that dang dog - authors guildmembers.authorsguild.net/louanne/files/dog_ch_1_and_2.pdf · that dang...

That Dang Doginspired by the true story

of Millie, a Miniature Schnauzer

written & illustrated byAlyce Shirleydaughter

That Dang Dog Alyce Shirleydaughter 1

copyright 2013 Alyce Shirleydaughter

www.LouAnneJohnson.com

2 That Dang Dog Alyce Shirleydaughter

Chapter 1

P’s and Q’s Sunny and Bo wanted a dog. They really, really, really, really, REALLY wanted a dog. But Daddy-O said no. They pleaded and pouted. They bargained and begged. They wheedled and needled and stood on their heads. To the soles of their shoes, they taped the words in HUGE letters: WE NEED A DOG!!


But still, Daddy-O said no. Actually, what he said was, “N-O and that spells No.” At the time, Daddy-O was cooking scrambled eggs for breakfast and he wrote the letters N-O in the air with his egg-turning spatula. He said, “And that spells NO.” “Do you think we’re stupid?” Bo waved his fork at Daddy-O. “Everybody knows how to spell no. That’s an easy peasy word.” “Shh!” Sunny poked Bo in the ribs with her elbow. “Don’t argue. It makes him crabby.” “But he’s being stubborn and ornery,” said Bo, “and he’s making me mad.” “Everybody in our family is stubborn,” Sunny said, “including you and me. It must be in our genes.” “Our jeans?” “Not our jeans jeans,” Sunny said. “G-e-n-e-s like we learned in science.” “Oh, yeah,” Bo said. “Well, I’m not giving up. I want a dog.” He crossed his arms and put on his stubborn face. His stubborn face looked very much like his regular face, except that he squinted his eyes and poked out his lips. “I want a dog, too,” said Sunny. “Maybe Uncle Dunk will help us convince Daddy-O.” Uncle Dunk was their father’s big brother who lived in an apartment in their basement so he could help Daddy-O raise them up right without a mother.


“Kids need two parents,” Uncle Dunk liked to say, “even if one of them is a big old dufus with stinky feet who ain’t good for nothing.” Uncle Dunk used terrible grammar. He said ain’t and cuz and supposably. He even made up his own words. He farted and burped and picked his nose -- but if they tried to burp or fart or pick their noses, he would hoot and holler and make them stop. “I’m trying to teach y’all to have good manners,” he would say. “You need to mind your P’s and Q’s.” The first time Uncle Dunk told them to mind their P’s and Q’s, Bo asked, “What are P’s and Q’s?” “None of your beeswax,” Uncle Dunk said. “Are they swear words?” Sunny asked. “No!” said Uncle Dunk “Are you sure?” Sunny raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I’m sure, because my grandma used to tell me to mind my P’s and Q’s,” said Uncle Dunk. “Grandmas don’t swear.” “Yes, they do,” Bo said. “C.J. Binkeldorf’s grandma swears all the time. She says--” Zing! Uncle Dunk clapped his hand over Bo’s mouth. “Too much information, Bo baby. T.M.I.” “How can we mind our P’s and Q’s if we don’t know what they are?” Sunny wanted to know. Uncle Dunk took his hand off Bo’s mouth and scratched his head.


“He doesn’t know, either,” Bo whispered. “I heard that,” said Uncle Dunk. “Just cuz I’m old doesn’t mean I’m deaf, you know. I got real good ears.” He crossed his arms and looked at the ceiling. “Hmm. Let me see. P’s are poopitary percolations. Q’s are quaffalacious questions.” “Poopitary percolations!” Bo yelled. “Quaffalacious questions!” Sunny hollered. “Those aren’t real words!” they shouted. “Yes, they are,” Uncle Dunk said. “And I’ll tell you what they mean, since you obviously don’t know. They mean smarty farty children should show a little respect for their elders who work hard every day to put food on the table for ungrateful lazy little nieces and nephews.” Sunny and Bo suspected that poopitary and quaffalacious were not real words from the dictionary. Those were Uncle Dunk words. They stopped teasing their uncle, though, because they did respect him. And they loved him in spite of his bad grammar and stinky feet. They both suspected that Uncle Dunk was way smarter than he let on. “If he was so dumb, he wouldn’t be the boss at his work,” Bo told Sunny. “He wouldn’t be able to fix the washing machine and the vacuum and the computer and the lawn mower when they break down.” Sunny agreed. “Yeah. He could be secretly smart. Like those boys in school who pretend they don’t know the answer when Miss Peach calls on them.”


Sunny and Bo were both in Miss Peach’s class at Engleberry Elementary because they were twins. Not identical twins. They didn’t look exactly alike. They were fraternal twins. Bo was born first, one minute and forty-seven seconds ahead of Sunny. “You’re my baby sister,” Bo would tease Sunny. “Wah-wah.” “You’re the one who acts like a baby,” Sunny would retort. “You came out first because you’re pushy. I waited for my turn because I’m polite.” Most of the time, Bo and Sunny got along just fine. Especially when they both wanted something. And they both wanted a dog. So, they smiled and waved good-bye to Daddy-O who went off to teach guitar and piano at the community college. Daddy-O hummed on his way out the door. He loved his job. “I get paid to make music every day,” he liked to say. “Imagine that.” Uncle Dunk owned his own shop, Dunk’s Small Engine Repair. He was the boss, so he could sleep a little later before he clomped upstairs from the basement to get his first cup of coffee. While they waited for Uncle Dunk, Sunny and Bo made toast. They needed plenty of toast for dunking. They made ten pieces. “Don’t you think ten pieces of toast is too much?” Bo asked Sunny.


“Yes,” she said, “but Uncle Dunk likes toast. Too much toast will make him happy. He can make sandwiches from the extra pieces.” Then they ran to the bathroom to brush their teeth and comb their hair. They raced to their rooms to put on their school clothes. They dashed to the dining room to grab their homework off the table. They crammed their books and homework and lunches into their backpacks. Then they charged back to the kitchen to wait for Uncle Dunk. Whew! They were out of breath from all that running and racing and dashing and cramming and charging. They were panting like puppies -- but their tongues were not hanging out. Their tongues were tucked politely inside their mouths. “Oh, I hope Uncle Dunk will help us,” Sunny said. “Me, too,” Bo said. He crossed his fingers for good luck. Sunny crossed hers, too. That’s precisely when they heard the unmistakable sound of Uncle Dunk’s big stinky feet clunking up the cellar stairs.


Chapter 2

A Bodacious Bucketful of Toast “Well, well. What have we here?” Uncle Dunk said when he saw the toast. “It’s toast!” Sunny and Bo said. “I can see that,” Uncle Dunk said. He rubbed his chin. “However, I have to wonder why anybody would make me such a gigantic stack of toast.” “Because we love you,” Sunny said. “Because you love toast,” Bo added. “Because you sneaky-peeky little cheese-boogers have something up your sleeve,” Uncle Dunk said. “That’s what I think.” “Can’t we make you toast just because we love you?” Bo asked.


“Yepper,” Uncle Dunk said. “However, to show that he loves me, a person might make four pieces of toast. Maybe five. Five would be the maximum amount of love toast a person would expect.” He dunked a piece of toast into his coffee. “Now, 10 pieces. That is a bodacious bucketful of toast. Makes me wonder what is percolating in your pea-sized brains.” Uncle Dunk stuffed the whole piece of soggy toast into his mouth and chewed. He looked like a chipmunk with his cheeks all puffed out. “I’m waiting,” Uncle Dunk said while he was still chewing. Little bits of toast squirted out of his mouth. “We want a dog!” Sunny and Bo said. Uncle Dunk held up one finger to signal for them to wait until he finished chewing. He chewed very slowly. He took another sip of coffee. Then he put down his coffee cup and winked at them. “Woof. Is that the kind of dog you want? The kind that says Woof-Woof?” “Yes!” Sunny said. “We want a woof-woofer.” “The kind that wiggles its ears?” “Yes! A woof-woofing ear wiggler,” Bo said. He woofed and barked and wiggled his ears. “Hmmm. The kind of dog that wags its tail?” “Yes!” Bo jumped up and waggled his behind. Sunny jumped up, too. They wiggled and waggled and barked and woofed all around the kitchen.


“A woof-woofing, ear-wiggling, tail wagger!” they yelled. “Woof! Woof! Woof!” Uncle Dunk stuck his fingers in his ears until Sunny and Bo stopped barking. They sat down on their hind legs and lifted their front paws and stuck out their tongues like good little puppies. Uncle Dunk took his fingers out of his ears. “Shoot howdy!” he said. “Now I got toast crumbs in my ears.” Bo grabbed a napkin and wiped off Uncle Dunk’s left ear. Sunny grabbed a napkin and wiped off Uncle Dunk’s right ear. When his ears were crumb-free, they sat down at the table very quietly and smiled like sweet little angels. “Will you help us get a dog?” they whispered. “Please please please please PLEASE!” Uncle Dunk scratched his left ear which still had a few crumbs on it. “I expect that you already asked your father if you could acquire a canine companion. Is that correct?” “That is correct,” Sunny said. “He said no.” “He said N-O spells no,” Bo explained. “Hmm,” Uncle Dunk said. “Sounds serious. I’ll have to think on it.” He ate three more pieces of toast while he was thinking. Then he looked at the clock on the stove. “Time to go to school. You kids ready?” “Yes,” Sunny said, “but what about the dog?” “Will you help us?” Bo asked. “Please.”


“Pretty please,” Sunny added. “With a pickle on top?” Uncle Dunk asked. “Yes,” said Bo. “With a pickle and a pistachio.” “Are you crazy?” Uncle Dunk winked at Bo. “Everybody knows that pickles and pistachios don’t mix. Do you want me to get sick to my stomach?” “No,” Bo said. “We want you to help us get a dog.” “Do you think you can change Daddy-O’s mind?” Sunny asked. “Good question. Better put on my thinking cap.” Uncle Dunk stood up and walked over to the back door where his favorite yellow baseball cap hung on a little hook. He slapped the cap onto his head and pulled it way down so his ears stuck out sideways.


“Yessirree, this is a tricky situation. I’m going to have to ponder this proposal. I’ll let you know when I pick you up from school this afternoon.” Sunny and Bo kept their fingers crossed all the way to school, just in case wishing really worked. They had to uncross their fingers at school so they could do their work, but they kept them crossed all the way home. They couldn’t wait to ask if Uncle Dunk had thought of a way to change Daddy-O’s mind, but he wouldn’t tell them. Not yet. “Don’t distract me with a million and two canine questions,” he said. “I have to concentrate on driving.” He held his finger to his lips as they pulled into the driveway and kept it there all the way into the house. “I can’t be quiet any more!” Bo yelled. “My brain will blow up.” “Hold your horses!” Uncle Dunk said. “Let me get a writing utensil.” “Why don’t you just call it a pencil?” asked Bo. “Because maybe I’ll get a pen instead of a pencil,” Uncle Dunk said. “Then call it a pen,” Sunny said. “What if I find a pencil first?” Uncle Dunk shook his head, amazed at having to explain something so simple. “You two think you’re so smarty farty. Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.” He clicked his tongue. “Now you just ponder that idea while I find me a writing utensil.”


Uncle Dunk started rummaging around the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers. He looked under the kitchen table. He opened the refrigerator and peered inside. “Not a writing utensil in sight.” Bo and Sunny looked at each other and twirled their fingers beside their heads to make the Uncle-Gone-Crazy sign. Then Bo ran and got a pen and Sunny found a big yellow tablet on Daddy-O’s desk. The three of them put their heads together and created the Spectacular 10-Step Puppy-Getting Plan.


that dang dog - authors guildmembers.authorsguild.net/louanne/files/dog_ch_1_and_2.pdf · that dang...

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