Read The Dog That Stole Football Plays Online

Authors: Matt Christopher,Daniel Vasconcellos,Bill Ogden

The Dog That Stole Football Plays

BOOK: The Dog That Stole Football Plays
4.99Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books in this series:

The Dog That Pitched a No-Hitter

The Dog That Stole Home

The Dog That Called the Signals

Copyright

Text copyright © 1980 by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.

Interior illustrations copyright © 1980 by William Ogden

Cover illustration copyright © 1977 by Daniel Vasconcellos

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced,
distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written
permission of the publisher.

Little, Brown and Company

Hachette Book Group

237 Park Avenue

New York, NY 10017

Visit our website at
www.HachetteBookGroup.com

www.twitter.com/littlebrown

First eBook Edition: December 2009

Matt Christopher
®
is a registered trademark of Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental
and not intended by the author.

ISBN: 978-0-316-09471-9

To Nicole

Contents

Other books in this series:

Copyright

Begin Reading

T
he dog was in the window of Pete’s Pet Shop. He was an Airedale, with gray fur and white whiskers.

I’
M
H
ARRY
, said the sign that hung from his neck.

“Hi, Harry,” said Mike.

“Well, hi, kid! It’s about time.”

Mike stared. Had he really heard what he thought he had? The dog opened its mouth and licked its chops.

“Did — did you say that?” said Mike.

“I sure did,” said Harry the dog. “I’ve been trying to tune in to some kid’s mind ever since I’ve been cooped up in here.”

“You — you mean that you can read my mind?”

Harry barked. “Wuff! And send my thoughts into your head, too. It’s just a gift I’ve got. Hey, we seem to be a team. How about buying me? I’m only twenty bucks. You can raise twenty bucks, can’t you?”

Mike didn’t know what to think. He couldn’t believe he had met a dog who could read his mind. And to think that the dog could
send him mental signals, too. It was — well, it was crazy.

But super!

There was only one trouble. He didn’t have much money.

“Gee, Harry,” said Mike. “I’d sure like to buy you. But I haven’t got twenty bucks.”

“Tell your father you’ve found a dog that can do handstands, roll over, and wiggle his ears,” said Harry. “That gets ’em every
time. Tell him you’ve got to own me. But don’t tell him we can read each other’s minds. That’s a secret just between you and me.”

“OK,” said Mike.

He started to leave, then thought of something.

“No,” said Harry, reading his mind again. “I can’t talk with any other human. Most dogs, yes. And a few cats, but you’re the
only kid I’ve been able to tune my mind in on.”

“Do you have any brothers and sisters like you?” asked Mike.

“No. I’m the only one.”

“I’ll be back,” Mike promised. “That is, I hope I will.”

“Good luck,” said Harry. “Hey! What’s your name?”

“Mike,” said Mike.

He ran all the way home and told his mother and father about Harry. He said he’d like to buy him, but Harry cost twenty dollars.

They seemed undecided, so he said Harry could do handstands, roll over and wiggle his ears, and that twenty bucks was dirt
cheap for a dog like him.

His mother thought about it for a minute. “It’s OK with me if it’s OK with your father,” she said.

“It’s OK with me if you promise you’ll clean up after him,” his father said.

“I promise, Dad!” said Mike happily.

The days after Mike bought Harry were very busy. Mike began school, and every day he went to football practice.

Then one evening Mike heard Harry say, “Hey, Mike, when are you going to take me to a practice or a game?”

BOOK: The Dog That Stole Football Plays
4.99Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Watergate by Thomas Mallon
Betraying Spinoza by Rebecca Goldstein
The Second Mouse by Archer Mayor
Forbidden by Lori Adams
Those Wicked Pleasures by Roberta Latow