Be Careful What You Sniff For Read online

  GROSSET & DUNLAP

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  Text copyright © 2013 by Nancy Krulik. Illustrations copyright © 2013 by Sebastien Braun. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012027555

  ISBN: 978-0-698-15939-6

  For Josie, for obvious reasons—NK

  To the Dovers

  and their new sweet puppy—SB

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  Fun Facts about Sparky’s Adventures in London

  Big Ben

  Buckingham Palace

  Covent Garden

  The Queen’s Guard

  About the Author

  About the Illustrator

  CHAPTER 1

  Wiggle, waggle, wheee!

  I take a flying leap and land right on the big couch in the living room. I know I’m not supposed to go on the furniture. But I can’t help it—this couch is so soft and comfy.

  Jiggle, jiggle, jiggle. I roll onto my back and wave my paws in the air.

  Wriggle, wriggle, wriggle. I flip over and squirm on the soft cushions.

  “Hello, yard!” I bark as I stand up on my back paws to look out the window. I can see my whole yard from here. Well, I could see it—if my fur weren’t in my eyes. Stupid fur. Always getting in my way.

  Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. My paws scratch the fur away from my eyes. Scratch, scratch, scr…Crash!

  Wiggle, waggle, yikes! My stupid paws just knocked the ticktock toy, which was on the table next to the couch, onto the floor. I hop down to take a look.

  The ticktock toy has a big crack in it. And it isn’t ticking or tocking anymore.

  “Look what you did!” I bark angrily at my paws.

  Of course, my paws don’t look. Or answer. They can’t. Paws don’t have eyes. Or mouths. Paws just have fur. Like the fur that got in my eyes and caused this whole mess in the first place.

  Bump. Bump.

  Bump. Bump.

  That’s the sound of Josh’s two legs running down the stairs. Actually, he’s stomping down the stairs. Which means I’m in trouble.

  “Bad dog!” Josh yells.

  See what I mean? I don’t understand a whole lot of two-leg words, but I know what bad dog means.

  I wriggle under the table and give Josh my best sad-dog face. “I’m sorry,” I whimper.

  Josh doesn’t answer. That’s probably because he doesn’t speak dog.

  My tail slips between my legs. It knows Josh is angry, too. Which is pretty amazing, since my tail doesn’t have ears to hear Josh yelling. Or eyes to see his angry face.

  “Sparky…,” Josh says to me, shaking his head.

  His mouth keeps on moving. And I can hear sounds coming out of his mouth. But I can only understand my name, Sparky.

  I know he isn’t too angry, because now he’s smiling. That’s something dogs and two-legs do to be friendly. I guess it’s okay to crawl out from under the table now.

  Josh kneels down to scratch me between the ears. I love when Josh scratches me. I think he must be the best two-leg scratcher in the whole world.

  “A little to the left,” I bark as I cock my head to the side. My tail pops out from between my legs and starts wagging wildly.

  Crash!

  Wiggle, waggle, yikes! There goes the tall, skinny glass water bowl Josh keeps on the table. I don’t get how you’re supposed to drink from that water bowl. You can’t really get the water out, even if you stick your tongue all the way in. I know. I’ve tried.

  Josh must think it’s a weird water bowl, too, because he never drinks from it. He just uses it to hold flowers. Well, he used to. Now it’s in pieces. The flowers are all over the floor. Water is everywhere.

  “Sparky!” Josh shouts.

  I turn around and bark at my rear end. “Stupid tail. Why did you hit the water bowl?”

  I reach my head around and try to grab my tail with my teeth. My tail tucks itself between my legs again.

  I reach back farther. My tail tucks itself tighter.

  I reach. It tucks. I reach. It tucks. My tail and I are running around and around in circles.

  “Grrrr,” Josh grumbles. He grabs my collar and leads me to the backyard.

  When he growls like that, Josh almost sounds like he’s talking dog. I can tell he’s saying I have to stay outside while he cleans up my mess. I’m pretty smart for a little puppy.

  After he cleans up, Josh will probably get in his big machine with the four round paws. Then he’ll drive away for the whole day.

  But that’s okay. Because now my tail and I can play, play, play! And there’s nothing I like better to do than play!

  CHAPTER 2

  I race out into the yard. I have big plans today. I am going to dig the biggest hole any dog has ever dug.

  Diggety, dig, dig!

  The mud under my paws is cold and wet. Dirt flies everywhere. “Hey, Sparky!” I hear Frankie, the German shepherd who lives next door, bark at me through the fence. “You better cut that out. Your two-leg isn’t going to like a big hole in his lawn.”

  “Josh won’t care,” I answer. “He only gets mad when I make a mess inside the house.”

  “That’s what you think,” Frankie warns. “I’m telling you, one too many holes in the lawn and you’re going to the pound, kid. I’ve seen it happen a million times.”

  “I’m going to the what?” I ask him.

  “The pound,” Frankie answers with a laugh that sounds more like an angry growl. “You know, the place where they keep the dogs nobody wants. You don’t want to go there—trust me. The dogs stay in big cages with bars on the walls. And they don’t let them run or dig.”

  “N-never?” I ask nervously.

  “Not ever,” Frankie answers.

  Thumpety, thump, thump. My heart’s beating really, really hard now. And my tail is hiding between my legs again.

&
nbsp; Uh-oh. I have that feeling. That tingling feeling. And that means one thing—I gotta go!

  I race over to the big tree near the fence and lift my leg. Sometimes I pee when I get scared. I’m really scared now.

  “Don’t frighten the pup, Frankie,” Samson, the old mixed-breed who lives behind Josh and me, growls suddenly.

  Frankie starts to say something else, but he shuts his snout right away. When Samson talks, all the dogs listen. Even a German shepherd as mean as Frankie.

  Samson smiles at me through the fence. “You’re not going anywhere,” he promises. “Your two-leg loves you. I can tell.”

  I believe Samson. He’s been around a long time, and he knows all about two-legs. So if he says Josh loves me, it’s true.

  “Meow!”

  I look up and spot Queenie, a neighborhood cat, sitting on the top of the fence.

  “Hiss!” Queenie gives me a smug cat smile. Then she starts licking herself.

  Cats are lucky. They don’t have to take baths. They can clean themselves. Still, she doesn’t have to be such a show-off about it.

  I’ll show her something dogs can do that cats would never try. I race over to a bright yellow ball in the middle of my lawn. I grab the ball with my teeth and spit it clear across the yard. Then I chase the ball all the way to the fence.

  Woo-hoo! I’m playing fetch with myself. My tail perks up and wags really, really hard.

  Queenie licks her paw and yawns.

  I scoop that ball up in my mouth and spit it out even farther this time. Oooh yeah! I’m the king of fetch!

  “I’ll get you!” I bark to the ball. My paws start running. Fast. Faster. Fastest. I’m heading right for the ball.

  Queenie jumps off the fence and lands in my yard. She takes one look at me and starts to run. Yes! Forget about fetch; Queenie wants to play tag.

  “I’m it!” I tell her.

  Queenie is a fast runner. But I’m fast, too. I chase her through the daffodils and across the pansies. I almost catch her at the rosebushes, but she turns around and heads toward my house.

  “I’m gonna tag you!” I bark excitedly.

  “Meow!” Queenie says.

  “Here I come!” I bark back. “I’m right behind…”

  But Queenie scampers up a tree. I look up to try to find her. My fur falls in my eyes.

  Bonk!

  “That hurt!” I whimper.

  “Meow!”

  I roll over. There’s Queenie, high in the tree, laughing at me.

  It’s not nice to laugh when someone’s hurt. I don’t want to play with Queenie anymore. I’d much rather dig.

  Diggety, dig, dig.

  Mmm. What’s that smell? Beef? Chicken? Sausage? No, it’s a bone! A bone that smells like all my favorite meats rolled into one. I stick my snout into the hole to get a closer sniff.

  All I want is to take a bite of this supersmelly, meaty bone.

  Chomp!

  Wiggle, waggle, whew. Suddenly I feel dizzy—like my insides are spinning all around—but my outsides are standing still. Stars are twinkling in front of my eyes, even though it’s daytime! And all around me I smell food—fried chicken, salmon, roast beef. But there isn’t any food in sight.

  Kaboom!

  W-what was that?

  Kaboom!

  If I were inside, I’d run and hide under Josh’s bed. But there’s no bed in the yard. And no Josh to keep me safe.

  This is wiggle, waggle, weird!

  Kaboom!

  And scary!

  CHAPTER 3

  The kabooming stops. Just like that, the loud, scary sound is gone.

  Slowly, I look around. Uh-oh. The big tree near the fence is gone, too. Wait a minute—the whole fence is gone! And where is my house? It’s all gone!

  My heart starts to thumpety, thump, thump. My tail hides itself between my legs. I put my new bone down on the ground and open my mouth and yelp, “Where am I?”

  The two-legs on the street look down and quickly move away from me. I don’t blame them. I can bark pretty loud when I’m scared.

  I raise my leg and a puddle of pee forms under me.

  “How dare you!”

  Who said that? It didn’t sound like Frankie or Samson.

  I spin around. Behind me is a small corgi walking with her two-leg. The corgi’s eyes are opened wide, and her tail is down.

  “Such behavior is inexcusable in front of the queen’s house,” the corgi says, wrinkling up her lip.

  “I had to go,” I tell her. “And when you gotta go, you gotta go.”

  “That is absolutely disrespectful,” the corgi says. “Every dog in London knows not to do that.”

  Not every dog. I didn’t know. In fact, I didn’t even know that I was in London. Not that I know where London is, or how I got here.

  I look over at the queen’s house. It’s ginormous! The house is made of stone and sits behind a black metal gate decorated with shiny gold trim.

  I bet there are a whole lot of stairs to run up and down inside that house. And there are probably lots of comfy couches to nap on, too. A dog can get really tired running on the stairs. I can’t wait to find out.

  I run for the house. Fast. Faster. Fastest!

  Bam!

  Ouch!

  “Stupid paws,” I bark angrily. “You were supposed to stop!”

  There’s a tall two-leg standing just outside a skinny house next to the gate. He has a big lump of black fur on top of his head. “Hello!” I bark up to him. “Can you let me inside the big house?”

  The two-leg doesn’t move.

  I stand up on my hind legs and spin around. But the two-leg in the red coat and the black fur just stares straight ahead. He doesn’t even notice when I roll over. Or when I play dead.

  The corgi drags her two-leg toward me. “Forget it,” the corgi tells me. “He’s not allowed to smile at you. He can’t smile at anyone. He’s guarding the queen.”

  “Why?” I ask her.

  “In case someone wants to hurt her, I suppose,” the corgi explains.

  “That’s weird,” I say. “Whenever I’m around Queenie back home, I’m the one getting hurt. This morning when I was chasing her, I bashed my head into a tree.”

  The corgi gives me a strange look. “You chased the queen?”

  “Yes,” I tell her. “But she climbed up a tree, so I couldn’t catch her. It wasn’t fair. I’m not as good a climber as she is.”

  “The queen? In a tree?” the corgi says, shaking her head. “You’re a very strange dog. All I can tell you is you’re not getting past that guard. Buckingham Palace is reserved for the queen’s dogs. I can’t even play there, and two of the queen’s corgis are my second cousins.”

  The corgi is such a show-off. So what if her cousins know the queen? If this queen is anything like the Queenie I know, she’s nothing special.

  “Oh yeah?” I bark back. “Well, I…”

  I stop barking, and lift my nose high into the air.

  Sniff. Sniff. Sn… Sausage!

  My tail doesn’t have a nose, but it must know sausage is near. It’s wagging like crazy. A big, hungry drip of drool flops off my tongue. Oh yeah! I’ve got to get me some of that!

  I scoop up my bone with my mouth. But I’m careful not to take a bite. I don’t want to see any stars or hear those big booms again. Not now. Not when I’m so close to sinking my teeth into some yummy meat.

  Look out, sausage—here I come!

  CHAPTER 4

  I’m almost there. I can smell it.

  Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. I smell something else. I put my nose to the ground.

  Fries! Wiggle, waggle, wow! I put down my bone and gobble them up.

  Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. There’s that sausage smell again. I’m in food heaven!

  I race off, but then my paws stop short. Keep going, I urge them. I look around and spot my bone. That’s why they stopped. Smart paws. I have to find a safe place for my bone. Somewhere I can find it when I’m finished eating. I look right. Not
hing. I look left. Nothing. I look down. Nothing. Then I look up and see a sign with a duck painted on it. And next to the duck sign is a big oak tree. Perfect! I’ll bury the bone by the tree.

  Diggety, dig, dig. Dirt flies everywhere. When the hole is deep enough, I drop my bone down inside. My back paws cover it with dirt.

  Sniff. Sniff. Sniff. I smell food again. Follow that smell!

  Sniff. Sniff. Sn…Bonk!

  “Waaahhhh!” I hear a strange sound. What now?

  I look up and see that I have bumped into a table where a bunch of two-legs are eating. And now the little two-leg is making a terrible sound. “Waaaahhhh!” It’s hurting my ears!

  Whomp!

  “Owww!” Now I’m crying.

  “Waaahhh! Waaahhh!” The little two-leg screams louder.

  I turn my head to block the noise—and sniff!—the most unbelievable, giant chunk of sausage is under the table next to me. I dive for the sausage and take a bite.

  “Owww,” I cry again. My tongue is tingling. My cheeks are burning. My eyes are watering. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” I jump up, surprised by how spicy the sausage is.

  Wiggle, waggle, whoops! I bang into the table. Plates of food fall all around me. Fish! Fries! Sausages!

  I can’t eat them fast enough. “WAAAAAAAAHHHHH!” A plate covered in ketchup lands on the little two-leg’s head. He is really screaming now. And so are the big two-legs. They are all screaming at me!

  I sniff around. The food is gone. And so am I!

  CHAPTER 5

  I don’t like this London place anymore. I haven’t met one nice dog, or one kind two-leg.

  Wait a minute. There’s a two-leg standing over there, near to a big machine with four round paws. It’s like the one Josh has. The two-leg is holding a yummy-looking bone, like the bones Josh gives me sometimes. And he’s smiling, just like Josh does when he’s happy to see me.

  My tail peeks out and wags a little. Slowly my paws pad over toward the smiling man with the bone in his hand.