My Dog Doesn't Like Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

Mum’s clothes. No way.’
    â€˜What about singing to a dog?’ asked Hugh.
    â€˜He doesn’t seem to like singing. He barks viciously when Gretchen plays her heavy metal CDs, and he howls like he’s at a funeral when Mum plays her Opera CDs,’ I said.
    â€˜Okay,’ said Hugh, ‘then we can bundle up some of these other ideas, like throwing a ball and playing and spending time.’
    â€˜Is he like a neglected child?’ asked Milly. ‘Just wanting more attention from you?’
    I thought about the times I had tried to play ball with Ugly but he had run off with the ball and chewed it to bits. ‘I’m the neglected one,’ I said.
    â€˜I’ll put a red line through the ideas about playing and spending time,’ said Milly, ‘but I really think you could try harder at playing.’
    â€˜Well, the bone-chucking will be a type of playing,’ I said. ‘A game with food. You can’t go wrong. It’s got to be a big hit with Ugly.’

Chapter Nine
    It seemed a stroke of luck that when I walked into the house that afternoon, I had the place to myself. Mum, Dad, and Gretchen were still at work, and Grandad was snoring away on his daybed. Even Ugly was sharing Grandad’s afternoon sleep. He was lying on his side in a pool of sunlight next to Grandad’s bed. When he saw me out of one squinty eye, he thumped his tail on the floor, shut his eye, and went on sleeping.
    I opened the fridge door to see what I could raid. There was some freshly squeezed orange juice and a bit of leftover pasta from last night’s dinner, which I hungrily scoffed. I decided to give the contents of the fridge one more inspection. What should I find at the bottom but a big leg of lamb covered in a tea towel! Mum was obviously going to roast it tonight.
    I thought of the research Hugh, Milly and I had discussed. Underneath all that meat there was a huge bone. My family wouldn’t be needing it. All I had to do was cut off the meat so Mum could cook that – and here was a bone for me to chuck for Ugly.
    It was hard work slicing off the meat from the lamb bone, but I got off as much as I could. I neatly laid the meat on a plate and put it back in the fridge with the tea towel over it. Then I quietly returned to the living room and waved the bone at Ugly, who had opened one eye again. He scrambled to his feet and followed me to the kitchen. His eyes gleamed, and he was grinning and whacking his tail against the table.
    Without even having to speak, I walked out the back door and down the steps with Ugly following close by me. On the lawn, I held the bone high above my head and told Ugly to sit. I didn’t even have to push his bum down. He sat right away and woofed.
    I threw the bone with as much strength as I could. It flew over the kennel and across to the far side of the backyard. Ugly took off after it, quickly reaching it and pouncing on it like a lion attacking its prey.
    â€˜Okay. Come, Ugly. Bring it back here!’ I called.
    What a fool I’d been. Why had I expected Ugly to come back with a meaty bone when he wouldn’t even come back with a tennis ball?
    I yelled and stamped my foot, but he just picked up his bone and hid behind Grandad’s toolshed, up next to Mrs Manchester’s fence.
    I was so angry that I left Ugly in the yard and stomped back up to the kitchen. But I wasn’t as angry as Mum was when she came home from work and went to take the roast out of the fridge to put it in the oven. I tried to explain that we didn’t need the lamb bone, but Mum couldn’t see my point. Dad, Gretchen, and Grandad couldn’t either. I have to agree that those bits of meat on the plate didn’t look like very much. I’d left more meat on Ugly’s bone than I realised.
    Mum set about making a shepherd’s pie with the leftover slices of lamb and lots of chopped vegetables. Gretchen stared into the baking dish and