Stick Dog Takes Out Sushi Page 5

  They each carried two bulky garbage bags—and one long, rubbery strap with hooks.

  “Shh!” Stick Dog whispered urgently. He pointed at the humans. “They’re coming this way! They’re coming to the garbage cans!”

  Mutt, Karen, Stripes, and Poo-Poo all stared at the garbage-toting humans.

  “What do we do?” Poo-Poo whispered.

  “It’s okay,” Stick Dog answered as calmly as he could. They had a little time, but not much. The humans were all the way across the parking lot. And they were not moving fast—it looked like those garbage bags were heavy and slowing them down. “There are woods all around us. Just follow me. Stay low and quiet.”

  Stick Dog crouched down, turned toward the woods, and got ready to sneak away.

  But he didn’t.

  Stripes stopped him.

  She said, “I’m not sure we should do what you say anymore, Stick Dog.”

  Stick Dog turned his head over his shoulder to look at Stripes. She didn’t look mean or upset. It looked more like she was just stating a fact. He asked, “Why not?”

  “Well, the last time you gave us instructions didn’t turn out very well,” Stripes explained. “Remember when you told us to hide while you checked out that airport or skyscraper or football stadium?”

  “It’s a sushi restaurant.”

  “We didn’t know that at the time,” Stripes said, and sighed. “But the point is, the last instruction you gave us was to hide.”

  “Was there something wrong with that?” Stick Dog asked in a whisper. Those big humans were a third of the way to them now.

  “Don’t you remember how it turned out?” Stripes answered, whispering too. Stick Dog was thankful that she had followed his lead and talked quietly. “We ended up floating out into the lake! See what happens when we follow your instructions? I mean, at the very least, I think you should take some responsibility for the dangerous predicament you put us in. Don’t you think?”

  For a single second, Stick Dog considered taking a little time to himself. Maybe he could cast his eyes somewhere again and focus on calm, steady breathing. But their time was slipping away. The humans were closer. He even worried that sushi restaurant could close soon.

  “You know what, Stripes?” he said. “I take full responsibility. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Thankfully, this was enough for Stripes.

  They did as Stick Dog instructed. Crouching down to their bellies, Mutt, Poo-Poo, Karen, and Stripes scurried away from those three metal garbage cans as quietly as they could. Stick Dog led them into the woods at the side of the road. They didn’t need to go very deep to be well hidden.

  Stick Dog didn’t want to go too far. He wanted to watch and listen to the humans. He hoped that maybe—just maybe—they would do or say something that might help him.

  The two humans reached the garbage cans.

  “This is such a pain in the neck,” the female said as they both dropped the garbage bags next to the metal cans.

  “Definitely,” the male answered. He went to one can and the female went to another. “All because of those puffy-tailed rascals.”

  “Hopefully, these new straps will work,” the female said. “And keep those troublemaking varmints out.”

  “They must be talking about squirrels!” Poo-Poo whispered excitedly from behind an oak tree trunk. “I like these humans!”

  “Shh,” said Stick Dog.

  The humans took the lids off.

  “It better keep them out,” the male said as he put his two bags into one can. The female put her bags into another can. “Those raccoons got into these cans again last night. It took half an hour to clean up all the trash. It was all over the road.”

  They put the lids on and stretched the straps across the top. They hooked the straps on to the handles of the garbage cans. Then they walked back to the sushi restaurant.

  “It isn’t squirrels they don’t like,” Poo-Poo said. He sounded sad. “It’s raccoons.”

  “What’s wrong with that, Poo-Poo?” asked Mutt.

  “Nothing really,” he answered. “It’s just I feel a special bond with anybody else who doesn’t like squirrels, that’s all.”

  “Well, think about it this way,” said Stick Dog. He wanted to make Poo-Poo feel better. “Those humans don’t like puffy-tailed raccoons. And you don’t like puffy-tailed squirrels. So, you do have a special bond—a unique dislike—for puffy-tailed creatures.”

  “Hmm,” Poo-Poo said, and thought about this for a moment. Then his tail wagged. “Yeah.”

  With Poo-Poo feeling better and the humans gone, Stick Dog relaxed a little—and got back to thinking.

  “The sushi is only three places,” Stick Dog said to himself. “Inside the restaurant. At the strange window. Or in a car after someone drives away.”

  “What are we going to do, Stick Dog?” Stripes asked. “Should we get in the restaurant? You know, go back to that chopstick-tickling plan that was mentioned earlier?”

  “Let’s use that as an emergency backup plan,” Stick Dog said quietly. “We might be able to get into that restaurant, but getting back out would be tough—and dangerous, I think.”

  “What about doing something at the window?” asked Karen.

  “I just don’t see how that could work either,” he said, and shook his head a bit. “The human inside the window hands the bag of sushi to the human driving the car. I mean, there’s always a human hand grasping the bag.”

  Poo-Poo suggested, “We could jump up and bite their hands. I bet they’d let go of the bags then!”

  “Umm, maybe,” Stick Dog said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to go around biting humans though. But we can call that emergency backup plan number two.”

  “Okay,” Poo-Poo said, and nodded. He seemed satisfied enough with that.

  “What about jumping into the car when it drives away?” asked Mutt. “We could try that.”

  “No way. Moving cars are always—always—dangerous,” Stick Dog replied. He placed a paw on his chin. His brow was furrowed. He looked frustrated.

  And his friends saw—and sensed—his frustration.

  “Ugh,” Poo-Poo said. “Maybe we should give up. Maybe we should just stop.”

  “Yeah, Stick Dog,” Stripes said, and sighed. “I’m tired. Let’s stop.”

  Karen added, “Stopping might be best.”

  Mutt shook a sky-blue mitten from his fur and began to chew on it.

  It was, Stick Dog knew, a very rare occurrence for them to be this close to the end of their food quest—and not succeed. He also knew it was even more rare for his friends to give up like this.

  And he knew something else too.

  He knew how they might get that sushi.

  Chapter 14

  Smartastic

  “I’ve got it,” Stick Dog said. “And you guys helped me figure it out just now.”

  “How?” asked Karen.

  “By using the word ‘stop’ over and over.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Stripes chimed in. “I mean, it’s usually the four of us who solve our problems, Stick Dog.”

  He didn’t respond to this particular comment, but Stick Dog did nod his head a bit and smile.

  “So, how do we get the sushi?” Mutt asked, tucking that sky-blue mitten back into his fur to chew on later.

  “Like I said, there are only three places to get that sushi,” Stick Dog said as his friends gathered around him. “Inside the restaurant. At the window. Or in the car.”

  Mutt, Poo-Poo, Karen, and Stripes were no longer frustrated and defeated. Now they were nervous and excited. They couldn’t wait to hear Stick Dog’s idea—and they couldn’t wait to get that sushi. Karen hopped up and down.

  “We’re not going into the restaurant,” Stick Dog continued. “And we’re not doing anything at the window.”

  Stick Dog moved around the group with his eyes, staring briefly at each of his friends with strength and conviction.

  He sai
d, “We’re going to use the car.”

  “But you said moving cars are always—always—dangerous,” reminded Poo-Poo.

  “You’re right, I did,” Stick Dog said. “But what if the car isn’t moving? What if we stopped it?”

  “How in the world can we do that?” asked Stripes.

  Before he could answer, Poo-Poo had an idea.

  “We could use a bulldozer!” he yelped.

  This made the others come up with plans too. Stripes, Mutt, and Karen shouted out their own ideas in succession.

  “We could use a toothbrush!”

  “Or a flamingo feather!”

  “Or one of those places where the planes and helicopters and runways are!”

  Stick Dog decided instantly not to ask his friends about how they would use a bulldozer, toothbrush, flamingo feather, or airport to stop a moving car. Stick Dog just told them his idea.

  He said, “We’re going to create a blockade to make a car stop.”

  His friends looked at Stick Dog with puzzled expressions. Karen asked the question that was on all of their minds.

  “What’s a blockade?”

  “Oh, sorry,” Stick Dog said. “It’s a new word. A blockade is—”

  But he didn’t get the chance to answer.

  “I got this, Stick Dog,” Poo-Poo interrupted. “I know lots of words. Dozens even. When it comes to words, I’m quite smartastic.”

  “Smartastic?” Stick Dog asked.

  “Yeah. It means really, really smart. It’s a word you don’t know, but I do. See what I mean?”

  “Okay, Poo-Poo. I, umm, see what you mean,” Stick Dog said. He sat back on his haunches. He had the distinct feeling this might take a minute or two. “What’s a blockade?”

  “It’s when two humans are acting all lovey-dovey,” Poo-Poo said, obviously a little uncomfortable with the subject. “And one human gets down on one knee and sings a song up to the other human, who is leaning out a window. The song is real romantical. And then the human in the window has a bunch of hearts fly out of their chest.”

  There was silence then. Utter silence. For eight seconds. Then Stripes spoke.

  She whispered, “Humans are so weird.”

  “I have a question about this romantical blockade,” Karen said, and started to giggle. “Does it have to be humans? Could it be—oh, I don’t know—Stick Dog singing to Lucy perhaps? How about it, Stick Dog? Have you ever sung lovey-dovey blockades to Lucy?”

  “I think you might be thinking of a serenade, Poo-Poo,” Stick Dog said, and then worked to avoid Karen’s question. “And I think Poo-Poo’s right. Serenades are only for humans. So, I don’t see how that could answer your question, Karen, since I’m a dog.”

  “I know what a blockade is, Stick Dog.”

  “Okay, Mutt,” Stick Dog said. He was very happy to move on. “Tell us. What is a blockade?”

  “It’s a creature that’s made up of two different things—the top of a female human and a long tail-thing of a fish,” Mutt answered. “Heck, there might even be one of those blockades right here in Lake Washituba.”

  “That’s a mermaid,” Stick Dog said kindly. “But you’re right. There might, umm, be one here in the lake.”

  “So, I was mostly right?”

  “Sure,” answered Stick Dog. “Mostly.”

  Mutt seemed pleased by that.

  “I’m smartastic too,” Stripes said, stepping forward. “So you won’t be surprised to learn that I know the definition of blockade.”

  “That wouldn’t surprise me at all,” Stick Dog said, and leaned back against a tree stump. This was taking longer than he thought it would. “What is it?”

  “It’s when a bunch of humans go down the street,” Stripes said confidently. “And there are marching bands and big balloons and clowns and decorated cars and stuff.”

  “You might be thinking of a parade,” Stick Dog said.

  “Same difference,” Stripes said. Then she rubbed her belly against the ground to scratch it.

  It was Karen’s turn. She obviously didn’t want to be left out.

  “I’m super-smartastic,” she said. “And I can, without question, tell you exactly what a blockade is.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “A blockade is a small bug-and-worm type thing,” Karen said. “It moves forward by scooting on all its little legs and arching its back. It likes to eat leaves. And it’s fuzzy. They’re actually pretty darn cute!”

  “Karen,” Stick Dog said, and coughed a bit. “What you’re describing is a caterpillar.”

  “I am? That’s what you call those things?!” Karen asked. “I never knew their names! And when I heard this new ‘blockade’ word, I just thought I could use it for them. Caterpillar, hunh? How about that? Caterpillar, caterpillar, caterpillar! They sure are cute! Aren’t they, Stick Dog?!”

  “They sure are,” Stick Dog said, and laughed. He loved how overjoyed Karen was. He got back up to all fours, made certain no more humans were about, and said, “Now, can I tell you what a blockade is?”

  They all said he could.

  “A blockade is when you create an obstacle in the path of something to stop it,” Stick Dog said. He realized that his friends might not know the word “obstacle” either, so he simplified his definition. “You make a blockade to stop something from moving.”

  Poo-Poo asked, “What do you make a blockade with?”

  “You can make one with just about anything,” Stick Dog answered. Then he pointed at the three metal garbage cans. “We’re going to use those.”

  Then he pointed down the road where it curved by the lake. They could all see the headlights of an approaching car in the distance.

  “And if that car is coming to pick up some sushi from that window,” Stick Dog said with fierce determination, “then that’s the car we’re going to stop.”

  They all stared at the car as it got closer.

  And closer.

  And closer.

  Chapter 15

  Let’s Roll

  Stick Dog believed there was an excellent chance that the approaching car was coming to the sushi restaurant. There were only a few cabins between them and the car. He thought it was likely the human inside was a sushi customer.

  “Okay,” he said, speaking quickly. “This car could be going three places. It could be going to one of the cabins. It might be parking in the lot and the humans inside will go into the restaurant. Or it will pull up to the window.”

  “Why would it pull up to the window, Stick Dog?” Stripes asked.

  “To get the sushi.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “If it goes to the window, we go make the blockade,” Stick Dog explained, and eyeballed that car as it grew nearer. “We’ll have to hurry. It doesn’t take much time for the human inside the car to pick up and pay for their sushi.”

  The car passed the final cabin. It was definitely coming to the sushi restaurant.

  “If the car pulls up to the window,” Stick Dog said, “we run to the garbage cans and use them to make a blockade across the road.”

  “How do we do that?” Poo-Poo asked.

  “I’ll get the rubber straps off the two cans with garbage inside,” Stick Dog said quickly, turning his head away from the glare of that car’s headlights. The dogs were well hidden, but those headlights were quite bright in the dark night. “Then we’ll push them over, pull out the garbage bags, and spread everything across the road to create the blockade. We want to do everything as quietly as possible.”

  “How do we get the sushi?” Mutt asked. “After the car stops?”

  “The human driver will have to get out of the car to move the garbage cans and trash,” Stick Dog answered. “When the human gets out, I’ll try to get into the car and grab the sushi.”

  He looked at his friends as the car passed slowly by on the road.

  Their faces were serious. Their bodies were tense. Their stomachs rumbled.

  They were ready.

 
And so was Stick Dog.

  He watched the car as it reached the parking lot.

  It didn’t park.

  It went straight to the window.

  Stick Dog said one thing.

  One simple thing.

  “Let’s roll.”

  Chapter 16

  Busted

  Mutt, Stripes, Poo-Poo, and Karen followed Stick Dog as he raced away from that hiding spot at the edge of the woods. They got to the metal garbage cans in fourteen seconds.

  “I’ll get these straps off,” Stick Dog whispered when they got there. It was dark where the road emptied into the parking lot. He was pretty confident they could not be seen from the restaurant. “Then we’ll pull the bags out.”

  “Okay, Stick Dog,” Mutt answered for the group.

  “Remember, we have to be quiet,” Stick Dog added. “We don’t want anyone coming out here before the blockade is built.”

  He found out quickly that the metal hook at the end of the strap was too smooth to grasp with his paws. But by biting on it he could get a grip. He pulled on the hook—down and then out—and got it off the handle. He could feel the strap go slack as the tension released. He pushed the loose strap through the handle on top of the lid. He decided to push it over after working on the second strap on the other can. It would be quiet longer that way.

  Now that Stick Dog knew how to do it, he thought the second one would be easy—and fast.

  And it needed to be fast.

  That’s because he took two seconds to jerk his head and look toward that car and strange window. It was open and the female human inside was talking and smiling with the human—another female—in the car.

  And she was handing her two bags of sushi.

  “She still has to pay and drive over here,” Stick Dog whispered to himself, and turned his attention to the second garbage can with a rubber strap.