by Tom Watson
Unfortunately, I didn’t find out how long it took me to get to the train station. I did, however, find out exactly how long it takes me to get from math class to the principal’s office.
Anyway, Stick Dog was working this all out while the others talked about stopping the truck. Stripes, it turned out, also had an idea.
“I know how to do it,” she said. “See that bridge down the street about halfway to the truck?”
They all looked at the bridge.
“Well, we get to the top of that bridge,” continued Stripes. “When he drives that truck under the bridge, we jump onto the roof of the truck. While he’s driving, we start dancing.”
“Dancing?!” Poo-Poo, Karen, and Mutt asked at once.
“Dancing,” Stripes confirmed. She turned sideways and shook her hips a little to demonstrate before continuing. “See, the driver will hear our paws banging away above him and wonder what in the world is going on. He’ll park and get out and see this great dance party. Then he’ll think, ‘Hey, I’ve never danced on top of a truck before! That looks like fun!’ So he’ll climb up and start dancing too. He’ll be so busy dancing and screaming and stuff that we’ll be able to jump off the truck and get all the ice cream we want while he’s still on top.”
As soon as Stripes was done explaining her idea, Mutt, Poo-Poo, and Karen began to dance. Mutt wriggled his body from front to back, releasing an old chewed-up tennis ball and three crayons from his fur. Poo-Poo got up on his hind legs, balanced on his toes, and put his front legs out to the side dramatically. And Karen began to turn in a circle.
Karen’s dance practice didn’t last too long, to be honest. That’s because as soon as she started turning in that circle, she spotted her tail and began to chase it again.
She didn’t catch it.
Stick Dog, meanwhile, had a great deal of satisfaction on his face. He was beginning to suspect where that truck would stop next. And the more he thought about it, the more certain he felt. He thought that maybe, just maybe, they would be able to get their paws on some ice cream.
But he knew he had to stop the dance party first.
“I just have one issue with your plan,” Stick Dog said.
It was as if Stripes had anticipated Stick Dog’s objection. “Is it the jumping off the bridge part?” she asked. “Because it’s a pretty low bridge.”
“No,” Stick Dog answered.
“Is it timing the landing on the truck just right?” asked Stripes. “Because remember, it’s moving pretty slowly.”
“No.”
“Is it keeping our balance while we’re dancing and the truck is moving and going around curves and stuff?”
“No.”
“Then what is it, Stick Dog?” Stripes asked. “Why can’t we use my dance-party idea to stop the truck?”
“Listen,” he said, and tilted his head slightly. Far down the road, the final customer had been served, and the truck had begun moving slowly toward them again. And the music had started. “I don’t think we can dance to that annoying music. And even if we could, I’m sure the driver could not. He doesn’t look like he has any rhythm at all.”
Stripes frowned and punched her front right paw toward the ground. “Dang it!” she said. “And everything else about the plan would have worked perfectly too. It’s just a darn shame.”
“It sure is,” said Stick Dog as he eyed the slowly approaching ice cream truck. “But right now we need to get moving. I think I have an idea where that truck is going to stop next.”
“You mean we don’t have to stop it ourselves?” asked Mutt.
“No, we don’t,” answered Stick Dog. “Remember, it makes a lot of stops to give humans ice cream.”
“Oh, that’s right!” exclaimed Mutt. He and the others seemed quite relieved about this.
“Where’s it going to stop next, Stick Dog?” asked Stripes.
“Come on, I’ll show you,” he said, and padded off along the street.
The others followed closely behind—but only after Stripes sighed and said, “I really wanted to show you guys all my nifty dance moves.”
Chapter 11
POO-POO FIGURES IT OUT
There was an open space with a big building a few minutes’ run up the street. And Stick Dog led them there. It was a school with plenty of playground equipment and a huge maple tree that provided a generous area of shade.
Of course, it was right in the middle of summer, and school was not in session. There were only ten or twelve humans—several small ones and a few large ones—from the neighborhood scattered about the playground. Some were on a set of tall swings, the smallest humans were in a sandbox, and a few more were on a climbing dome.
Stick Dog stopped across the street from the school playground. There was a line of several mailboxes; and Karen, Stripes, Mutt, and Poo-Poo settled safely there as well. Through the mailbox posts they could see the playground clearly without being detected.
“I think the ice cream truck is going to stop here next,” Stick Dog said to the others as he surveyed the entire layout of the playground. There was a large semicircular driveway that entered and exited to the street. The small humans played and climbed and swung within the driveway’s semicircle.
“Why do you think the truck will stop here, Stick Dog?” Mutt asked.
“Because there are plenty of humans here who will want ice cream,” he answered. He looked down the street to see how far away the ice cream truck was. “The music is getting louder. He’s going to be here in just a couple of minutes. I think I know exactly where he’s going to park when he gets here.”
“Where?” Stripes asked.
“There,” Stick Dog said, and pointed. “In the shade beneath that big maple tree. I think he will actually pull into the driveway when he sees that shade. He’ll want to stay as cool as possible just like us. If he parks there, we’ll have a chance. If he stays on the street, we’ll just have to go back to my pipe and the creek. We’ll have to be satisfied with the ice cream drips we’ve already had.”
“If he parks there, how are we going to get in the truck and get the ice cream?” asked Mutt.
It was a difficult question to answer, because it would depend both on Stick Dog’s understanding of the ice cream truck’s regular routine and a great deal of luck.
“When he stops, the humans will go over to the far side of the truck by the school to get their ice cream. They will go to the screen window on that side,” Stick Dog explained. “We’ll be able to see that the coast is clear from here. When it is, we’ll sprint across the street and the playground and find a way into that truck.”
Karen, Mutt, Poo-Poo, and Stripes all looked at him.
And I bet you know why, don’t you?
It’s because Stick Dog usually had more precise step-by-step plans when it came to grabbing some tasty food. This time, however, there was a lot left to chance.
“That’s it?” asked Stripes doubtfully. “We hope he parks in the shade? And if he does, we find a way into the truck? I mean, really? Maybe we should go back to my dance-party idea.”
“No, no,” Stick Dog said, and smiled. “There’s more to it than that. If I can get into that truck—”
But it was too late to explain any more. The annoying music was getting louder. The truck was close. Very close.
They all turned to watch it. It was both threatening and inviting. It was a big, moving vehicle—something all the dogs knew could be very dangerous. But they also knew that some of the most delicious flavors they had ever tasted were inside that truck.
“Turn into the driveway,” whispered Stick Dog as it passed by slowly. “Turn into the driveway.”
The truck slowed down to a near stop.
“Oh no,” said Mutt. “It’s going to park in the street!”
Stripes, Poo-Poo, and Karen all moaned. After tasting all those puddles made of delicious ice cream drippings, it was terrible to think that was all the ice cream they would ever taste: a few tiny drips.
>
Stick Dog was still watching. He whispered, “Turn. Turn. Turn.”
Then he saw something.
A small light.
A small, blinking light.
It was the ice cream truck’s flashing turn signal. The truck pulled slowly into the driveway and parked smack dab in the middle of that huge shady area.
Mutt, Karen, Poo-Poo, and Stripes began to hop and yelp.
“Shh,” said Stick Dog. “We have to move as soon as we can. Everybody hold still and watch.”
The music stopped. The driver got out. He waved at the humans on the playground and climbed into the back of the truck. Stick Dog knew he was getting ready to give out ice cream.
Most important, every human on the playground began walking—or running—to the other side of the truck. The smaller humans were the first ones out of sight; the larger humans were the last.
Stick Dog said just one thing when the playground was empty.
“Now!”
They looked both ways and then raced across the street and across the playground. They passed a swing set, a flagpole, a climbing dome, and a sandbox on their way. They stopped near a seesaw right next to the truck. Panting there, the dogs quickly considered how to reach the open window.
“Let’s just stack up again,” Mutt said. He spread out his legs and lowered his head, ready to form the base of a dog stack. “It’s worked before.”
Stick Dog shook his head. “It won’t work,” he said. “We don’t have the time. And I have to be the one who goes in—that’s part of the plan. And I’m too heavy to be on top.”
They could all hear the happy voices of the humans on the other side as they ordered their ice cream. Karen could see their shoes when she looked underneath the truck.
“We have to hurry!” she exclaimed. “They’re moving around over there. They’re going to be back soon; I just know it.”
“We have a minute. He doesn’t serve the ice cream that fast,” Stick Dog said. He jerked his head back and forth to find something—anything—that could help him get inside. “I have to get in there.”
It was then that Poo-Poo said, “I always find when I’m faced with a particularly perplexing problem that it’s best to sit down and think about it. When I do, often a solution will present itself.”
Stick Dog looked at him. Considering the absolute urgency of the moment, he really couldn’t believe what Poo-Poo had just said. He watched as Poo-Poo sat down on the end of the seesaw. It sank down, bounced a bit, and stopped against the ground. Poo-Poo appeared to be deep in thought already.
In an instant, Stick Dog was by the middle of the long seesaw board. He stared at it from one end to the other. He saw the curved rocking mechanism in the center. He saw the ends move every time Poo-Poo shifted his weight.
“Poo-Poo,” Stick Dog said. “Get off there for a minute, please.”
“Not now, Stick Dog,” Poo-Poo said. “I’m trying to come up with a way to get you into that truck’s open window.”
Stick Dog tried to keep his cool. He knew one or more of those humans probably had their ice cream now—and he knew they would soon return to the playground to lap at those delicious colored circles.
“You’ve already found a solution,” Stick Dog said. “But you need to move.”
Poo-Poo got up, and Stick Dog quickly took his place at the end of the seesaw. He didn’t sit down but stood firmly with his legs spread out as much as he could for balance. Stick Dog turned his head over his shoulder to address the others. “You guys climb on the other end of the board. Quickly!”
There was no hesitation. The others didn’t know what Stick Dog was up to—but they could tell he had solved the problem.
Stripes was the first up. She jumped to the center of the seesaw and walked to the end opposite Stick Dog. Stick Dog began to rise off the ground immediately. Then Mutt climbed on and walked toward Stripes and sat right next to her. Stick Dog rose even farther into the air. With one end almost touching the ground now, Karen was able to step up onto the board easily between Stripes’s legs. It was the little bit of extra weight they needed.
Stick Dog rose as high as the board would lift him—almost to the exact height of the truck’s window. He crouched down a little and calculated the distance and trajectory he would need. After estimating the jumping angle necessary, Stick Dog narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth.
And leaped.
He flew straight through the middle of that truck’s window, barely brushing the fur on his back against the top of the window frame.
He was in.
The others watched in amazement. They couldn’t believe that Stick Dog had actually made it into the truck.
Poo-Poo looked at Mutt, Stripes, and Karen, who had all stepped off the seesaw now. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “I told you I’d figure it out.”
Stick Dog propped himself up in the window to talk to the others.
“You guys go hide now! Fast!” He talked quickly and glanced all around to make certain no human had come back yet. “When the truck starts moving, follow it from a safe distance. I’ll take it from here.”
The others heard the urgency in his voice and saw the controlled panic on his face. They hid—and hid fast.
Stripes ran to the flagpole and hid behind it. Mutt ran to the climbing dome, stooped low on the ground under it, and covered one eye with a paw. Poo-Poo hid behind a swing. Karen sprinted toward the sandbox, jumped nine inches into the air, and plummeted down into the sand pile, burying herself the best she could.
Stick Dog watched his friends find their hiding places.
Unfortunately, he could see them all quite clearly. He waved frantically at them and pointed across the street to the mailboxes where they had hidden before. Poo-Poo, Mutt, Karen, and Stripes all understood his motions instantly and raced across the street to their previous hiding place.
Knowing they were safe, Stick Dog turned his body around to look and listen out the truck’s windows.
He knew he was on his own now.
What he didn’t know was this: he was about to be seen by a human.
Chapter 12
WOGGY!
Stick Dog stretched out across the long bench seat in the front part of the truck. He listened for two distinct sounds.
First, he wanted to hear the screen window slide shut. He knew that would mean the driver was done serving ice cream to the other humans.
Second, he would hear the driver climb out and close the back door. That would mean, Stick Dog knew, that the driver was about to return to climb into the truck and drive away.
It was then that Stick Dog would need to put the rest of his ice cream–snatching plan into action. He nodded his head backward, flopping his ears back a bit to hear even better. He looked up and out of the passenger-side window and listened. There were fewer human voices with every minute that passed.
Finally, there was just one voice left. It was female and sounded like a large human. “I’ll just take a vanilla cone for me and my doodlebug here.”
“Coming right up” was the answer that Stick Dog heard.
He also heard the large female human pacing a little bit outside the truck as she waited. The steps seemed to come closer, and Stick Dog crouched down even lower. He listened and stared up out of that window.
Then a small human stared right at him through that window and yelled, “Woggy!” The little human began bouncing up and down. Stick Dog could see a larger human arm holding the tiny human.
And the tiny human pointed at him and exclaimed, “Woggy! Woggy! WOGGY!!” louder and louder.
Stick Dog instinctively held his paw up to his mouth to try to hush the tiny human.
This had an enormous impact.
It started screaming, “WOGGY! WOGGY!! WOGGY!!!” and bounced even more wildly in the big human’s arms.
“Yes, yes, I know. You’re a little doggy,” the big female human said in a calming voice. “And the little doggy is going to get an ice cream cone, d
on’t worry. But calm down. You’re going to jump right out of my arms.”
With that, the tiny human was gone.
Stick Dog panted his relief and heard the big female hand some coins to the ice cream man. There were no more voices near the truck. All the humans had returned to the playground to eat their sweet treats. Stick Dog heard the screen window slide shut. The truck vibrated. He guessed the man had just stepped out from the back of the truck. Two seconds later the back door slammed shut.
The man was returning.
And Stick Dog knew he had to get out—fast.
He reached out the passenger-side window as far as he could with his front paws. For a split second, sheer panic coursed through his body. His paws found nothing but air.
But then, with extra stretching effort, they scratched against metal—the shelf that ran along the side. Using his front paws to balance on that shelf, Stick Dog lifted his back legs onto the lower edge of the passenger-side window. He closed his eyes, shifted his weight forward, and pushed hard with his back legs.
For the shortest instant, he didn’t know if he would keep his balance or fall down to the blacktop. He leaned in toward the truck, scooted his legs forward, and got all four paws onto the shelf. He stood there for a moment to rebalance his body on the slick metal shelf.
But only for a moment.
He heard the driver’s door open and felt the truck shake as the man sat down behind the steering wheel. He heard the annoying music start blaring above him. He felt the truck shimmy as the driver turned on the engine.
Stick Dog took three steps on the shelf until he was at the screen window on the side of the truck.
He pushed it open with his nose.