For Jacob (Y LIP TOM B NIT)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1: A New Olympic Event

Chapter 2: Maths by Mutt

Chapter 3: The Frisbee Search

Chapter 4: An Unexpected Discovery

Chapter 5: Dandy Dachshund

Chapter 6: The Ultra-Missimo-Pizza-Snatch-o-Meter

Chapter 7: Rescue Mission

Chapter 8: A Triangular-Shaped Castle

Chapter 9: Soul Mates

Chapter 10: A Really Strong Ant

Chapter 11: Trip-a-Doos

Chapter 12: Frisbee Time

About the Author

Copyright

About the Publisher

Chapter 1
A NEW OLYMPIC EVENT

Like many stories, this one starts with a search for something that ends up becoming a search for something else.

And it all begins like this:

Karen was chasing her tail.

Karen is the dachshund, as you no doubt remember. She loves to chase her tail. And Stick Dog, Mutt, Poo-Poo, and Stripes were all sitting around watching Karen chase her tail. This is always good for some laughs.

You remember them all, right? Stripes is a Dalmatian. The poodle is named Poo-Poo. And Mutt is, you know, a mutt.

And Stick Dog, of course, is our main character. My English teacher says I should call him the “protagonist” in my story because it sounds more professional and serious.

So, umm, he’s our main character – and he got his name because I can’t draw very well.

You know they’re always looking for food. And you probably remember that the previous two books were all about the five dogs trying to get hamburgers and hot dogs, right?

Most important, do you know about our agreement? The one between you (the reader) and me (the writer and not-so-good illustrator)?

What’s that? You forget our agreement?

Typical.

Okay, Mister or Missus Forgets-Everything-All-the-Time, I’ll remind you. Our agreement is this:

I promise to do my best to tell you an engaging (hopefully funny) adventure story about Stick Dog and his four goofball friends. And you promise to not give me any trouble if my drawings aren’t so good or if the story goes off in other directions now and then.

We have a deal then? Okay, let’s get back to Karen chasing her tail. Do you think she’ll catch it? I’ll give you a hint.

Ready?

She doesn’t.

It was especially funny to the other dogs when Karen got tired and laid her head down, curled her body up, and closed her eyes to rest for a minute. Then when she opened them, that tail was right there in front of her – just barely out of reach.

Oh, she had to have it. This time she’d get it for sure. And she lifted her chin off the ground and used her mighty four-inch dachshund legs to pounce after her own tail. And when she did, her body straightened out and – of course – her tail got out of reach again. And she started spinning around some more.

“Come on, Karen,” Mutt said. “A little faster. Just a little faster!”

“Yeah,” Stripes said, trying to suppress her laughter. “You’re almost there. Stretch out a little more. Just a little more.”

“You almost got it last time,” said Poo-Poo, his fur-covered belly panting in and out.

Stick Dog watched the scene with quiet bemusement. Oh, he enjoyed the fruitless efforts of Karen’s tail chasing just like anybody would. But he also took great pleasure in watching Stripes, Poo-Poo, and Mutt as they watched Karen. This happens often with Stick Dog. He likes to watch his friends as they laugh because it makes him feel good.

Of course, Karen could only chase her tail for so long. Eventually, she had to stop. And when she did, this story really gets started.

“I have to stop,” Karen panted, plopping down again on her belly with her chin on the ground.

“Too bad,” said Stripes. “I really thought you were going to get it that time.”

“Me too,” said Mutt. He tried to hide a grin. “I mean, you seem to get closer and closer every day. Have you been working out?”

“No, not really.”

“Well, it sure looks like it,” Poo-Poo added. “Your speed has really improved, and I think you’re bending and twisting better than ever before.”

“You really think so?”

“Oh, yeah,” Stripes confirmed. “It’s totally true. If there is ever an Olympic event for chasing your tail and not catching it, you’ll be a gold medallist!”

“That’s so nice of you to say,” Karen said, and began to push herself up from the ground. She smiled and nodded a bit as she regained some strength from this encouragement. “Thanks so much.”

“Wouldn’t you agree, Stick Dog?” Stripes asked. “Wouldn’t you agree that if there was an Olympic event for chasing your tail but not catching it, then Karen would win a gold medal?”

Now, Stick Dog knew the other dogs were making fun of Karen. And, to be honest, Stick Dog was getting a kick out of the whole business. But he also knew when having fun was getting close to teasing. And Stick Dog didn’t like teasing. So instead of answering, he turned to Karen and asked, “What would you like to do now?”

Stick Dog knew exactly what Karen was going to say.

Chapter 2
MATHS BY MUTT

Karen didn’t hesitate. There was only one thing she liked more than chasing her tail. “Frisbee!” she yelped. “Frisbee. Frisbee! FRISBEE!!”

“Excellent idea,” said Stick Dog. “Let’s play Frisbee. And what are we going to need to do that?”

The other four dogs just looked at Stick Dog with blank expressions.

“What are we going to need?” he repeated.

Suddenly Mutt spoke up. “I know what we need! Our mouths! To catch the Frisbee with!”

“Well, that’s true enough,” said Stick Dog. “We definitely need our mouths. But I was thinking of something else. What is it that we catch with our mouths?”

This time Poo-Poo answered really fast. He was so certain of the answer that he wanted to beat everyone in saying it. “I got it! Our tongues,” he said quickly and proudly. And as if to prove his point, Poo-Poo opened his mouth and let his tongue drop out and began wagging it around. He snapped his mouth shut on it a couple of times by accident. You could tell it hurt, but he tried to not let it show.

Stick Dog didn’t say anything for a moment. “I guess you do sort of need your tongue a little to play Frisbee.”

“See, see, see? I told you!” Poo-Poo said. His tongue flapped up and down and slapped his own face as he nodded with tremendous enthusiasm and vigour. “It’s not easy being right all the time, let me tell you.”

“Mm-hmm. I’m sure that’s true,” replied Stick Dog. “Now, who can tell me the most important thing we need to play Frisbee? Besides our mouths and tongues, I mean.”

Mutt, Karen, Poo-Poo, and Stripes all turned their heads towards Stick Dog. Nobody said anything at all.

Stick Dog answered his own question. “We need a Frisbee.”

As soon as he said it, his four friends all started nodding their heads up and down like crazy.

“Didn’t I say that?” asked Mutt. “I’m pretty sure I did.”

“It’s so obvious,” said Poo-Poo, “that I didn’t think it was worth saying.”

“I was going to say that,” added Karen, “but Poo-Poo interrupted me.”

Stripes said, “I was about to answer that exact thing. But the sun got in my eyes.”

Stick Dog looked up at the sky. It was getting near dusk. The sun would be setting soon. He glanced at Stripes and shook his head. “Why would the sun getting …” he began to ask, but then stopped himself. He didn’t finish his question. “Well, I figured you all knew the answer. Let’s find a Frisbee.”

“That’s easy,” said Stripes. “You and Mutt were playing with one just a couple of days ago, Stick Dog. Don’t you remember? It’s orange. We found it by the basketball courts at Picasso Park. It’s probably in the pipe by your sleeping cushion. I’ll go get it.”

“I don’t think so,” said Stick Dog.

“Why not?” asked Mutt.

“Think back,” said Stick Dog, “to when you and I were playing Frisbee, Mutt. Do you remember what happened to it?”

“Oh, Stick Dog,” said Mutt. “I can’t remember that far back.”

“But it was just the day before yesterday,” said Stick Dog.

“That’s what I mean,” Mutt said. “That’s a couple of weeks in human years.”

This, frankly, caught Stick Dog by surprise. He asked, “What do you mean?”

“Well, dogs typically live about one-seventh as long as humans. So one dog day equals seven human days. The day before yesterday was two days ago to us – that equals fourteen human days. I can’t remember that long ago,” Mutt explained. “I always measure time that way. It’s easier.”

Stick Dog shook his head for a second and then asked, “It’s easier for you to take a period of time, multiply it by seven, then pretend and think like a human to understand that period of time?”

“Yes, yes indeed,” answered Mutt matter-of-factly. “And that is why I obviously cannot remember what happened the day before yesterday. It’s the equivalent of fourteen human days. That’s quite a way back.”

“No, it’s not a way back at all,” said Stick Dog. He scrunched up his face and tried to understand what Mutt was saying. “It was the day before yesterday.”

Mutt began to talk very slowly, hoping it would help Stick Dog understand. “It only … seems … like the day … before yesterday. It was really … two weeks ago.”

“But that’s only if you’re measuring things in human-to-dog time,” said Stick Dog.

Mutt nodded his head. “That’s correct. I’m glad you finally understand.” He was pretty sure talking slowly had really helped.

“But you’re not a human,” sighed Stick Dog. “You’re a dog.”

“Exactly.”

Stick Dog stood there in front of Mutt for a minute. He shook his head a final time and turned to Poo-Poo, Stripes, and Karen. “Do any of you understand this?” he asked.

“We weren’t listening,” they all answered in unison. To explain further, Karen added, “There was a really cool-looking beetle on the ground over here. It had a red stripe running down its back. We were checking it out. According to Stripes, it doesn’t taste very good though.”

Stripes coughed a little bit.

Stick Dog turned back to Mutt. “Well, I remember what happened to the Frisbee the day before yesterday.”

Mutt shook his head a little. “You mean two weeks ago. Do you want me to explain it again?”

“No, please don’t,” Stick Dog whispered. “Do you want to know what happened to it?”

“Yes, yes! What happened to it?” asked Mutt, now greatly anticipating the answer. He liked playing Frisbee just as much as Karen and was looking forward to it. “Where is it? I’ll go get it!”

“You ate it,” said Stick Dog flatly.

Mutt turned his head and lifted it just a little. Then his eyes opened much wider, and you could tell he now remembered eating the orange Frisbee. “That’s right. I did eat it.”

“You ate it?!” Poo-Poo, Stripes, and Karen asked all at one time.

Mutt looked down at the ground and pawed at the dirt a little. “I was hungry,” he explained quietly.

Now, to you and me, being hungry is no excuse to eat a hard rubber Frisbee. But to all the dogs – even Stick Dog – this made perfectly good sense, and that was the end of this part of the conversation. Unfortunately, while that was the end of this part of the conversation, it did not solve the problem of playing Frisbee when they didn’t have a Frisbee.

You all know what a Frisbee is, right? What with all these newfangled toys, gadgets, and who-zee-bangers, maybe you don’t. Maybe we’re too busy with our jet packs that fly us across the neighbourhood and our particle-accelerator, atom-busting playthings to know what a Frisbee is.

Just in case you don’t know, it’s a flat rubber disc that you toss back and forth with a friend. And it’s what the dogs need to find.

“Let’s spread out and find a Frisbee,” said Stick Dog. “If we all run in different directions, we’re bound to find one soon enough.”

Mutt, Poo-Poo, Stripes, and Karen all nodded their heads, agreeing that this was a good idea on Stick Dog’s part. When Stick Dog ran off in his direction towards Picasso Park, the other four dogs followed immediately after him.

Has this ever happened to you? It happens to dogs all the time. They know the right thing to do and they understand the directions, but they just can’t do it. They see a nice pair of headphones or a scrumptious-looking sneaker and they know they shouldn’t chew the thing to bits, but they do it anyway.

But does it happen to you? You know the right thing to do, you know the proper instructions, but you just can’t follow them? I think we all know the most common time this happens, don’t we? Oh, you may not know what I’m talking about right this instant, but as soon as I say it you’re going to know I’m right. Ready?

It’s flossing your teeth.

We’ve all been to the dentist. And we’ve all nodded our heads when the dentist asks, “Are you going to floss your teeth every day until your next visit?”

But do you? Come on now. Do you really? Every single day?

If you do, good for you. You follow instructions well, and you practise excellent oral hygiene. And there are only about seven of you in the entire world.

If you don’t, join the club that consists of all the rest of us. Our club has nearly seven billion members. I mean, who wants to spend five minutes running a piece of waxy string between your teeth? Doesn’t it make you feel like a fish caught on a hook? That’s what I always think of. Now, brush often and don’t eat twelve Reese’s Cups for breakfast, I get that. But floss every day? Come on, I’ve got a life to lead, Cha-Cha.

Body hygiene, now that’s a different story. I believe in being very clean and sweet smelling all the time. I live by one hard-and-fast rule: I shower once a month whether I need it or not.

So the dogs didn’t follow Stick Dog’s instructions even though they’d agreed to do so. They simply tore after him to Picasso Park to look for a Frisbee. When they got there, Stick Dog turned around and asked, “Why are you all following me? We were supposed to run in different directions.”

“I didn’t hear you say that,” said Stripes, looking away.

“I swerved a lot,” said Poo-Poo. “So I went in a lot of directions but just ended up in the same place.”

Mutt didn’t say anything. But he did plop down on the ground and start scratching behind his left ear with his right rear leg. He kept almost tipping over and then catching himself at the last minute.

Karen said, “I actually ran in the exact opposite direction. Yeah, that’s what I did. I circled the planet on the exact opposite path and – shazam! – here I am.”

Stick Dog dropped his chin and raised his eyes towards Karen. “You’re really, really fast.”

“Yes, it’s true,” was all Karen said.

“Well, we’re all here now,” said Stick Dog. “Let’s find a Frisbee to play with. And this time, let’s actually go in different directions to look. Meet back here in a few minutes.”

This time they did follow Stick Dog’s directions.

And this time they did find a Frisbee.

Sort of.

Chapter 3
THE FRISBEE SEARCH

So, yeah, the dogs ran all over the place to search for a Frisbee, and in no time, they were back. Stick Dog began to quiz the others and survey the results.

“I didn’t have any luck,” said Stick Dog. “How about you guys?”

“I found one!” exclaimed Poo-Poo. “It’s rubbery and it’s a circle and everything.”

“That,” said Stick Dog, looking at what Poo-Poo had, “is a bicycle tyre. It’s too big and flimsy and hollow in the middle. It won’t glide in the air at all.”

“Oh.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“I chewed it off that metal thing over there,” answered Poo-Poo as he pointed. “See that thing with the wheels and the handlebars and the cushy seat? I chewed it off that.”

“That’s a bicycle,” sighed Stick Dog.

Poo-Poo looked at Stick Dog with a confused expression. “If it’s a bicycle, why is that girl pushing it instead of riding it?”

Stick Dog closed his eyes momentarily and then opened them and answered, “It’s missing a tyre, Poo-Poo.”

Poo-Poo looked over at the girl struggling to push her one-tyred bike home from the park. “Jeez, that’s too bad.”

Stick Dog turned to Stripes. “Did you find a Frisbee, Stripes?”

“Yes, I did,” mumbled Stripes.

“Great job. Where is it?”

Stripes began to look all around herself on the ground. She looked around her front paws, her back paws, and underneath her belly. “I know I have it here somewhere,” she mumbled again.

Stick Dog said, “You’re talking funny. Is there something in your mouth?”

Stripes’s eyes popped open as if she just remembered something. She nodded. “It’s the Frisbee!” she said, nearly inaudibly.

Stick Dog decided not to ask how an entire Frisbee could fit inside her mouth and simply said, “Let’s see it.”

Stripes lowered her head, opened her mouth, and sort of flung something towards Stick Dog. It clanked a bit when it hit the ground and then rolled up against Stick Dog’s front left paw.

Stick Dog looked down at it but didn’t look back up. “That’s a bottle top,” he whispered.

Everyone was quiet and still for a moment. They didn’t want to hurt Stripes’s feelings, but it turned out her feelings weren’t actually hurt that much at all.

“It may look like a bottle top to you, Stick Dog,” said Stripes defiantly. “But to a mouse, that so-called ‘bottle top’ would make an excellent Frisbee. So if you really think about it, I did, in fact, find a Frisbee. You have to admit I’m right from a certain perspective.”

“You mean from a mouse’s perspective?”

“That’s right.”

Stick Dog stared at Stripes for a single second and then sighed, “Okay, Stripes. You’re right from a certain perspective.”

“Next time, please try to be more specific in your request,” Stripes added.

“I’ll do that,” said Stick Dog, trying not to roll his eyes. He then turned to Mutt. “Mutt, did you find anything?”

“Boy, did I! I was hoping you’d ask me next,” said Mutt. He then did a most unusual thing. He spread out his legs, took a deep breath, and shook. There was a clunking, jingling, noisy racket as things fell out of Mutt’s fur all about him. “I found a candy bar wrapper, an old pencil stub, a tennis ball that got hit and torn up by a lawn mower, a couple of good rocks, and a piece of rope, and that’s not even the best of it.”

“Is the best of it a Frisbee?” asked Stick Dog.

“It’s an old grey sock!” Mutt exclaimed. “I love these things! I’m going to keep it forever! I mean, you know, until I swallow it.”

“But we were supposed to be looking for a Frisbee,” said Stick Dog.

“Oh,” Mutt replied, but he truly didn’t seem to care. He was very, very excited about the dirty old sock. “I didn’t find one of those.”

At last, Stick Dog turned to Karen.

“I think I found just the thing,” she said before Stick Dog could even ask. She dropped a flat cardboard circle in front of him.

“It’s not exactly a Frisbee,” said Stick Dog. He paced around the circle on the ground, cocking his head a little bit and examining it. “But it is about the right size and shape. It just might work for a little Frisbee tossing. Good job, Karen.”

“Thanks,” said Karen proudly. “I really am quite excellent now that I come to think about it.”

“Let’s give it a try. Run out a little bit, Karen. We’ll see if this thing flies,” Stick Dog said, and picked up the cardboard disc in his mouth. He bent his neck back and sideways, preparing to snap it forward, open his mouth, release the cardboard circle, and watch it fly.

Only here’s the thing: He didn’t. He kept that flat cardboard circle in his mouth. He remained in that paused, ready-to-throw position. Something peculiar was happening. Karen came running back. And Poo-Poo, Mutt, and Stripes all gathered around Stick Dog.

“What is it, Stick Dog?” asked Mutt.

“Are you hurt?” asked Stripes.

Thankfully, Stick Dog wasn’t hurt. But he was surprised about something.

Very surprised.

Chapter 4
AN UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY

Stick Dog slowly straightened his body and dropped the cardboard circle to the ground. “You have to taste that thing,” Stick Dog whispered. “I can’t believe I’m saying this – but I think it tastes even better than hamburgers or frankfurters.”

“That’s impossible,” muttered Karen, but she had learned a long time ago to trust Stick Dog when it came to the subject of food. They all began licking the cardboard.

Stripes lifted her head momentarily and asked, “What is this red, sticky stuff?”

“Here, let me see,” said Poo-Poo, and he nudged his nose into a red splotch smeared across one section of the cardboard. He sniffed it, licked it, and then bit off a little piece and swirled it around in his mouth. He declared with great authority, “That red sticky stuff is delicious, no doubt. It has hints of salt and spice, and a fine, clean finish on the back of my palate. It evokes memories of tomato, green pepper, onion, and finely ground pepper.”

For the first time, the dogs stopped licking the cardboard. They all looked at Poo-Poo with astonishment.

“What?” asked Poo-Poo. “You all know that I have very refined taste. That should come as no surprise.”

Stick Dog said, “Well, Poo-Poo, it was a very fine description, I’ll give you that. What about that yellow-and-orangish stuff on the cardboard near the centre of the circle? What’s that taste like?”