tread… almost. Treats hidden in here are safest from sniffing snouts and snooping eyes.

  The Food Room

  No human kennel is complete without a great big room filled with FOOD! It’s the yummiest, smelliest, most snack-tastic place to be.

  Just by luck, Mom-Lady keeps the broom in the same cupboard as all the bags and boxes of my treats.

  I figured it out ages ago… the more mess I make, the more she opens the cupboard, giving me the chance to swipe a few Crunchy-Lumps or Doggo-Drops. Ha ha! I’m a genius… what can I say?

  Ah, food… I love you!

  The Rainy Poop Room

  This room is so weird! Whoever heard of a room just for pooping and washing? That’s what backyards are for! Humans can be so funny at times… but hey… if you don’t judge me for my Happy Dance, I won’t judge you guys and your rainy poop rooms.

  The Picture Box Room

  The Picture Box Room is where humans love to sit and stare for hours. It’s a real puzzle to me…

  It’s the one room of the kennel that has a perfect view of the street, which makes it a great barking base, and I keep my most delicious treats under the big hairy square on the floor. VERY IMPORTANT!

>   Jawjaw’s Room

  Jawjaw’s Room is strictly out of bounds whenever she’s at home, but the rooms you aren’t supposed to go in are always the most interesting. Her shoes are by far the most delicious, but watch out for her army of mini-humans—they see everything!

  The Backyard

  The backyard is my little kingdom. It’s extremely important that I protect it by barking at birds, squirrels, RACCOONS, airplanes, RACCOONS, clouds, neighbors, RACCOONS, and moving people-boxes on wheels…

  AND RACCOONS!

  Then there’s one last place…

  Brace yourself, my person-pal! I didn’t want to have to show you this, but I have no choice. If your kennel is just like mine, there is one spot in your home that’s more scary, more dangerous, MORE TERRIFYING than any other.

  Don’t turn the page until you’ve hidden yourself safely away. GO!!

  RUUUUUNNNNNNN!!!

  Take my book with you and hide.

  Under the bed! In the laundry pile! BEHIND THE COMFY SQUISHY THING!

  Are you safe in your secret spot?

  Okay… the most spine-jangling place in the house is…

  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not the closet itself that’s horrifying. It’s what lives in there…

  Lurking in the shadows among the coats and winter boots is a monster that would turn a Dalmatian’s spots white with terror. It’s my archest of enemies, and has gobbled up some of my most precious treasures in the past.

  Inside that cupboard of doom lives…

  It’s the most evil creature I’ve ever met and it always comes out to roar around the house when Ruff and Jawjaw are at school. Mom-Lady pushes and pulls it through the rooms in a terrible battle of strength. It’s hard to tell who’s winning sometimes as it’s sucking and slobbering up all the best pieces of breakfast from the floor, but eventually Mom-Lady always defeats it by unplugging its tail from the wall.