Read Online Fourth-Grade Disasters by Claudia Mills - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Claudia Mills
Tags: Ages 8 & Up
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Mason’s attitude toward being in the Plainfield Platters.Dog wasn’t a champion dog, entering national dog shows on TV, but he was still the best dog in the whole world. His full name was even D.O.G.—Dog of Greatness.
Mason quickened his steps as he turned up the front walk to his house, where Dog would be waiting. He felt sorry for people who didn’t have a dog to come home to. He felt sorry for people who didn’t have
this
Dog to come home to.
He pushed open the door and, sure enough, Dog came racing down the stairs to greet him, with something hanging from his mouth that looked like a green plush dragon tail.
It
was
a green plush dragon tail.
“Oh, Dog!” Mason wailed. “How
could
you?”
10
“Mom!” Mason bellowed from the front hallway. “Mom!”
She came running from the backyard, where she had been hanging out laundry on the clothesline.
Mason was trying to get Dog to drop Puff’s tail without making Dog think this was a game of tug-of-war, otherwise known as “let’s see if we can completely destroy Plainfield Elementary School’s twenty-year-old mascot.”
“Drop it, Dog,” Mason said in his authoritative fetch-game voice. But for some reason, Dog didn’t feel like dropping Puff’s tail. He seemed to know this was a prize far grander than a tossed stick or tennis ball.
Finally, Mason’s mother disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a can opener and a can of Dog’s favorite brand of dog food. Dog dropped Puff’s tail at Mason’s feet and sprang toward his reward.
Mason glared at his mother. “Mom, I told you to keep Puff where Dog couldn’t get at him!”
If Brody had been there, Mason would have glared at Brody, too:
Oh, Dog would never chew PUFF!
Mason’s mother had the grace to look guilt-stricken. “Mason, honey, I did keep the door of my office shut all day. But then the doorbell rang, and it was the FedEx truck, and I ran down to get my package,and then I remembered the laundry that needed to come out of the washer.…”
Her voice trailed off.
“Well,” she said, “I guess we should go see what’s left of Puff.”
Mason trailed behind her as she slowly climbed the stairs. There was no point in running now.
On the floor in her office lay half of Puff. Unfortunately, it was the bottom half, minus Puff’s tail. Puff’s tail was in good enough condition, even after the tug-of-war, that Mason’s mother could have sewed it back on. But apparently Dog had eaten Puff’s head.
Doggy footsteps came padding up the stairs. Dog, contented now from a full can of dog food plus one stuffed dragon head, looked ready to lie down on the floor for an after-meal siesta.
“Dog!” Mason yelled.
He took Dog by the collar and dragged him over to where Puff’s headless, tailless body lay on the carpet. “Look what you did!”
Dog gave a whimper of shame and dropped his head on his paw, gazing up at Mason with pleading, bewildered eyes:
I didn’t know! I would never do anything to make my boy look at me that way!
Mason couldn’t stay angry at Dog. “Oh, Dog,” Mason said sadly, and stooped down to hug Dog tight.
It wasn’t Dog’s fault that Puff had gotten chewed. It was his mother’s fault, and Brody’s fault—and most of all, Puff’s fault, for existing in the first place. Mason had never liked Puff, anyway, and thought that nobody really did, except for Brody, and Mrs. Morengo, and the school secretary, and the principal, who were paid to like him. Nonetheless, it wasn’t a pleasant thought that he would have to go into school tomorrow and tell everyone what had happened.
In his head he could hear the principal’s voice during morning announcements:
It is my sad duty to
inform you that three days before his scheduled appearance on television, Puff the Plainfield Dragon suffered a terrible misfortune. His head was eaten off by Mason Dixon’s dog, Dog
.
“What are we going to do?” Mason asked his mother.
She stood up straight, shoulders back,
Mason quickened his steps as he turned up the front walk to his house, where Dog would be waiting. He felt sorry for people who didn’t have a dog to come home to. He felt sorry for people who didn’t have
this
Dog to come home to.
He pushed open the door and, sure enough, Dog came racing down the stairs to greet him, with something hanging from his mouth that looked like a green plush dragon tail.
It
was
a green plush dragon tail.
“Oh, Dog!” Mason wailed. “How
could
you?”
10
“Mom!” Mason bellowed from the front hallway. “Mom!”
She came running from the backyard, where she had been hanging out laundry on the clothesline.
Mason was trying to get Dog to drop Puff’s tail without making Dog think this was a game of tug-of-war, otherwise known as “let’s see if we can completely destroy Plainfield Elementary School’s twenty-year-old mascot.”
“Drop it, Dog,” Mason said in his authoritative fetch-game voice. But for some reason, Dog didn’t feel like dropping Puff’s tail. He seemed to know this was a prize far grander than a tossed stick or tennis ball.
Finally, Mason’s mother disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a can opener and a can of Dog’s favorite brand of dog food. Dog dropped Puff’s tail at Mason’s feet and sprang toward his reward.
Mason glared at his mother. “Mom, I told you to keep Puff where Dog couldn’t get at him!”
If Brody had been there, Mason would have glared at Brody, too:
Oh, Dog would never chew PUFF!
Mason’s mother had the grace to look guilt-stricken. “Mason, honey, I did keep the door of my office shut all day. But then the doorbell rang, and it was the FedEx truck, and I ran down to get my package,and then I remembered the laundry that needed to come out of the washer.…”
Her voice trailed off.
“Well,” she said, “I guess we should go see what’s left of Puff.”
Mason trailed behind her as she slowly climbed the stairs. There was no point in running now.
On the floor in her office lay half of Puff. Unfortunately, it was the bottom half, minus Puff’s tail. Puff’s tail was in good enough condition, even after the tug-of-war, that Mason’s mother could have sewed it back on. But apparently Dog had eaten Puff’s head.
Doggy footsteps came padding up the stairs. Dog, contented now from a full can of dog food plus one stuffed dragon head, looked ready to lie down on the floor for an after-meal siesta.
“Dog!” Mason yelled.
He took Dog by the collar and dragged him over to where Puff’s headless, tailless body lay on the carpet. “Look what you did!”
Dog gave a whimper of shame and dropped his head on his paw, gazing up at Mason with pleading, bewildered eyes:
I didn’t know! I would never do anything to make my boy look at me that way!
Mason couldn’t stay angry at Dog. “Oh, Dog,” Mason said sadly, and stooped down to hug Dog tight.
It wasn’t Dog’s fault that Puff had gotten chewed. It was his mother’s fault, and Brody’s fault—and most of all, Puff’s fault, for existing in the first place. Mason had never liked Puff, anyway, and thought that nobody really did, except for Brody, and Mrs. Morengo, and the school secretary, and the principal, who were paid to like him. Nonetheless, it wasn’t a pleasant thought that he would have to go into school tomorrow and tell everyone what had happened.
In his head he could hear the principal’s voice during morning announcements:
It is my sad duty to
inform you that three days before his scheduled appearance on television, Puff the Plainfield Dragon suffered a terrible misfortune. His head was eaten off by Mason Dixon’s dog, Dog
.
“What are we going to do?” Mason asked his mother.
She stood up straight, shoulders back,
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