Stick Dog

by Tom Watson

  “Okay,” said Stick Dog. “Let’s call that Plan B.”

  “Plan B?” asked Karen incredulously. “Plan B?!?”

  “Yes,” said Stick Dog.

  “Why?”

  “Think about it. Plan B. B,” Stick Dog explained, looking Karen right in the eyes. “B stands for ‘Beautiful.’ For ‘Bountiful.’ ‘Bodacious.’ ‘Bombastic.’”

  “‘Brilliant’?” asked Karen quietly.

  “Yes, of course,” said Stick Dog. “‘Brilliant’ too.”

  At this, Karen puffed out her tiny dachshund chest with pride.

  Stick Dog turned and looked at Stripes, who was all too happy to offer a plan of her own.

  “I see that, once again, it is up to my keen intellect and superior brain skills to devise a strategy for our success,” said Stripes. “You will all listen carefully, please. I do not want to repeat this plan. A plan of this magnitude and brilliance is both effervescent and maxi-tastic.”

  “What is it?” Mutt sighed.

  “It involves that big gazebo where the humans will eat their hamburgers,” began Stripes. She paced back and forth in front of the other dogs. “I think we should put on a little show for the humans inside that gazebo. It will be like a theatre play. We’ll all act something out.”

  “Ooh, I love plays and acting!” screamed Poo-Poo.

  “Good, I’m glad,” continued Stripes. “We’re going to act out a cops-and-robbers kind of play. With my background in law enforcement, I can lend real authenticity to the story.”

  “You used to be a police officer?” asked Mutt.

  Stripes swelled with pride. “Well, sort of. I was a guard down at the mall.” Stripes turned away for a moment and lowered her voice. “That all ended with the Nacho Cheese Grande incident.”

  “What Nacho Cheese Grande incident?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Stripes whispered, and her whole body shivered.

  “Okay,” said Stick Dog. He was anxious to get the hamburger-grabbing idea going again. He was so hungry now that his stomach was beginning to hurt a little. “Tell us more about the cops-and-robbers play that you’re proposing.”

  Stripes hesitated for a few seconds more to gather herself and then said, “First, Karen is going to run by the gazebo a couple of times with a really good-looking stick in her mouth. Second, Mutt and Poo-Poo come running up to the human family and turn their heads back and forth like they’re looking for something. And they cry a lot.”

  “Why do we do that?” asked Mutt.

  “You see, Karen has stolen the stick from you two,” explained Stripes. “And you’re very upset about it.”

  “Okay,” said Stick Dog slowly. “What about you and me, Stripes?”

  “Oh, we’re on the roof,” Stripes concluded. She headed towards the gazebo. “Come on, let’s go. Follow me. Remember your parts.”

  Mutt, Poo-Poo, and Karen scurried out from behind the honeysuckle bush to follow Stripes.

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” said Stick Dog. “Come back here, please.”

  The other dogs stopped and came back.

  “Why are you and I on the roof?” Stick Dog asked Stripes.

  “Didn’t I mention that part of the plan?” asked Stripes. “I apologise, Stick Dog. It just seemed so obvious that I didn’t think it was worth mentioning. Allow me to explain.”

  “Please do,” Stick Dog said.

  “You and I climb to the roof,” Stripes said. She was starting to motion with her paws, acting it out as she spoke. “We stack up some garbage cans or boxes to get up there, no big deal. I find a big piece of cloth material and quickly fashion a cape. I’m looking for something in deep maroon and royal blue if I can find it. Those colours are very prominent in my colour wheel at this time of the year.”

  The other dogs didn’t know what this meant at all. But Stick Dog shot a quick look at Poo-Poo, Mutt, and Karen that said “Don’t even think about asking” without actually saying it.

  Stripes continued, “Once I get that cape on, you tie a rope around my belly, Stick Dog. It’s going to have to be a pretty long rope. After that, we crawl right to the edge of the gazebo roof. And that’s when you lower me down on the rope until I’m hanging right in front of the hamburger-eating humans. You swing me back and forth so it looks like I’m flying. My colour-coordinated cape is flapping in the wind behind me. It will look magnificent. And then – PRESTO! – hamburger time!”

  Stick Dog inhaled very deeply. “Why are you wearing a cape?”

  “I’m acting, remember? I’m Super-Dog!”

  “You’re Super-Dog?”

  “I’m Super-Dog.”

  “And why are you swinging in the air?”

  “Umm, to look like I’m flying,” Stripes answered, and looked at the other dogs, nodding her head and smirking at Stick Dog.

  “Of course. To look like you’re flying,” Stick Dog repeated. “And how does this great piece of theatre get us the hamburgers?”

  “In two ways. First, the family emerges from the gazebo to see Super-Dog save the day. Because, you know, how often do you get to see a flying dog chase down a stick-stealing criminal?”

  “Not very often. Especially when Super-Dog is really just swinging back and forth from a rope,” said Stick Dog.

  “Right, exactly. And since they’ve run out of the gazebo, the hamburgers will be left unguarded,” Stripes said. “By this time, Mutt, Poo-Poo, and Karen have run around the back of the gazebo out of sight. They can sneak in and snatch all of the hamburgers. While they’re doing that, you swing me one more time, and I go bashing into the family, knocking them down and giving us even more time to complete our mission.”

  Stick Dog had no more questions, but Karen had one.

  “Do I get to keep the stick?”

  “Sure, no problem,” answered Stripes.

  “Well, it’s a terrific plan,” said Stick Dog. He knew there were actually quite a few flaws in Stripes’s plan, including finding a cape and a rope, climbing to the top of the roof, and getting four humans to believe that a dog swinging back and forth from a rope was really a flying canine superhero and not, you know, a dog swinging back and forth from a rope.

  But Stick Dog didn’t mention any of these problems. He figured that if he could just take the blame quickly and simply, then maybe they could get to those hamburgers sooner. He said, “But I think I’m going to mess things up, Stripes. I’m just not strong enough to swing you back and forth like that. It’s my fault your plan won’t work. And I apologise for that.”

  Stripes looked very sad and dejected. She said, “It’s okay, Stick Dog. I understand.”

  “It really is a good plan, Stripes,” said Stick Dog.

  Stripes still looked sad.

  “Your spots look great today,” he added. “They’re really standing out nicely. The black spots combined with the white background are creating the perfect balance between lightness and darkness. And your fur looks especially clean and soft. Did you have a bath recently?”

  “Yes, I did, as a matter of fact,” said Stripes. “Just a few months ago.”

  “Well, we can certainly tell,” said Stick Dog. “Right, everybody?”

  “Yes. Mm-hmm. Oh, yeah,” Poo-Poo, Karen, and Mutt all chimed in quickly.

  Stripes’s tail began wagging again. And when it did, she, Poo-Poo, Mutt, and Karen all gathered in a circle around Stick Dog. Because when it came to finding food, they knew Stick Dog would have a plan.

  He always did.

  “Yes, I have a plan,” Stick Dog said before they could ask. “It involves creating a distraction. You all know what that is, right?”

  They all nodded their heads, but Stick Dog wasn’t convinced. In fact, after hearing their plans about throwing themselves off a cliff, biting people, swinging from a rope as Super-Dog, and driving away in the family’s car, he was not confident at all that his four friends knew what a distraction was.

  “Okay, then,” Stick Dog said. “Mutt, what i
s a distraction?”

  “A small bird from south-eastern Australia known for its purple-and-gold plumage.”

  “No,” Stick Dog said. “Poo-Poo, what is a distraction?”

  “It’s when you don’t want to do anything except lie around,” Poo-Poo answered.

  “You’re thinking of ‘inaction,’” said Stick Dog. “Stripes, how about you?”

  “Of course I know what it is,” said Stripes with complete confidence. “‘Distraction.’ D-I-Z-T-R-A-K-S-H-U-N. ‘Distraction.’”

  “That’s how you spell it. Actually that’s not how you spell it. But I wasn’t asking for a spelling – or a misspelling – anyway. I was looking for a definition. A meaning.”

  “That I do not know,” said Stripes with a great deal of pride for some reason.

  Thankfully for Stick Dog, there was only one friend who had not answered yet. It was Karen. She said, “A distraction is when you combine two words with an apostrophe.”

  “You’re thinking of a contraction.” Stick Dog paused for a moment and then added, “And while that is not the correct definition of ‘distraction,’ I do have to tell you that I’m a little impressed that you know the definition of ‘contraction.’”

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

  “A distraction,” said Stick Dog, “is when you do something to take somebody’s attention away from something else. To make someone watch or think of something else for a bit, helping you achieve a certain goal. In this case, it is the family who will be distracted, it is we five who will create the distractions, and the certain goal is hamburgers.”

  “We knew that,” said Mutt. And Karen, Stripes, and Poo-Poo all nodded in agreement.

  “Yes, I know you did,” said Stick Dog. “Tell me, what can each of you do that will distract the family while I take the hamburgers without them even noticing?”

  “I can howl,” said Mutt. “I am a world-class howler.”

  Then Stripes said, “I can jump really high. I can jump all over the place.”

  “I can chase my tail,” said Karen. “Once, not very long ago, I actually caught it. It was so excellent.”

  “Great!” said Stick Dog. “All of those things are just great. And what about you, Poo-Poo? What kind of distraction can you provide?”

  Poo-Poo thought about it long and hard. You could tell he wanted to come up with an outstanding idea like the others. After pacing a few circles, Poo-Poo stopped. “I know,” he said. “I can run face-first into a tree and only get hurt a little bit.”

  “Well,” Stick Dog said, and stared at him for a moment. “That will certainly serve as a distraction, Poo-Poo. Great idea. Now, while all of you are distracting the family, I’ll grab the hamburgers and take them back to my place for a fabulous feast.”

  All of the dogs nodded in agreement. Their mouths were starting to drool as they thought about those tasty hamburgers and how close – how very, very close – they were to getting them.

  They waited until the mum in the yellow apron took the hamburgers from the barbecue and set them on the picnic table. This was very important to Stick Dog. He did not want to snatch a bunch of hamburgers that were too hot to carry – or eat.

  Do you know that feeling? It’s a bad feeling. Like when you’re really hungry and there’s a nice slice of steaming hot cheese pizza right there in front of you – and you just can’t wait.

  And then you take a bite and – ZAM! – you burn the roof of your mouth so badly that it makes a little flap of loose skin hang down, and you spend the rest of the day trying to tear that thing off with your tongue – only it takes forever, and it SLOWLY DRIVES YOU CRAZY until you’d do just about anything, INCLUDING STICKING A VACCUUM CLEANER’S SUCKING TUBE THINGY IN YOUR MOUTH, just to get it out!

  I really don’t like it when that happens.

  Anyway, all five dogs waited behind the honeysuckle bush until the hamburgers were off the barbecue and the mum and dad were finished setting the table. They called the boy and girl, who immediately picked up their football and came running to the gazebo. It appeared they were just as hungry as the dogs.

  And those hamburgers – those delicious hamburgers – were cooling off to the perfect temperature. And the family – that no-good, selfish, rotten, stingy bunch of hamburger-munching humans – was just getting ready to eat.

  It was then that the dogs put their plan into action. Just as the family was picking up their paper plates, from behind the honeysuckle bush ran five dogs they’d never seen before. When they heard barking, the family stopped putting food on their plates and turned to look.

  Now, they weren’t quite alarmed or anything. It wasn’t as if five rhinoceroses came charging out of the woods at them. Or five man-eating lions. Or five ooze-filled, orange aliens from the Planet DangerVille or something.

  After all, these were just five dogs. And one of them was Karen, the dachshund. And, let’s be honest, I don’t care how ferocious a dachshund happens to be (and Karen isn’t very ferocious at all), you’re just not going to be that alarmed when you see one coming.

  So it would probably be fair to say that the family was more startled than anything.

  As the dogs got closer and closer, the family stopped everything they were doing.

  The son stood as still as a statue, a square slice of cheddar cheese pinched between his pointer finger and thumb.

  The dad was frozen with his hand deep in a big bowl of crunchy potato chips.

  The daughter was holding a ketchup bottle – she just kept squeezing it and squeezing it. A bright red stream of ketchup was creating a great red mountain on the side of her paper plate, which was now getting lopsided and starting to tip over.

  And the mum was staring with a pickle halfway in and halfway out of her mouth. In fact, it kind of looked like she was trying to take her temperature with the pickle. For a minute, you thought she was going to pull it out, look at it, and declare, “Yay! The pickle says my temperature is only ninety-eight point six degrees! Let’s eat!”

  When the dogs reached the gazebo, the family was still staring. The dogs were panting. The sun was shining. And the show – the, ahem, distractions – were all about to begin. And when they began, things happened very, very fast.

  Karen was the first one to grab the family’s attention. She started turning in a circle right next to the picnic table, chasing her tail with terrific determination and skill. She started slowly at first and then built up greater and greater momentum.

  It was only a matter of eight or nine seconds before she reached supreme tail-chasing velocity. The sound of her nails clattering against the concrete floor echoed inside the gazebo. Karen turned round and round and round until she was just this brown, spinning, blurry whirlwind. You couldn’t tell where her head was – or her body or her tail. They all blended together.

  Just when they thought she couldn’t go any faster, Karen doubled her speed. Each of the family members now felt a strong, whirling wind blow across their ankles. The dad’s trousers began to rustle and flap.

  She was Karen, the Doggie Tornado.

  And, boy, did the family look at her. Their eyes darted back and forth, trying to make heads or tails – quite literally – of what they were looking at. Their mouths hung open in wonder. In fact, a big chunk of the pickle that was halfway in and halfway out of the mum’s mouth fell down to the ground during the commotion. The rest was still dangling from her lips. Stick Dog thought about running in and picking it up; but he knew his first priority was hamburgers, so he left it alone.

  They all stared at Karen until a loud, roaring, piercing sound came from the other side of the picnic table.

  It was Mutt. And, man, could he howl.

  The family turned from Karen, the Doggie Tornado, to stare at Mutt, the Canine Howling Machine. And as they snapped their heads around to see where the deafening roar was coming from, all four family members slapped their hands over their ears.

  This was an instinctive response for any human to
make to this mind-numbing sound. It was also an especially unfortunate response for the daughter. In the midst of all the chaos, you see, she had forgotten there was a ketchup bottle in her right hand. So she got a sharp jab to her face with the plastic bottle – and a great red ketchup splotch on her right cheek.

  Mutt’s massive howl was so loud, though, that a ketchup splotch seemed a small price to pay for the ability to cover her ears.

  There was no time to recover from the surprise of spinning Karen and howling Mutt before a white-and-black bouncing blur drew the family’s attention.

  It was, as I’m sure you know, Stripes.

  Imagine a white Super Ball – like the kind you buy for a quarter from a bubble gum-type machine at the grocery store or the laundrette – with black spots. Then imagine firing that ball with all your might inside that gazebo.

  Now you have an exact idea of what Stripes looked like.

  She was jumping and bouncing everywhere. Off benches. Off tables. Off the other dogs. Off each human’s shoes, ankles, and knees.

  Stripes bounced one way, and her shoulder slammed into the picnic table. She bounced off the picnic table and banged into the gazebo wall. She bounced off the gazebo wall and smashed into the dad’s knee.

  When she smashed into his knee, the father’s hip rammed into the table, and the potato chip bowl popped up and flipped in the air. A spray of salty chips came raining down inside the gazebo. Many of the potato chips landed on the dad’s head.

  Stick Dog considered making a dash into the gazebo to gather all the spilled potato chips, but he knew his job was to get the hamburgers.

  The humans whipped their heads back and forth, up and down, watching Stripes go crazy. For a moment, it looked as if their heads might pop right off their bodies.