by Tom Watson
Stick Dog looked down at it but didn’t look back up. “That’s a bottle cap,” he whispered.
Everyone was quiet and still for a moment. They didn’t want to hurt Stripes’s feelings, but it turned out her feelings weren’t actually hurt that much at all.
“It may look like a bottle cap to you, Stick Dog,” said Stripes defiantly. “But to a mouse, that so-called ‘bottle cap’ would make an excellent Frisbee. So if you really think about it, I did, in fact, find a Frisbee. You have to admit I’m right from a certain perspective.”
“You mean from a mouse’s perspective?”
“That’s right.”
Stick Dog stared at Stripes for a single second and then sighed, “Okay, Stripes. You’re right from a certain perspective.”
“Next time, please try to be more specific in your request,” Stripes added.
“I’ll do that,” said Stick Dog, trying not to roll his eyes. He then turned to Mutt. “Mutt, did you find anything?”
“Boy, did I! I was hoping you’d ask me next,” said Mutt. He then did a most unusual thing. He spread out his legs, took a deep breath, and shook. There was a clunking, jingling, noisy racket as things fell out of Mutt’s fur all about him. “I found a candy bar wrapper, an old pencil stub, a tennis ball that got hit and torn up by a lawn mower, a couple of good rocks, and a piece of rope, and that’s not even the best of it.”
“Is the best of it a Frisbee?” asked Stick Dog.
“It’s an old gray sock!” Mutt exclaimed. “I love these things! I’m going to keep it forever! I mean, you know, until I swallow it.”
“But we were supposed to be looking for a Frisbee,” said Stick Dog.
“Oh,” Mutt replied, but he truly didn’t seem to care. He was very, very excited about the dirty old sock. “I didn’t find one of those.”
At last, Stick Dog turned to Karen.
“I think I found just the thing,” she said before Stick Dog could even ask. She dropped a flat cardboard circle in front of him.
“It’s not exactly a Frisbee,” said Stick Dog. He paced around the circle on the ground, cocking his head a little bit and examining it. “But it is about the right size and shape. It just might work for a little Frisbee tossing. Good job, Karen.”
“Thanks,” said Karen proudly. “I really am quite excellent now that I come to think about it.”
“Let’s give it a try. Run out a little bit, Karen. We’ll see if this thing flies,” Stick Dog said, and picked up the cardboard disk in his mouth. He bent his neck back and sideways, preparing to snap it forward, open his mouth, release the cardboard circle, and watch it fly.
Only here’s the thing: He didn’t. He kept that flat cardboard circle in his mouth. He remained in that paused, ready-to-throw position. Something peculiar was happening. Karen came running back. And Poo-Poo, Mutt, and Stripes all gathered around Stick Dog.
“What is it, Stick Dog?” asked Mutt.
“Are you hurt?” asked Stripes.
Thankfully, Stick Dog wasn’t hurt. But he was surprised about something.
Very surprised.
Chapter 4
AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY
Stick Dog slowly straightened his body and dropped the cardboard circle to the ground. “You have to taste that thing,” Stick Dog whispered. “I can’t believe I’m saying this—but I think it tastes even better than hamburgers or frankfurters.”
“That’s impossible,” muttered Karen, but she had learned a long time ago to trust Stick Dog when it came to the subject of food. They all began licking the cardboard.
Stripes lifted her head momentarily and asked, “What is this red, sticky stuff?”
“Here, let me see,” said Poo-Poo, and he nudged his nose into a red splotch smeared across one section of the cardboard. He sniffed it, licked it, and then bit off a little piece and swirled it around in his mouth. He declared with great authority, “That red sticky stuff is delicious, no doubt. It has hints of salt and spice, and a fine, clean finish on the back of my palate. It evokes memories of tomato, green pepper, onion, and finely ground pepper.”
For the first time, the dogs stopped licking the cardboard. They all looked at Poo-Poo with astonishment.
“What?” asked Poo-Poo. “You all know that I have very refined taste. That should come as no surprise.”
Stick Dog said, “Well, Poo-Poo, it was a very fine description, I’ll give you that. What about that yellow-and-orangish stuff on the cardboard near the center of the circle? What’s that taste like?”
By this time, Poo-Poo had become even more caught up in his own expert tasting abilities. He leaned down and sniffed at the gooey blob in the middle of the circle. He licked it four times, nibbled off a little piece, rolled it around on his tongue, and then finally swallowed it. The others watched and waited for Poo-Poo’s explanation of the taste.
“I must say,” began Poo-Poo. “This wonderful goo is both extravagant and accessible. I’m reminded of my time as a puppy on the dairy farm, when the smell of milk and sweet cream would waft across the farmyard. It is, again, a slightly salty combination of flavors with a chewy, but not unpleasant, texture.”
Stick Dog cocked his head a little. “I have to admit, Poo-Poo, you really have a talent for this sort of thing.”
“Yes. Yes, I do,” said Poo-Poo with a magnificent air of authority.
Describing food the way Poo-Poo does is a kick. You should try it at school sometime. When you’re sitting in the cafeteria with your friends, pick up some weird thing on your tray and give a real fancy, snobbish description.
Let’s use a Tater Tot as an example.
Do something like this: Stab that Tater Tot with your fork and hold it up in front of you. Then turn it around on your fork a couple of times. By doing this, you’re going to get the attention of the people around you.
Next, take a little nibble and cast your eyes up to the ceiling while you chew.
Then say something like this: “Ahh, Ireland. Home of the potato. What a lovely mixture of salt and starch. Breaking through the crispy outside texture to that soft, delicate potato goodness inside is both satisfying to my palate and pleasant to my stomach. It’s perfectly balanced. And what a flavorful finish! I can still taste the oil that all six million Tater Tots were cooked in back in the kitchen.”
Now, here’s the important thing: When you’re done with this kind of description, don’t do or say anything else. Just get another bite to eat or take a sip of milk. The goal, obviously, is to freak out your friends.
With practice, you might even get as good as Poo-Poo. His descriptions of the flavors on that cardboard circle had instantly made playing Frisbee the last thing on anybody’s mind.
And Stick Dog’s stomach had begun to rumble. A sense of urgency had entered into the tone of his voice. “Karen, where did you find this cardboard circle?”
Karen nodded in a certain direction. “Over there. By the garbage can near the swings. It was inside a big, flat, square box.”
“Box?” Stick Dog asked, and narrowed his eyes. The other dogs had never seen him look so serious before. “What box?”
“I’ll show you,” Karen said, and raced toward the swing set with Stick Dog, Mutt, Poo-Poo, and Stripes in hot pursuit. When they got there, Karen showed them the flat, square box.
Without hesitation, Stick Dog read the words on top of the box: “‘Pizza Palace. 2207 North Clybourn Avenue.’ Does anybody know where that street is?”
“I know where it is,” said Mutt quickly. “I was hanging my head out of a mail truck window once, and I saw it.”
“Were you with your old human at the time? The mailman?” asked Karen.
“Gary? No,” Mutt answered. He thought back for a minute. “It was so long ago, I can hardly remember. It seems weird, but I think I was being delivered or something. I climbed out of a box and saw an open window and just had to stick my head out of it. I love doing that. All the wind blowing through my fur and the smells in the air. Yeah, I l
ove riding in a car, man! That’s the best.”
“I’m sure riding in a car is excellent, Mutt,” said Stick Dog, his stomach grumbling again. “In fact, you’ve told us about it before. And it sounds great. But right now, we’re trying to find Clybourn Avenue so we can track down some more of these circles with the red paste and yellow-and-orange gooey stuff. Remember?”
“Right, right,” said Mutt. He then nodded with his head over his left shoulder. “It’s that way. Not too far. Just off Highway 16 before you get to the mall.”
“Excellent. Let’s go,” said Stick Dog.
“Should we all go in different directions again, Stick Dog?” asked Karen.
“Umm, no,” said Stick Dog slowly. “Not this time. This time we’re all going to follow Mutt.”
And that’s exactly what they did. They ran out of Picasso Park and along the side of Highway 16 without ever getting close to the traffic. They knew better than that. They ran through grass and brush, and crossed a creek while running parallel to the highway. Soon they came upon a street with a small green sign at the intersection that read “Clybourn Avenue.”
Chapter 5
DANDY DACHSHUND
“This is it,” panted Mutt. “This is the sign I saw when I was hanging my head out of the window. Have I ever told you how totally awesome it is to do that?! Well, let me just tell you—”
“You’ve told us,” Stick Dog interrupted, “in great detail. But right now, let’s keep our minds on the mission. We have to find this Pizza Palace where they make these cardboard circles with the little spots of flavor on them. When we do, we’ll search around the palace for some more of those circles and lick them all clean.”
“I know what a palace looks like,” said Karen. “Look for lots of pointy roofs and flags. And it should be made out of giant stones and be a really big building. It will also have a drawbridge and a moat with alligators. And I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s guarded by knights wearing armor and riding horses.”
“How do you know so much about palaces?” asked Stick Dog.
“Oh, my mom used to tell me bedtime stories all about kingdoms and palaces when I was a pup.”
“Isn’t that nice?” said Stripes sincerely. “What a wonderful memory, growing up with your mom and all.”
Karen smiled. “It really is a beautiful memory. It was a great six weeks.”
“Okay,” said Stick Dog, bringing everybody back to the mission at hand. “We’re looking for the Pizza Palace. Keep an eye out for something that matches Karen’s excellent description of a palace. And I don’t know this for sure, but I believe the number ‘2207’ has something to do with it.”
“Maybe that’s how many of these pizza cardboard circles they have there,” suggested Mutt. “Wouldn’t that be great?”
“That would be great,” said Stick Dog. And all the stomachs of all the dogs began to grumble as they considered this possibility.
As they ran, the numbers on the doors were growing higher and higher, and Stick Dog knew that “2207” was significant. He had a good feeling that when they got to that number, they would see a great stone palace with flags and a drawbridge and a moat—and, hopefully, hundreds of tasty cardboard circles.
“Everyone, pay attention, please,” said Stick Dog as he slowed his running to a walk and then stopped. Karen, Poo-Poo, Stripes, and Mutt stopped too. They positioned themselves in a circle around Stick Dog. “This is a good time to stop. We all need to catch our breath a bit.”
“Good idea,” said Stripes, who promptly fell over on her side. The other dogs, except for Stick Dog, did the same.
Stick Dog didn’t mind. They had been running for some time, and the evening was growing dark. The first stars of the night began to sparkle overhead. “A little rest is a good idea. I think the palace is coming up real soon. We’re going to need plenty of energy.”
“How do you know we’re getting close, Stick Dog?” asked Karen, not bothering to lift her head from the ground as she spoke.
“Well, the numbers on the doors of all these weird places keep getting bigger. We’re already at ‘2135.’ It was on that Starbucks store right back there. And we’re trying to get to ‘2207.’”
“But we passed that Starbucks ages ago, Stick Dog,” moaned Poo-Poo. He had gone from relaxation to total despair in a split second.
“Oh no. This is terrible!” cried Mutt. “We’ve been running in circles! We’re never going to find the Pizza Palace!”
“I don’t think we’ve been running in circles,” said Stick Dog in a soothing and calm voice. He was pretty good at keeping his friends from worrying when it was unnecessary. “Clybourn Avenue is a straight line, and we’ve been running in the same direction.”
Mutt lifted his head and nodded toward the Starbucks. “Then how do you explain seeing the same store again?”
“I think there are more than one of those stores,” answered Stick Dog. “In fact, I think that’s the fifth or sixth Starbucks we’ve seen on Clybourn Avenue.”
“Of course, of course,” said Karen, pushing herself up to her feet as if she had regained all her energy after this short respite. Now, let’s be honest; for a dachshund to push herself up is not the greatest accomplishment. Their legs are, after all, only a few inches long. But Karen seemed proud of it all the same. She continued, “That makes perfectly good sense. You see, these stores sell stars—that’s why they’re called Starbucks. And there are literally dozens of stars in the universe. So they need many stores to sell them. I myself have seen more than twenty stars. Some of them are arranged in shapes even.”
“What do you mean?” asked Poo-Poo. “Arranged in shapes?”
“Well, if you draw an imaginary line between certain stars, they draw a picture,” answered Karen. She enjoyed when the others thought she was an expert on something. “There are lots of them. There’s the Big Dipper, for instance. That’s a famous one. It’s up there somewhere.”
“I see it!” exclaimed Poo-Poo.
“That’s an airplane,” said Stick Dog, but none of the other dogs paid attention to him. They were too busy listening to Karen. They had also perked up quite a bit.
“What are some other ones?” asked Stripes.
Karen was feeling even more full of herself now, and she began pacing around and lifting her nose to point every time she said a name. “Well, after the Big Dipper, there are many more. There’s the Fire Hydrant. And over there is Tasty Biscuit. And, of course, who could forget Dirty Old Sock.”
“I love that one,” said Mutt, jumping to his feet. “Where is it?”
“Over there, in the southwest,” answered Karen.
“That’s northeast,” said Stick Dog. But again, nobody paid him any attention.
“Show us some more, Karen,” said Poo-Poo, who had now risen from the ground and was searching the stars too.
“There’s Rope Toy,” continued Karen. “And, of course, Squeaky Monkey right under it. And my personal favorite is Dandy Dachshund. It’s named after the ancient dachshund mythical hero. It’s the brightest and most beautiful of them all.”
“Tell us all about Dandy Dachshund, Karen,” Mutt pleaded.
“Oh, there are so many stories,” said Karen. “There was the time she defeated the Cats of the Acropolis. And the time when she showered all the dogs on all the earth with chewy bacon bits. And her epic battle with the evil warlord Hazel, who was trying to catch her with a big net and—”
A great grumbling sound interrupted Karen’s list of Dandy Dachshund’s epic achievements.
It was Stick Dog’s stomach again. This made everyone remember how hungry they were. And their minds quickly turned from Dandy Dachshund’s mythical achievements back to the delicious flavors they’d tasted on that cardboard circle at Picasso Park.
“Everybody get a little rest?” asked Stick Dog. “Because I think we’re getting close to the Pizza Palace.”
“I know we are, Stick Dog. I know it!” said Poo-Poo, who was hopping up and down a
little bit.
“How do you know?”
“Look right up there at that big, glowing sign!” exclaimed Poo-Poo. “Can you read what it says?”
“It says ‘Burger King,’” answered Stick Dog.
“And where there are kings, there are bound to be palaces, right?!” screamed Poo-Poo.
Stick Dog thought about this for a moment. He nodded his head, squinted his eyes just a tad, and whispered, “Let’s go.”
Chapter 6
THE ULTRA-MISSIMO-PIZZA-SNATCH-O-METER
They passed the Burger King, a Starbucks, a flower shop, a camera store, a Thai food restaurant, a Starbucks, a Laundromat, and a toy store before they got to the storefront that had “2207” on it. And there in a big window, like a glorious beacon of hope and deliciousness, was a glowing neon sign that read “Pizza Palace.”
“Where are the big, pointy rooftop things?” asked Stripes from the little ditch where they had stopped to hide. It was slightly below the parking lot, so the dogs couldn’t be seen.
“And the flags?” asked Mutt.
“And the moat with the alligators? I really wanted to see them,” sighed Karen, disappointment clearly in her voice. “I didn’t want to see them too close, mind you.”
“And the knights in armor?” asked Poo-Poo, turning to Stick Dog. The other dogs turned to face Stick Dog as well. They all had disappointment on their faces. “Do you think maybe they’re down the street visiting the Burger King?”
He didn’t have an answer. He was expecting all those things too. “I honestly don’t know,” said Stick Dog. He was staring at the front of the Pizza Palace, which looked like all the other stores they had passed—and not like a palace at all. Then the disappointment drained slowly from Stick Dog’s face, and a slight smile began to take its place. “Who cares what it looks like? It doesn’t matter at all. Don’t you remember? I forgot a little bit too. We’re not here to see flags and moats and knights and drawbridges. We’re here to lick the heck out of those tasty circles! Let’s find them, get them, and chow down!”
