by Tom Watson
Well, this was exactly the kind of pep talk the other dogs needed. And in about one-half of one second, they started wagging their tails. They all shook a bit with nervous energy.
“I did really want to see alligators though,” said Karen.
“I understand. I did too,” said Stick Dog. He turned toward the front of the store. “Let’s take a look through that front window. We’ll see what’s happening inside. That might give us a clue about what to do next. Poo-Poo, take a peek at the parking lot. Make sure there aren’t any humans around.”
Poo-Poo scooted up on his belly a couple of feet and then took a look over a guardrail to scan the parking lot. He then scooted backward in the exact same manner, getting his tail caught under his body a couple of times.
“What did you see?” asked Stick Dog.
“There are two humans in the Pizza Palace. A man and a girl,” said Poo-Poo. “And there’s one car and one truck in the parking lot.”
“Did you say a car?!” asked Mutt. “Ooh, I love cars! Let me tell you, hanging your head out of a car is about the best thing I—”
“We know, Mutt,” said Stick Dog quickly. “We know about the riding-in-the-car greatness. Let’s keep our mind on the mission.”
“Right, right,” said Mutt. Then he whispered to himself, “Focus, Mutt. Focus.”
“Anything else? Anything unusual?” Stick Dog asked Poo-Poo.
“No, nothing,” said Poo-Poo. “Except the car has a sign on it that reads ‘Pizza Palace—Delivery in 30 Minutes or It’s Free.’ I don’t know what it means. Oh, and the truck says ‘Big City Moving’ on it.”
“I’ve seen those types of cars before,” said Karen. “I’ve seen them in the neighborhood. I chased one once for about seven seconds until it got away—just barely. The humans who drive them deliver those flat, square boxes. They park the car in different driveways and then take the boxes to the doors of houses where the human owners come out and take the boxes inside. It’s kind of strange behavior, to be honest. But it’s definitely that type of car.”
“That is strange, all right,” said Stick Dog, and he thought about it for a moment. “It might be useful information later. Good spy work, Poo-Poo. And good info, Karen.”
Poo-Poo bowed his head rather majestically toward Stick Dog. He said, “Thank you. Thank you very much.” Then he bowed again for some reason.
Karen dropped down and scratched her belly on the ground.
“What do we do now?” asked Mutt.
“We need to survey the Pizza Palace to see what we’re up against,” explained Stick Dog. “The parking lot is clear of humans. So everybody follow me up to the Pizza Palace window. We’ll take a quick look inside, gather some information, and run back here to make a plan. Got it?”
“Got it,” Stripes, Mutt, and Karen all said at the same time.
“Don’t worry, Stick Dog,” Poo-Poo said. He held up his front right paw to stop everyone from moving. And he puffed out his chest. “We don’t have to scout out the Pizza Palace. I know what we need to do. I already have the perfect plan.”
“Really?” asked Stick Dog. “That’s great. Let’s hear it.”
“Well, this whole idea of a palace got me thinking,” began Poo-Poo. “And I think we should attack the Pizza Palace with something that’s perfectly suited for such a thing.”
“What’s that, Poo-Poo?” asked Karen.
“A catapult,” answered Poo-Poo. “See, we could have one of us operating the catapult. That’ll be me. And the other four could climb one at a time into the ammunition-holding basket thing. That means I’ll be able to launch four shots at the Pizza Palace. One of you is bound to go crashing through that big window. When that happens, the man and the girl will be so confused and shocked that we’ll be able to grab all the pizza circle things we want. Ta-da! Game over. No need for any more plans. I figured it out. Any questions?”
“Umm,” said Stick Dog, and then he waited a minute. “I have a couple of questions, yes. First, where are you going to find a catapult?”
Poo-Poo glanced away from Stick Dog. It kind of looked like he was hoping he would see a catapult shop at another strip mall down the street. “I haven’t figured that part out yet,” Poo-Poo finally said.
“Well, that’s okay. No big deal,” said Stick Dog. “Let’s assume you get one. Don’t you think that all of us—well, all of us except you—would get hurt from being used as ammunition? Flinging us over the parking lot and into that glass-and-brick building isn’t going to be very good for our health.”
“Hey,” said Poo-Poo, “I just formulated a plan to get in there and get some food. I didn’t know it had to be a plan to get us in there safely and get some food.”
Stick Dog didn’t say anything for quite a while.
Finally he did speak, saying, “I guess I should have mentioned that we needed a plan that doesn’t hurl your four best friends through the air to smash into a building.”
Poo-Poo smirked. “Umm, yeah. I guess you should have.”
Stick Dog made one final comment to Poo-Poo about his plan. “When you find that catapult, let me know. And we’ll certainly consider your idea.”
Poo-Poo nodded in a businesslike manner. “Will do.”
“In the meantime,” added Stick Dog, “let’s go look inside the Pizza Palace to see what’s going on.”
“That won’t be necessary,” interjected Karen before they even started moving.
“Why not?” Stick Dog asked.
“I have the perfect plan, that’s why.”
“You do?”
“Yes!” Karen exclaimed. She was getting really excited. “Do you want to hear it?!”
“Umm, sure,” answered Stick Dog with a smidgen of hesitation in his voice.
Karen jumped at the opportunity. Literally. She was hopping up and down with excitement. “Okay! Okay! Okay!”
Even Stick Dog, hungry as he was, smiled at Karen’s excitement. “What’s your plan?”
“My plan is so excellent you might faint when you hear it. Really, you better sit down,” Karen began. Stripes, Mutt, and Poo-Poo quickly sat down. Stick Dog remained standing as Karen continued, “It is a guaranteed success. We just need a couple of things to pull it off.”
“What kinds of things?” Stick Dog asked. There was clear suspicion in his voice.
“Let’s see, let’s see,” began Karen. “We’re going to need a couple of rockets. Not too big, just medium size. And matches, of course, to light the rockets.”
“Wait,” said Stick Dog. But by now, Karen was on a roll. There was no stopping her. And Mutt, Poo-Poo, and Stripes were getting excited too. Their tails were wagging, and their bodies were trembling with energy. Nobody paid any attention to Stick Dog.
“We’re going to need duct tape, for sure. And we’re going to need at least two or three strong wrenches,” Karen said. She was now pacing rapidly from side to side in the ditch. You could tell her mind was racing by how fast she was walking and talking. “We’re definitely going to need balloons. I’m not sure how many, but at least a couple hundred. And they’ll have to be blown up, of course. One bottle of ketchup and a jar of big dill pickles will be necessary. I’ll need four tennis balls, seven balls of yarn, an empty backpack, and a sledgehammer.”
“Jeez, Karen,” interrupted Mutt. Stick Dog was happy to hear this. He hoped that Mutt would be able to put an end to this nonsense. Then Mutt said, “It sure sounds like a great plan so far!”
“Oh, it is! My goodness, it is!” Karen exclaimed, and stopped pacing. She then tapped her front left paw against the ground quickly. “What else is there? Oh, right! We’re going to need a stapler, thirteen pencils, and a bucket of warm water. Also, three dozen rubber bands. And, and, and . . .”
“And?” Mutt, Stripes, Poo-Poo, and Stick Dog all asked in unison.
“And a hairbrush, some tweezers, and a bowling pin.” Karen let out a big sigh—big for a dachshund anyway. She stopped pacing but then quickly added, “Some choc
olate chips, a garbage can, and a gallon of milk. Yep, that should do it.”
Now, Stick Dog had heard a lot of crazy plans from his four friends before, but he had never heard anything like this. After all, this wasn’t even a plan. It was just a list of things needed for a plan. “Karen,” Stick Dog sighed. “We’ll never find all that stuff.”
“Are you sure?” Karen asked.
“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life,” said Stick Dog. “And even if we could get our paws on all those things, it would take weeks. I can’t wait that long. I’m starving.”
Karen nodded her head. “I understand, Stick Dog. But I sure wish we could.”
“What was your plan going to be?” asked Poo-Poo.
“Well,” answered Karen. “It wasn’t really going to be a plan. It was going to be more of a thing.”
“That sounds exciting!” Mutt said.
“It would have been,” she sighed, dropping her head a little in disappointment. “It was going to be a giant pizza-snatching machine. I had a name for it and everything. But it’s not to be, I guess.”
“What were you going to call it?” asked Mutt.
“I was going to call it the Ultra-Missimo-Pizza-Snatch-o-Meter, I think,” sighed Karen. “That’s just a working title, you understand. I might have come up with something better.”
Stick Dog looked at her. “Karen, I have to tell you, I would have been really interested to see how that pizza-snatching machine worked. And I also have to tell you this: I love the name. I wouldn’t change it a bit.”
“Really?” Karen asked.
“Really.”
“Thanks, Stick Dog. I feel better already.”
Suddenly, though, Poo-Poo looked sad. He was hanging his head, and you could hear a soft little whine coming from the back of his throat. He was pawing at the ground just a bit and shaking his head sort of to himself.
“What is it, Poo-Poo?” asked Stick Dog. “It looks like something is bothering you.”
Poo-Poo lifted his head to look at the others. “I wish I would have come up with a fantastic name for my plan like Karen, that’s all. I really think the Ultra-Missimo-Pizza-Snatch-o-Meter sounds cool.”
Stick Dog didn’t have time for this, but he didn’t let it show. He just wanted to solve the problem as quickly as he could. “Well, Poo-Poo, your catapult shoots dogs into the air, right?”
“Right.”
“Well, instead of ‘catapult,’ why don’t you call it a ‘dogapult’? In fact, why don’t you call it the Super-Max-i-Matic Dog-a-Pult Pizza Bombard-o?”
It almost looked like tears were welling up in Poo-Poo’s eyes. “I love it, Stick Dog,” he whispered. “I absolutely love it. Thank you.”
“No problem,” Stick Dog said, and smiled. He stretched his legs and said, “Come on, let’s go look in the Pizza Palace’s window to see what we’re up against.”
Chapter 7
RESCUE MISSION
They all began to climb out of the ditch to head to the Pizza Palace when Stripes said, “Wait a minute, you guys. Don’t you think we should have a plan for the alligators?”
“What alligators?” asked Stick Dog. He could see the Pizza Palace clearly now that he was out of the ditch. It wasn’t far away at all. He just wanted to get there and gather some information to make a plan. “What are you talking about?”
“Umm, in the moat,” Stripes said as if this was really quite obvious.
“Oh, right,” said Karen, nodding her head. “I forgot about the alligators. We really should have a plan for those things, Stick Dog. Stripes is right. They have sharp teeth and everything. Plus, I’m pretty sure that I’m quite delicious. I did catch my tail that one time, and it was pretty good. They’re going to want to eat me for sure.”
Stick Dog stared at Stripes and Karen for a moment. “There’s no moat. Or alligators,” he sighed. “Remember? We were all disappointed that there was no real palace. Just this store that looks like every other store.”
“Right, right,” said Stripes and Karen together. Then, again in unison, they asked, “What are we waiting for?”
And with that, they were off. With the others following, Stick Dog climbed out of the ditch, scooted under the guardrail, sprinted past the car and the truck, and ran across the parking lot—almost reaching the sidewalk in front of the Pizza Palace.
Almost.
From behind him, Poo-Poo yelled, “Stop!”
All the dogs—including Stick Dog—skidded to a halt. The nails on their paws scratched and scraped against the blacktop and spit loose pebbles clattering all over the pavement.
Stick Dog turned to look back from where he was—nearly to the sidewalk in front of the Pizza Palace. Stripes, Karen, and Mutt had raced past the moving truck but were now stopped too. Poo-Poo was at the truck—with his front paws stretched up to the passenger-side door.
“What is it, Poo-Poo?” Stick Dog called, attempting to keep his voice just low enough to be heard. He didn’t want to draw the attention of whatever people might be in the Pizza Palace. Stick Dog whispered to himself, “Please don’t be a squirrel.”
It wasn’t.
“What is it, Poo-Poo?” Stick Dog called again. “We’re in kind of a hurry.”
“We have an emergency back here,” Poo-Poo said, never taking his eyes away from the truck’s passenger-side window.
“What kind of emergency?” Stick Dog asked. You could hear just a hint of doubtfulness in his voice. He began to step closer to the truck and—to his great regret—farther away from the Pizza Palace. He knew that this—whatever it was—would only delay their ability to gather information, formulate a plan, and then grab some delectable pizza circles to lick like crazy.
“A hostage emergency!” Poo-Poo answered quickly. There was a genuine sense of urgency in his tone.
“A hostage emergency?” Stick Dog asked as he got even closer to Poo-Poo. Stripes, Mutt, and Karen were listening to their conversation—and observing Stick Dog’s actions.
“That’s right.”
“Where’s the hostage?”
“There!” Poo-Poo exclaimed, and pointed at the window. “See? Those two paws?”
Stick Dog squinted his eyes, focusing as much as he could in the darkness of night. And he could indeed see two tiny, fuzzy paws at the very bottom of the window. “What is that?” he asked.
Poo-Poo finally turned away from the truck window for a few seconds. He stared directly—and intensely—into Stick Dog’s eyes and said simply, “It’s a kitty.”
“A KITTY?!?” Karen, Stripes, and Mutt exclaimed loudly in unison behind them.
“Yes,” Poo-Poo answered, and snapped his head back toward the window. “A kitty.”
“Oh, for the love of—” Stripes said immediately, but then stopped herself. Then she whispered, “You can’t be serious.”
Karen and Mutt sprinted back to join Poo-Poo at the truck. When they got there, they looked pleadingly back over their shoulders at Stick Dog. They wanted to help the kitty too. That was really obvious.
It became instantly clear to Stick Dog that his friends were divided. Poo-Poo, Mutt, and Karen wanted to save the kitten. Stripes definitely did not.
Now, Stick Dog himself was torn between many, many things. And he knew the others were depending on him to make a decision. His stomach was grumbling terribly. He was so, so hungry. And being close to the Pizza Palace—and close to those cardboard circles with the splotches of flavor on them—only made him hungrier. But he also knew that if someone was in trouble, then he wanted to help. But he was so hungry.
But he had to help.
But he was so hungry.
He had to help.
He was so hungry.
Had to help.
So hungry.
Help.
Hungry.
Stick Dog could now see the two gray paws stretching and struggling to find a grip.
“See?” Poo-Poo said. “It’s trying to climb up to reach that crack at the top
of the window. It wants to get out!”
“Are you sure that’s what it’s doing?” asked Stick Dog. He wanted all the information he could gather before making a decision.
“Am I sure? Of course, I’m sure. I’m positive,” Poo-Poo answered quickly and desperately. “Listen to that whining!”
“It’s trying to get out,” Karen added. “The poor thing.”
“Just listen, Stick Dog,” Mutt called. He seemed to be getting upset and emotional. “It’s so sad and pathetic. That little guy is being held against his will. He wants his freedom!”
Stick Dog tilted his head and listened. It was absolutely true: There was a sad, high-pitched, and pitiful mewing coming from inside the truck. The sound was escaping through the open window.
It was that sound that made up Stick Dog’s mind. If someone was in trouble, then Stick Dog was going to help. It didn’t matter who it was or how hungry he and his friends were.
“Okay, let’s save—” Stick Dog said, turning to Stripes, Karen, and Mutt. But before he could get any more words out, Stripes interrupted him.
“Don’t even say it, Stick Dog,” she said. “We are not going to risk getting caught or run over by a car for a cat.”
“It’s not a cat,” interjected Poo-Poo. “It’s a kitten.”
“Same difference,” retorted Stripes. Then she asked, “How do you know it doesn’t want to be in the truck?”
“Are you kidding?!” exclaimed Karen. “Can’t you hear it whining?! It doesn’t want to be in there. I think it’s a hostage-type situation. It’s been uh, uh, uh—”
