Did you ever think that maybe your mom loves your dog more than she loves you? Ouch! What would you do? Would you be sad, disappointed, angry? See how Tyler feels when Mom talks to him thinking he is Dundee.
Chapter 9 "The Plot Thickens"
Tyler took off in a gallop, leaving the leash flapping in the wind behind him. He ran across the neighbor’s yard to the main street. Without thinking he dashed into the traffic causing cars to swerve out of the way.
Mom came running after him. “Dundee, come here, you bad dog,” she shouted. “Dundee, come,” she ordered again. The dog came barreling towards Mom, pummeling the neighbor’s freshly planted petunias. Upon reaching Mom, Tyler jumped up to his familiar “wanna dance” stance and left doggie paw prints on Mom’s new white sweater. He stopped long enough for Mom to grab his leash. Then, Tyler took off, making Mom breathless from the pace.
At the front door, Mom caught her breath and scolded him, “Dundee, you wild thing.” She frowned. “Bad dog. What has gotten into you today?” she asked. “No treats for bad doggies.” Darn. Tyler stopped for a drink at his water bowl and looked up at Mom. I’m starving. What I wouldn’t give a piece of hotdog.
Tyler couldn’t decide whether to be proud of himself for making Mom upset or angry for missing his favorite treat. He figured it was worth it. He scooted upstairs to his bedroom and jumped on the bed with his dirty paws, leaving a trail of dirt behind him. This will really get to her – dirt on the bed.
When Mom started to make dinner and didn’t go upstairs, Tyler decided to knock over a lamp or two, just to get Mom’s attention. Crash! Down went Tyler’s baseball glove lamp. Plunk! The baseball trophies tumbled from the nightstand.
That got Mom’s attention. She came bolting upstairs and stopped at the doorway. She would have made a pretty fair greyhound, Tyler thought with a smirk.
Mom shook her finger at the dog. “Dundee, that is enough. Get outside on the porch. I don’t know what’s gotten into you today.” She put her hand holding the dishcloth on her hip. “I don’t like you when you do these things.” Perfect. It’s working. Dundee will not be number one in this house. Just wait till I’m back. She’ll really appreciate me then.
A thought caused Tyler to stop still as ceramic dog. What if I stay a dog forever? What if Mom is so mad at me that she takes me to the pound. What if I lose my family? He started to howl a horrible, mournful wailing sound that surprised even himself. Mom grabbed him by the collar and ushered him onto the screened in porch. “You just stay out there, bad doggie. You did this to yourself. You know better.”
She turned around and headed for the kitchen without even a glance back at a very sorrowful canine.
Chapter 9 "The Plot Thickens"
Tyler took off in a gallop, leaving the leash flapping in the wind behind him. He ran across the neighbor’s yard to the main street. Without thinking he dashed into the traffic causing cars to swerve out of the way.
Mom came running after him. “Dundee, come here, you bad dog,” she shouted. “Dundee, come,” she ordered again. The dog came barreling towards Mom, pummeling the neighbor’s freshly planted petunias. Upon reaching Mom, Tyler jumped up to his familiar “wanna dance” stance and left doggie paw prints on Mom’s new white sweater. He stopped long enough for Mom to grab his leash. Then, Tyler took off, making Mom breathless from the pace.
At the front door, Mom caught her breath and scolded him, “Dundee, you wild thing.” She frowned. “Bad dog. What has gotten into you today?” she asked. “No treats for bad doggies.” Darn. Tyler stopped for a drink at his water bowl and looked up at Mom. I’m starving. What I wouldn’t give a piece of hotdog.
Tyler couldn’t decide whether to be proud of himself for making Mom upset or angry for missing his favorite treat. He figured it was worth it. He scooted upstairs to his bedroom and jumped on the bed with his dirty paws, leaving a trail of dirt behind him. This will really get to her – dirt on the bed.
When Mom started to make dinner and didn’t go upstairs, Tyler decided to knock over a lamp or two, just to get Mom’s attention. Crash! Down went Tyler’s baseball glove lamp. Plunk! The baseball trophies tumbled from the nightstand.
That got Mom’s attention. She came bolting upstairs and stopped at the doorway. She would have made a pretty fair greyhound, Tyler thought with a smirk.
Mom shook her finger at the dog. “Dundee, that is enough. Get outside on the porch. I don’t know what’s gotten into you today.” She put her hand holding the dishcloth on her hip. “I don’t like you when you do these things.” Perfect. It’s working. Dundee will not be number one in this house. Just wait till I’m back. She’ll really appreciate me then.
A thought caused Tyler to stop still as ceramic dog. What if I stay a dog forever? What if Mom is so mad at me that she takes me to the pound. What if I lose my family? He started to howl a horrible, mournful wailing sound that surprised even himself. Mom grabbed him by the collar and ushered him onto the screened in porch. “You just stay out there, bad doggie. You did this to yourself. You know better.”
She turned around and headed for the kitchen without even a glance back at a very sorrowful canine.
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