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government? To hold a proper election, we must have a chair that recognizes a motion from the floor.”
    â€œI never heard of a chair that could recognize anything.”
    â€œForget about the chair, Drover. It’s just legal terminology. Now, you make a motion from the floor.”
    After giving me another blank stare, he stood up and walked around in a circle. “How’s that?”
    â€œWhat are you doing?”
    â€œMaking a motion. I guess. I don’t know what I’m doing.”
    â€œNo, incorrect, absolutely wrong. A motion from the floor, Drover, is whatever it is that we’re fixing to vote on.”
    â€œOh. Well, I’ll vote for that.”
    â€œNot yet! We still don’t have a motion, you brick.”
    â€œWell, how much emotion do you want?”
    Sometimes . . . oh well. I managed to hold my temper. “Drover, listen to me. Don’t think. Just say your part.”
    â€œI don’t know my part.”
    â€œHush and listen. When the chair calls for a motion, you will say, ‘The floor moves that monkeys cannot possibly open doors or enter houses.’ That’s all there is to it. Are you ready?”
    â€œI guess.”
    â€œAll right. The floor is open to motions.” I waited and got nothing from Drover. “Well?”
    â€œIs that chair really going to talk to me?”
    â€œNO! I am the chair and you are the floor.”
    â€œThis is crazy.”
    â€œJust say your lines, Drover.”
    â€œOkay. Let’s see: ‘The floor is moving around and monkeys can’t come into this house.’”
    â€œThat’s close enough. The floor has made the motion and the chair will second it. All in favor say ‘aye.’” We both said “aye.” “Motion has carried by unanimous vote of all present. Congratu­lations, Drover, we have taken self-government to the dogs.”
    â€œSure looks that way to me.”
    â€œAnd as a result of this solemn action . . .”
    All at once my right ear shot up and I cut my eyes to the side. “Did you hear something?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œDescribe the sound.”
    â€œDoor opening and door closing.”

    Suddenly I noticed a certain dryness of mouth. “It must be the wind, Drover. Of course it was the wind. What else could it be?”
    It appeared that Drover’s eyes had begun to cross. “The monkey?”
    â€œImpossible. There are laws against . . .”
    And then we heard the voice. “Duggies? Where are you, duggies? Pasha comes for you.”
    HUH?

Chapter Eleven: Pasha Breaks the Law and Other Things

    D rover, it occurs to me that . . .” The dunce had fainted, I mean, flat out on the floor. “. . . that I am dreaming.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “This is only a dream. I don’t believe in monkeys and what’s happening here is against the law and therefore impossible. I repeat, this is only a dream.”
    With that out of the way, I opened my . . . AND THERE HE STOOD!
    Red hat, red jacket, big grin on his face, evil wickedness in his eyes, crooking his finger at me, telling me to . . . no way I was gonna . . . holy smokes, I was trapped!
    I tried to dive under the couch. Nope. I ran around in a circle but found that I was just going in circles. I barked—squeaked, actually. Some­times dreams can be more real than . . . mois­ture on my leg? Not just moisture. Wetness. Water. I knocked over, or shall we say, the antique lamp on the end table fell over and crashed to the floor.
    I took dead aim for the underside of Sally May’s bed but didn’t quite make it.
    He grabbed me by the ears and shook my head so hard, it turned my eyeballs around backward. Then he said, “I am Pasha of Shizzam, and you are my slave.”
    â€œYou’re a monkey’s uncle and lum wum lum lum!”
    He’d got me by the tongue, see. “Do not call me a minkey. I am not a minkey. I am