Smells Like Dog Read Online Free PDF

can get you out of here before Dad sees you.” Homer pulled his bathrobe pillow away from the drool. A big paw pressed against Homer’s face so he turned away. He wasn’t sure he was going to like taking care of this dog. But the dog had found the decoder ring so one night sharing the bed seemed like a fair trade.
    Soon, the snoring had the same effect on Homer as a yawn. Before he could worry too much about the situation, he fell into a deep sleep.

To School
     
    W HAT IS THAT?” Mr. Pudding hollered.
    Homer, who’d been sleeping at the very edge of the bed, thanks to the new dog’s tendency to kick while dreaming about rabbits, woke with a start and fell onto the floor. What was happening? Had morning come so soon? Why were his parents in his room?
    Mr. Pudding cleared his throat. “I said, WHAT IS THAT?”
    “It’s a dog, dear.” Mrs. Pudding helped Homer to his feet.
    “I know it’s a dog. I can see right fine. What I want to know is,
whose
dog?”
    “It belonged to your brother but now it belongs to Homer.”
    “My brother had a dog? He never told me about a dog.” Mr. Pudding yanked his overall straps over his shoulders. “That dog’s not a border collie. We only keep border collies on this farm.”
    Mrs. Pudding handed Homer some clothes, then gently pushed him into the hallway. “You’ll be late for school, sweetie. Hurry and get changed.” Homer took the clothes, then wandered into the bathroom. His brain was still fuzzy with sleep as he looked into the mirror. Shallow lines from his bathrobe pillow crisscrossed one side of his face. Why had he stayed up so late?
    “That’s one ugly dog,” Mr. Pudding told his wife as they walked past the bathroom and down the stairs. “I reckon those stubby legs can’t herd worth a darn.”
    “Maybe we can teach the new dog to do something else,” Mrs. Pudding suggested.
    “Like what? Fetch my slippers? Squeak does that right fine. What use could there be in a dog like that?” Mr. Pudding’s voice faded down the stairs.
    What use?
Homer remembered the coin.
Where was it?
He pulled a shirt over his head, crammed his legs into a pair of pants, then ran back to his room. With a relieved sigh he grabbed the mysterious coin off the windowsill. As he gazed at it, yesterday’s reality crept back. Uncle Drake was dead. And this coin, for some reason, had been his most treasured possession. He had chosen Homer, his twelve-year-old nephew, to take care of it. “And I will,” Homer whispered.
    After a hearty, yet hurried breakfast of huckleberry pancakes and goat milk yogurt, Homer joined his sister on the front porch for the morning good-bye. Mrs. Pudding checked to make sure they had their book bags, their lunch baskets, and whatever else they needed at school. “Do you have your frogs?” she asked Gwendolyn.
    “Yep.” Gwendolyn pulled two stuffed frogs from her pocket. “And my notecards in case I forget some of my facts.”
    “You’ll do right fine,” Mrs. Pudding said while running her hand down Gwendolyn’s long hair. “We’re so proud of your interests.”
    Mr. Pudding stepped onto the porch, shaking his head. “That dog’s still in Homer’s bed. What was my brother doing with a lazy dog like that? He should have gotten himself a herding dog. He should have stayed here andworked the farm, then he’d be alive today. Do you hear, children? Goat farming’s what a Pudding should do.” He patted Homer and Gwendolyn’s heads. “Be good at school.” Then he called the farm dogs and headed toward the field.
    Gwendolyn started down the driveway. Mrs. Pudding handed Homer his lunch basket. “I packed an extra cookie because I know you’re feeling sad,” she said. “To cheer you up, I’ll take you to Walker’s Department Store this weekend and get you some new clothes.” She smiled, the morning sun warming her gold-flecked eyes.
    Homer forced a smile. How were new clothes supposed to cheer him up? Nothing was more embarrassing than trying