by Tom Watson
The squirrel heard him—and emerged from the garbage can. It poked its head out over the rim, staring right at Poo-Poo and making sounds.
Chitter-chitter.
It brought something to its mouth.
Crunch!
“What’s it eating?” Stripes asked.
“That’s a . . . a . . . a . . . ,” Karen whispered. “It’s a . . . a . . . barbecue potato chip!”
Stick Dog closed his eyes for three seconds. This had quickly gone from bad, to kind of bad, to really, really bad. Not only was there something in the garbage can. It was Poo-Poo’s archenemy—a squirrel. And that squirrel was also eating Karen’s favorite snack—a barbecue potato chip—right in front of her. He knew this whole situation would take some time.
“Why you little varmint!” Karen scream-whispered as she took three short but powerful dachshund strides toward the squirrel. “Who do you think you are? That’s my favorite garbage can! That’s my favorite snack! It’s rightfully mine!”
“Let’s make this quick, you puffy-tailed demon!” Poo-Poo muttered as he prowled two steps nearer. “It’s time for the famous Mister Poo-Poo to do some serious squirrel damage!”
Karen and Poo-Poo were side by side, stepping closer to that garbage can—and closer to that squirrel.
“Don’t worry, Karen,” Poo-Poo whispered as they stalked. “I’ll take care of this chittering devil. And you can get that barbecue potato chip.”
“Deal,” Karen whispered, and stopped. She held out her front right paw.
Poo-Poo paused too, looking Karen right in the eyes. He gave her a definitive paw-bump.
The squirrel noticed this brief moment when the two dogs were not watching—and leaped from the garbage can.
“There it goes!” yelped Stripes.
That squirrel was fast. Super-fast. It raced across the basketball court in four seconds, headed in the direction of the swing set. Poo-Poo and Karen jerked their heads to watch it, then pivoted and raced after it.
“You guys, wait!” Stick Dog called to try to stop them.
But it was no use.
Stick Dog hurried after them. Mutt and Stripes followed Stick Dog. It didn’t take long for them to catch up.
Poo-Poo and Karen were at the bottom of the swing set staring up. And the squirrel was at the top of the swing set staring down.
“Ha!” Poo-Poo exclaimed when everybody was back together. “We’ve got that sniveling varmint totally trapped! Can you see?”
“I see, yes,” Stick Dog said.
Karen asked, “What should we do now, Stick Dog?”
“I think,” he answered, and thought of an idea quickly. He didn’t know if it would work, but decided to give it a try. “I think you two have proven who is the best around here. Why, you’ve trapped your enemy in absolutely no time at all. I think you’ve already won this battle. Congratulations! Now we can go to Lake Washituba and look for that restaurant with the scrumptious sticks.”
Karen and Poo-Poo turned to look at Stick Dog.
So did Mutt and Stripes.
Poo-Poo spoke for all of them when he said, “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“It is?” asked Stick Dog.
“Of course,” Poo-Poo said. “After all my years in pursuit of squirrels, I finally have one trapped. And you want me to leave?!”
“I understand,” Stick Dog said. He was disappointed, but he thought his idea was probably a long shot anyway. “Then, what do you want to do now?”
“I want to get up there, that’s what!” Poo-Poo declared.
Stick Dog asked, “How are you going to do that?”
“I don’t know,” Poo-Poo admitted. He turned to Stripes, Karen, and Mutt. “Do you guys have any ideas?”
“Whatever we do, we better do it fast,” Karen said quickly, and pointed at the squirrel. “It’s almost done eating my barbecue potato chip!”
This realization brought an even greater sense of urgency to their problem.
“Okay,” Poo-Poo said quickly. “How can I get up there?”
“Rocket ship!” Stripes suggested.
“Hot-air balloon!” Mutt yelped.
“Jet pack!” Karen yelled.
“Excellent!” Poo-Poo exclaimed. He was happy his friends had plenty of ideas. He turned toward Stick Dog and asked, “Do you have a rocket ship?”
“Me? A rocket ship?”
“Yes, you. A rocket ship.”
“Umm, no,” Stick Dog answered.
“That’s okay, Stick Dog,” Poo-Poo said. “I’m a little disappointed that you don’t have a rocket ship. But don’t worry about it. Don’t let it get you down. I’m fine with it. I’m not mad or anything.”
“That’s good. I guess.”
“Yeah, no rocket ship, no problem,” Poo-Poo continued, “As long as you have a hot-air balloon, I’m good to go.”
“Poo-Poo, I don’t have a hot-air balloon either.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Poo-Poo said. There was more than a hint of frustration in his voice. “You don’t have a rocket ship or a hot-air balloon? Is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh, wait!” Poo-Poo said, hope coming back to him as he remembered Karen’s idea. “What about a jet pack?”
Stick Dog stopped responding to Poo-Poo’s questions for a moment. He looked over the forest and toward the sky. It was dusk now and the moon was visible. He drew a few deep breaths as he took in the vastness of the sky and the light reflecting from the moon. He watched a single cloud as it passed slowly far above the treetops.
“Stick Dog?” Poo-Poo asked.
He gazed out past the moon.
Beyond the solar system.
Farther than the Milky Way galaxy.
And into the vast infinity of the cosmos.
“Stick Dog?” Poo-Poo asked again.
“Yes?” he whispered.
“What are you doing?”
Stick Dog didn’t answer, but Karen answered on his behalf.
She said, “I think he’s trying to remember where he put that jet pack.”
“Stick Dog?” Poo-Poo repeated.
“Yes,” he answered, lowering his head and smiling at his friend. He had regained a sense of calm. “What do you need?”
Poo-Poo said, “I was just wondering if you remember where you put that jet pack.”
“I don’t have a jet pack,” Stick Dog said. He was happy he took a moment to himself. This back-and-forth conversation no longer made him anxious and antsy. He now found it funny. He still wanted to get to Lake Washituba as soon as possible, but he was determined to not let this delay bother him.
“You don’t?”
“I don’t,” Stick Dog said. “But I think I know how to get up there.”
Chapter 8
Pushing and Swinging
“How do we get up there?” Poo-Poo asked Stick Dog.
“Well, since I do not have a rocket ship, hot-air balloon or jet pack at the moment,” Stick Dog answered, “I’ve come up with a different plan.”
Mutt, Stripes, Karen, and Poo-Poo gathered around Stick Dog in a semicircle. Poo-Poo shot a fierce stare at the squirrel every few seconds.
“What’s your plan, Stick Dog?” asked Mutt.
“I think we should use the swings,” he answered. “You guys get on the swings and I’ll push you. You’ll get higher and higher and maybe one of you will be able to reach the squirrel that way.”
“I’ve never been on a swing before,” Stripes said nervously. Mutt, Karen, and Poo-Poo all looked anxious as well.
“I know,” Stick Dog said. “But we’ve seen plenty of little humans play on the swings. We know how they work. And the little humans always seem to be having a good time. I think it might be fun.”
This nudge of encouragement was enough to convince Stick Dog’s friends to give it a try.
It took a minute or two for them all to g
et situated in the swings. They realized that sitting back on their haunches was way more difficult than simply lying across the swing seats on their stomachs. It was much easier that way balance-wise.
The only hiccup was getting Karen up onto her swing. She was a little too short to get up by herself. But Stick Dog gave her a boost and she managed to get situated comfortably after that.
“Are you guys ready?” Stick Dog asked.
They said they were.
And Stick Dog started to push. He went down the line of swings pushing each of his friends one time, then moving on to the next. He pushed Poo-Poo first, then Karen, Stripes, and Mutt. When he was done with Mutt, he hustled back to Poo-Poo to start the pattern over again.
You are probably wondering how this is going to work out. Because, just like Stick Dog, you know that those swings will never get anywhere close to that squirrel. That’s because not only do swings go up, they also go out. They never get near the bar at the top where they hang from.
But Stick Dog knew that.
His plan was to end this whole thing and get to Lake Washituba as soon as possible. And his idea had absolutely nothing to do with reaching that squirrel.
I’ll show you.
He pushed gently at first, making sure that his friends got used to the motion and could keep their balance. Mutt, Stripes, Karen, and Poo-Poo all commented as they swung.
“Whee!”
“Higher, Stick Dog, higher!”
“It makes my stomach feel funny!”
“I can’t wait to reach that puffy-tailed menace!”
After his third series of pushes, Stick Dog put his plan into action.
“Sounds like you guys are having fun,” Stick Dog said after pushing Mutt a third time. He hurried back to Poo-Poo to start again. “I’ve seen little humans close their eyes as they swing. You should try that. Remember to hold on.”
They all closed their eyes.
And the squirrel noticed.
Stick Dog winked at the squirrel.
He smiled at it.
He nodded his head down and away from the swing set.
And the squirrel scurried down—and away.
Chapter 9
Poo-Poo Is in the Dictionary
“Hey, Stick Dog!” Karen called as she swung on her swing with her eyes still closed.
“Yes?” he answered as he pushed Poo-Poo.
“You know what I was thinking about?”
“What’s that?” Stick Dog asked, pushing Karen.
“You know how swinging makes our stomachs feel funny and all that?” Karen asked.
“I’ve heard you describe it, yes,” Stick Dog replied, and pushed Stripes.
“So, I was just thinking about my belly and the funny way it feels,” Karen continued to explain. “Then I thought about my belly and how nice it feels when it’s full. And then I asked myself, What would I like to fill my belly with? And I, of course, thought of barbecue potato chips!”
“I’m sure you did,” said Stick Dog, taking a brief break after pushing Mutt.
“And when I thought of barbecue potato chips,” Karen continued, “I thought of that squirrel and I—”
She didn’t finish her thought.
She was interrupted by Poo-Poo.
“Squirrel!” he screamed. His eyes flashed open with anger. His head jerked up and around, searching for his evil archenemy. He began to wriggle out of the swing to get off. “I forgot all about that twisted, rotten, puffy-tailed monster! Erggh! I can’t stand those puffy tails!”
Stripes and Mutt opened their eyes too, alarmed by Poo-Poo’s rage—and volume.
While all this occurred, Stick Dog steadied each swing. His friends pushed themselves off and gathered beneath the swing set. They stared up at the horizontal bar above them.
“We all had our eyes closed, Stick Dog,” Poo-Poo said, and snarled. “Did you see where that nasty, puffy-tailed devil went?”
“Hmm,” he responded. Obviously, Stick Dog did know where that squirrel went, but he didn’t want to lie to his friends. “It’s definitely not up there anymore, that’s for sure.”
“I know exactly what happened,” Poo-Poo whispered.
“What happened?” Mutt asked. “Where did it go?”
“Squirrels are evil in so many ways,” Poo-Poo began to explain. “But they’re also tricky, conniving, devious sneaks. They can hide better than any animal in the world.”
“For real?” Karen asked.
“For real,” confirmed Poo-Poo. “I mean, think about it. I’m probably the best squirrel hunter on the entire planet. My squirrel-hunting skills are unmatched, I tell you. If you looked up ‘squirrel-hunting expert’ in the dictionary, there would be a picture of me!”
Mutt asked, “There would?”
“I’m pretty sure, yes,” Poo-Poo replied, and went on. “So, if you consider how awesome I am at squirrel hunting, then squirrels must be the best hiders in the whole world.”
“Why’s that, Poo-Poo?” asked Stripes.
“Because I’ve never actually, you know, caught a squirrel,” Poo-Poo answered. “That totally proves it. I mean, if I can’t catch a squirrel, they must be really, really, really excellent hiders.”
This made perfectly good sense to Stripes, Mutt, and Karen.
Stick Dog didn’t quite agree with Poo-Poo’s logic, but he didn’t mention that. He was ready to move on.
“I think you’re right, Poo-Poo,” he said. “That sneaky devil is out of sight. It could be anywhere. Heck, it might’ve run off to Lake Washituba.”
Poo-Poo squinted one eye and sneered. He turned in the direction of the lake and whispered, “Let’s go look for it there.”
“Hey, Stick Dog,” Mutt said. “While Poo-Poo is looking for that squirrel, we could continue to investigate those tasty sticks.”
“That’s a great idea,” Stick Dog said, resisting the urge to slap a paw to his forehead. “I wish I would have thought of that. Let’s go!”
And they went.
Chapter 10
Lake Washituba
Stick Dog and his friends ran across Picasso Park and through another patch of woods. They stopped when they reached the edge of those woods and saw Lake Washituba. The lake was surrounded by trees and a few cabins.
And something else.
Something that Stick Dog was about to discover.
“It’s beautiful here,” Stripes said as they stared out across the lake. It was darker now and the moon was bright. The moonlight reflected on the water.
But there was more than moonlight reflecting off the surface of Lake Washituba.
There was another light—colorful and bright.
Stick Dog followed it with his eyes to the edge of the lake—and then to a building. There was a neon sign on top of that building:
It had more than words. There were two fish and something else.
“Look!” Stick Dog said, pointing at the restaurant. “There it is!”
Karen, Stripes, Mutt, and Poo-Poo all turned to look where Stick Dog pointed.
“There’s what?” asked Stripes.
“The sushi restaurant,” Stick Dog answered, and pointed toward the building again. “The one on that paper package for the sticks.
This must be the place where they came from.”
“I don’t know, Stick Dog,” Stripes said doubtfully. “It seems like we’re missing some real, hard evidence. I mean, this place could be anything.”
“Yeah,” Poo-Poo agreed. “Where’s the proof?”
“Umm,” Stick Dog replied slowly. “The sign is the proof. It says ‘Sushi.’ It’s all there.”
“Maybe the sign is a disguise of some sort,” Stripes suggested. “Maybe it’s something else pretending to be a sushi restaurant. Did you ever think of that?”
“Umm, no.”
“Maybe it’s an airport,” Poo-Poo chimed in. This made his other friends come up with their own ideas.
Mutt said, “Or a skyscraper.”
“
Or a football stadium,” Stripes said.
“Maybe it’s one of those places with all the airplanes and helicopters,” Karen added. “You know, with the runways and the supersonic jet thingamajigs that take off and land.”
“You mean an airport?” Stick Dog asked.
“Yeah, yeah,” Karen said, and smiled. She seemed happy that Stick Dog knew what she was talking about. “One of those.”
Stick Dog inhaled deeply and turned his head to look out across the water. He watched as a breeze skimmed across the surface, creating hundreds of moonlit ripples. That wind made the water move just enough to create sound. He heard a canoe rock, slosh, and bump rhythmically against a dock near one of those cabins. He listened as the water brushed against the sand and rocks at the lake’s edge.
Stick Dog listened as the water moved in and out.
He breathed in and out.
The water moved in and out.
He breathed in and out.
After that brief meditation, Stick Dog looked back at his friends.
“Of course, you might all be right,” he said to his companions. “It most certainly could be an airport, a skyscraper or a football stadium.”
“Or one of those places with the planes, like I mentioned,” Karen said.
“Umm, right,” Stick Dog said, and shook his head just a little. “I tell you what. I’m going to get a closer look. You guys find a good place to hide around here and I’ll be right back.”
They agreed to do this, and Stick Dog stalked his way closer and closer toward the restaurant.
At first, he stayed near the edge of the forest. But about halfway there, he needed to dart around a couple of the cabins near the lake—and close to the docks in the lake. Ultimately, he made it to a back corner of the building, where he saw several cars parked. He saw that a road ran along the lake—and dead-ended at the restaurant.
Stick Dog moved to the side of the building—and found an unusual window.
It had a small awning over it—and there was a metal shelf outside of it. The area was lit by a large light attached to the brick wall. And there was a big female human standing right behind the window inside. She had a cloth wrapped around her forehead. And that cloth had a fish on it.
