Stick Dog Dreams of Ice Cream Read online

  Stripes, Poo-Poo, Karen, and Mutt couldn’t believe their eyes. It was the exact same truck—and not very far away at all.

  Stick Dog repeated, “We follow the truck.”

  And that’s exactly what they did.

  Chapter 9

  DRIPS ARE DRIPPY

  What followed over the next hour—and the next mile—was a pattern that Stick Dog came to understand and, more important, predict. The truck stopped three times, and each time the same things happened in the exact same order.

  Stick Dog wanted to make sure they had all paid attention. He was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, he could steer his friends to a greater ice cream reward than just a few small puddles every twenty minutes. This would be, he thought, one of their toughest food-snatching missions ever.

  They would deal with many, many humans. The truck itself was large and intimidating. And it was moving.

  Stick Dog knew that lots of humans and big, moving vehicles do not make it very easy to grab something to eat. But he also knew something else: he had never tasted anything as sweet and delicious as the small puddles left behind from those ice cream drippings. Not only were they delicious, they were also cold and wet—the perfect combination on this mega-hot day.

  He knew it was worth the risk.

  After the truck made its third stop—and the third bunch of colored puddles was licked dry—Mutt, Poo-Poo, Karen, and Stripes prepared to race after it again. They stretched their legs and gathered their energy. But Stick Dog stopped them.

  “This isn’t working,” he said simply.

  “What do you mean, Stick Dog?” asked Karen with surprise. “We’re tasting some amazing flavors. And we’ve got it down to a pretty good routine. It seems safe and everything.”

  Mutt, Stripes, and Poo-Poo wagged their tails in agreement.

  “We’re getting some great flavors here, that’s true,” Stick Dog responded. “But the reward isn’t worth the effort. I’m getting tired of all this chasing, and at the end, all we get are a few good laps at a few small puddles. We’re just getting the tiny drippings from that ice cream. We need more than that. It’s delicious—some of the best flavors I’ve ever tasted, to be honest. But ultimately not very satisfying.”

  At this, the others all came to the immediate understanding that Stick Dog was right.

  “What are we going to do, Stick Dog?” asked Karen.

  “We actually need to grab some of that ice cream from the truck,” he answered.

  “But how?” Mutt asked.

  “Let’s think about it a minute,” said Stick Dog as he led them into the shade of a big oak tree by the side of the road. There were a few smaller trees, bushes, and mailboxes around them, and it was a fairly secure place to decide their plan of action. “We’ve chased and observed this ice cream truck for a while now. What have we learned so far?”

  Karen spoke up first. “I like the light-brown flavor the best! That’s what I’ve learned.”

  At that, Stripes, Mutt, and Poo-Poo all declared their favorite colors too.

  “Okay. Umm, that’s good to know,” Stick Dog said. “But what have we learned about the whole process? About the pattern of things? About the truck and where it goes and what the driver and the other humans do? What have we learned that will help us get some ice cream?”

  Poo-Poo, Stripes, Karen, and Mutt all thought about this for a moment. They tried their best to help Stick Dog.

  Mutt said, “I have some information that might be useful, Stick Dog.”

  “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  “It’s really hot out today,” Mutt said with satisfaction in his voice.

  “Okay, Mutt,” Stick Dog said slowly. He panted a little to cool off a bit. “Good observation. I’ll remember that. Now what about something that could really help us get some ice cream from that truck? Let’s try to be specific.”

  Karen then said, “Stick Dog, I have something important to say.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she said. “I think I like the yellow color the best. Instead of the light brown.”

  “Okay, Karen,” said Stick Dog. He knew that the ice cream truck was getting farther and farther away—even though it was moving quite slowly. “I’ll make a note of that.”

  Poo-Poo seemed to take this all very seriously. “I have an observation that could help,” he said, and pointed to where the truck had been. “The truck is no longer there.”

  Stick Dog looked at the spot where Poo-Poo pointed. The truck hadn’t been there for at least ten minutes. In fact, they had already raced in and licked the small, colorful ice cream puddles after the truck had moved down the street.

  “Yes, it’s been gone for a little while now,” Stick Dog said.

  “I just didn’t want us all attacking the truck when it’s not even there. You know what I mean?” Poo-Poo explained. He then sat back on his hind legs and bumped his front paws against each other five or six times. “That would be kind of foolish, don’t you think? We’d all be banging into each other and stuff.”

  Stick Dog looked back and forth a couple of times between Poo-Poo and the empty space where the truck had been. “Do you really think we would try to attack the truck when it isn’t even there?”

  Poo-Poo got back on all fours and sort of shuffled a few steps closer to Stick Dog. He lowered his voice to a whisper and said, “Look, Stick Dog. You and I would probably notice. We are the real brains in this group, after all. But I don’t know about these other guys. You know what I mean?”

  Stick Dog nodded, and Poo-Poo shuffled back to his spot.

  “Do you mind if I interrupt, Stick Dog?” asked Karen. She was polite enough to wait until Poo-Poo stopped whispering and returned to his place.

  “No. Not at all.”

  “It’s the brown one. That’s my favorite,” she said. “My mind changed back again. Just thought you should know.”

  “Okay, Karen,” he said. “I’m glad you told me.”

  “No problem. No problem at all.”

  Stripes spoke up next. She was a little envious that the others had come up with important observations, and she had worked very hard to come up with one of her own. It wasn’t always easy to be surrounded by so many dogs with so many smart ideas. It made her try extra-hard.

  “I have an observation to make too, Stick Dog.”

  “Okay, Stripes. What is it?”

  “When I was watching that truck, I think I noticed something really important,” she began. “You know how those ice cream drips made those colorful puddles?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Well, it’s about those drips,” Stripes continued, but her voice slowed down. It was almost like the pressure got to her a little bit. Now her idea was kind of evaporating out of her mind. She was so concerned about coming up with a great observation. Then she came up with one. And then she got so excited about actually coming up with an idea that she forgot what it was.

  “Yes? About the drips?” Stick Dog encouraged.

  “Umm, I think, umm. Those drips,” Stripes murmured, and waited. She really hoped that great observation would pop back into her mind. But it didn’t. So she said, “They’re drippy.”

  Stick Dog stared at Stripes, but not for very long. That’s because Karen decided now would be a good time to say something again.

  “Stick Dog?”

  Stick Dog held up his paw. “Don’t tell me,” he said. “The yellowish ice cream puddle is now your favorite again, right?”

  “No, Mister Furry Pants,” Karen said, and smiled. She was pretty happy that Stick Dog hadn’t guessed what she was going to say. “I just thought you should know that my mind hasn’t changed since the last time. Light brown is still my favorite.”

  Stick Dog closed his eyes and nodded. “Okay,” he whispered.

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Karen said, and snapped her head up and looked off into the distance. Then she lowered her head to look at Stick Dog again. “Yep, t
hat’s right. Still light brown. Thought maybe my mind changed again there for a minute. But it didn’t.”

  “Okay,” Stick Dog sighed, and addressed them all. “Let’s see if I got all the information from you guys that we’ll need to get our paws on some ice cream. Here’s what we know: Karen’s favorite flavor is light brown. It’s very hot out today. The ice cream truck is no longer where it was before. And the ice cream drips are drippy. Is that right? Did I forget anything?”

  “Nope,” answered Mutt with satisfaction. The others seemed pleased with their answers too. “That about sums it up.”

  “Okay, then,” said Stick Dog. He paced a bit, thinking to himself. “I have a couple of observations that might be helpful as well.”

  “Don’t you think the four of us have already covered everything?” asked Poo-Poo.

  “Oh yes. Yes,” said Stick Dog. “I’m just going to try to fill in a few details, that’s all.”

  “Sounds okay to me,” replied Poo-Poo matter-of-factly. He plopped down to listen, as did the others.

  “There’s definitely a pattern here. And maybe we can take advantage of it by knowing and predicting that pattern,” Stick Dog began. He seemed to talk to himself as much as to the others. He listed the order of things the way he remembered them happening. “The driver gets into the truck and turns on the music, and the truck starts moving. It rolls along very slowly for about seven minutes.”

  All the running and chasing from the previous hour had worn everybody out. Poo-Poo, Stripes, Mutt, and Karen were all now down on their bellies with their chins resting on their front paws. They watched Stick Dog pace back and forth in front of them. It was sort of like watching a gold pocket watch go back and forth when someone is trying to hypnotize you.

  “The humans follow the truck on their bikes on the sidewalk. Some of them just walk or run,” Stick Dog continued. “The truck stops. The music stops. The driver gets out.”

  Poo-Poo’s eyes closed.

  Stick Dog said, “The driver climbs through a door in the back of the truck. A few seconds later he appears in the weird screen window to speak to the humans who have gathered there.”

  Mutt’s eyes closed.

  “One by one he brings each human the ice cream circles, opens the screen window, and hands them out. Some humans stay by the truck and talk as they lap at the circles. Others wander away from the truck.”

  Karen’s eyes closed.

  “When they all have their ice cream, the driver closes the window and comes out the back. He walks around the other side and climbs back in behind the steering wheel.”

  Stripes’s eyes closed.

  “After he gets in, the annoying music starts, and the truck slowly drives away again,” Stick Dog concluded, and stopped pacing. He looked at the others—who were all now asleep. “Is that about it? Is that the pattern?”

  Nobody answered.

  Stick Dog turned away and gave a sudden loud cough. Without turning back around, he repeated, “Is that about it? Is that the pattern?”

  Everybody sighed, “Mm-hmm.”

  “Did I forget anything?”

  “Hmm-mm.”

  “Okay,” Stick Dog said. “We’re going to catch up to that truck and pass it. We’re going to try to predict where it will stop next. Then we’ll figure out a way to get into that truck and get the ice cream. Got it?”

  “Got it,” they all sighed as they rose up and stretched.

  “Since we rested a little, we should be able to catch up to it pretty easily,” Stick Dog commented.

  “We weren’t resting!” they all said quickly.

  “Oh, okay. My mistake,” Stick Dog said as he took off.

  “I was dreaming of light-brown puddles,” Karen whispered to the others before they chased after Stick Dog. “Mmm-mmm. I love the flavor light brown.”

  Chapter 10

  DANCE PARTY

  Stick Dog and his friends raced after the truck with increased energy and enthusiasm. They knew they were running toward the potential of a huge and delicious ice cream treat.

  The dogs remained careful even as they sped along. They scurried through backyards and the edge of the forest whenever they could—but they always stayed on a parallel track with the street.

  It was only a matter of several minutes until the dogs caught up with and passed the ice cream truck. The truck, after all, moved quite slowly—and it was now stopped again to serve several more humans some ice cream.

  After running past the truck’s current parking spot for a few minutes, the dogs slowed and stopped near the street again. In the far distance, they could see where the truck was still parked behind them—and they could see quite a few humans still standing in line there.

  “Okay, we have a few minutes,” Stick Dog said as he looked in both directions along the street. “He’s going to hand out ice cream there for a little while and then drive slowly in this direction. The question is: where will he stop next?”

  “Couldn’t we just make him stop?” Karen asked.

  “How would we do that, Karen?” asked Mutt.

  “You know, run in front of the truck while he’s driving.” Karen shrugged. “He’s sure to stop when he hits us. When we get hit, the one who is hurt the least could climb into the truck somehow and grab the ice cream.”

  Mutt considered this for a moment. “Sounds good. Do you want to just run across the street as the truck goes by or straight at it or what?”

  “Oh, I think across is best. That would be more of a surprise—and increase the likelihood of being hit,” answered Karen. She then turned to address Stick Dog. “Do you agree, Stick Dog? Do you think running across would be the best way to get hit by the truck?”

  Stick Dog had noticed something down the street—a large open space without many houses around. But he wasn’t completely distracted—he still overheard the conversation. He shook his head and said, “We’re not going to stop the truck by getting hit by it.”

  “Why not?” asked Karen, genuinely curious. “You don’t think it will work?”

  “No, I mean—” he started to say and then stopped himself. His mind was busy working out the details of a possible plan, but he knew he had to stop this idea right away. “I mean, I guess it would work. But I don’t think we should get hit by the truck. I think it would hurt. A lot.”

  “Oh,” Karen said. She considered Stick Dog’s response for a few seconds. Then she added, “So, it would work—you just don’t think it should work?”

  “Umm. Right.”

  “So it’s a great idea. We’re just not going to use it.”

  Stick Dog hesitated in answering, but ultimately said, “Right.”

  “I can live with that,” Karen said, and nodded. “But I don’t know how we’re going to get into that truck if we don’t make it stop.”

  While Stick Dog continued to think, Poo-Poo attempted to answer Karen’s concerns. He said, “I chase cars and catch them all the time.”

  “You do?” Karen asked.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s easy,” Poo-Poo replied. He came across as quietly confident on the subject. “You just have to know how to do it, that’s all.”

  Mutt asked, “How do you do it, Poo-Poo?”

  “You just have to pick the right car,” Poo-Poo explained. He liked the way the others were paying such close attention to him.

  Stripes was interested now too. She asked, “Where do you find the right car?”

  “Oh, just about anywhere. I find a lot of my car targets at the mall down Highway 16.”

  Karen observed, “That makes sense. Cars move much slower in a parking lot than on a street. And they don’t drive in long, straight lines. They sort of go around in circles—like I do when I’m chasing my tail.”

  Karen then started chasing her tail.

  Poo-Poo didn’t seem to notice Karen’s comment. He was going on about his car-catching expertise.

  “I’ve caught dozens of them,” he continued. “I stalk around behind bumpers or tires
or guardrails or whatever. Then I pick my target and pounce. I run full speed until I catch up to that car. It usually only takes a few seconds and then—BAM!—I run right into it headfirst. But you know, that doesn’t bother me too much.”

  “You really do that, Poo-Poo?” Mutt asked.

  “Sure. I really teach those things a lesson. No car gets the better of old Mr. Poo-Poo.”

  “Wow!” Karen panted. She was no longer chasing her tail. She hadn’t caught it. “I had no idea you were such a good car chaser, Poo-Poo.”

  “It just comes naturally to me.”

  Stick Dog had been listening while also trying to figure out where the truck would stop next. He now joined the conversation.

  “Poo-Poo? One question,” he said.

  “Yes? What is it, Stick Dog?”

  “When you chase and catch these cars, are they moving or are they parked?”

  “Parked, of course,” Poo-Poo answered, and laughed a little to himself. “Who would chase a moving car? That’s ridiculous.”

  While Mutt, Stripes, and Karen groaned, Stick Dog looked back and forth between the street and the parked ice cream truck. He tried to calculate how far the truck would travel once it started to move again—and tried to figure out the kind of place it might stop next. It seemed he was getting closer to a solution.

  This whole thing Stick Dog is going through kind of reminds me of word problems in math. I can’t stand word problems. Can you?

  You know what I mean, right?

  Example: You’re on a train and you are 60 miles away from the train station. The train is going 20 miles per hour. How long will it take for you to get to the train station?

  I had that exact question on a math quiz.

  Do you know what my answer was?

  I wrote: I have no idea because I really dislike word problems, and I jumped off the train.