Dog Diaries, Page 2

  For instance—this morning, I’d spent ages gathering all my stashed treats and piling them together under the rug in the Picture Box Room. It was a mouthwatering masterpiece… and, you guessed it… just as I turned my back and headed off for a nap in Jawjaw’s Room, the Vacuum Cleaner starts growling… then, kapow!

  I barely made it to the Picture Box Room door before that monster had gulped up my entire store. It was heartbreaking. I hid under Ruff’s bed and whimpered to myself for hours after that.

  He only managed to coax me out this evening with the promise of a fresh Denta-Toothy-Chew and one of his AMAZING belly rubs…

  10 p.m.

  Well, now you’ve learned all about the ins and outs of the Catch-A-Doggy-Bone kennel, I feel like we’re really getting to know each other.

  Ruff brought a big bowl of Tripple-Yummo-Banana-Twist ice cream to bed with him tonight, and now I’m curled up by his feet, watching him eat it as he doodles in his doodle pad.

  My pet loves to draw. He’s even drawn me a few times.

  I’m just going to keep quiet for now, though, and let Ruff finish his ice cream. He normally dozes off pretty soon after…

  Then I can lick the bowl. HA HA!

  Saturday

  6:12 a.m.

  Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

  Today is one of the two special days per week when Ruff doesn’t go to school. They’re my favorite! I get to spend two whole days with my best pet-pal and we can do whatever we want… and I mean anything!

  I’ve had a good think about all the fun stuff I want to tick off the list, but it’s so difficult to choose what to do first.

  I definitely want to try out some new napping spots around the kennel, and of course I have to wait for the mailman to come (he loves it when I bark at him from the Picture Box Room window), and there’s an unchewed table leg in the Food Room that I’ve been meaning to take care of for weeks.

  A dog’s work is never done…

  I guess I should wake up Ruff. Normally I do it as soon as the sun rises (he LOVES it when I do that), but I let him sleep in a little later today. I’ll just go stand on his face for a second.

  Every good dog knows there’s no nicer way for a human to be woken than with a paw-poke in the center of their forehead.

  I’ll just be a sec…

  10 a.m.

  And we’re off, my person-pal…

  After a quick game of bite-the-sock while Ruff was getting dressed, our usual breakfast of waffles and maple syrup for the humans and a bowl of CANINE CRISPY CRACKERS for me, we finally decided to go to the dog park.

  It’s one of the best things about mornings in the Catch-A-Doggy-Bone kennel.

  We have a very set routine…

  1. Ruff goes to the hallway closet to grab my leash, while I growl from a safe distance to let the Vacuum Cleaner know it can’t make a dash for my other secret snack stashes around the kennel.

  2. Ruff stands in the middle of the hallway, holding my leash, and I do the Happy Dance around his feet. This part is VERY important.

  3. Once the performance is finished, I let Ruff connect the leash to my collar and I give it a few safety chews, just to make sure it’s on there correctly.

  4. Ruff opens the kennel door and I check the coast is clear of RACCOONS!

  5. LET THE WALK BEGIN!

  I should tell you that I NEVER go out without my leash on. That way I know my pet human is holding tight and won’t get lost when I’m leading him about. I’ve heard horror stories of careless dogs losing their person-pals and having to bark all over town just to find them. It’s awful!

  So, only once I know Ruff is safely attached on the other end of my leash do I allow him to head off through the neighborhood.

  It’s very important that I investigate everybody we pass with a quick jump-up to leave my paw-prints on their knees. It’s my stamp of approval. That way, they know I’ve given them my permission and they’re allowed on our street.

  Oh… and there are all the SUPER-SERIOUS SNIFFING SPOTS we have to visit on the way. OBVIOUSLY!

  10:28 a.m.

  I can’t wait to show you around the park, my furless friend. It’s one of the best places in all of Hills Village, and for a super-good reason…

  IT’S HOWL-TASTIC!

  It’s the perfect pooch playground, full of opportunities to cause a bit of chaos, meet your pooch-pals, and make loads of noise.

  Yep… once you’ve peed on the gate, you can head inside the park knowing you’re about to have the time of your life in the NOISIEST, SNIFFLEST, GO-CATCH-A-

  FRISBEE-EST place you’ll find for miles and miles around.

  There are dogs and their pet humans everywhere!

  Fountains to run in and out of… The most talented dogs can run back and forth through the water jets without getting even a teensy bit wet!

  The bushes are filled with hundreds of lost tennis balls from past games of Fetch that went wrong, and the grass is stuffed full of dropped treats from the doggy obedience classes that happen every evening. Ha! Whoever heard of an obedient dog?

  The sticks are the stickiest you’ve EVER seen, and there are more pigeons than you could ever chase in a squillion years.

  All in all, I’d say Hills Village Park is just about the most fun place you could hope to visit, and it’s made even more AMAZING when my friends are also out taking their humans for WALKS.

  My pooch-pack is awesome…

  Don’t get me wrong, people-pals are the most tremendous thing a dog could wish for, but you can’t get by without some furry friends, too.

  Allow me to introduce…

  This raggle-taggle bunch are my best-best-BESTEST pooch-pals. They’re my sniffing squad! My Barking Bunch! MY PLAYTIME PACK!

  HA!

  A Quick History of Us…

  These guys and I have been through a whole lot together. We met all the way back in our days at the Hills Village Dog Shelter. It was the six of us in one pen for what seemed like forever.

  On those long days when things were at their bleakest and a bowl of Meaty-Giblet-Jumble-Chum seemed a lifetime away, we always took care of each other. It was in that horrible place that we swore…

  Then one day, a kind-faced lady with more treats in her pockets than we could have imagined in our wildest dreams came and adopted Odin and Diego. They’d been together since they were pups, and somehow had still not figured out they weren’t brothers. But, hey… they believed it, and no one had the heart to tell them there wasn’t much of a family resemblance.

  Sure enough, once Odin and Diego were saved, one by one all my cellmates were, too. Lola went next, followed by Genghis, then Betty, until I was the only loser left in that miserable prison. I remember crying myself to sleep at night, thinking nobody would ever want me and I’d never see any of my friends again. It was horrible!

  Fast-forward to six months later. I was feeling about as gloomy and dejected as a mutt could be, so you can imagine my shock and delight when Mom-Lady came to pick me up.

  Finally, I remember thinking to myself. Finally, my luck has changed. I’d never been so happy, and thought my life couldn’t possibly get any better… until the day Ruff brought me to the park.

  I was a little nervous. I hadn’t been around this many dogs before, without metal bars separating us, and seeing so many of them bounding about made me miss my furry friends so much it hurt my heart.

  Anyway, to cut a long story short, Ruff and I had only just made it out onto the playing field for a game of fetch when a wiry chihuahua trotted across my path.

  My doggy eyes nearly jumped out of my head with surprise. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing!

  All the hairs on the back of my neck prickled on end as Diego froze in his tracks. He sniffed the air then spun around in my direction.

  For a second we both just stared, until…

  “MI AMIGO!” he barked.

  He practically flew at my face and swung on my left ear. Then we rolled around in the grass, yippin
g and nipping at each other.

  “Mi amigo!” he kept yelping as he play-bit me on my snout. “My old friend, returned?!?!”

  My tail was swishing from side to side so fast I nearly batted the poor little guy across the field like a four-legged baseball.

  Next thing I knew, Diego arched his spine, lifted his head, and HOOOOOOOWLED!

  “HOOOOOOOOOWWWWLLLLLL!” came another voice from the other side of the field.

  “OOOOW-OOOOWOOOOOOOOW!” a third voice wailed from the fountains.

  “BAAAA-WUUUUUUHHHHHH!”

  “YIP-YIP-YIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!”

  And that was that—I turned around slowly to see all my best pooch-pals running toward me from all different directions.

  Needless to say… IT WAS A GOOD DAY!

  There’s not a whole lot I can say that properly describes just how great these guys are.

  Odin and Diego are endlessly funny. You should see it when Diego scampers beneath something low, like a trash can or a bench, and Odin can’t figure out why he’s not able to make it under like his brother… ha ha!

  Lola lives to roll in mud. She’s more hippopotamus than dog, I think. A French bull-hippo.

  Genghis loves to run between your legs and steal the tennis ball you were just playing with right out from under your nose, and Betty is a master of canine comedy. She really is!

  Sometimes I wish Ruff spoke Doglish. I find it easy to understand Peoplish and what my pet has to say, but humans just aren’t as smart as dogs, sadly.

  If Ruff could understand Betty, he’d be rolling about in the grass with us, laughing his two legs off.

  11:45 a.m.

  THIS IS A DISASTER! Oh no, my personpal!! There has been a terrible incident. It was so BAD I think I might have gotten Ruff and me into more trouble than we’ve ever been in before.

  My heart is racing so much I can hardly speak. I think I might need to lie down!

  No! Come on, Junior. You can do this.

  Well, my furless friend, we were just hanging around in the park, having an AMAZING time, when…

  I SAW IT!

  I caught a flash of gray and black as something small and furry ran between the trash cans and the jungle gym.

  My ears pricked up and my super-sniff-a-licious nose caught the garbagy whiff of rac… rac…

  That was it! I couldn’t help myself. Before Ruff could stop me, I bolted across the playing field, barking my extra-barkiest bark that I save just for rac… rac… RAC… RAAAAC… RACCOONS!

  I don’t know what it is about them that drives me so CRAZY!

  Just seeing their stripy tails sends me into a frenzy. Chasing and barking at them is one of my favorite hobbies in the world. It’s just so much fun!

  I suppose if I had only run after it and barked, things wouldn’t have been so bad. The problem is, when a dog sees another dog racing across open grass, they just HAVE to follow. IT’S IRRESISTIBLE!

  In no time I was pelting across the park with every single dog who was there today, all following me.

  Of course that doesn’t sound too bad, I know.

  So what if all the dogs ran over to the jungle gym? It’s no big deal, right?

  Well… ummmm… it didn’t quite end there.

  A Saint Bernard named Tallulah who joined in the chase had been tied to a drinking fountain outside the public restrooms. In all the excitement of my little scene, she pulled the thing off the wall, sending a huge arc of water crashing onto some unsuspecting grandmoos on a bench opposite.

  Another dog had his leash knotted to the stroller his pet human was pushing, and before she knew what was happening, the lady was screaming at the top of her lungs as her baby was hurtling backward across the park, being towed by an overexcited Akita named Dwayne.

  It was canine carnage!

  Picnics were trampled, toddlers were toppled, and the peace of the park was most definitely shattered.

  To top things off, as we all clattered about the jungle gym looking for the rac… rac—oh, you know what I’m trying to say—a stern-looking woman in a green uniform marched into the middle of the chaos and lunged at me.

  I ducked under her outstretched arm, then bolted between her legs before she could get her hands on my collar. Who did she think she was, trying to stop my raccoon chase?

  “COME HERE!” she bellowed at me, spinning around to make a second grab.

  Now everything got even more wild. If there’s one thing that makes dogs run wild more than when they’re chasing something, it’s when they’re being chased.

  “BAD DOG!” the woman yelled, diving out of the path of the high-speed stroller as it careened behind Dwayne.

  Bad dog? Was she talking to me?!?! I was just doing some very important barking—what’s wrong with that?

  Before I knew it, the woman was in speedy pursuit. She was screaming and sweating, and I’m not ashamed to admit it, but I started to panic.

  “GET BACK HERE!” The angry lady pulled a whistle from her pocket and blew it. “WHO OWNS THIS DOG?”

  I’m not entirely sure what happened next. My pooch instincts kicked into gear and all I could think about was getting away from the strange human who’d called me a… a… BAD DOG!

  Those are two of the most rotten words. Worse than swearing!

  “BAD DOG” means no treats. It means being shut out in the yard, or sent to your bed without any dinner. Those two words mean you’ll eventually wind up back in the Hills Village Dog Shelter.

  Suddenly, in all the howling and yelling and grabbing, I heard Ruff’s voice. He was calling my name, which was like a tiny explosion of happiness in my heart, but I couldn’t stop now. The angry whistle-lady had nearly caught up with me, and I wasn’t about to let myself be grabbed by her.

  So… I’m sure you’re wondering what happened in the end. Did I find the raccoon? Did the crazy woman catch me and throw me in pooch prison to spend the rest of my days locked away, until there is nothing left in my cage except a pile of bones?

  Brace yourself, my furless friend. What I’m about to tell you is worse than all of those things. SO MUCH WORSE! If you had a tail, this next part of my diary would make it curly with shock.

  Picture it…

  There’s chaos! All of us dogs were barking our raccoon warnings and scrabbling about the place, and the humans were yelling at their dog-owners in return. And right in the middle of all of this is Whistling Wilma, swatting this way and that. My heart was beating faster and faster and FASTER, until…

  Silence.

  It took a moment for me to even notice that everyone, four-legged and two-legged alike, had just stopped in their tracks and was staring over at the swing set.

  “Junior! What have you done?” It was Ruff’s voice coming from a little way off, behind me.

  I spun around and… HA! I couldn’t help but laugh. In all our twisting and turning, the crazy whistle-lady had gotten herself knotted up in the ropes of the swing and was dangling like an enormous ball of human yarn just above the ground.

  What did she expect? No one can outrun JUNIOR-TRON 5000!!

  “P’toooey!” She spat the whistle out of her mouth and glared at the crowd of people that had gathered. “GET ME DOWN FROM HERE!”

  “Ma’am, I’m so sorry,” Ruff said. He darted over to the swings and started trying to untwist the red-faced woman.

  “I MEAN IT!” she snapped at Ruff as he pulled at a piece of rope that was looped around her belly. “UNTANGLE ME!”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “NOW!!!”

  My human pet gave one last almighty yank on the tattered end of the swing-rope and the crazy lady flopped onto the ground with a very winded “OOOOOOOOFF!”

  Nobody made a sound.

  I watched nervously as she flapped about on her side before stumbling to her feet.

  “You!” the woman hissed, almost pressing her nose right against Ruff’s. “Are you the owner of this unruly mongrel?”

  She jabbed a finger in my direction
without moving her eyes away from my pet human.

  Mongrel? Who was she calling a mongrel? I’m all the best parts of tons of different dog breeds all rolled into one. I’M A CANINE COCKTAIL!

  “Umm… y-yes… he’s my dog,” Ruff said. “Look, I’m sorry—”

  “Oh, save your ‘I’m sorrys’ for somebody else. That mutt is practically wild! Look at the chaos he’s caused.” She gestured her arm around the park and it was the first time I noticed the mess we’d all made… well… I’d made. “Do you know who I am?”

  “No,” Ruff said.

  “Nope,” I barked, but she didn’t understand me.

  The lady took a little card from a pouch on her belt and handed it to Ruff.

  “My name is Iona Stricker,” she said.

  Both my pet and I jolted with surprise. I knew that human surname! It was the same as the MONSTER who bullied her way around Hills Village Middle School. “Ida Stricker… QUEEN OF DETENTION!” That’s what Ruff used to call her. He’d grumble to me about that grouchy old lady all the time, without realizing I understood every word he was saying.

  “S-S-Stricker?” Ruff stammered.

  “Yes.”

  “Like… Ida Stricker?”

  “That’s Principal Stricker to you, young man… but yes, Ida Stricker is my aunt.”