Cat’s litter box. Then, back in the kitchen, he filled Dunk’s bowl with dry dog food. He found his own dog bowl in the art-camp carton, filled it with water, and put it next to Dunk’s. However patchy the glaze, it looked a thousand times better than Dunk’s bowl, that was for sure.
One bowl for food and one for water.
So there wouldn’t have been any need for Brody’s bowl, anyway, the beautiful bowl that Brody had glazed in Dog’s favorite color, the deep-blue bowl that Brody had made for Dog with so much care and concentration, the award-winning bowl that Brody had refused to send to the library art display just so that Dog could have it.
Behind him, as he turned to go upstairs, Mason heard the soft padding of Dog’s big feet.
“Dog!” Mason wrapped his arms carefully aroundDog and gave him a gentle hug. Then he let Dog lap at his water and nibble some of his food. Dog didn’t seem all that hungry yet, mainly just thirsty.
“Oh, Dog.”
He hugged Dog again, and Dog licked his face.
For the second time that day, Mason, who never cried, felt like crying.
Here was the question: was Dog’s heart big enough to love two boys?
Mason already knew the answer: Dog’s heart was as big as the entire world.
The real question was: how big was Mason’s heart? There was only one way to find out.
Mason headed out the back door, and Dog followed. Looking friskier every minute, Dog bounded behind Mason, across Brody’s lawn and up to Brody’s front door, tail wagging as if Dog had suddenly remembered how to wag it. Mason rang the doorbell. Usually he didn’t ring or knock; he just walked in, as Brody did at his house. But today was different.
When Brody answered the door, Dog’s tail went even wilder at the sight of Brody. Then Brody flung open the door and was hugging Dog, and Dog was licking Brody’s face.
“Dog came to get his blue bowl,” Mason told Brody. Dunk’s bowl could go out in the garage with all the other discarded pet things.
Mason took a deep breath. “And he came to get his new name. You said you didn’t want to call him Dog. So what should we call him? What should we name our dog?”
Brody’s face shone like—well, like the way Brody’s face always shone, but even shinier now, like a hundred shining Brody faces.
Without a pause, Brody answered. “ ‘Dog’ might be a dumb name, but it’s his name now. It just is. It can be short for ‘Dog of Greatness’: D.O.G. But we can just call him Dog. Okay, Dog?”
Dog licked Brody’s face. Then he licked Mason’s face.
One tongue.
Two faces.
Three best friends.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It is such a pleasure to be able to thank some of the wonderful, brilliant, creative people who helped bring this book into being: my longtime Boulder writing group (Phyllis Perry, Leslie O’Kane, Ann Whitehead Nagda, and Marie DesJardin); my unfailingly insightful and encouraging editor, Nancy Hinkel; my wise and caring agent, Stephen Fraser; consistently helpful Jeremy Medina; magnificently sharp-eyed copy editors Janet Frick and Artie Bennett; Guy Francis for his funny, tender pictures; Isabel Warren-Lynch for her appealing book design; and Jack and J. P. Simpson, two young reader friends who read the book in manuscript and told me which parts were great and which parts were weird. Heartfelt thanks to all.
Don’t miss
next big disaster adventure!
Here’s a sneak peek at
Mason Dixon: Fourth-Grade Disasters
by Claudia Mills
Available November 2011 from Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers
Excerpt from
Mason Dixon: Fourth-Grade Disasters
by Claudia Mills
Copyright © 2011 by Claudia Mills
Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers,
an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
1
“Fourth grade!” said Mason Dixon’s mother as she sat on the family-room floor surrounded by bags of school supplies. “Tomorrow is the first day of fourth grade!”
Lying on the
One bowl for food and one for water.
So there wouldn’t have been any need for Brody’s bowl, anyway, the beautiful bowl that Brody had glazed in Dog’s favorite color, the deep-blue bowl that Brody had made for Dog with so much care and concentration, the award-winning bowl that Brody had refused to send to the library art display just so that Dog could have it.
Behind him, as he turned to go upstairs, Mason heard the soft padding of Dog’s big feet.
“Dog!” Mason wrapped his arms carefully aroundDog and gave him a gentle hug. Then he let Dog lap at his water and nibble some of his food. Dog didn’t seem all that hungry yet, mainly just thirsty.
“Oh, Dog.”
He hugged Dog again, and Dog licked his face.
For the second time that day, Mason, who never cried, felt like crying.
Here was the question: was Dog’s heart big enough to love two boys?
Mason already knew the answer: Dog’s heart was as big as the entire world.
The real question was: how big was Mason’s heart? There was only one way to find out.
Mason headed out the back door, and Dog followed. Looking friskier every minute, Dog bounded behind Mason, across Brody’s lawn and up to Brody’s front door, tail wagging as if Dog had suddenly remembered how to wag it. Mason rang the doorbell. Usually he didn’t ring or knock; he just walked in, as Brody did at his house. But today was different.
When Brody answered the door, Dog’s tail went even wilder at the sight of Brody. Then Brody flung open the door and was hugging Dog, and Dog was licking Brody’s face.
“Dog came to get his blue bowl,” Mason told Brody. Dunk’s bowl could go out in the garage with all the other discarded pet things.
Mason took a deep breath. “And he came to get his new name. You said you didn’t want to call him Dog. So what should we call him? What should we name our dog?”
Brody’s face shone like—well, like the way Brody’s face always shone, but even shinier now, like a hundred shining Brody faces.
Without a pause, Brody answered. “ ‘Dog’ might be a dumb name, but it’s his name now. It just is. It can be short for ‘Dog of Greatness’: D.O.G. But we can just call him Dog. Okay, Dog?”
Dog licked Brody’s face. Then he licked Mason’s face.
One tongue.
Two faces.
Three best friends.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It is such a pleasure to be able to thank some of the wonderful, brilliant, creative people who helped bring this book into being: my longtime Boulder writing group (Phyllis Perry, Leslie O’Kane, Ann Whitehead Nagda, and Marie DesJardin); my unfailingly insightful and encouraging editor, Nancy Hinkel; my wise and caring agent, Stephen Fraser; consistently helpful Jeremy Medina; magnificently sharp-eyed copy editors Janet Frick and Artie Bennett; Guy Francis for his funny, tender pictures; Isabel Warren-Lynch for her appealing book design; and Jack and J. P. Simpson, two young reader friends who read the book in manuscript and told me which parts were great and which parts were weird. Heartfelt thanks to all.
Don’t miss
next big disaster adventure!
Here’s a sneak peek at
Mason Dixon: Fourth-Grade Disasters
by Claudia Mills
Available November 2011 from Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers
Excerpt from
Mason Dixon: Fourth-Grade Disasters
by Claudia Mills
Copyright © 2011 by Claudia Mills
Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf Books for Young Readers,
an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
1
“Fourth grade!” said Mason Dixon’s mother as she sat on the family-room floor surrounded by bags of school supplies. “Tomorrow is the first day of fourth grade!”
Lying on the
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