Stick Dog Slurps Spaghetti (4 page)

“No. No! Those are all good guesses though!” exclaimed Stripes. She was noticeably thrilled that everyone was so interested in her riddle. “Stick Dog, do you have a guess?”

He shook his head and smiled. The truth is that he did have a guess. And he was pretty sure he knew the answer. But he wanted Stripes to have the chance to supply the punch line. “Karen said what I was going to guess.”

Karen then came a step closer to Stick Dog and winked at him. “Great minds think alike.”

Stick Dog nodded to her and then turned to Stripes. “What's the answer? What's black and white and red all over?”

Stripes giggled to herself for several seconds and then said, “Me!”

When Poo-Poo, Mutt, and Karen were finished groaning—and Stick Dog was finished grinning and shaking his head a bit—they looked down at the empty carton. Playing tug-of-war was now the last thing on anyone's mind.

Mutt seemed to speak for the group when he said, “We need to find some more of those skinny, flimsy ropes, Stick Dog.”

“They're all gone, Mutt,” replied Stick Dog. “I don't know where we'll get any more.”

“That's totally unfair!” yelped Stripes. “All we get is a little taste and then it's over?!”

Stripes's frustration instantly affected the others.

“Stick Dog, why did you bring us here anyway?” Mutt asked.

“We were looking for rope, remember?”

“But we were looking for rope to play with, not to eat,” Poo-Poo moaned. “Now we've got a little taste, but there's none left. That's the worst!”

“Oh, Stick Dog,” sighed Karen. “It's like that time we tasted those rainbow puddles left behind from the ice cream truck. A little taste but nothing else! Totally frustrating.”

“Wait a minute,” Stick Dog said. He seemed bothered. It appeared that he wanted to set something straight. “Didn't I lead us to the ice cream? Didn't I almost get caught by the police? Didn't we share eleven cartons of ice cream?”

“Umm, I think you might be exaggerating your accomplishments,” Karen said.

“And besides, Stick Dog, we can't live in the past,” Stripes added. “We have to live in the NOW. And right NOW we need to find some more tasty ropes.”

“I'd like to, Stripes,” Stick Dog replied calmly. “It's just that we don't have a clue about where to start.”

Poo-Poo looked down at the empty box
and slapped a paw at it in frustration.

When he did, the lid flipped halfway shut for a moment and then flapped back open. It was closed just long enough for Stick Dog to see words and a picture on top of the box.

“Wait a minute,” Stick Dog whispered. He reached down and closed the box again.

Stick Dog read the words on the box out
loud. “‘Tip-Top Spaghetti Restaurant.'” He cocked his head and let the words sink in. The words were above a picture of a tall hill or mountain.

Nobody said anything. Poo-Poo, Mutt, Karen, and Stripes all watched Stick Dog closely. There was a look on his face. His forehead was wrinkled; one eye was squinted. They had all seen this look on Stick Dog before.

He was working something out.

There was suddenly a nervous energy among the group. They knew that an adventure was about to begin—an adventure that might just lead to more food.

“What is ‘spaghetti'?” Karen asked.

“That must be what was inside the box,” said Stick Dog.

“Not rope?” asked Mutt.

“I don't think so,” Stick Dog whispered. He was still thinking.

“Well, I
LIKE
spaghetti!” yelped Poo-Poo. “I could eat a bunch of it!”

Stick Dog repeated the words on the box—as much to himself as to anybody else. He stared at the picture. He whispered, “Tip-Top Spaghetti Restaurant. Tip-Top Spaghetti Restaurant.”

Karen asked, “What does that mean, Stick Dog? The words and the picture?”

He answered slowly—as if he was still figuring things out as he spoke. “There's only one really tall hill around here,” he said. “It's past Picasso Park. I've never been up there. Have any of you?”

None of them had.

“We're going up there tonight,” Stick Dog said.

Mutt, Poo-Poo, Karen, and Stripes began jumping up and down. They trusted Stick Dog. They believed he could lead them to food.

Before speaking again, Stick Dog looked at each of his comrades with a fierce and determined gaze. “If there is spaghetti up there,” he said, “we're going to get it.”

“That's a really big hill, Stick Dog. How will we get up there?” asked Stripes.

Before Stick Dog could even answer, Poo-Poo said, “I know how to do it. It's easy.”

You could tell Stripes, Mutt, and Karen were anxious to hear his idea about reaching the top of the biggest hill in the suburbs. They all stepped a little closer to Poo-Poo to listen. Stick Dog remained where he was.

“It's simple,” Poo-Poo said. “All we need to
do is find a really, really long piece of rope, see. And we tie a big, loopy thing at the end. A lasso—that's what it's called.”

“But we can't find any rope, remember? That's why we came here in the first place,” Stick Dog said. But his friends didn't hear him. They were far too wrapped up in Poo-Poo's plan.

Poo-Poo continued, “Then we wait.”

“What do we wait for?” Mutt asked.

“An airplane.”

“An airplane?”

“An airplane,” confirmed Poo-Poo. “When the airplane flies overhead, we throw the lasso. It wraps around one of the propellers. We hold on to the other end. The plane carries us up toward the spaghetti
restaurant. When we get there—wah-lah!—we let go!”

“Sounds great!” Karen yelped. “Let's find some rope!”

And with that, Mutt, Karen, and Stripes began to search for rope even though Karen had just, you know, searched for rope and not found any.

“How long should the rope be to reach an airplane, Poo-Poo?” Stripes called as she searched.

Poo-Poo thought about it for a few seconds. It was his plan, after all, so he wanted to give a good answer. He called back, “At least ten or twelve feet.”

“Don't you think that's a little too long?”

“Well, remember,” Poo-Poo began to explain, “we need extra to tie the lasso at the end.”

“Oh, right.”

“Poo-Poo, can I ask you a question too?”

“Sure, Stick Dog,” Poo-Poo said. “Although I can't think of any flaw in my plan. It's absolutely foolproof.”

“When we throw that rope up to the airplane and it gets caught in the propeller,” began Stick Dog, “won't the rope wind up and get all tangled?”

“Yeah, I guess so. What's your point?”

“Well, my point is, the rope will just keep wrapping around the propeller. It will get shorter and shorter—until it reaches the very end of the rope.”

“Right. So what?”

“Umm,” said Stick Dog. He waited, hoping he wouldn't have to ask the question. After
several seconds, however, he asked, “Where are we hanging on to the rope?”

“At the very end. Obviously,” said Poo-Poo. “Why do you ask?”

Stick Dog didn't answer. Instead he waited for Poo-Poo to figure it out. And after about thirty seconds, he did. You could tell when it happened. Poo-Poo seemed to visualize the rope getting shorter and shorter as he and the others got pulled closer and closer to the propeller. He cringed and trembled when he thought of the ultimate result of his plan.

“Hey, guys,” he called to Mutt, Karen, and Stripes. “I think we better stop looking for rope now. I know it's an excellent idea and everything, but, umm, I'm a little tired of coming up with excellent ideas all the time. I think one of you should get a turn for a change.”

“That's very noble of you,” Stick Dog said quietly.

“Yes. Yes, it is,” Poo-Poo replied. Then he added, “It's just in my nature.”

“Well, then,” Stick Dog said after Karen, Mutt, and Stripes had gathered around him. “Do any of you have another idea to get to the hilltop?”

“I do,” said Stripes as she raised a paw. “I do indeed.”

“Great. What is it?” asked Stick Dog.

“Well, climbing up the hill is hard and tiring, right?” asked Stripes.

“I'm not sure it's all
that
hard. But, yes, it won't be easy; that's true,” answered Stick Dog.

“Well, if it's hard and tiring, we should help each other out,” Stripes said. “I call it the Teamwork Plan. We all work together.”

Karen asked, “How do we do that, Stripes?”

“We take turns helping each other, that's how,” Stripes said. It seemed like she was done speaking for some reason. She scratched herself behind her left ear for a moment and stretched a bit as if she was about to sit down.

Before she sat, Stick Dog said, “I'm not sure I get what you mean.”

Stripes straightened back up and kind of sighed under her breath. “Frankly, Stick Dog, I'm not at all surprised that my clever and sophisticated plan might be a little difficult for you to understand. I'll describe my plan some more, but please do your best to follow along.”

Stick Dog squeezed his lips together tightly. It almost looked like he wanted to say something but then decided not to. Ultimately, he just said, “I'll try to keep up.”

“Here's how we do it,” Stripes began. “Stick Dog, you go up the hill first.”

“Okay,” Stick Dog said slowly.

“Mutt, you go up next,” Stripes continued. “But you don't go up by yourself. You work as a team with Stick Dog. He comes down to help you. He'll give you words of encouragement as you two climb up. He'll cheer you on a bit—that kind of thing.”

“Sounds good,” said Mutt.

“When you two reach the top,” Stripes continued, “I'll give you a signal to come down and help Poo-Poo. He's next. Same story. You're now a three-dog team. You two help Poo-Poo get to the top. You know, root for him and tell him he's doing a great job. Give him a nudge now and then. Stuff like that.”

“Stripes, can I say something?” asked Poo-Poo.

“Certainly.”

Stick Dog looked forward to this. Obviously, he figured, Poo-Poo had done the math and realized that Stripes's plan didn't add up.

“I just thought you should know,” Poo-Poo said sincerely, “I think it sounds like a fantastic plan so far.”