Stick Dog Meets His Match

by Tom Watson

  “What?!” Karen exclaimed, and opened her eyes. She didn’t understand how her friends hadn’t enjoyed her favorite drink in the whole world. “You mean it wasn’t the most amazing thing you’ve ever tasted?”

  They shrugged again.

  “Maybe your coffee was different than ours, Karen,” Stick Dog said in an attempt to make her feel better. “Maybe you just like coffee more than we do. It’s no big deal. We can all like things as much or as little as we want.”

  Mutt wanted to help her understand. He said, “I like to eat things that aren’t food at all. I chew on Frisbees and water bottles and rope and mittens and gloves and pencils. Shoot, I’ll eat just about anything.”

  Karen nodded her head. She understood.

  Then she nodded some more.

  And some more.

  And some more.

  Her nodding got faster.

  And faster.

  And faster.

  Stick Dog was glad about that, but he was curious about why she continued to nod—and nod so fast.

  “Karen?” he asked.

  “Yes, Stick Dog,” she answered quickly. She was still nodding.

  “You can, umm, stop nodding your head now.”

  “I’m nodding my head?” She was still nodding.

  “Yes. You are.”

  Karen squeezed her eyes shut. It looked like she was using all her concentration to stop her head.

  She finally did.

  “Stick Dog?”

  “Yes, Karen?”

  “I’m going to run into the woods now,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  And before Stick Dog could say another word, Karen was gone.

  Mutt, Stripes, Poo-Poo, and Stick Dog stared at the spot between a clump of dandelions and a couple of pine tree saplings where Karen had disappeared so suddenly. The rapid rustling sound she’d made had dissipated. She was pretty far away already.

  “Wow,” Stripes observed. “I have never seen Karen move that fast. Like never ever.”

  “Me neither,” Poo-Poo agreed.

  “Maybe she’s been working out,” Mutt suggested. “You know, doing some lunges, push-ups, and squats. Or perhaps she enrolled in a Zumba or Pilates class. She could be strengthening her core. Maybe that’s why she’s so much faster.”

  Stripes and Poo-Poo thought that might indeed explain Karen’s increased speed.

  But Stick Dog had a different idea.

  “That’s possible, I suppose,” he said. “But I think it might have more to do with that coffee she just drank. I think coffee might make her, like, super-hyper or something. And she’s already a bit on the, umm, energetic side to begin with. So when she gets more hyper, it’s really noticeable.”

  “Maybe,” Poo-Poo said doubtfully.

  “Mutt?” Stick Dog asked.

  “Yes, Stick Dog? What can I do for you?”

  “I was just wondering,” Stick Dog said, and smiled. He loved how courteous Mutt always was. “How do you know so much about exercising?”

  “Oh, I’ve spent a great deal of time behind the Protein Powerhouse Gym over on Elston Avenue,” Mutt explained. “It’s where tons of humans go to exercise. I’ve found a lot of good stuff to chew on in that parking lot. Headbands, water bottles, old towels, that kind of stuff.”

  As if to demonstrate, Mutt shook an old white headband from his fur and began to gnaw at it.

  “Where do they exercise, Mutt?!” Karen yelped as she burst through some brush and skidded and stumbled to a stop.

  “Karen!” Stick Dog exclaimed. “Where did you come from?!”

  “The woods, silly,” Karen said quickly. She hopped up and down as she spoke. “Remember, I told you! I went for a quick run. I saw a blue jay, three worms, two ladybugs, and myself—in my reflection at the creek!”

  “You ran all the way to the creek in that short time?” Stick Dog asked.

  “I had to run! I just had to!”

  “Why are you jumping up and down like that?” asked Stick Dog.

  Karen looked down at her paws and at the ground. It was obvious that she didn’t know she was jumping.

  “I can’t control it! I have to hop!” Karen exclaimed, and giggled. “I can’t stop!”

  “Karen—” Stick Dog tried to say. He was a little worried about her.

  “Hey, everybody! Watch this!” Karen yelled to get all her friends’ attention. She jumped up even higher several times, fell to her belly, rolled around, and then stood back up on her four legs. “Do you know what I just did?! Do you? Do you? Do you?!?”

  “Umm, what did you just do?” asked Stick Dog.

  “I hopped! And dropped! And flopped! And stopped!”

  “Karen—” Stick Dog said.

  “Before I hopped, dropped, flopped, and stopped, you were talking about exercising humans,” Karen interrupted. She turned to Mutt and asked, “Where do they do that?”

  Mutt answered, “At the Protein Powerhouse Gym.”

  “Mutt was telling us about how he finds lots of stuff to chew on there,” Stick Dog said.

  “Where is it?” asked Karen.

  “It’s on Elston Avenue,” Mutt answered.

  “I know where that is!” Karen exclaimed. That momentary calmness had disappeared. She started to tremble again. “Let’s go!”

  And then Karen was gone.

  CHAPTER 6

  KAREN FORGETS

  “Where’d she go?” asked Stripes.

  Stick Dog shook his head and sighed.

  “I’m pretty sure she’s on her way to the Protein Powerhouse Gym,” he answered. He already regretted that he had helped Karen get coffee this morning. She was beyond hyper. He was afraid she might do something dangerous—like run into traffic or get lost. “We better go there too. I think we’re going to have to keep an eye on Karen for a while.”

  Mutt led the way. In a few minutes, they were at the far edge of a big parking lot, staring at one huge building.

  “Here it is,” Mutt said as they arrived.

  Stick Dog nodded, scouting out the surroundings. He always did that when he discovered a new place. It was his job to keep the group safe. They were situated behind a silver metal guardrail that encircled the whole lot. He looked at the large sign above the building’s big glass doors.

  It read, “Protein Powerhouse Gym—Work Your Body. Feed Your Body.”

  “Where do you think Karen is?” Poo-Poo asked, resting his chin on top of the guardrail and peering about.

  “I don’t see her anywhere,” Stripes said.

  “She might be in the back,” Mutt said. “That’s the safest place. There aren’t any windows or anything in the back.”

  “Okay, let’s go back there and—” Stick Dog said, and stopped.

  He was interrupted.

  He wasn’t interrupted by Mutt.

  Or Stripes.

  Or Poo-Poo.

  He was interrupted by Karen.

  “Boy, am I glad to see you guys!” she exclaimed as she scampered from the parking lot and underneath the guardrail to join them. “The funniest thing just happened!”

  “What was that?” Mutt asked.

  “I couldn’t remember why I came here,” Karen answered, and chuckled a bit at herself. “I mean, I knew it was my destination and everything. I wanted to come here. And I got here really fast! But when I got here, I had no idea why I was here! You know what I mean?! Crazy, right?”

  “So what have you been doing?” Stick Dog asked.

  “I’ve been running back and forth across the parking lot,” Karen answered. “I saw all these cars. It just seemed like the right thing to do for some reason. What was I supposed to do? Sit around and wait for something to happen? I am a woman of action! I gotta move! I gotta be free! I gotta be me!”

  “Makes sense,” Poo-Poo observed.

  “Sure does,” added Stripes.

  Mutt agreed as well.

  “No. No, it doesn’t,” Stick Dog said, and shook his head at his friends. There was no a
nger in his voice at all, but there was concern. He didn’t want any of them to believe that running in a parking lot was a good idea. “What you were doing was dangerous, Karen. Any one of those cars could have pulled out at any time. You could have been really hurt. It’s never a good idea to run near cars.”

  “I could get hurt?” Karen asked.

  “Definitely,” Stick Dog said. “You should never—”

  Then Stick Dog stopped.

  “What’s that?!” Poo-Poo screamed, grabbing everyone’s attention. He jerked his head to the left. He lifted his nose. He sniffed at the air. “I’ve caught a scent.”

  That’s when everything changed.

  CHAPTER 7

  MEAT-A-PALOOZA

  “What is it, Poo-Poo?” asked Stripes. “What do you smell?”

  Poo-Poo closed his eyes and gave a series of sniffs, snorts, and sniffles, trying to capture that scent in the air. He squeezed his eyes shut in concentration.

  “It’s getting closer,” he whispered.

  Stick Dog turned his head left and right. He had no doubt that Poo-Poo had caught the scent of something. He had the strongest sense of smell in the whole group. But he didn’t see anything coming toward them at all—well, except for a small truck headed slowly to the back of the parking lot. It was too big to park in one of the spots closer to the Protein Powerhouse Gym.

  “You guys,” Stick Dog said quietly, and moved backward into some weeds and brush. “Scoot back here with me. I think that truck’s going to park close by. I don’t want us to be seen.”

  Mutt, Karen, and Stripes all followed Stick Dog’s direction.

  So did Poo-Poo. He was backing up but still sniffing the whole time.

  “It’s even closer,” he whispered as they all got safely hidden away. “That smell is even stronger.”

  Stick Dog kept his eye on the truck. They were safe and well-hidden, but he wanted to watch it just the same. It parked right in front of them. There was a big human behind the wheel. He got out and went to the back of the truck. He wore a stained white apron. Stick Dog couldn’t see him after a few seconds and turned his attention back to Poo-Poo.

  “I’ve got it!” Poo-Poo announced. His eyes stretched open. “I know what it is!”

  Stick Dog looked at Poo-Poo.

  So did Karen.

  And Mutt.

  And Stripes.

  A wide smile came to his face, a droplet of drool stretched down from the left corner of his mouth. He said, “It’s meat. It’s meat! It’s meat!! It’s meat!!!”

  Now, the dogs had eaten numerous things before, but there was nothing better than a juicy, tasty, meaty dish.

  “Is it hamburgers?!” asked Stripes.

  “Or hot dogs?!” asked Mutt.

  “Is it pepperoni?!” asked Karen.

  Even Stick Dog wanted to know what kind of meaty aroma Poo-Poo had discovered. He asked, “Could it be ribs?”

  “You’re not going to believe this,” Poo-Poo said, and stopped. He paused to build the dramatic moment. “I’m not even sure I can believe it myself.”

  “What is it?!?” Stripes yelped as she hopped up and down with excitement.

  “It’s all of those,” Poo-Poo said—a grin stretching across his face. “A bunch of meats! I smell hamburgers, hot dogs, and tons of other meats. It’s too many meats for one nose to handle. I smell things we’ve never even tasted before! I don’t know what they are—but I know it’s meat! It’s a, a, a—”

  Poo-Poo was too elated, too flabbergasted, too confounded with wonder to even come up with a word for that smell.

  But in a few seconds, he did.

  “It’s a Meat-a-Palooza!” he yelped.

  The dogs all lifted their noses in the air to find that smell too. And they all found it. Their heads swayed, their noses sniffed—and their mouths drooled.

  “Where is it?!” Stripes asked urgently, and began to search all about the ground and under the weeds, grass, and brush. Apparently, she thought there would just be a pile of meat somewhere there. This immediately made Mutt, Poo-Poo, and Karen believe the same thing—and they began thrashing around looking for the meat too.

  Stick Dog did not.

  After a minute of this frantic searching, Stripes came up with another idea.

  “Maybe it’s buried!” she screamed, and began to scratch and dig vigorously at the dirt. “It’s a buried meat treasure! Pirates must have been here hundreds of years ago!”

  So, Mutt, Karen, and Poo-Poo started to scratch and dig vigorously too.

  Stick Dog did not.

  “Poo-Poo?” he asked calmly as he watched his friends. “May I ask you a question?”

  “Okay. But make it quick,” Poo-Poo said quickly. He didn’t stop digging. “We’re looking for a treasure chest filled with meat!”

  Stick Dog did not ask his friends why in the world pirates would have been here. And he didn’t ask why those pirates would bury a bunch of meat here—or anywhere for that matter. And he didn’t ask if anybody really thought the meat would still be here after hundreds and hundreds of years. He had a different question.

  “You said those meaty aromas were getting closer and closer, right?”

  “Right,” Poo-Poo answered, still pawing and scratching at the ground.

  Stick Dog turned his head around. There was only one thing that got closer as Poo-Poo was smelling that meaty goodness in the air.

  The truck.

  Stick Dog snapped his head around to look at it. It had pulled in directly in front of them. He couldn’t see the sides of the truck—or the back. He looked at his friends. They were digging like he’d never seen before. He decided to let them be—and stalked his way toward that truck.

  He didn’t have to move far to see what was on the side of that truck. There were a few big words. And then some smaller words under those. Stick Dog read the words:

  “Mike’s Magnificent Meats.”

  He couldn’t believe what he saw. He read the big words again to make certain—and he read the smaller words this time too. “Mike’s Magnificent Meats. Get your meat where the four streets meet.”

  He looked back at his friends. They were still digging for a treasure chest full of meat. Then he heard a metallic creaking sound. He snapped his head back toward the truck. The back door swung open. Stick Dog crouched down and scurried on his belly several more feet to see what was happening.

  A big male human was at the back of the truck.

  “That must be Mike,” Stick Dog whispered.

  The man had a two-wheeled trolley and stacked five boxes onto it.

  Stick Dog stared at that stack of boxes and read the labels on their sides.

  “Chicken, pork chops, hot dogs, hamburgers, steak.”

  And Stick Dog’s stomach started to rumble.

  CHAPTER 8

  STICK DOG HAS A FEVER

  Stick Dog watched as Mike, the meat man, closed and locked the back of the truck.

  “I’ll be right back, Lucy!” Mike called. He pushed the trolley across the parking lot and toward the Protein Powerhouse Gym.

  “Who is Lucy?” Stick Dog asked himself. There was certainly nobody else around that he could see. Then his mind turned to far more urgent matters. “Could it possibly be true? Could that truck be full of different, delicious meats? Could there be a place somewhere—a store or something—that is full of meat?!”

  “What are you mumbling about over there?” Poo-Poo called from where he and the others were still digging.

  “Yeah, Stick Dog,” Karen yelled, and panted. She had been digging hard. Her hole was already very deep. “We’re kind of busy over here. You know, trying to find that meaty pirate treasure. Maybe you should stop jibber-jabbering and get your tail over here and help out.”

  He said simply, “I found the meat.”

  Poo-Poo, Mutt, and Stripes snapped their heads toward Stick Dog. Karen popped out of the hole and leaped toward him. She was at his side in three energetic, joyful jumps. She asked the burni
ng question that all the others were thinking too.

  “You found the meat?!”

  “Yes,” Stick Dog answered, and smiled as Mutt, Stripes, and Poo-Poo all came closer. “I did.”

  “Where is it?!” screamed Stripes.

  Stick Dog, still smiling, pointed toward the truck and said, “There it is.”

  His four friends looked at the truck.

  Then they looked back at Stick Dog. They didn’t seem as enthusiastic as Stick Dog himself was.

  “Oh, Stick Dog, Stick Dog,” Stripes said, hanging her head and shaking it slowly back and forth as she spoke. “That’s not a pirate’s treasure chest. Not at all. It’s a truck, Stick Dog. A truck.”

  “But the meat is—” Stick Dog started to explain. But he had to stop.

  Poo-Poo had come even closer. He lifted his front left paw and patted Stick Dog’s shoulder softly.

  “It’s okay, Stick Dog,” Poo-Poo said gently.

  “You just made a little mistake is all. You think a truck is a pirate’s treasure chest. It probably happens all the time, old buddy. Don’t feel bad. We all get a little confused sometimes.”

  “No, inside the truck is where—”

  This time Mutt interrupted him.

  “There, there, Stick Dog. Shh,” Mutt said, and lifted a paw up to Stick Dog’s forehead. “Be still now. I think you might be running a fever. Perhaps you’re hallucinating. Maybe you’re seeing things that aren’t actually there. You think you see a pirate’s treasure chest full of delicious meat, but that’s not what it is. It’s actually a truck, Stick Dog.”

  Karen rubbed up against Stick Dog’s side to comfort him.

  “Let’s find a place for you to rest,” she said quietly, and sort of nudged him a little to get him moving. “You’ll feel better if you lie down.”

  Now, Stick Dog found all this amusing. But he also knew that Mike the meat man was likely coming back soon. And he wanted to get a good look at that truck before he did. Again, he figured the best way to do that was to announce it clearly—and quickly.