GROSSET & DUNLAP
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Group (USA) LLC, 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia | New Zealand | India | South Africa | China
penguin.com
A Penguin Random House Company
Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Text copyright © 2015 by Nancy Krulik. Illustrations copyright © 2015 by Sebastien Braun. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
ISBN 978-0-698-19881-4
Version_1
For Bonnie Bader, editor extraordinaire, who helps keep Sparky from kabooming too far off track—NK
For Matheus—SB
Contents
Copyright
Title Page
Dedication
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
FUN FACTS
About the Author
About the Illustrator
CHAPTER 1
“Throw the ball!” I bark. “Throw the ball! THROW THE BALL!”
My paws bounce up and down in the cold snow each time I bark. They love playing fetch. My tail wags wildly. It loves playing fetch, too.
“Throw the ball!” I bark again.
My two-leg, Josh, finally throws the bright white ball across our yard. It is heading straight for Josh’s two-leg friend, Sophie. But I’m faster than she is. Before Sophie can catch the ball, I leap up, open my mouth, and grab it in midair.
Wiggle, waggle, weird. The ball is melting in my mouth. It’s not a ball anymore. It’s icy-cold water. This isn’t a fetch ball—it’s a snowball!
I don’t like this kind of ball. I can’t run it back to Josh. And he can’t pick it up and throw it again. Snowballs are definitely not made for playing fetch.
But Josh and Sophie are still playing with the snowballs.
Bam! A snowball hits Sophie. It explodes. Now it isn’t a ball anymore. It’s just snow.
Josh bends over and starts to make another ball.
Bash! Sophie throws a ball right at the place Josh’s tail would be—if he had a tail. It explodes all over him.
Josh smiles and laughs. But he doesn’t throw a ball back at Sophie.
I guess Josh and Sophie have gotten tired of throwing balls that can’t be fetched, because now they are walking toward the gate. I follow right behind them.
“Where are we going?” I bark to Josh. “Are we going to play a new game? Are we going to play fetch the stick? Are we going to play chew the sock?”
The last time I played chew the sock, Josh got angry. I don’t know why. It’s so much fun to chew on a sock. Especially one that smells like Josh’s feet.
“Sparky, stay!” Josh says. He holds up his hand.
I know what stay means. It means I have to stand still, even though Josh and Sophie are walking away.
Josh and Sophie leave the yard. They close the gate. A minute later I hear a rumbling noise. The noise starts out loud. Then it gets quieter and quieter.
I know what that means. Josh and Sophie have gone away in his metal machine with the four round paws.
Sometimes Josh takes me to fun places like the park or the dog-toy store in his metal machine. But today I have to stay here while Josh and Sophie visit fun places.
Wiggle, waggle, boo! Two-legs have all the fun.
Well, not all the fun. I can go places, too. And I don’t need a metal machine to do it. All I need is my magic bone.
My magic bone is amazing. One big bite and kaboom! I go far, far away. Like that time my magic bone kaboomed me all the way to Tokyo, Japan. I got to eat squishy fishy called sashimi with some Ninja Dogs. And I got to fight like a sumo wrestler!
Another time my magic bone kaboomed me to London, England. I played ball with a two-leg in Covent Garden, and I helped my friend Watson find a furever home, like the one I have with Josh.
Then there was the time I visited Zermatt, Switzerland. The wind and the snow were very, very cold. But the cheese was melty and hot. Really hot. It burned my tongue. Lucky for me, there was lots of icy-cold snow to lick. Here’s something I learned in Zermatt: Never, ever lick the yellow snow.
My magic bone has taken me many places. But the best place it takes me is right here—to my own house. I like going on adventures. But I love coming home again. I’m glad that whenever I’ve had enough adventuring, I can take another bite of my bone and come back here.
But Josh isn’t home right now. Which means it’s a great time for a magic-bone adventure.
I hurry over to my favorite digging spot, where Josh grows his flowers. There aren’t any flowers there now. Only snow. But under the snow, there’s lots of dirt. And that’s where I’ve buried my magic bone.
I diggety, dig, dig in the dirt. It flies everywhere.
There it is. My magic bone. My bright, beautiful, sparkly magic bone. Sitting right in the middle of the hole.
Sniffety, sniff, sniff. My bone smells good. Like chicken, beef, and sausage all rolled into one.
I just have to take a bite . . . Chomp!
Wiggle, waggle, whew. I feel dizzy—like my insides are spinning all around—but my outsides are standing still. Stars are twinkling in front of my eyes—even though it’s daytime! All around me I smell food—fried chicken, salmon, roast beef. But there isn’t any food in sight.
And then . . .
Kaboom! Kaboom! Kaboom!
CHAPTER 2
It sure is hot here.
There’s no snow under my paws now. Only dirt. Squooshy, mushy, wet dirt. The kind of dirt that’s fun to roll around in.
Roll, roll, roll! I love rolling around in squooshy, mushy, wet dirt.
Roll, roll . . . Ow! A bug just stung me.
Scratchity, scratch, scratch.
Aaaahhh. That’s better. Thank you, back paw.
Birds are tweeting all around me. I look up. But I can’t see the birds. They must be in the treetops. It’s way too high for me to see.
I’m going to bury my bone right next to this tall, tall tree. When I’m ready to go home, I will know just where to find it.
Diggety, dig, dig.
I drop my bone into the hole and push the dirt back over it. Now my bone is completely hidden. I’m the only one who knows where it is. Well, me and the bug that’s buzzing near my ear. Lucky for me, bugs can’t dig.
Owie, ow, ow! But bugs can sting.
“Hey! That hurt.” I bat the bug away with my paw. The bug buzzes off. He’s scared of me. I’m a lot bigger than he is.
But even I feel little around here. Everything in this place seems huge
—except for the bugs. The flowers are gigantic. The bushes are so thick you can’t look through them. The trees are so tall you can’t see their tops. And . . .
Hey! Look at that!
It’s a big black-and-white ball. Wow! Even the balls are bigger in this place!
“I wanna play ball!” I bark to the two-legs who are playing with the big black-and-white ball. “I love fetch.”
Except the two-legs aren’t playing fetch. They’re moving the ball with their paws.
I run over to the ball. I stick out one paw and try to push the big ball, just like the two-legs are doing.
Whoops! It’s hard to balance on three legs. I fall right onto my belly. Owie! That hurt.
A two-leg pushes the ball away. He passes it to another two-leg, who pushes it down the field of soft grass.
“Wait for me!” I shout to the two-leg as I try to reach the ball.
The two-leg stops and stares at me. Now’s my chance. I stick out my snout and push that ball away.
The two-leg shouts something at me. But I can’t understand him. I don’t speak two-leg. So I keep pushing the ball with my snout.
A group of two-legs chases after me.
I push harder. I run faster. This is a fun game!
I push the ball into some squooshy, mushy, wet dirt that’s covered with flowers and bushes. I push it around a big, fallen piece of tree and through a puddle of water. Splash!
“You can’t catch me!” I bark to the two-legs as I run.
The two-legs aren’t giving up. They run after me, trying to get the ball.
We all run and run and run. I can’t see the field anymore. All I see are trees and bushes and flowers.
I keep pushing the ball.
The two-legs keep chasing me.
Push. Push.
Chase. Chase.
HOOONNNNNNKKKKKK!
Just then I hear a really loud noise. I look up from the ball in time to see a huge metal machine with giant round paws heading right for me!
Wiggle, waggle, uh-oh! I leap into the bushes.
HOOONNNNNNKKKKKK! The metal machine squawks again.
“AAAAHHHHH!” the two-legs behind me shout.
The metal machine swerves and . . . CRASH! It bangs right into a big pile of rocks. It stops.
Phew. That was close.
A big two-leg climbs out of the metal machine. He yells at the group of two-legs who were playing the ball game with me. The group of ball-playing two-legs shouts back at him.
There is a whole lot of yelling going on. I can’t understand what any of the two-legs are saying. But I can tell that they are angry.
The big two-leg stomps off, leaving his metal machine crushed up against the rocks.
Another two-leg picks up the big black-and-white ball. He walks away. His friends follow him. Now I’m alone in this strange land of giant trees, flowers, and metal machines.
I don’t see any other dogs around here, which means I don’t have anyone to talk to. And now that all those two-legs have taken their ball and gone away, I don’t have anyone to play with, either.
I have lots of friends at home. Like Frankie and Samson, the dogs who live on the other sides of my fence. I can talk to them. And there’s Josh, too. Maybe he will come home soon and play with me.
I think I’ll go home now. That’s where all the fun is!
I start walking back toward the big tree where I buried my magic bone.
“There he is! There’s our hero!”
Suddenly I stop in my tracks. My head whips around. I look everywhere. But I don’t see anyone.
“Who’s there?” I ask nervously.
No one answers.
Then a furry brown dog pops out from behind a big tree.
At least I think she’s a dog. She has a furry body and a bushy tail, just like dogs do. And she speaks dog, too.
But her paws don’t look like dog paws. They look more like the paws I see on the ducks that live in the pond near my house. Except her paws have claws like mine do.
I turn around.
Uh-oh. Now I’m surrounded by duck-pawed dog creatures! Four of them. And they’re all staring at me.
I look at their tails. And their ears. And then back at their paws. My heart starts thumpety, thump, thumping.
What kind of strange four-legs are these?
And what do they want with me?
CHAPTER 3
“Where are you going?” the largest of the duck-pawed dog creatures asks me. He scratches his ear with one of his duck paws.
Gulp. Those paws really freak me out. “I . . . um . . . I was just leaving,” I tell him. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“Oh, there won’t be any trouble,” another one of the duck-pawed dog creatures assures me. She wags her tail. “Not since you scared away the two-leg and saved our home. You’re our hero.”
Saved their home? I don’t see any houses anywhere. “What home?” I ask.
The largest of the duck-pawed dog creatures points to a huge pile of dried grass. “That’s our lair,” he tells me.
“Your what?” I ask.
“Our lair,” another duck-pawed dog creature with a loud voice repeats. She shakes her head. “Haven’t you ever seen a bush-dog house before?”
I’ve heard of sheepdogs, collie dogs, terrier dogs, beagle dogs, spaniel dogs, even mixed-breed dogs. But I’ve never heard of bush dogs.
“What’s a bush dog?” I ask.
The duck-pawed dog creatures look at me like I’m crazy.
“We’re bush dogs,” the loudest one tells me. “And this is our home.”
That doesn’t look like any house I’ve ever seen. “Where are the windows and the doors?” I ask her.
“What’s a door?” she asks me.
“What’s a window?” the one with the wagging tail asks.
“Our lair used to belong to an armadillo,” the biggest one explains. “When he moved out, we moved in.”
I don’t know what an armadillo is. This place is very confusing.
“We’re so happy you saved our home,” the bush dog with the wagging tail exclaims. “You’re our hero!”
“My name’s not Hero,” I tell her. “It’s Sparky.”
“Hi, Sparky,” she says. “I’m Anahi.”
Anahi smells my rear end. I guess she really is a dog, because that’s how we dogs say hello.
“I’m Tito,” the big duck-pawed dog tells me. He smells my rear end, too. Then he points to one of his friends.
“This is Eduardo. He doesn’t say much.”
Eduardo nods his head in my direction and gives me a little sniff.
“Hi,” I say.
“I’m Maria,” the dog with the loud voice says. She gives me a funny look. “Are you really a dog?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say proudly.
“You don’t look like one,” Maria says.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Tito agrees. “It’s the paws. You have strange paws, hero.”
“Sparky,” I correct him. “And my paws aren’t strange. They look normal where I come from.”
“Where is that?” Anahi asks.
“Josh’s house,” I say.
Eduardo cocks his head and looks at Tito.
“He wants to know what a Josh is,” Tito explains.
“Josh is my two-leg,” I tell Eduardo.
The duck-pawed dogs all step back.
“You brought a two-leg to the rain forest?” Maria shouts. She sounds kind of angry.
“The rain forest? I don’t see any rain,” I say. “Or is that the name of this place?”
“We’re in the Amazon Rain Forest,” Tito explains. “In Brazil.”
“If Sparky brought a two-leg here, we could be in trouble,” Maria warns t
he others.
“Josh isn’t here,” I tell them. “He went off in his metal machine.”
“We HATE metal machines,” Maria says. “And we don’t like the two-legs inside them, either.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew Josh,” I explain. “He’s wiggle, waggle, wonderful!”
Eduardo lifts one paw and shakes his head.
“Eduardo’s not sure he can trust a dog with weird paws,” Tito tells me. “Especially one who is friends with a two-leg.”
That makes me angry. “Your paws look weird to me,” I tell Eduardo. “Maybe I shouldn’t trust you.”
“We trust you,” Anahi assures me. “It’s two-legs we don’t trust. They haven’t been very good to us bush dogs.”
“They plowed over our last two homes,” Tito explains. “Luckily this time you stopped them.”
“That’s why you’re our hero!” Anahi explains. “From now on, you’re the leader of our pack.”
“Ow!” I exclaim. “A bug just bit me.” My back paw scratches at the bug bite. Scratchity, scratch, scratch.
“It was just a mosquito,” Maria says. “You’ll get used to them.”
No, I won’t. Because I’m not staying here. It’s great having other dogs to talk to, but the rest of this place is just too much. Too much yelling from two-legs. Too much heat. And too much biting from the bugs.
Ow! Another bug bites me. Scratchity, scratch, scratch.
And all this heat is making me thirsty. The air seems really wet, but I don’t see a water bowl anywhere.
“It was nice meeting you,” I tell the bush dogs. “But I have to go home now.”
“You can’t leave,” Anahi says. “You have to stay and be our leader.”
Eduardo nods.
But I don’t answer. Instead, I start walking back toward the big tree where my bone is buried. The bush dogs follow me as I walk.
“Where are you going?” I ask them.
“Wherever you’re going,” Anahi tells me. “We’re following the leader.”
Dogs Don't Have Webbed Feet #7 Page 1