by Abby Hanlon
But then I have an idea. “How about a puppy?” I say. “Can you turn me into a puppy?”
“Definitely,” he says, jumping up excitedly. “No problem at all!” He’s lucky that I’m already really good at turning into a puppy.
“One, two, three.” He waves his wand. I drop to my hands and knees.
“Woof, woof, woof,” I bark and wag my tail. Mr. Nuggy looks very pleased.
I turn into a puppy just in time . . .
“Where did that little girl go? She was just out here. And where did this stupid dog come from?” Mrs. Gobble Gracker asks Mr. Nuggy.
“You must be imagining things,” says Mr. Nuggy. “There’s no girl here.”
“I know you’re up to something, Nuggy,” she says. “Your silly little tricks have never worked on me.”
“Watch out,” says Mr. Nuggy. “This dog bites.”
I bark my head off at Mrs. Gobble Gracker.
“Somebody get this dog to shut up!” says Mrs. Gobble Gracker. She has absolutely no idea it’s me!
“Woof, woof!” I say, which means, “My human days are over.” And boy, do I mean it.
Mr. Nuggy says, “I have to go now. My wife needs me home for dinner.” He starts to climb back up the same tree.
“Woof, woof, woof,” I bark up the tree after him, which means, “Wait! What’s your phone number?”
“You can call me from any banana,” he calls down. “No numbers.”
Then he disappears into the summer leaves.
Violet and Luke come outside to play Frisbee, and I run to tell them the news.
“I have great news! Mrs. Gobble Gracker will never find me.”
“Really? You decided to stop acting like a baby?” asks Violet.
“No, I decided to stop acting like a human,” I say.
“Oh brother,” says Violet. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
“No problem,” I say, “because I can’t talk anyway. Woof, woof.
“Woof, woofy, woof, woof,” I say, chasing after the Frisbee.
“Beat it,” says Violet.
But Luke says, “Come here, puppy.” And he pets me.
“What’s your name, puppy?”
I have to think of a VERY good name, so that Luke will be excited to play with me. I concentrate really hard.
Finally . . .
I say my name without really opening my mouth since puppies don’t talk: “Chickenbone.”
“Your name is Chickenbone?”
I nod my head yes and say, “Woof, woof, woof.”
Luke looks pleased.
“Do you have an owner?” he asks.
I shake my head no, and make my saddest puppy eyes ever.
“Well,” he says, petting me, “I could be your owner. But you have to be a good dog.”
“Woof, woof, woof!!” I jump around and wag my tail and do somersaults to show how happy I am.
It turns out Luke really wants to be a dog owner. I never knew.
I have long shaggy white fur with brown spots, and I have a pink polka-dotted bow, and a wet nose, and I’m very jumpy and I usually have spit on my face. Luke just can’t get enough of me. He loves Chickenbone.
And that’s how I became a dog named Chickenbone, and how Mrs. Gobble Gracker was left hanging around my house looking kind of bored and confused. I guess she is waiting for me to come back.
CHAPTER 4
If You Take a Dog to the Doctor
Luke puts my cereal bowl on the floor for me, and I hungrily eat it up. He gives me treats (which is more cereal) when I do my tricks. Here are my tricks:
Then I chase my dad down the sidewalk as he leaves for work.
“Woof, woof!” I say, and jump on Violet, who is still trying to get used to me. “Stop licking me!!” she screams. “Gross!! Help!! Rascal is licking me again!!!”
“Rascal, put your tongue back in your mouth!” yells my mom.
At breakfast, I pick up socks with my mouth and bring them to my owner. I make my little puppy begging sounds until he throws the sock for me to fetch.
“I gotta go. Be a good little dog today,” my owner says. I lie on my back so he can pet my belly. Luke and Violet are going to their friend’s house. If I weren’t a dog, I’d be really jealous.
Instead I’m so happy that I get to stay home all day and chew on socks with Mary.
But my mom surprises me with some terrible news: I have to get dressed.
“Put these on,” says my mom, grabbing the socks from my mouth.
“Woof, woof,” I say, which means no.
“Rascal! We have to go! I’m not kidding!” she says. “You have an appointment at the doctor today. You have to have a checkup before you go back to school.”
“Woof, woof,” I tell her, and shake my head no.
I don’t want to get dressed because I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to stay home in my nightgown, which is actually part of my fur.
“NOW!!!” yells my mom.
“Dogs don’t get dressed. Woof!”
My mom says, “We are in a huge rush, let’s go!” But no matter how many times she says it . . . “Dory, did you hear me say we are in a rush??? We have an appointment. We can’t be late” . . . it just doesn’t mean anything to me, because I’m a dog!
“A woof-woof-woof-woof, woof . . . woof . . . a woof . . . woof, woof, woof,” I say, which means: “No thank you. I’m just going to stay home and chew on socks.”
We are already on the sidewalk by the time my mom finally gets my dress over my head.
I cry and have a huge fit, and people walk by and stare at us.
Yuck, I hate this stupid dress. Grrrrr.
I had planned on changing back into a girl when we got to the doctor’s office. But I discovered it became impossible to change out of being a dog. I was stuck as a dog and there was nothing I could do about it. These things just happen to me.
The doctor is very smiley. She asks me lots of questions.
“How old are you, Dory?”
“Woof, woof!” I say.
“What grade are you starting?”
“Woof!”
“Dory, you need to answer the doctor,” says my mom, who looks embarrassed.
“I see you like to pretend you are a puppy. You are a very cute puppy,” says the doctor. “What else do you like to do?”
“Woof, woof, woof!” I say.
“I’m so sorry,” says my mom. “Dory is very imaginative, a little too imaginative.”
“Wonderful,” says the doctor, and she pets me. I want to lick her.
My mom whispers to me, “Put your tongue back in your mouth.”
The doctor listens to my heartbeat, looks inside my ears, takes my blood pressure and my temperature, and makes my knees jump, and I am a good little puppy for all of it.
Then the doctor says she needs to check my eyes. She asks me to look at a chart, cover one eye, and say what letter she is pointing to. She points to an E.
“Woof?” I say.
My mom whispers, “Dory, if you don’t say the letters, she’s going to think you can’t see them, and you are going to have to get glasses. So you need to speak.”
I imagine myself wearing glasses and it’s very cute.
“What letter is this?” asks the doctor pointing to an F.
“Woof?” I say.
My mom says, “I’m so sorry. I know Dory can see just fine. Maybe we’ll have to do this another day.”
“Okay, ” says the doctor. “No problem. There’s just one more thing we need to do.”
And right when I least expect it, just as the doctor is saying what a very healthy little puppy I am . . . she is holding a needle. I try to get away, but I’m not fast enough. O
OOOWWWW!!!! I scream and cry.
Then the doctor holds a basket of lollipops in front of me. “You can choose one lollipop for now, and one for later,” says the doctor, smiling. My tears crawl right back into my eyes when I see that basket of lollipops. I choose one yellow lollipop for now, and just when the doctor least expects it, I poke the lollipop stick right in the doctor’s thigh!!!
“Ouch!” she says.
“That’s a shot for you, too,” I say.
“So you can talk,” she says, smiling.
And then I make my angry puppy face, and growl. “Gggrrr,” I say, showing her my pointy teeth.
When it’s time to go home, my mom puts my yellow lollipop in her purse and I know it’s gone forever. I quickly put my shoes back on. My mom doesn’t even have to ask me because I can tell by the way she is breathing that I should just do it.
On the way home, we pick up Luke and Violet at their friend’s house. I quietly whimper like a dog to Luke so my mom can’t hear. I raise my paws and make my eyes look droopy.
But my mom hears everything. “Dory, that’s it! I’m done! No more dog today!” she snaps at me from the front seat.
I pout.
And for a few minutes, it’s quiet in the car.
And then I whisper, “Who wants to hear how loud I can hum?”
CHAPTER 5
Time-out
When we get home from the doctor, I am in huge trouble. My mom tells me I have to go to my room for time-out. I say, “You can just leave my dog food in a bowl outside my door, woof!” This makes my mom so mad that she grabs my paw and drags me up the stairs.
“Walk!” she says.
“I am!” I cry.
“On two legs!!!” my mom yells.
Alone in my room, I suddenly don’t feel like being a dog at all. I’ve got too many problems as a dog. I show Mary my wound. She feels so bad for me.
I put my nightgown back on and then I open my bedroom door a tiny bit. I can hear my family talking about me in the kitchen.
“Rascal gave the doctor a shot!” Luke says, laughing.
“She is out of control!” Violet says. She is laughing, too.
Then I hear an unfamiliar voice. “And she still got a lollipop?” says the voice. Who was that? It sounded like a wicked old . . . huuuuuuuh?!! Was that Mrs. Gobble Gracker? I do not believe it. I walk closer to the stairs to hear better.
“All she could do was bark. I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life!” says my mom.
“How babyish!” laughs the voice. Now I’m sure; it is Mrs. Gobble Gracker. Are they all sitting around the kitchen table together? And laughing at me? And it sounds like they’re eating popcorn!
“Time-out is just what she needs,” says my mom.
“I agree. Keep her locked up,” grumbles Mrs. Gobble Gracker with her mouth full of popcorn.
I run back to my room to tell Mary. “Mrs. Gobble Gracker is downstairs eating popcorn with my family. POPCORN!”
“What’s the big deal about popcorn?” asks Mary.
“She is eating popcorn with my family!” If Mary doesn’t understand, I can’t explain it!
“What are you going to do?” asks Mary.
“No more hiding! No more disguises! No more tricks!” I yell. “Something serious has to be done!”
“Like what?” she says.
“Give me that banana. I’m calling Mr. Nuggy!”
“Hello? Hi, it’s me. Mrs. Gobble Gracker is eating popcorn with my family. Yes, I said popcorn . . . I can’t believe it either, so can you please come back?”
Whoa, that was fast.
Mr. Nuggy crawls in the window and wipes his muddy boots.
“I’ve brought ingredients for a poison soup,” he says. “This is how we get rid of Mrs. Gobble Gracker . . . permanently.”
“What will happen when she eats the soup?” I ask.
“Well, first she will choke a little bit, and then feathers will come out of her ears, and then her eyeballs will turn into gloppy yogurt, and then she’ll drop dead.”
“Oh!” I say, hugging him. “You are the best fairy godmother in the world!”
But, something isn’t quite right.
“I don’t mean to be picky,” I say, “but could you try and look a little more like a fairy godmother?”
“What do you have in my mind?” he asks.
I run to my closet to get some dress-up clothes.
Perfect.
Next, we make signs for the door because Mr. Nuggy says we need privacy to make our soup.
After we hang the signs, there’s a knock on the door.
It’s Luke. “Mom said you can come out of time-out now.”
“No thanks,” I say, and shut the door. Time-out is turning out to be way too much fun.
We don’t want any more interruptions so we decide to send Mary out to be our spy.
“Tell us if she’s coming. And wear this wig!” I say, and give her a push out the door.
Now that it’s quiet, Mr. Nuggy and I finally start cooking. We make the deadliest, most delicious poison soup for Mrs. Gobble Gracker’s dinner.
When the soup is ready, we carry it down to the kitchen, while Mary keeps Mrs. Gobble Gracker distracted.
Then Mr. Nuggy and I gather materials for a giant fort where we can hide until dinnertime, while Mary keeps a look out.
We grab the blankets and sheets and pillows off the beds, and collect all the rugs we can, and towels, and laundry, and bath mats, and put them in a big pile, surrounded by chairs. And we even have to move some tables, and put the chairs on the tables, and we tie the whole thing up with a huge roll of ribbon. And the amazing thing is that we did this without my mom even noticing because she is on the phone.
“Dinner is ready!” calls my mom from the kitchen. Of course, Mrs. Gobble Gracker is the first to arrive.
“Okay, now’s your chance!” I tell Mr. Nuggy. “Go talk to her!”
From the fort, I can hear them in the kitchen.
“Good evening, Mrs. Gobble Gracker.”
“Is that you, Nuggy? Nice dress.”
“Thank you.”
“I have an important message from Dory. You remember Dory—the baby you were coming for. She has agreed to go with you. Back to your cave. Forever.”
“Great because I almost forgot what I was doing here! Dory IS just what I wanted.”
“But after dinner,” he says.
“No problem,” she says. “I’m starving.”
Now that it’s safe for me to leave my hiding spot, I come to the table for dinner. I sit next to Mrs. Gobble Gracker because I don’t want to miss the moment when she chokes on her poison soup and drops dead. Hee. Hee. Hee. Mr. Nuggy and I make polite conversation.
“Do you like ice cream?” I ask Mrs. Gobble Gracker.
“I can’t think of anything more disgusting,” she says.
“Do you have a cell phone?” asks Mr. Nuggy.
“No, but I really really want one,” she says. “Can you get me one?”
“Umm . . . ?” says Mr. Nuggy, looking unsure what to say next.
“Do you have a cat?” I interrupt.
“I ate my cat,” she says. “It was an accident.”
“Oh, then I guess you aren’t a vegetarian,” I say.
“Yes,” she says. “I would eat a vegetarian. Is that what we are having for dinner tonight?”
“We’re having soup,” says Mr. Nuggy. “Just soup.”
Everything is going smoothly until my dad comes home from work and sits on Mrs. Gobble Gracker.
“It is?” says my dad, looking confused.
“You are sitting on Mrs. Gobble Gracker!” I tell him. “Can you please move??”
“It’s been a looooooooong day,”
says my mom to my dad.
At last everybody is at the table and sitting in their proper seat. Mr. Nuggy serves the soup. Mrs. Gobble Gracker picks up her spoon and tastes her soup.
“Delicious!!” says Mrs. Gobble Gracker, spooning more into her mouth as it drips down her chin. The soup is a disaster. Nothing happens. No feathers in her ears. No yogurt-y eyeballs. This is the end of me.
Mr. Nuggy whispers to me, “I’m so sorry. I must have forgotten an ingredient.”
“Ouch!” screams Mrs. Gobble Gracker. Mary bit her ankle under the table.
“Thanks for trying, Mary,” I say. But nothing can save me now.
Mrs. Gobble Gracker will probably bring me to her cave, I think, and put water in my cereal instead of milk and put me to bed too early, and not let me jump on her couch, and she won’t take me to the library, and she’ll eat all my Halloween candy, and she’ll always forget to buy bubble bath, and she’ll put soggy sandwiches in my lunchbox, and she’ll say my nightgowns are too small and give them away to littler kids, and right when it’s time to light my birthday candles, she won’t be able to find matches . . . and . . . and . . . she might even cook me in a big pot!
“I’ll miss you all,” I tell my family. “I was such a great kid, and now I’m going to be taken away forever.”
“Bye!” says Violet.
“So long!” says Luke.
As I’m being carried away, out of the corner of my eye, I notice baby Cherry in her cradle in the living room. Suddenly, I realize I don’t need anyone’s help. I can save myself.