Read Online Pet Disasters by Claudia Mills - Free Book Online

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    At the grocery store, the boys waited outside the entrance with Dog while Mason’s mother went inside to the meat department.
    Brody patted Dog.
    Mason patted Dog, too.
    Dog licked Brody’s hand.
    Dog licked Mason’s hand, too.
    Mason wiped it off on his shorts, but more as a matter of principle. After less than a full day with Dog, he was already getting used to dog slobber. He had heard it said that a person could get used to anything. But he knew he’d never get used to carrying dog poop around the neighborhood in a plastic newspaper bag dangling from his hand. Maybe the same person who invented a spitproof dog ball shouldinvent a dog toilet. Probably what really needed to be invented was a new breed of dog that would know how to use it.
    But then, what would happen to all the dogs who were here on Earth already, the old-fashioned, poop-on-the-lawn kind of dogs? What if Mason and Brody hadn’t adopted Dog, and Dog had been put to sleep?
    Mason’s mom came out of the store carrying a plastic grocery bag. “Got them! Got two, one for each of you.”
    Dog jumped up from his resting place on the pavement, thrusting his nose toward the bag, already smelling the treats inside. Mason shoved him away. Even when the bones were safely in the trunk of the car, Dog still seemed excited. His tail, like a huge feathery plume, kept whacking itself against Mason’s face.
    Back home, Brody said, “I want to give him my bone first, okay? Then you can give him yours tomorrow. When I’m off on that camping trip.”

    What could Mason say? Brody was the one who had thought of getting a bone for Dog, not that getting a bone for a dog was the most original idea in the history of the world.
    Dog went wild with joy as the bone was unwrapped, jumping up against Brody, practically knocking him down in his eagerness. Then Dog dragged the bone off into a corner of the kitchen and devoted himself to gnawing it, ignoring both boys equally.
    “I love having a dog!” Brody said. “Dog is the best thing that ever happened to me in my whole entire life!”
    Mason knew that was saying a lot, because Brody thought everything that happened in his life was wonderful.
    Mason didn’t think everything that happened in his own life was wonderful. A lot of things that happened in his life were terrible. But so far, having Dog hadn’t been terrible.
    So far, having Dog was pretty nice.

9
    Finally it was time for Brody to go home to help his mother and sisters finish packing for their family trip. They were driving to a campground about an hour away to camp for two nights, returning home on Sunday evening.
    “Goodbye, Dog!” Brody flung himself on Dog in a farewell hug. “Take good care of him for me, Mason.”
    Mason didn’t need Brody to tell him to do that. He might not have wanted a dog, or a cat, or a hamster, or a goldfish, but he had always done his best to take care of them the way he was supposed to, give or take some overfeeding here and there.
    Mason went over to Brody’s house with Brody to get instructions for how to take care of Albertthe goldfish while Brody’s family was away. He followed Brody up to his room.
    Brody’s room was, to put it mildly, messy. His bed wasn’t made. How could somebody not make his bed? Mason shuddered at the thought of getting into a bed that looked like Brody’s: the covers tossed back, the sheet tangled up in a wrinkled ball, the pillow on the floor. Every blank space on every wall was lined with restaurant place mats that Brody had colored, because once Brody colored something with his laborious care, he loved it and would never get rid of it. Every surface of every bureau and bookcase was covered with Brody’s collection of turtles. Not real turtles, thank goodness, but turtles made of pottery, glass, wood, straw. And each turtle had a name.
    Mason’s room had nothing on the walls. Now that Goldfish’s bowl and Hamster’s cage were gone, Mason’s room had nothing on top of the bureau