Stick Dog Takes Out Sushi
Dedication
Dedicated to MEJ
(LOFCTLY)
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1: Rumble
Chapter 2: How About That?
Chapter 3: A Very Interesting Tree
Chapter 4: Burble-Burble-Glurp-Glurp!
Chapter 5: Revealing the Clue
Chapter 6: Interesting Marriages
Chapter 7: The Vast Infinity of the Cosmos
Chapter 8: Pushing and Swinging
Chapter 9: Poo-Poo Is in the Dictionary
Chapter 10: Lake Washituba
Chapter 11: Mutt Didn’t Have a Choice
Chapter 12: Poking and Tickling
Chapter 13: Two Puffy-Tailed Rascals
Chapter 14: Smartastic
Chapter 15: Let’s Roll
Chapter 16: Busted
Chapter 17: Ha-Ha! Guess What?
Chapter 18: ’Mere!
Chapter 19: Stick Dog Gets Some Advice
P.S.
About the Author
Back Ad
Copyright
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
Rumble
Mutt, Poo-Poo, and Stripes were all asleep in Stick Dog’s pipe.
Rumble.
That was Mutt. Well, it was Mutt’s stomach.
When Mutt’s belly rumbled, it really rumbled. He was the biggest—and shaggiest—dog in the gang. And when his stomach rumbled inside Stick Dog’s pipe, that sound echoed for several seconds before fading to silence.
Karen noticed the noise—and scrunched up her face.
The sound must have disturbed Mutt too. He shifted position slightly as he slept, rolling over from his left side to his right in an unconscious attempt to quiet his belly.
It didn’t work.
Rumble.
“Stick Dog,” Karen said quietly. “Is there anything you can do about this? I’m super-tired and need to take a nap.”
Stick Dog looked at all his friends. Poo-Poo and Stripes were asleep, resting comfortably side by side. Mutt shifted his body again. Only Karen was awake—and bothered.
“I don’t think there’s anything I can do,” Stick Dog said. It had been a long afternoon. They had spent most of the day looking for food—without finding much of anything. Their only success came at Picasso Park where Poo-Poo had found a couple of stale hamburger buns beneath a picnic table. They had shared those. “Everybody’s stomach rumbles at some point. Mutt’s just hungry.”
Rumble.
“I know,” Karen said, understanding. “I’m hungry too.”
Stick Dog said, “We all are.”
“Why can’t we just go see Lucy at the meat store?” Karen asked hopefully. “I bet she can get us something.”
Stick Dog wished it could be that easy. Their new friend Lucy, a German shepherd who lived in the back room of a meat shop in town, couldn’t help them today.
“Lucy went on vacation with her human roommate, remember?” Stick Dog said. “She told us a few days ago. The meat store is closed—and she’s not even there.”
“Oh, right,” replied Karen. “I forgot.”
Rumble.
“I think maybe you should take a different approach to this whole thing,” Stick Dog whispered to Karen. He could tell that Karen grew a little more annoyed every time Mutt’s stomach made noise.
Karen looked up at Stick Dog and asked, “What do you mean?”
“Well, Mutt doesn’t really have a choice about when his stomach rumbles,” Stick Dog said quietly. “But you have a choice about how you react to it.”
“How so?”
“You see, right now his rumbling stomach is bothering you and keeping you awake,” Stick Dog explained. “But I think if you change your attitude a little, you’ll find that sound can actually be rather pleasant and comforting.”
Karen looked up skeptically at Stick Dog. She doubted his idea.
“Why don’t you lie down here closer to me and I’ll explain,” Stick Dog said.
Rumble.
Karen shrugged her shoulders and plopped down next to Stick Dog.
“Now, close your eyes,” Stick Dog said in a calm, soothing voice.
Karen closed her eyes.
“Let’s pretend that sound is something totally different,” he whispered. “Why don’t we say that sound isn’t coming from Mutt at all? Let’s imagine that it’s actually a rainstorm off in the distance.”
Karen nodded silently.
Rumble.
“And that rumbling sound is thunder,” Stick Dog continued. “It’s not loud, violent thunder that startles you. It’s a rolling, vibrating thunder that’s miles and miles from here. You can hear it get softer and softer as the storm moves farther and farther away. You hear the rainfall outside. The raindrops fall from the sky and splash gently against the trees. They splatter quietly on the ground.”
Karen’s body relaxed as Stick Dog spoke.
Rumble.
“There’s the thunder again,” he whispered. “Getting farther and farther away. There’s a dull gray flash of lightning. The wind swooshes slowly and peacefully through the forest. The tree branches brush and rustle against each other. It’s a peaceful sound. A calming sound. A sleepy sound.”
Stick Dog looked down at Karen.
“A sleepy sound,” he repeated.
She breathed slow, rhythmic breaths.
“A sleepy sound.”
Rumble.
Stick Dog was pretty sure Karen was asleep now. That was good. He knew that after a disappointing food search during the day, they would need to go back out this evening to find something to eat. They all needed to rest.
He closed his own eyes.
But only for seven seconds.
After seven seconds, there was another sound.
It wasn’t Mutt’s rumbling stomach.
It was Karen.
She wasn’t asleep.
Chapter 2
How About That?
“Stick Dog?” Karen whispered.
He smiled at her voice. He didn’t open his eyes. He just said, “Yes?”
“It’s me, Karen.”
“Okay, umm, thanks for telling me,” Stick Dog said.
“I just thought with your eyes closed and everything, I should, you know, identify myself,” Karen explained.
“We were just talking a few seconds ago,” Stick Dog said. He did enjoy his conversations with Karen quite a lot. They could be very, well, interesting. “And neither one of us has moved.”
“I just wanted you to be sure,” Karen said. “You know, that it’s me and my voice and everything.”
“I appreciate that,” Stick Dog said, trying to suppress the smile creeping onto his face as their talk continued. “But we’ve been friends for years now, Karen. We see each other almost every day. I recognized your voice. It’s quite unique—just like you.”
“What a nice thing to say, Stick Dog,” Karen said with pride. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Could you open your eyes now?”
“Sure,” Stick Dog said, and opened his eyes.
“See, Stick Dog!” Karen exclaimed, and pushed herself up. “It is me!”
“It sure is,” he said. “How about that? It’s good to see you, Karen.”
“Good to see you too, Stick Dog,” she replied. “I didn’t take a nap after all.”
“I see that,” Stick Dog said. “What happened?”
“Well, I did what you said,” Karen explained, and began to pace back and forth in front of Stick Dog. “I imagined that Mutt’s rumbling stomach was a rainstorm and everything. And it was real
peaceful and calm and all that. And, you know, the rainfall made that nice soothing sound and blah, blah, blah. All that stuff.”
“But it didn’t help you fall asleep?”
“No, not at all,” Karen said quickly. “Do you want to know why?”
“Sure. Tell me.”
“It’s because all that pretending and stuff made my brain keep going.”
Stick Dog tilted his head a bit to the left. He said, “I’m not quite sure what you mean.”
“It’s just that I couldn’t stop pretending,” Karen explained further. “So, I imagined the wind whooshing through the trees and then I thought some of the old branches and stuff would probably fall down. And I thought just how many branches would fall down in a whole forest. I mean, it could be millions and millions.”
“Umm, it would be a lot, I guess. For sure.”
“So, I imagined all those broken branches and sticks all over the ground in the forest,” Karen continued. She was happy that Stick Dog was following along, you could tell. “And then I saw myself going through the forest and stepping over all those branches and sticks. And I saw Mutt there. And Poo-Poo and Stripes. You were there too, Stick Dog!”
“That’s great,” Stick Dog said slowly. He wasn’t quite sure where all this was going. But with Karen, frankly, that was not an uncommon occurrence. “I’m glad we were all together.”
“And guess what I realized as I imagined all of us out there in the forest with those million and millions of broken sticks and branches?”
“What?”
“I realized how much I really, really, really love sticks!” Karen yelped and hopped up and down a few times. “I mean, sticks are awesome. You can chew on them. You can play fetch with them. And you can carry them around and knock into stuff with them. Heck, just having a stick—you know, like totally possessing it—is completely and totally awesome, don’t you think?”
“I, umm, like sticks too. You bet,” he said.
“Well, once I imagined all those sticks, there was no way I was going to sleep,” Karen said. “You know what I mean?”
“I understand,” Stick Dog said, and smiled. “So, would you like to go out in the woods and find some sticks right now?”
“Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!”
But they didn’t go find some sticks out in the woods right then.
No.
Mutt rolled over to face them.
“Did you guys say you want some sticks? I have some right here.”
And that’s when everything changed.
Chapter 3
A Very Interesting Tree
Poo-Poo and Stripes woke up too.
“What’s all this about sticks?” asked Poo-Poo after he yawned and stretched.
“I heard it too,” Stripes said, and pushed herself up to standing. She shook her body to wakefulness. “What’s going on?”
“It’s all because of Mutt’s stomach,” Karen started to explain. “See, I pretended that rumbling sound was thunder during a rainstorm. Then there was a forest and wind and millions of sticks everywhere! And now I can’t stop thinking about sticks!”
Poo-Poo asked, “Hunh?”
“It’s a long story,” Stick Dog intervened in an attempt to speed things up. “Mutt, did you say you actually have some sticks?”
“I sure do, Stick Dog,” Mutt replied happily. He was always glad to provide things for his friends. “I’ve got plenty for everyone.”
Karen, Poo-Poo, Stripes, and Stick Dog then gathered around Mutt in a circle. They all knew what would happen next.
Mutt spread his legs out a little and began to shake. He started off slowly—just a few little shimmies from different parts of his body. But in just a few seconds, his few little shimmies built into a massive, full-body, pipe-rattling shake.
Things flew out of his fur from everywhere. There was a pencil, a tennis ball, two bottle caps, a mitten, two socks, a water bottle, and some other stuff.
And there were six thin wooden sticks.
“There they are,” Mutt said, and stopped shaking. The sticks had fallen pretty much from the same place—near his right hip. “I knew they’d come out quickly. I just found them yesterday.”
Mutt gathered the other objects and placed them back into his fur. While he did that, Stick Dog, Karen, Stripes, and Poo-Poo examined the sticks.
“They’re all the same size,” observed Poo-Poo.
Stripes added, “And the same shape.”
“They’re kind of pointed on the ends,” said Karen, tilting her head in curiosity. “What kind of tree would have the exact same-sized branches? I mean, that would be a pretty strange-looking tree, don’t you think?”
“It would be odd,” Stick Dog said. “I think maybe these sticks didn’t come from a tree, Karen. Where did you find them, Mutt?”
“I ripped open a garbage bag at the end of a human’s driveway last night,” Mutt answered as he put the final item—the mitten—back into his fur. “The sticks were in there. I found these six loose ones. And I found two more wrapped in a paper package.”
Stick Dog asked, “Do you still have that paper package?”
Mutt nodded and shook his right hip.
A skinny paper sleeve with words on it fell out of Mutt’s fur. It was a little longer than the sticks and was torn open. Stick Dog went over to look at it. He read the words and he could see two sticks inside. While he did that, the others each picked up a stick with their mouths. They chewed and gnawed on them.
Karen, Poo-Poo, and Mutt all chewed on the middle of the sticks.
But Stripes did not.
She just so happened to pick up her stick from the pointy end.
She munched on that end for a few seconds. Her eyes flashed opened wide.
“That’s not a regular stick!” Stripes exclaimed, dropping it from her mouth. She crouched down with her front legs, but her hips and her tail—it was wagging—were still in the air. She held the stick with both paws in front of her face, eyeballed it closely, and licked the pointy end once. Twice. Three times. “It’s a flavor stick! It’s got stuff on it! Look close! There are three colors—red, brown, and green! It’s delicious! You have to taste the pointy end!”
This amazing information shocked the others. Mutt, Karen, and Poo-Poo all dropped their sticks immediately. They stared at them for a few seconds and then started to lick the pointy ends. Even Stick Dog hurried to lick one of the loose sticks.
In no time at all, they discovered that Stripes was correct. Those sticks did, in fact, have a distinct flavor.
“What is that?” Karen asked. “It’s certainly tasty. I just don’t know what it is.”
But Poo-Poo did.
He always did.
Poo-Poo considered himself the leader in the group about food. He was a connoisseur, an aficionado—an expert. He sat back on his haunches and stroked a paw beneath his chin for several seconds—and then spoke.
“I’m happy to use my sophisticated and refined food-tasting abilities to explain the unique flavors on these sticks,” he said. He closed his eyes halfway and swayed his head left and right a couple of times. He licked his lips for a moment before opening his eyes fully and addressing the group.
Karen, Mutt, and Stripes stared at him. Stick Dog smiled a bit—and got ready to listen too.
“You see, these are no ordinary sticks,” he began. “They have been dipped in flavors that are unknown to the common and ordinary palate. But, fear not, I have managed to discern and define their origins. I taste three distinct layers of flavor on this wonderful stick. The first flavor—the red one—comes from the distant sea. It is marine in origin.”
“Fish?” Mutt asked.
“Fish,” Poo-Poo confirmed, and continued. “The brown layer is familiar: it’s salt. But this is no regular salt. It’s been flavored and liquefied, I believe. But it is the third flavor—the green one—that brings everything together.”
“What is it, Poo-Poo?” asked Mutt. “What’s the third flavor?”
<
br /> “I don’t know the specific name,” Poo-Poo admitted. “But it has enough spicy bite to awaken my taste buds in a most satisfying way. Its pasty texture has an intriguing peppery kick that binds all the flavors together into a single delicious bite.”
“I have to say, Poo-Poo,” Stick Dog said, “you have, once again, really nailed that description.”
“But how could all these flavors be on the end of a stick?” Mutt asked, and took another lick.
Stripes asked, “And why?”
“I think I know,” Karen said. She sounded pretty confident. “I think Stick Dog is probably wrong about these sticks. I think they actually are branches from a tree. And that tree grows all these flavors. And all these same-sized branches simply absorbed the flavors.”
This theory was not questioned at all by Stripes, Mutt, or Poo-Poo.
But Stick Dog was suspicious about it.
“Karen,” he said. “I’m not sure I heard you correctly. Do you believe that these flavors grow on a tree?”
“That’s right.”
“You think salt grows on a tree?”
“Sure.”
“And spicy things—like a hot pepper or something—grows on a tree?”
“Definitely.”
“And, umm, fish?” Stick Dog asked. “You think fish can grow on trees?”
“Correct-a-mundo,” Karen said. “Trees are really quite magical things. They can grow anything. Apples, pears, oranges. Why, growing a few fish and some saltshakers shouldn’t be any problem. I think if we want to find some more of these sticks and flavors, we just need to go into the forest and find these trees. Easy-peasy, pumpkin pie!”
“Let’s look for the fish tree!” Poo-Poo exclaimed.
With that, Karen took three quick steps toward the opening of Stick Dog’s pipe. Mutt, Stripes, and Poo-Poo followed right behind her.
Stick Dog did not.
“Wait! he exclaimed. He obviously had serious doubts about this whole thing. “How can a fish, umm, grow on a tree? Fish need to live in water. I’m pretty sure they can’t breathe out of water.”