Stick Dog Crashes a Party

by Tom Watson

  Stick Dog grinned and nodded. Of all the parts in Poo-Poo’s plan, this was the only part that actually made sense. But Stick Dog didn’t say that out loud.

  Instead, he said, “It’s an amazing plan, Poo-Poo. For real. I can just imagine all those puppies everywhere. I don’t know where puppies come from either, but Stripes is right. They are the next step in the process. And it’s not just one or two puppies. It’s often five or six or even more. Eight, ten, or even twelve sometimes.”

  Mutt, Karen, Stripes, and Poo-Poo quietly considered this.

  “Let me think. Let me think,” Stick Dog said, and paced back and forth in front of his friends for several seconds.

  “What is it, Stick Dog?” Karen asked. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Well, let’s say Stripes and Poo-Poo have nine puppies in their family. Could be more, could be less. But let’s just say nine. And let’s say Mutt and Karen have seven puppies in their family. That would be a total of sixteen puppies. Then there’s the five of us. That’s twenty-one total dogs.”

  “Twenty-one!?” yelped Poo-Poo.

  “Twenty-one,” Stick Dog confirmed. “Twenty-one mouths to feed.”

  Mutt opened his eyes wide and shook his head a little. He muttered quietly, “Aye, aye, aye.”

  Stick Dog repeated, “Twenty-one mouths to feed every day.”

  “Every day?!” Karen asked.

  “We have trouble finding enough food to share among just the five of us,” Stick Dog said quietly. He appeared to be thinking out loud. “Imagine, just imagine, sharing that food among twenty-one of us. There would be some days, I’m certain, when there wouldn’t be enough to go around. We’d have to feed the puppies first, of course.”

  The group was silent.

  Finally, Stripes seemed to speak for them all.

  “I don’t care how cute they are,” she said. “I gotta eat!”

  Everyone immediately agreed with this sentiment from Stripes—and that was the end of Poo-Poo’s plan.

  Thankfully, Mutt had an alternative.

  “I know what we can do, Stick Dog,” he said.

  “What’s that, Mutt?”

  “Well, it came up earlier during Poo-Poo’s plan,” Mutt began to explain. “Remember when he talked about sunshine and swimming and rocket ships?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  Mutt wrapped up his plan quickly. He said, “Well, why don’t we take that rocket ship and offer all the humans at the wedding buffet a free trip to the moon? Then, after the rocket ship blasts off, we’ll have all the food for ourselves!”

  “It’s, umm, a good plan,” Stick Dog said kindly and simply. “But there’s no rocket ship.”

  “There isn’t?”

  “No.”

  “But I remember Poo-Poo talking about it.”

  “He was talking about how there wasn’t a rocket ship.”

  “He was?”

  “He was.”

  “So, there’s no rocket ship?”

  “No rocket ship.”

  “Jeez, I don’t think my plan works very well without a rocket ship,” Mutt admitted. “It’s sort of the most important part.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” said Stick Dog sincerely.

  “It’s okay,” Mutt said. Then he shook half of an orange Frisbee from his thick fur and began to chew on it. This made him feel better instantly.

  Stick Dog turned to Stripes and Karen.

  “Do you two have any ideas about how to retrieve the food from the buffet?”

  Karen did indeed have a plan.

  And so did Stripes.

  CHAPTER 9

  NAILS—AND MORE NAILS

  “Do you guys remember when we got those donuts?” Karen began.

  Poo-Poo and Mutt said they did. Stick Dog and Stripes nodded.

  “Well, I think we should use some of the things we used that morning. One thing, specifically,” Karen continued. She spoke with pure confidence as she walked and talked in front of them. Her dachshund chest was puffed out; her stride was steady and strong as she spoke. “I think we should use that nail that we used back then. Well, nails really. A bunch of them.”

  “I have lots of nails,” Mutt said. He shook his back left hip and three nails, a bottle cap, and an old orange marker fell from his fur.

  Poo-Poo asked, “What do we use the nails for, Karen?”

  “When all the humans are sitting down, we’re going to sneak into the gazebo real quiet-like,” she explained. “We’ll get under the tables just like we got under the table at the Tip-Top Spaghetti Restaurant.”

  “What do we do under the tables?” Mutt asked as he tucked the orange marker and bottle cap back into his fur.

  “Here comes the best part,” Karen said. She stopped to look at them all. She wanted to build up some drama for a few seconds.

  Stick Dog asked, “What’s the, umm, best part?”

  “We take the nails and hammer them into all the shoes under all the tables!” exclaimed Karen. She was clearly proud of her idea. “We’ll nail them to the floor! They won’t be able to move! We can eat the entire buffet. They won’t be able to do a thing!”

  “I’m in!” said Mutt. He then began to shake vigorously to let loose some more nails.

  “Great plan!” said Stripes.

  Poo-Poo asked, “Humans have more than one shoe, Karen. Should we hammer more shoes to the floor—or just one shoe each?”

  “It’s an excellent question,” acknowledged Karen. “I believe nailing one shoe will do the trick, but two would definitely be more secure. Let’s nail two shoes per human.”

  “Maybe we should do three,” Poo-Poo added. He liked that Karen had taken his thoughts seriously. “If two is better than one, then three is better than two. Should we do three shoes per human instead of two?”

  It didn’t take long for Karen to change her plan further. She quickly said, “Three shoes per human. Yes! Mutt, we’re going to need even more nails.”

  Mutt shook even harder. He had found four nails so far.

  “Wait, everyone,” Stick Dog said, and shook his head. He had to put an end to this as quickly as he could. The humans inside the gazebo were all eating now. As the dogs continued to propose and discuss their plans, Stick Dog had been keeping an eye on the happenings. He decided not to mention that they couldn’t hammer three feet to the floor per human because, you know, humans only have two feet each. He tried a different approach. “We can’t hammer nails into the humans’ feet. They’ll scream in pain. They’ll kick at us. It will never work.”

  “Oh, Stick Dog, Stick Dog,” Karen said, and shook her head. “You don’t quite understand. We’re not nailing their feet to the floor. We’re nailing their shoes to the floor. Big difference.”

  “Two more nails!” Mutt exclaimed after a couple more fell out from his right shoulder.

  “Excellent, Mutt!” said Stripes.

  “Keep ’em coming!” Poo-Poo said.

  “Wait, wait,” Stick Dog said with greater urgency. “The humans’ feet will be inside the shoes. When you hammer the nail, it will stab and pierce their feet.”

  Everybody stopped moving for a minute. They realized Stick Dog made an excellent point.

  Karen wanted to save her plan. After several seconds, she had an idea.

  “What if we aim the nail between their toes? That would make my plan work.”

  Stick Dog said, “I doubt if we can be that precise. You can’t really tell where their toes are when their shoes are on.”

  “What if we take their shoes off and examine the size and position of the toes?” asked Karen. “Then we could shift them around a little to create a nice big gap between their toes. Then we slip the shoe back on and—SMASH!—hammer the nail into the exact right spot!”

  Stick Dog just stared at her then. He didn’t know what to say.

  For six seconds.

  Then Stick Dog thought of something.

  “Well, that might work,” he said. “And I really admire
your ability to amend your plan to fit the circumstances. Making adjustments like that is difficult.”

  “I’m very adjust-y,” Karen said.

  “Yes, you are very, umm, adjust-y,” offered Stick Dog. “But I think we have one more issue that will prevent us from using your excellent plan.”

  “What is it?”

  “We don’t have a hammer,” said Stick Dog. He did his best to sound disappointed.

  Quickly, Karen snapped her head around to Mutt.

  “Do you have a hammer?!”

  Stick Dog really hoped he didn’t.

  Mutt shook his head.

  “Bummer,” Karen said. Her tail drooped down to the ground. “My plan was so, so, so close to working too.”

  “You’re right, it was,” Stick Dog encouraged. “But being really close is way better than being really far away.”

  “It is?” asked Karen.

  “Oh, yeah. For sure,” answered Stick Dog. “Would you rather be close to some pizza or far away?”

  “Close.”

  “Hamburger. Close or far away?”

  “Close.”

  “Ice cream. Close or far away?”

  “Close!”

  You could tell Karen was starting to feel better. Her tail was off the ground—and beginning to wag.

  Stick Dog asked his final question.

  “What about your tail?” he asked, and smiled. “When you’re chasing it, would you rather be close or far away?”

  “Close!”

  Then Karen started chasing her tail with absolute glee.

  She didn’t catch it.

  Mutt started putting the nails back into his fur, but Stripes stopped him.

  “Not so fast, Mutt,” she said. “I’m going to need those for my plan too.”

  Stick Dog squinted one eye curiously and asked, “What’s your strategy?”

  “It’s simple, really,” Stripes said. “Karen’s plan spurred my plan. It really got me started.”

  “Glad . . . I . . . c-could . . . help,” Karen panted as she turned rapid circles to catch her tail.

  She hadn’t caught it yet.

  “What is it?” asked Stick Dog. He really wanted to keep this moving.

  “Well, you know how Karen wanted to hammer nails into those humans’ shoes, but it didn’t work out?” Stripes asked.

  “I remember,” Stick Dog answered. “It was just a minute ago.”

  “Right,” Stripes said. “Well, since hammering those shoes in place won’t work, I think we should hammer their shirts in place. Instead of hammering their shoes into the floor under the table, we hammer their shirts right into the table. They can’t move that way either!”

  Stick Dog couldn’t help but stare. He smiled encouragingly the best he could. It took him nearly a full minute to think of a response, but eventually he did.

  “It’s a fantastic twist to an already brilliant idea,” said Stick Dog.

  “Thank you. Thank you very much,” Stripes said.

  “And adding something to an original idea is often the hardest part of anything,” Stick Dog said. “It truly is.”

  “What do you mean?” It wasn’t like Stripes was questioning Stick Dog. It was more like she wanted to appreciate better his compliment to her.

  “Adding something to improve on something else can make all the difference,” he explained. “Does adding pepperoni to a plain cheese pizza make it better?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does adding red sauce to spaghetti noodles make them better?”

  “Yes!”

  “What about adding meatballs?”

  “Yes!”

  “What about adding beautiful black spots to a white dog?”

  “Yes! Yes!! YES!!”

  “Now, you see what I mean,” Stick Dog said. “By adding to an already terrific plan, you’ve really improved it.”

  “I certainly have!”

  “There’s still one small problem though,” said Stick Dog.

  “What’s that?”

  “We still don’t have a hammer.”

  “We don’t?”

  “Umm, no.”

  Stripes jerked her head toward Mutt. She asked, “Do you have a hammer?”

  He shook his head.

  Stripes turned back to Stick Dog and said, “I thought maybe he had found one since Karen’s plan.”

  “Since a few minutes ago?” asked Stick Dog.

  “That’s right,” Stripes said. She seemed suddenly sad.

  Stick Dog was about to lift her spirits when a loud announcement came blaring out from the gazebo. It grabbed their attention.

  And in just a couple of minutes, they would see something they’d never seen before.

  Something beautiful.

  Something scary.

  CHAPTER 10

  A FLYING OCTOPUS

  Goose pulled a wireless microphone from his back pocket to make an announcement to all the wedding guests in the big gazebo. His voice boomed out of a speaker that sat on one of the tables. The speaker’s electrical cord hung down the table and ran to an outlet in the grass. Something else was plugged in there too.

  “It’s time for the wedding fireworks, everybody!” Goose said, and waved his guests out of the gazebo. After he turned off the microphone and slid it into his back pocket, Goose looked at Stick Cat and Edith. “You two should come see this.”

  Goose then grasped Tiffany’s hand and exited the gazebo.

  Edith looked down at her plate. Just five minutes ago there had been several barbecue ribs and a heap of mashed potatoes there. Now, the plate was empty—except for several leftover rib bones. The plate, licked clean by Edith, now sparkled.

  Stick Cat asked, “Are you coming?”

  Edith examined her plate. She wiped her left paw across her mouth and said, “My work is done here.”

  Of course, the cats and wedding guests weren’t the only ones to hear Goose’s announcement. At the edge of the woods, Stick Dog and his friends heard Goose’s fireworks announcement loud and clear.

  “That’s Goose,” Stick Dog said when they heard the announcement. “I recognize his voice.”

  “What are ‘fireworks,’ Stick Dog?” asked Poo-Poo.

  “I have no idea,” he answered. He watched as the humans began to leave the gazebo and go down the opposite side of the hill.

  About a minute later, a single thin streak of sparkling white-and-silver light shot up from a nearby hillside. It rose into the air in a slow, whistling arc. It had a brighter, whiter ball of light at its front—like a comet with a long, graceful tail.

  When the streak reached the top of its arc, it exploded in the air. In a sudden burst, that bright white ball sprayed and sizzled out in dozens of directions, creating long pink and yellow tendrils of falling light. Mutt, Karen, Stripes, and Poo-Poo gathered as quickly—and as closely—as they could to Stick Dog.

  “W-what is i-it, Stick D-dog?” asked Karen.

  Before he could answer, Poo-Poo screamed, “It’s an octopus!”

  Stick Dog said calmly, “It’s not an octopus. They live in the ocean.”

  Stripes yelled, “It’s a new breed of flying octopus!”

  “No,” Stick Dog said again, calmly. “That’s not possible.”

  Karen had a completely different idea. She said, “The moon exploded!”

  Stick Dog shook his head and pointed up high and to the left. “The moon is right over there.”

  “Maybe another moon exploded!”

  “We only have one moon,” replied Stick Dog.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  Mutt didn’t say anything. He had lain down among the others and chewed on an old sock while he looked nervously up to the sky.

  “These must be the ‘fireworks,’” Stick Dog said. “That’s what Goose was talking about. And I don’t think there’s anything to be afraid of. They’re pretty, actually.”

  The other dogs looked up. With Stick Dog’s thoughts and perspecti
ve in mind, they became less scared instantly.

  Except for Karen. She still shook nervously.

  Stick Dog noticed this and leaned toward her just a little bit. Karen leaned toward Stick Dog until they were pressed together slightly. This seemed to help her—she stopped shaking so much. Stick Dog made a mental note to himself to keep an eye on her during the fireworks.

  “The fact that the fireworks are pretty is not the most important thing about them,” said Stick Dog as Karen continued to lean on him and the others observed the colorful light show.

  Poo-Poo asked, “What’s the most important thing?”

  “Look at all the humans.”

  The dogs looked toward the gazebo. Most of the humans had already gone down the other side of the hill. The last few were leaving now.

  “Where are they going?” asked Mutt as he tucked the sock back into his fur.

  “They want to see the fireworks,” said Stick Dog.

  “So, why are they leaving?” asked Stripes. “The fireworks are right here.”

  “They’re not leaving all the way,” Stick Dog replied. There was a hint of happiness in his voice—as if they were about to get a great opportunity. “They’re just leaving the gazebo. See? They’re going down the opposite side of the hill.”

  Karen asked, “Why are they leaving the gazebo?”

  “Because the roof is blocking their view of the sky,” he explained fully. “They can’t see the fireworks from inside.”

  “What’s so important about that?” asked Poo-Poo.

  Stick Dog grinned as a brilliant blue spectacle of light burst high in the sky. He said just one thing.

  “Nobody is watching the food.”

  CHAPTER 11

  KAREN CRIES A LITTLE

  In less than two minutes, the dogs crossed the field, climbed the hill, entered the gazebo, and hopped up onto the buffet table to begin gorging themselves on all the food.

  As his friends ate, Stick Dog crossed the gazebo floor, weaving among the cloth-covered picnic tables until he reached the opposite side. Stealthily, he looked down the hill. All the humans were there. Even Stick Cat and his gray friend were there. They were all mesmerized by the spectacular fireworks show. Their heads were tilted skyward in anticipation of the next colorful explosion.