Don't Swap Your Sweater for a Dog (2 page)

We decided to play fetch with Goofy in the front yard.

We threw lots of tennis balls. Sometimes Goofy brought them back.

But mostly he just chewed them.

He even got three balls in his mouth at once.

He had a big, hairy clown smile.

When a boy walked by with his dog, Goofy ran over to say hello.

The dog was a little white poodle. He was wearing a silly doggie sweater with kitties on it.

“Sit, Edward,” the boy said to the poodle.

Edward sat down. He did not move. He looked like a puffy statue.

Goofy raced around Edward in crazy circles. He barked. And sniffed.

And barked some more.

He looked goofy.

“I'm Martin,” the boy said. “I just moved here a couple weeks ago. We used to live in Alaska.”

“Did you live in one of those ice cube houses?” I asked.

“He means an igloo,” Emma said.

Martin laughed. “Nope. Just a regular old house.”

“Yeah,” Gus said. “We live in regular old houses, too.”

Martin pointed to my sweater. “Is that a poodle on your shoulder?”

“We're still trying to figure that out,” I said.

“I really like animals,” Martin said. “It's
a cool sweater.”

I waited for him to laugh. But he didn't.

“I'm Roscoe,” I said at last. “And that's Gus and Emma.”

“Shake hands, Edward,” Martin said.

Edward held up his paw.

Gus shook it. Emma shook it. I shook it.

Goofy licked it.

“Say hello, Edward,” Martin said.

“Arf-arf,” Edward said.

It was not exactly “hello,” but you could tell what he meant.

“Wow! Your dog is amazing,” said Emma.

“I was going to enter him in the Truly Terrific Trick Contest this weekend,” Martin said. “But I have a tuba lesson.”

“Do you mean the contest at the street
fair?” Emma asked. “I saw a poster for that. Kids and their dogs can enter. And the winner gets a trophy.”

“A trophy?” I asked. “Really?”

“Do they have a prize for Stupidest Pet Trick?” Gus asked. “I'll bet Goof could win that one!”

Goofy lay on his back on the sidewalk.

I think he was ignoring Gus.

“What's your dog's name?” Martin asked.

“Goofy,” I said. It sounded kind of lame next to a name like
Edward
.

Goofy wriggled on his back like a snake. His tongue was hanging out.

“What's he doing?” Martin asked.

“Itching,” I said.

“Edward is never itchy,” Martin said. He reached into his backpack. “Watch this.”

Martin took out a book. “Just a regular book, right?” He showed it to me. “Now read it.”

“I've already read that,” I said.

“Not you,” Martin said. “Edward.”

I laughed. “Your dog cannot read!”

“Why not?” Martin asked.

“Because he is a dog,” I said. I said it very slowly and clearly.

Since apparently Martin was a little crazy.

“Just watch,” Martin said.

He put the book on the ground. It was called
Frog on a Log.

“Open the book, Edward,” said Martin.

Edward put his little white poodle paw on the book.

He pulled on the cover.

The book flipped open.

“Good dog, Edward,” Martin said. “Now read to Roscoe.”

Edward looked at the first page. So did I.

It said:

Edward said:

“Good dog, Edward,” said Martin. “Next page.”

Edward turned the page with his nose. I looked over his shoulder.

The page had three words:

Edward said:

I looked at Martin.

I looked at Edward.

He didn't look so silly anymore. Even with the kitty sweater.

“That dog is a genius,” I said.

We looked at Goofy.

He was eating an old gym sock.

“Your dog is nice too,” Martin said.

I thought about Edward and that book all the next day.

Especially when it was reading time.

Gus and Emma and I are in the same reading group. There are six kids.

All the groups have animal names. There are Panthers. Giraffes. And Tigers.

Gus and Emma and I are Pandas.

We each read two pages out loud.

When someone else is reading, we have to follow the rules:

1. No talking.
   
2. No laughing if somebody makes a mistake.
   
3. No sound effects.
   

Ms. Diz made up the third rule after we read our last book.

It was called
Honk! Honk! Beep! Beep!

When we were all done, I asked Ms. Diz a question. I'd been wondering about it ever since meeting Edward.

“Ms. Diz,” I asked, “do you think a dog can read?”

Ms. Diz thought for a second.

“Well, I doubt it, Roscoe,” she said.
“Why do you ask?”

“Because Gus and Emma and me met a dog who could read
Frog on a Log.
”

“He wasn't exactly reading, Roscoe,” Gus said. “It was more like weird barking.”

“But he barked when there was an actual word,” I said. “If we can learn to read, why can't a dog?”

“Well, Roscoe,” Ms. Diz said, “it's not that simple. Before you can read, you need to know your letters and the sounds they make. I've never met a dog who could do that.”

“I'm telling you, Edward was reading,”

I said.

Sometimes, even when I'm not for-sure right, I kind of get stuck acting like I'm right.

I was feeling a little bit sticky at the moment.

Even Gus didn't think Edward was a reader.

And Gus believes everything.

I mean, Gus believes toads give you warts.

And everybody knows that's not true.

Maybe you think it's easy being a teacher.

I used to.

After all, they get to boss around little kids all day.

How hard could that be?

Well, here are some things you should know in case you ever become a teacher:

I might even have given up teaching when my student tried to eat a book.

That can be pretty hard on a teacher.

But I kept seeing a beautiful picture in my head.

It was me at the dog trick contest. With Goofy by my side.

And a judge handing me a gigantic trophy.

The contest was Saturday. And today was Wednesday.

I didn't have a lot of time to teach Goofy to read like Edward.

The first thing I had to do was find the right book for Goofy.

I let him come with me to my bedroom. In case there was a book he especially liked.

For example, I like to read about dinosaurs. Also superheroes.

I found some books about dogs. (Because Goofy is one.)

And cars. (Because he likes to ride in them.)

And cats. (Because he likes to chase them.)

I put them on the floor in front of Goofy.

“Which one do you like, Goof?” I asked.

He didn't answer.

He was sniffing a dirty shirt on the floor. It had a nice, tasty spot of dried spaghetti sauce on it.

I picked a book called
Bad Cat Goes to the Vet.

I figured Goofy would get a kick out of that.

We went to the kitchen. I stuffed my pockets with dog treats. And grabbed a banana for me.

“Where are you two going?” Mom asked.

“I'm teaching Goof to read,” I said.

“After that, could you teach him to do
the dishes?” she asked.

As soon as we got outside, Goofy saw Hector.

Hector is a squirrel who lives in a big oak tree behind our house.

He loves to tease poor old Goofy.

Hector made some “Come and get me, doggie!” sounds.

Goofy flew across the yard.

His ears were flapping. His tongue was flapping.

Hector waited.

And waited.

And waited.

When Goofy was just a couple feet away,

Hector zipped up his tree.

He made some more noises that said, “You moron! Why don't you ever learn, dogface?”

Goofy stared up at him, panting.

“You almost had him this time, guy,” I said.

I always tell him that.

I went over to the other side of the yard. Away from Hector.

That's another thing about teaching.

It's hard to get anything done if your
student is busy trying to eat a squirrel.

“Goofy!” I called. I peeled my banana. “Come! Time to read.”

Goofy saw the banana.

I forgot how much that guy loves fruit.

He dashed across the yard.

He leaped up into my arms. I fell backward.

And we just kept rolling.

And rolling.

And rolling.

Man, was that fun!

We lay on the ground. Goofy licked my face.

I gave him the whole banana.

While he ate, I grabbed my book about Bad Cat.

“Today we are going to learn to read,” I said. “First I will go.”

I read nice and slow:

“Your turn,” I said.

Goofy tried to eat the banana peel.

He looked at me with his big, happy eyes.

I could tell he wanted to understand.

But he couldn't quite figure me out.

I remembered feeling that way when I first learned to read.

Ms. Diz would point to a word like DOG.

And all I would see was
.

So I knew how Goofy felt.

I gave him a nice ear-scratch.

“We'll try again tomorrow, Goof,” I said.

But he wasn't listening.

Hector was back.