Stick Dog Slurps Spaghetti (5 page)

“Thank you,” replied Stripes.

She also glanced ever so quickly in Stick Dog's direction. “I'm glad
someone
here understands my most excellent strategy.”

Stick Dog said nothing. He glanced up at the night sky. It almost seemed like he was trying to mentally put himself somewhere else.

Stripes then said, “Once the three of you reach the top, I'll signal you again to come down to get Karen.”

“Got it,” Karen said. “I join the team.”

“Exactly,” Stripes said. “These three will encourage you. Push you a bit. Whatever you need. Upon your arrival at the top of the hill, I'll give the final signal to come down and get me. The last trip will include all five of us—the final team!”

Mutt, Karen, and Poo-Poo all nodded their understanding toward Stripes.

Stripes herself turned to Stick Dog and asked, “
Now
do you understand how teamwork makes things so much easier?”

Stick Dog took a single moment to consider his response. Ultimately, he said, “It's a totally unique plan. I'm absolutely certain that I would never have come up with it myself.”

“I'm sure that's true,” said Stripes proudly.

“I was just doing a little counting though,” Stick Dog said. “And I want to make sure I got this right. Will you double-check my numbers for me?”

Stripes nodded.

“By my count, I will go up the hill five times. Mutt will go up four times. Poo-Poo, three times. Karen, two. And you, one. Is that correct?”

“Sounds right.”

“Five plus four plus three plus two plus one equals fifteen, I think,” said Stick Dog.

Stripes scrunched up her face a bunch. She said, “Well, I don't have a supercomputer to do the calculations, but I believe that's correct. What's your point?”

“My point is,” said Stick Dog as kindly as he could, “why would we go up the hill fifteen times when we could just go up five times—one time all together?”

Stripes didn't say anything. She shuffled her feet against the blacktop, spraying loose pebbles about. She whispered loud enough for all of them to hear, “Math is my worst subject.”

“That's not your fault,” Stick Dog said immediately. “It's
math's
fault.”

Stripes adopted this line of thinking quickly. “It IS math's fault.”

Then she growled for about ten seconds.

While she growled, Stick Dog turned to Mutt and Karen. He asked, “Do either of you have a plan to get to the hilltop to see if a spaghetti restaurant is up there?”

They both nodded and wagged their tails.

“Mine involves a hot-air balloon,” Mutt said with great confidence.

“And mine requires a bonfire, a really large skillet, and five buckets of cold water,” Karen said with even greater confidence.

Stick Dog cocked his head a little, trying to ensure that he had actually heard what he thought he heard. Finally, he said, “I can't wait to hear your ideas. Let's make our way over to the hill and then we can hear your plans.”

“Works for me,” Karen said.

“Sure, why not?” responded Mutt.

And with that, all five dogs began their journey to the tallest hill in the suburbs.

It was the first time Stick Dog and his friends had ever run through Picasso Park without stopping to search for food. Karen didn't even slow down when they passed her favorite garbage can.

They ran past that garbage can. Then they motored past a swing set, basketball court, and gazebo. They exited the park on the other side and made their way across two fields, three streets, one creek, and two
meadows before arriving at the foot of the tallest hill in the suburbs.

They stood in a patch of rocks and pebbles that had rolled down the hill over time. They looked up. There was, indeed, a building on the hilltop, but it was too far away to identify.

“We're never going to make it up there,” moaned Stripes.

As soon as the others—well, everybody except Stick Dog—heard Stripes's doubt, they expressed similar sentiments.

“It's too far.”

“I'm too tired.”

“My legs hurt just looking at this hill.”

Stick Dog, as you can probably guess, had a plan. He said, “It looks pretty daunting, all right. Maybe Mutt's plan can get us to the top.”

Stripes, Karen, and Poo-Poo turned to Mutt with hope on their faces.

“Okay,” Mutt said. “The first thing we need is a hot-air—”

Stick Dog interrupted him just then.

“Mutt, before you get started,” he said, “I wonder if we could just find a better place to hear about your strategy. It's kind of rocky and uncomfortable here, and I want to settle in and really give your plan a good listen.”

The others looked around on the ground, noticed the rocks and pebbles, and agreed with Stick Dog.

Mutt asked, “Where should we go, Stick Dog?”

Stick Dog looked up the hill and saw exactly what he wanted to see. There was a small plateau—a little, flat spot on the hill—about one-third of the way up.

“Look at that nice spot right there,” Stick Dog said, and pointed. He made certain not to use the word “up.” He continued, “It looks perfect. I bet it's covered with soft grass too. Let's go there to hear your plan.”

“Okay” is all Mutt said before he and the others hurried up the hill to get there. He was anxious to share his plan with the group.

Stripes, Karen, and Poo-Poo all flopped down on their bellies when they got there. Mutt sat back on his rear legs in front of them. Stick Dog scanned the rest of the hill—he appeared to be looking for something. After a moment, he flopped down to listen to Mutt's plan as well.

“Okay,” Mutt said. “The first thing we need is a hot-air balloon.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Stripes said immediately.

“What is it, Stripes?” Mutt asked.

“This whole hot-air balloon thing,” she said.

“Yes. What about it?”

“I was wondering if it could be one of those
really cool striped balloons,” she said. “You know, my name is Stripes, and the balloon would be covered in stripes. I just think it would be neat. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” answered Mutt, happy to oblige.

“Excellent!” Stripes yelped.

“Okay. So we get this hot-air balloon. And then—”

“
Striped
hot-air balloon,” reminded Stripes.

“Right, right,” Mutt acknowledged. “So we get this
striped
hot-air balloon. Then we all climb into the basket thing. The hot-air balloon soars over the top of the hill, and we jump out. Then it's spaghetti for everyone!”

“Great plan!” Poo-Poo said with terrific enthusiasm.

Karen and Stripes endorsed the hot-air balloon strategy as well.

Stick Dog asked, “Where exactly do we get the hot-air balloon, Mutt?”

“You mean
striped
hot-air balloon,” Stripes corrected.

“Excuse me. Of course,” Stick Dog said quickly. “Where do we get the
striped
hot-air balloon?”

“Oh, we just grab one when it floats by,” Mutt answered with complete confidence. “Those things fly by all the time. You can't throw a rock around here without hitting a
hot-air balloon.”

“Oh, I see.”

Karen then threw a couple of rocks.

She didn't hit a hot-air balloon.

“What if one comes by that
isn't
striped?” asked Stripes. “I'm not getting into just
any
hot-air balloon.”

“No worries,” Mutt reassured. “We'll wait for a striped one.”

“Excellent!” Stripes said. She got excited about the prospect all over again.

They were all up off their bellies now. They scanned the darkening sky for hot-air balloons. Mutt kept saying things like “There should be one any second now” and “Anybody see anything? I don't want to miss one.”

After a couple of minutes, Karen screamed, “I saw one!”

“Where?!” Mutt, Stripes, and Poo-Poo shouted in unison.

“I just got a glimpse of it!” Karen said. “Behind that big cloud. Where the moon was a minute ago!”

This comment caught Stick Dog's attention. He asked Karen, “The moon isn't where it was a minute ago?”

“No. Now there's just a big cloud there,” Karen answered. “The cloud the balloon is behind.”

“What color was the balloon?” asked Stick Dog.