Stick Dog Tries to Take the Donuts Page 4

  “Gotta find my coffee,” he said before starting his ascent. “Must have left it up on the platform.”

  Stick Dog knew the man would be back up in the air in a minute—and their path would be clear. It was like a miracle. They had discovered this delicious new food source and the human was leaving it—again. As soon as the man reached the top of the pole, they could sneak across the road and grab some more donuts. He knew there were plenty more in the box—he had seen them himself.

  “Okay,” Stick Dog said to Mutt, Poo-Poo, and Stripes. “As soon as Karen gets back, we’ll go.”

  “I’m back!” Karen announced, and bumped into Mutt as she skidded and slid to a stop.

  Stick Dog jumped back a little bit. He had not expected Karen to return so soon. But they were on a mission now—and their first task was to snatch some more donuts from the box. He would investigate Karen’s spazziness later.

  “The coast is clear,” Stick Dog announced after looking in both directions down the road. The man was at the top of the pole and no vehicles were in sight. “Let’s go!”

  He scampered out of the woods, and the others scrambled behind him. It took just fourteen seconds for Stick Dog to cross the street and reach the truck. He crouched down by its side. He was pretty certain the man on the pole could not see him there. He checked behind to make certain the others were with him.

  They were.

  Except for Karen.

  Chapter 8

  WHERE IS KAREN THIS TIME?

  “Where’s Karen?!” Stick Dog asked. But before Poo-Poo, Mutt, or Stripes could even answer, Stick Dog spotted Karen himself. She was about halfway to them in the middle of the road and a good bit off to the left.

  The Dizzy’s Big GULP Coffee cup was back on her head. Stick Dog shot quick looks left and right down the street. He took some comfort in seeing there was no traffic at all.

  “There she is,” Stick Dog said to himself. He shook his head. “She can’t see a thing. She’s going to hurt herself.”

  The others saw what Stick Dog saw, but they didn’t reach the same conclusion.

  “It might not be her,” Stripes said.

  “You can’t be sure,” added Mutt.

  Poo-Poo asked, “After all, Stick Dog, what are the odds the same exact dog would get her head stuck in the same exact cup two times in a row like that?”

  “Apparently, with Karen, the odds are pretty good,” whispered Stick Dog. It didn’t sound like he was whispering to avoid detection by the man at the top of the pole. He remained turned away from them. It sounded more like Stick Dog was super-frustrated. He closed his eyes, counted to five, and then opened them again. Karen zigzagged back and forth across the single-dash line in the middle of the road. “I’m going to get her. Again.”

  “Don’t eat her, Stick Dog!” Stripes said.

  “Or drink her!” added Mutt.

  “If it’s even her, that is,” said Poo-Poo.

  When Stick Dog reached Karen, he did not lift her by the nape of the neck. Instead, he knocked the cup off her head, pointed to the truck where everybody else was, and nudged her in that direction.

  Karen started running that way but stopped after just a couple of steps.

  “Can I bring that cup, Stick Dog?”

  He replied simply, “No.”

  They dashed to the side of the truck to join the others. The man at the top of the pole hadn’t seen a thing. Poo-Poo, Mutt, and Stripes patted Karen on the back with great enthusiasm. They were happy to have their friend back.

  “What were you doing?!” Stick Dog asked. “You could have been seen. Or hit by a car!”

  Karen didn’t seem to care at all. She answered matter-of-factly, “I wanted to make sure I got all the coffee out of that cup.”

  “Just stay here with us, okay?”

  Karen nodded very fast. Then a question seemed to come immediately to her mind. She stopped nodding, started hopping up and down in place, looked directly at Stick Dog, and asked, “Can I run a few laps around the truck?! Can I, Stick Dog?”

  This was becoming too much—even for Stick Dog. He put his paws on Karen’s shoulders to try to calm her down. He didn’t push hard enough to hurt her—not even close. But he had to settle her body down a little.

  “Look, Karen,” he said as calmly as he could. “I need you to really focus on what I’m about to say to you. Pay really good attention, okay?”

  “Is this about running laps around the truck, Stick Dog? Is it? Is it?!”

  “No, it’s not,” Stick Dog said. He moved his paws from her shoulders to the sides of her face. He held her cheeks and stared straight into her eyes. “Listen, Karen. I think that coffee you drank has somehow affected you physically—and emotionally. You’re talking really fast. And you’re all jittery and stuff. That coffee made you super-hyper or something. And I’m afraid you might get hurt. I’m afraid you might run out in front of a car, or smash your head into something, or not be able to calm down when we’re trying to hide from this human with the donuts. You HAVE to get hold of yourself.”

  Karen looked back into Stick Dog’s eyes. She had listened closely.

  “Okay, Stick Dog,” she said. “I’ll do my best. Totally. I will. For sure.”

  Stick Dog lowered his paws. “I know you will,” he said to try to make her feel better. “Now, let’s see if we can get some more of those donuts.”

  Stripes, Mutt, and Poo-Poo were obviously on board with this idea. They each drooled a little bit at the prospect of eating that sweet, doughy goodness.

  “Good idea! Let’s get all the donuts!” Karen said in agreement. “And when we do, maybe we’ll find some more of that coffee too!”

  Chapter 9

  MUTT JIGGLES

  It was a difficult choice for Stick Dog to make for his hungry friends.

  There were ten donuts left in the box. Stick Dog had counted them when he snatched the pink one. But he knew it was highly likely the man would come down again soon. Stick Dog knew the man hadn’t found his coffee cup up on the platform. Karen had taken the cup—and drunk all the coffee.

  Stick Dog had a choice to make.

  They could take all the donuts now, he thought. If they did, the man would surely get mad—and suspicious—and keep a very close eye on his truck after that.

  But Stick Dog suspected there might be more food in the truck or somewhere else close by. There was an idea nagging at the edge of Stick Dog’s mind—but he just couldn’t put his paw on it. His instincts told him there was more to accomplish here—he just hadn’t figured it out yet.

  The second option was to take just one more donut for now. The man might not notice, and they could get an additional opportunity to explore the truck—and the area. It would provide Stick Dog a little more time to figure out what his instincts were trying to tell him.

  He considered this choice when something happened.

  And then something else happened.

  A solitary breeze whooshed through the apple trees at the edge of the forest—and across the road. As the wind blew, it reached something in the center of the pavement.

  Do you know what it was?

  It was the coffee cup.

  The empty Styrofoam coffee cup that Stick Dog had knocked off Karen’s head rolled and bounced across the blacktop road. In the silence of the still, cool morning, the rattling cup made a lot of noise.

  And that’s when Stick Dog got his idea.

  Do you know what it was?

  Sorry. I can’t tell you everything. I’ll just have to show you in the story.

  Stick Dog risked peeking around the truck’s back bumper. He looked up at the top of the pole. The man had heard the cup too and looked down at the road from high up in the air. He put his hands on his hips, shook his head, and stepped from the platform back into the basket.

  That’s exactly what Stick Dog hoped would happen. He turned to Mutt, Poo-Poo, Stripes, and Karen.

  The huge mechanical arm churned to life. The truck vibrated.<
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  “We have to hide under the truck!” Stick Dog said urgently. He turned his head to watch the shadow of the giant metal arm in the grass. It came closer and closer. “I’ll explain when we get under there. Go! Now!”

  Stick Dog’s seriousness was enough to motivate the others. They dove under the truck.

  From beneath the truck they heard the arm CLUNK! to a stop and its motor ease down to silence. The truck stopped vibrating. They heard the man step out of the basket. They saw his work boots land on the ground and begin to walk toward the road. He got to the side of the road but had to wait a minute as three cars passed.

  The dogs were arranged side by side under the truck. Stick Dog was thankful that Mutt was next to him.

  “Mutt,” he whispered. “Do you remember the spot in your fur where you stored that sharp nail? The nail we found earlier at Karen’s favorite garbage can?”

  “Of course, Stick Dog,” answered Mutt, with absolute assurance. “I know where everything is. The nail is between the shoestring and a dented Ping-Pong ball I found last week. It’s right behind my left shoulder blade.”

  “Can you shake the nail out for me?”

  “I’d be happy to, Stick Dog.”

  With that, Mutt isolated the area behind his left shoulder blade and began to jiggle it. In just a few seconds, the nail fell out. Stick Dog picked it up with his mouth and dropped it right in front of himself.

  After that, Stick Dog explained things very quickly.

  “That man is going to pick up the coffee cup that Karen had on her head,” Stick Dog whispered.

  “He’s going to be mighty disappointed,” Karen interrupted proudly, and smiled. “I drank every last drop.”

  “I know you did,” Stick Dog acknowledged, and then continued. “This guy really wants some more coffee. I think he’ll go get some more at that strange building down the road.”

  “That makes sense,” Karen concurred, and nodded her head rapidly. She bumped it against the bottom of the truck a couple of times but didn’t seem to notice. “Coffee is the most delicious, energizing, magical drink in the universe.”

  Stick Dog looked at Karen, who was still nodding (and bumping) her head. Then he continued to explain his strategy. “If he goes to get more coffee, as I suspect, then we’ll have plenty of time to finish off those donuts and look for anything else around here.”

  Mutt cocked his head a little and looked at Stick Dog. He probably would have cocked his head a lot, but there wasn’t much room underneath the truck.

  “Stick Dog, it’s a great plan and everything,” he said. “But if he’s going to retrieve more coffee, then he’s going to take the truck—and the box of donuts—with him.”

  “Yeah, Stick Dog, what about that?” asked Poo-Poo.

  “Leave it up to Stick Dog to forget the most important detail,” Stripes said. She sounded almost proud that they had caught Stick Dog in a mistake. “Your plans never work out very well, Stick Dog. I’m sorry to say it, but it’s true. If you would just listen, consider, and execute our food-snatching plans, things would really be a lot easier.”

  The other dogs nodded along with her comments.

  “Like that time I wanted you to fly a helicopter for those frankfurters,” Stripes said. “That could have worked.”

  “Or that time I wanted to steal the family car for those hamburgers,” Poo-Poo said.

  Stick Dog stared out at the worker as he listened. The traffic had passed, and the man was now in the middle of the road, holding the huge Styrofoam cup. He looked in it and turned it upside down and right side up in his hands. He appeared quite puzzled about why it was empty—and why it was out there in the middle of the road.

  “He’s not going to take the truck,” Stick Dog said quietly to his comrades. “He’s going to walk.”

  “He is?” asked Mutt. “But why?”

  “Because his truck has a flat tire,” Stick Dog answered quietly.

  The others turned their heads in every direction to examine the truck’s four tires. Poo-Poo spoke for them all when he said, “He doesn’t have a flat tire, Stick Dog.”

  “No, he doesn’t,” said Stick Dog. And then he smiled. “Not yet.”

  Chapter 10

  POP! H-OOO-SH!

  Stick Dog watched the man stand in the middle of the road. He was confused. He looked into the empty cup again. Stick Dog was certain the man would return to the truck any second.

  He turned to his friends and whispered, “Scooch out the other side. Run into the woods over there.”

  “But Stick Dog, there are apple trees on that side too,” complained Poo-Poo. “I can’t stand those things. The apples are SOOOO close, but we never get them.”

  Stick Dog listened as he watched the worker in the road. The man looked into the cup a final time. He shrugged, sighed, and pivoted. He was coming back.

  “Don’t worry about the apple trees,” Stick Dog said quickly. “Hopefully, in a few minutes, we’ll have a lot more donuts to eat.”

  Well, this was all Poo-Poo, Stripes, Karen, and Mutt needed to hear. They scooted backward on their bellies, emerged from beneath the truck on the other side, and sprinted to hide safely among the trees.

  Stick Dog took the long, sharp nail and wedged it between one of the back tires and the ground. He pushed at it with his paw to ensure it was jammed in there nice and tight.

  And then he raced to join his friends.

  By the time Stick Dog dove into the woods to join them, the man was already back. He took his tool belt off and threw it into the truck. It clattered and clanged. He also took the donut box from the back bumper and slid it into the truck’s bed.

  “Need some more coffee,” the man said to himself as he reached into his pocket to find his keys. “Don’t even remember drinking my first cup.”

  “He’s driving away! The donuts are leaving, Stick Dog!” Stripes exclaimed. “We’ll never get them!”

  “I knew this plan would never work,” complained Poo-Poo.

  “Oh no, Stick Dog! Oh no!” Karen said, and shook her head back and forth really fast.

  Mutt pulled an old shoestring from his fur and began to chew on it nervously.

  “Wait for it,” Stick Dog whispered. “Wait for it.”

  The worker continued to talk to himself as he climbed into the truck. “Need to finish this job, then get to the guys at the next job,” he said. “I told them I’d bring the donuts this morning. But first, coffee. Dizzy’s has the best.”

  “Wait for it,” Stick Dog whispered again.

  The truck began to roll forward. It moved only a few inches before the dogs heard two distinct sounds.

  The back left tire deflated instantly.

  Karen, Poo-Poo, Mutt, and Stripes yelped with glee.

  “The donuts are staying, Stick Dog!” Stripes exclaimed. “We’re going to get them!”

  “I knew this plan would work,” said Poo-Poo.

  “Oh yes, Stick Dog! Oh yes!” Karen said, and nodded her head up and down really fast.

  Mutt pushed the old shoestring back into his fur.

  “Okay. Everybody settle down,” Stick Dog said, and smiled. He knew only the first part of his plan was accomplished. He watched as the man—who had obviously heard the POP! H-OOO-SH! sounds through his open window—turned off the engine and climbed back out of the truck.

  The worker stood there with his back to Stick Dog and his pals. He stared at the flat tire. His hands were on his hips. His shoulders slumped forward. He tapped his right work boot against the ground seven times.

  The man looked down the street toward the donut shop. The giant donut and coffee cup spun slowly around, reflecting and flashing the sun’s brightness with each revolution. They were like beacons in the sky. The worker looked up and felt the sun’s warmth against his face.

  And then he said exactly what Stick Dog hoped to hear.

  “I’ll fix this later,” the man said, and smiled a little bit. He tossed his hard hat into the crane’s basket.
“It’s such a nice day. I think I’ll walk.”

  He reached into the donut box in the back of the truck, seemed puzzled briefly, but then took one out. This donut was covered in dark brown goo. He took a huge bite and then started walking down the road.

  “He took another one of our donuts!” exclaimed Poo-Poo, clearly aghast.

  “The nerve!” exclaimed Stripes.

  “Thief!” Karen yelled. Then she began chasing her tail again.

  Mutt scratched himself behind his ear.

  “There are plenty more,” Stick Dog said, and watched as the man walked farther and farther away from the truck—and closer and closer to Dizzy’s Donuts. After a few minutes, when the man was almost halfway there, Stick Dog announced, “It’s donut time.”

  The dogs hurtled out of the forest and raced toward the truck.

  Karen was in the lead.

  Chapter 11

  DONUTS AND AN IDEA

  When he reached the truck, Stick Dog promptly propped himself up on the truck’s rear bumper. He grasped the donut box from the back of the truck with his mouth and brought it down to the ground. He flipped the flaps, peered inside, and counted.

  “There are nine more donuts in here,” Stick Dog said. “That works out perfectly. You all get two each.”

  To their good fortune, there was a wide variety of flavors. Two were sprinkled with white powder, two were covered in a dark brown substance, and two had a shiny glaze to them. There were two more pink ones with speckles. Finally, there was one that had no hole and looked like a deflated ball. It looked exactly like the first one Stick Dog saw the worker eat earlier—the one with the red, liquidy center. Poo-Poo got that one.

  It made no difference to any of them which donuts they received—they were all sweet and delicious. Stick Dog passed out two to each of his friends and then took the remaining donut—a glazed one—for himself.