Ribsy

by Beverly Cleary

  The thirty boys and girls of Mrs. Sonchek’s second grade took their seats, while Ribsy dozed off. Suddenly he was awakened by the sound of thirty pairs of feet sliding out from under their desks and thirty boys and girls standing up.

  Everyone was going someplace, and Ribsy was about to be left behind. He jumped to his feet, too.

  “I pledge allegiance,” began the class, “to the flag of the United States….” They were not going anywhere, after all.

  After the flag salute the class sat down—all but the two boys nearest Ribsy, who petted him in such a way that Ribsy knew he had somehow pleased them.

  A girl raised her hand.

  “Yes, Penny?” said the teacher.

  “Mrs. Sonchek, there is a dog back here, and when we stood up for the Pledge Allegiance, he stood up, too!” Penny was pleased to have announced this news to the class.

  Everyone turned in his seat to admire such a smart animal.

  “It must be a very patriotic dog,” said Mrs. Sonchek pleasantly. “And now, Danny, will you please take him outdoors?”

  Reluctantly, with several backward glances, Ribsy allowed Danny Yaxley to lead him outdoors, where the asphalt was cold and unfriendly after the warm floor of the schoolroom. Ribsy looked sadly at the door that closed behind him, and the minute the milkman came to deliver the boxes of milk cartons, he slipped inside, returned to the second grade room, and flopped down by the cloakroom door.

  Penny waved her hand. “Mrs. Sonchek, that dog is back.”

  “Keep quiet!” whispered the boys.

  Mrs. Sonchek merely said, “The dog is not bothering anyone, Penny. Pay no attention to him.” Mrs. Sonchek did not like to waste classroom time. There were so many interesting and important things to learn in the second grade.

  That was how Ribsy became a member of the second grade. He spent his nights in garages whose owners had left the doors open. In the morning he went to school with the neighborhood children, who fed him bits of their lunches and, in a day or two, began to bring him an occasional dog biscuit. When he was thirsty, he had only to go to the drinking fountain in the school yard and some boy always turned it on for him. After he had managed to lap the spurting water with his tongue, the boy usually had a drink, too.

  Following the flag salute, when he was sure of being petted if he stood up, he dozed all morning, going out at recess with the rest of the class. At lunchtime he got in line and went to the cafeteria, where he finished the sandwiches of those who asked him to—except peanut butter sandwiches. These Ribsy would sniff and politely refuse. Peanut butter stuck to his teeth. After lunch he lay at the back of the room with his nose on his paws, waiting for school to be out so that he could play with anyone who wanted to play with a friendly dog. It was a pleasant life.

  This had gone on for several days. Then one day at lunchtime Ribsy lined up as usual and went to the cafeteria. He was very well-behaved, stayed with his class, and sat down beside a table where Mrs. Sonchek’s bag lunchers were eating while the rest of the class lined up to buy their lunches. He was licking the remains of a crunched-up potato chip from the floor when he became aware of a man standing over him.

  “And who is our friend?” asked Mr. Woody, the principal.

  “A dog,” said Bill Amato.

  “A nice dog,” said Penny Moyce.

  Ribsy was pleased when the principal stooped to pet him. “Whose dog is he?” asked Mr. Woody.

  “Search me,” said Pete Schlictman. “He comes to school every day. He lives around here someplace. See, he has a collar.” He pointed to the red collar Mrs. Frawley had bought for Ribsy.

  “I know,” said Mr. Woody. “I have seen him. Perhaps he belongs to someone who is away at work all day. From the fancy red collar, I would guess he belongs to a lady.”

  “Oh, please let him stay,” begged Penny. “He’s an awfully good dog. He even stands up for the Pledge Allegiance.” Mrs. Sonchek’s bag lunchers nodded.

  Ribsy wanted to please this man, so he held up his left paw. Mr. Woody smiled and shook hands. “Well, fellow, I see you are a southpaw.”

  Ribsy, always glad of attention, stood up and wagged his tail.

  “It looks as if Mrs. Sonchek’s room has a mascot,” said Mr. Woody. “As long as he behaves himself.”

  Mrs. Sonchek’s bag lunchers beamed at the principal. “Our mascot is always good,” said Penny earnestly, and the others nodded.

  The week went smoothly until Friday arrived. Friday in Mrs. Sonchek’s room was show-and-tell day. It started like any other day. Mrs. Sonchek looked around the class, and noted that Danny Yaxley was absent. Ribsy stood up with the rest of the class for the flag salute and then flopped down for a nap.

  “Does anyone have anything to share with the class this morning?” asked Mrs. Sonchek.

  Kathleen Adelson came to the front of the room to show off her doll, which had a pair of real little sunglasses. The boys looked scornful.

  Pete Schlictman showed a tool chest he got for his birthday. He said his mother would not let him use the hammer or saw in the house. The boys looked interested. They wished they had tool chests, too.

  Philip Gorberg had just finished telling about the time he was riding down a hill with his father and the brakes of the car refused to work, when the door of the classroom opened. Danny Yaxley came in with his mother, who was carrying a sheet of corrugated cardboard and a wooden box with holes bored in the sides. It was a rule in Mrs. Sonchek’s room that anyone who brought a pet for show-and-tell had to bring his mother, too. The mother’s job was to take the pet home.

  “I’m sorry we’re late, Mrs. Sonchek,” said Mrs. Yaxley, who looked as if she had not taken time to put on her lipstick. “Danny insisted on bringing his squirrel for show-and-tell. The cage was too big to carry, and I had to stop and bore holes in this box and, well—I am not very good at boring holes.”

  All the boys thought this was funny. They were sure they would be good at boring holes. The class was excited. They were going to get to see a real live squirrel right there in school.

  “My squirrel is gnawing on the box!” Danny’s eyes were bright with excitement.

  “A live squirrel!” exclaimed Mrs. Sonchek, smiling bravely. “But how can we see it in a wooden box?”

  “Danny said the aquarium was empty, and we could put Frisky in it with this cardboard over the top.” Mrs. Yaxley looked apologetic. The whole thing was not her idea.

  “Yes,” said Danny enthusiastically. “Frisky will look real nice in the aquarium.” The class was delighted. A squirrel in an aquarium!

  “All right, Danny.” Mrs. Sonchek gave her permission.

  “I’m sorry to take up so much classroom time,” apologized Danny’s mother, as she put the wooden box down inside the aquarium. “Now Danny, hold the cardboard over the top and clap it down quickly when I take my hands out.” She slid back the lid of the box.

  Ribsy, who had opened one eye when he heard the murmurs of excitement from the children, caught a whiff of squirrel. He did not even stop to think. He automatically jumped to his feet, barking.

  “Oh!” Startled, Mrs. Yaxley gave a little scream and jumped away from the aquarium. She had not noticed Ribsy.

  Danny dropped the cardboard. A gray squirrel with a bushy tail darted out of the box and sprang up on the edge of the aquarium.

  Ribsy put his paws up on the counter and barked furiously. That squirrel did not belong in here.

  “Ch-ch-ch-ch,” chattered Frisky, and ran along the counter below the windows with Ribsy following on the floor. The class laughed and shouted.

  “Catch him!” cried Mrs. Yaxley.

  A boy grabbed Ribsy by the collar. Ribsy pawed the air with his front feet and strained at his collar until he choked.

  Mrs. Sonchek pounded on her desk with a ruler. “Class!” she cried. “Class, please!”

  How could any class be quiet with a squirrel loose in the room? Nothing that interesting had happened since Billy Amato had brought a live
clam to school. Frisky jumped to the top of a pile of supplementary readers in the front of the room and, from there, he took a flying leap to the staff that supported the flag in a bracket above the blackboard.

  Ribsy broke loose and ran under the flag. He put his paws in the chalk tray and made as much noise as he could. He would show that squirrel who belonged in this room. Frisky ran lightly up to the end of the staff that held the flag and scolded Ribsy. This infuriated Ribsy and delighted the class. If this kept up, there would be no time at all for arithmetic.

  “People!” cried Mrs. Sonchek, banging on the desk with a ruler. “People, please!”

  Then the door opened, and Mr. Woody, the principal, entered, followed by Mrs. Hildebrand, the school nurse. At the sight of the principal the class became a little quieter. Not much, but a little.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” said Mrs. Yaxley, wringing her hands. “I didn’t mean to take up so much classroom time.”

  Mr. Woody frowned at the class. “Quiet!” he ordered. “What’s going on in here?”

  This time the class obeyed, but Ribsy did not. Neither did Frisky, who flirted his tail and scolded. Mr. Woody grasped the situation.

  “Someone hold the dog,” said the principal. Three boys ran to the front of the room. One tackled Ribsy, and the other two grabbed his collar.

  “Mrs. Sonchek, get me a jacket,” directed the principal.

  “Here, take mine.” Danny pulled off his jacket and handed it to Mr. Woody.

  Ribsy, straining at his collar, panted hoarsely. These boys were spoiling his fun.

  “Quiet, everyone,” repeated the principal. He walked to the front of the room and stepped up on one of the chairs in the reading circle. “Now, Mrs. Sonchek, when I lift the flag down, you throw the jacket over the squirrel.”

  Ribsy made strangling noises while the class, quiet at last, waited breathlessly to see if the principal’s plan would work. This was much better than a live clam.

  Slowly the principal reached for the flagstaff, and slowly he lifted it from its bracket above the blackboard. The squirrel stopped chattering. Slowly, slowly the principal lowered the staff. Never had Ribsy wanted to leap at anything as much as he wanted to leap at that squirrel. Slowly, slowly Mrs. Sonchek lifted Danny’s jacket. “Ch-ch-ch,” scolded Frisky. Ribsy, who would accept anything from people, even a bubble bath and a little straw hat and spectacles, resented the sassiness of that squirrel. He growled.

  Frisky leaped from the flagstaff. Mrs. Sonchek tried to throw the jacket over him, but it fell empty to the floor while Frisky ran lightly along the chalk tray, hopped to the floor, and ran under the teacher’s desk. Mrs. Sonchek picked up the jacket and prepared to try again, while Mrs. Yaxley and Mrs. Hildebrand took jackets from the cloakroom and prepared to stalk the angry squirrel.

  Mr. Woody replaced the flagstaff in its bracket, and armed himself for the chase with the yardstick Mrs. Sonchek kept on the chalk tray to use as a pointer. When some of the boys started for the cloakroom to get their jackets, too, Mr. Woody said sternly, “In your seats, class.” There were enough people running around already.

  Mr. Woody rattled the ruler under Mrs. Sonchek’s desk. Frisky darted out and ran down an aisle. The three women threw jackets and missed, while Ribsy barked and strained at his collar. The girls pulled their feet up from the floor. The boys sat on their desks to get a better view.

  “Mr. Woody,” said one of the boys who was holding Ribsy, “why don’t we let our mascot chase him? I bet he could catch him.”

  “No!” said one half of the class, mostly girls, who felt sorry for the squirrel.

  “Yes!” said the other half, mostly boys, who wanted to see a dog catch a squirrel.

  “Don’t you dare sic that dog on my squirrel,” said Danny to the boy who was holding Ribsy’s collar.

  “Class!” cried Mrs. Sonchek.

  The squirrel skittered into one of the cloakroom doors. Naturally the whole class had to turn around to face the back of the room. Ribsy could hardly stand it. If they would just let him go, he could show that squirrel a thing or two.

  “Now we’ve got him,” said Mr. Woody. “Line up with the jackets at the other door, and I’ll go in with the yardstick and chase him out.”

  The three women stood at one door of the cloakroom with the jackets aimed, while Mr. Woody marched in the other door with the yardstick. Thumping and whacking could be heard from the cloakroom. “Look out! Here he comes!” yelled the principal. The teacher, the mother, and the school nurse crouched with the jackets. There was a flash of gray fur, and all three pounced.

  “I’ve got him!” cried Mrs. Hildebrand, the school nurse, who was on her knees clutching a wiggling jacket.

  “Quick! Roll him up,” said Mrs. Yaxley. She took the rolled-up squirrel and stuffed it, jacket and all, into the wooden box.

  Ribsy felt the boys’ hold on his collar relax. He made pathetic coughing sounds.

  “Hey, that’s my jacket,” said Billy Amato.

  “I’ll bring it back before lunch period,” promised Mrs. Yaxley.

  “My mother isn’t going to like it if that squirrel chews up my jacket,” said Billy.

  Mrs. Yaxley looked as if she had had a difficult morning. “If he does, I’ll buy you a new one,” she said in desperation. Turning to the principal, she added apologetically, “I’m terribly sorry to have taken up so much classroom time.”

  “But won’t the squirrel smother?” asked Penny Moyce.

  “He’s not rolled up that tight,” answered Danny’s mother, who was in a hurry to get the squirrel home to his cage.

  “I never did get to tell about my squirrel,” complained Danny.

  “Never mind, Danny. You showed him, and that is enough.” His mother spoke sharply before she escaped from the classroom with Frisky safe inside the box.

  It was all over. The class slid back into their seats and waited to see what Mr. Woody would say about the interesting time they had had when they were supposed to be learning arithmetic.

  The principal came to the front of the room and gave Ribsy a stern look. Then he faced the expectant class. “Boys and girls.” Mr. Woody sounded very serious. “Dogs are not allowed on the school grounds.” The class looked guilty. They all knew this, but it was Mr. Woody himself who had called the dog their mascot.

  “And I’m afraid I made a mistake in making an exception—” Mr. Woody looked once more at Ribsy.

  Now Ribsy looked guilty. He understood he had done something wrong, but he was not sure what it was. He thought dogs were supposed to chase squirrels and get rid of them.

  “—but this dog looked like such a friendly dog,” continued Mr. Woody, “and he seemed so well-behaved that I overlooked the rule.”

  Ribsy waved his tail wistfully to show that he did not mean to do anything wrong, that he was really a very nice dog.

  “Now we know,” said Mr. Woody, “that a dog does not make a good mascot and that the rule is right. This should be a lesson for all of us. I’m afraid the dog will have to go.”

  “Oh—” The class made a sad sound. They loved their mascot and did not want him to go. Neither did they want this morning, which had been such fun, turned into a lesson in obeying rules.

  When Mr. Woody looked at Ribsy, the dog stopped waving his tail and let it droop. He knew he had not succeeded in making everything all right again. He hung his head and looked dejected.

  “Come on, boy,” said Mr. Woody kindly, and took hold of Ribsy’s collar. “Come along with me.”

  One of the girls in the front row began to cry. The whole class waved, and those in the last row of seats patted Ribsy as Mr. Woody led him out of the room. Mr. Woody did not let go of Ribsy’s collar outside the classroom or even outside the building. He kept a tight grip until he had led Ribsy outside the metal fence that surrounded the school yard. Only then did he let go of Ribsy. He slammed the gate with a clang, and said, “Good-bye, fellow.”

  Ribsy understood one thing. He was no long
er wanted. This made him unhappy, and when Ribsy was unhappy he seemed to droop all over. He took a few steps away from the gate, stopped, and looked hopefully back. Maybe the man would change his mind and call him so that he could come running.

  The man had not changed his mind. “Go home,” he said firmly and kindly.

  Go home. That was a command that Ribsy understood. He had heard it many times on Klickitat Street when he had run through the neighbors’ flower beds. He had heard it when Henry did not want him to chase after the car. Now the words reminded him of Henry Huggins and the familiar street with green lawns and trees.

  “Go home,” repeated the principal.

  After one more sad backward glance Ribsy started walking. He wanted to obey the man. He wanted to go home, but he did not know where home was, and there was no way he could make the man understand.

  5

  Ribsy Goes to a Football Game

  Henry, I have an idea,” said Mr. Huggins at breakfast one morning, about a week after he had discontinued the advertisement for Ribsy in the newspaper. “This afternoon I’ll get off from work early, and we’ll go down to the Humane Society and pick out another dog.”

  “I don’t want another dog,” said Henry. “I want Ribsy or nothing.”

  “Henry, be reasonable,” said his mother. “Ribsy has been gone almost a month. If we were going to find him, we would have found him by now.”

  “I am being reasonable,” said Henry. “I just want my dog, is all. He’s got to be someplace. He’ll come home as soon as he can make it. I know he will. Maybe somebody has him tied up, and he’s chewing on the rope right now. How would he feel when he made it home and found some other dog eating out of his dish?”