Stick Dog Slurps Spaghetti (11 page)

Stick Dog took almost a full minute looking through that crack. He saw a couple of humans moving about briskly. He waited until they left before inviting his friends to the door to take a look.

Mutt, Stripes, Karen, and Poo-Poo bumped and nudged their way to the doorway until they could all see inside. Stick Dog backed away so they could have a little more room.

He described what they looked at as they scanned the room from that sliver of seeing space.

“It's the kitchen for the restaurant,” Stick Dog explained in a low voice. He recalled everything he had just seen while the others looked inside. “To the left there are two big stoves. To the right there's a huge refrigerator. It's silver and shiny like a mirror. Straight ahead past the table in the middle
is a sink and two swinging doors that lead to the dining room we saw through the window, I think. But it's the table in the middle that's most important.”

Instantly, Mutt, Karen, Poo-Poo, and Stripes focused on the long table dominating the center of the room.

“See those three huge pots on the table?” Stick Dog asked. The others nodded the best they could in the tight space. “I saw a huge male human in a big puffy hat take stuff from the pots and put them on a plate. One pot is full of spaghetti. And one is full of the red, saucy stuff that tastes like pizza.”

“What about the third pot?” asked Mutt. “What's in that one?”

“I'm not sure. He didn't take anything out of that one,” Stick Dog answered. “Okay, come back here, please. That's enough time at the door.”

The group gathered in a circle around Stick Dog then. They had seen their target: the pots on the table.

“I think we can get in there pretty easily,” Stick Dog said. “I've only seen two humans go in and out of the kitchen. There's the
really big male and then Penelope, the strange-talking female.”

Stick Dog cocked his head to listen. He didn't hear anything—or anyone—in the kitchen.

“We're going to go in and hide under that table in the middle of the room,” Stick Dog said, and turned back to his friends. “It has that long cloth on it hanging over the sides. It will be a good hiding space.”

“When do we go?” asked Mutt.

“Now,” answered Stick Dog.

He took three steps to the door and peered inside to ensure again that nobody was there.

There wasn't.

He listened for human footsteps.

He heard nothing.

Stick Dog pushed the door open and held it for his friends. They rushed inside and dove under the table. He then stepped in himself and allowed the door to ease shut until it hit the screw. It remained open just a crack. He ducked under the table with the others.

And just in time too.

Because right then a huge man with an enormous stomach came into the kitchen through the swinging doors that led to the dining room. He wore a puffy hat and talked to himself.

“Last order of the night,” he said. He had a deep, forceful voice. “One spaghetti marinara. And one spaghetti con polpette.”

The table was long and wide. There was plenty of room for the dogs to hide safely.

The huge man came toward the table. The dogs could all see him from beneath the tablecloth, which almost reached down to the floor. The man's black shoes stopped right at the edge—right in front of Karen's nose.

“Spaghetti marinara,” the big man said above them. The table vibrated a bit, and Stick Dog tilted his head to listen and concentrate. He heard the huge human put a plate down and scoop spaghetti onto it.

Stick Dog recognized the sound of those noodles slipping and sliding against each other. Then Stick Dog heard the sound of that red pizza-tasting sauce pour over the spaghetti. Some of that sauce spilled as the man poured it. Stick Dog heard a few big drips fall and splat on the floor and on the man's black shoes. It seemed like a very sloppy process.

“And spaghetti con polpette,” the man said.

Stick Dog heard a repeat of the previous
sounds. A plate was set down, spaghetti was scooped onto it, and red sauce was poured over the spaghetti.

But there was another sound this time.

A sound that Stick Dog had not heard before.

PLOP!

It was as if something was dropped onto the spaghetti and red sauce.

Stick Dog turned to see if his friends had heard the same plopping sound.

When he turned to them, Mutt, Stripes, and Poo-Poo were all staring at Karen. Their mouths were open in utter shock. They couldn't believe what they saw.

And neither could Stick Dog.

Karen was licking one of the giant human's shoes.

Stick Dog instantly forgot that plopping sound.

He knew it was all over. All their food adventures. All the good times with his buddies. Poo-Poo's obsession with squirrels. Karen's relentless tail chasing. Mutt's shaking. Stripes's crazy plans. All his friends' crazy plans, for that matter.

Everything.

Done.

Karen licked some more.

The sound came from above again.

PLOP!

There was no way Karen's shoe licking would go undetected. Five dogs were under the table. The door to the outside was barely open. Even if they made a run for it, they couldn't
all
get out the door quickly—one or two of them might make it if they were lucky.

Karen licked some more.

Stick Dog couldn't grab Karen. Or talk to her. He had to remain perfectly quiet—and perfectly still. Detection was certain if he made a sound or movement.

Karen stopped licking.

She scooted her little dachshund body to the left and began to lick the giant man's other shoe. Mutt, Stripes, and Poo-Poo gawked at her. So did Stick Dog.

And Karen licked.

And licked some more.

After several seconds—which felt like several years to Stick Dog—Karen took her final lick and ducked her head back under the table.

PLOP!

Stick Dog couldn't believe it.

How had Karen not been seen?

He thought about the huge human. The way he sounded. The way he walked. The size of him. The shape of him.

Size.

Shape.

Size and shape.

And Stick Dog figured it out. The man didn't catch Karen because he never saw her. He couldn't see past his own belly down to the floor.

Stick Dog closed his eyes. Absolute relief rushed over him. But it only lasted a few seconds.

Because right then the man called out, “Penelope! Order up! Table five!”

Stick Dog listened as the doors to the dining room swung open. He heard lighter, faster footsteps enter the kitchen.

“Table five, Chef?” she asked.

“That's right,” he answered, and sighed. The chef sounded tired. “Last customers of the night.”

Stick Dog listened as Penelope picked up the final two plates.

“I'm going to get some fresh air for a few minutes,” the chef said. “We'll clean up in a bit. It's been a long night.”

“Okay,” Penelope said as the doors swung shut behind her.

The chef exited the door that led outside.

As soon as he did, Stick Dog emerged from beneath the table. He clenched the edge of
the tablecloth in his mouth and pulled. By tugging firmly and consistently, Stick Dog moved the pots closer and closer—inch by inch—toward the table's edge.

Mutt, Karen, Stripes, and Poo-Poo came out from under the table too.

“Stick Dog?” Karen asked after observing him for a few seconds. “Why are you eating the tablecloth?”

Stick Dog couldn't answer because he was
busy and because, you know, there was a wad of tablecloth in his mouth.

“He's not eating the tablecloth, Karen,” Stripes said, and snickered. “He's playing tug-of-war with it. Remember how he said he wanted to play tug-of-war so much?”

“That's right. He did,” confirmed Poo-Poo.

Mutt decided to join the conversation then. “I think Karen's right,” he said. “I think he's eating the tablecloth too. Sometimes things made from cloth can be quite delectable.”

This thought seemed to remind Mutt of something. He gave a quick shake, and the red mitten fell from his fur. He started to chew on it.

“I still think he's playing tug-of-war,” Poo-Poo said.

“But he's not tugging against anyone,” Karen retorted. “To play tug-of-war, someone has to be on the other end.”

This was an excellent point, and Poo-Poo and Stripes seemed to acknowledge it. They pursed their lips and nodded their heads a bit.

“Maybe he's confused,” Stripes suggested. She was unwilling to concede completely. “Stick Dog is always getting confused.”

Now, this debate might have gone on a while longer, but something happened right then.

Stick Dog unclenched himself from the tablecloth. He shifted his mouth left and right to loosen his jaw muscles.

“Stick Dog?” Karen said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Stick Dog said. He glanced at the swinging doors that led to the dining area. “But can you ask it quickly? We're kind of in a hurry here.”

“Why are we in a hurry?”

“Umm, the humans are coming back soon,” Stick Dog answered. “We have to get the spaghetti as fast as we can.”

“The spaghetti!”

“Shh!” whispered Stick Dog.

“I forgot all about the spaghetti!” Karen exclaimed in a much softer voice.

“Me too!” Stripes and Poo-Poo said in unison.

Mutt tucked the red mitten back into his fur. He came closer to Stick Dog and asked, “How are we going to get to the spaghetti on top of the table, Stick Dog?”

“We don't need to get to it,” answered Stick Dog. “It's coming to us.”

Karen, Stripes, Mutt, and Poo-Poo tilted their heads in confusion. They stared at Stick Dog. Stripes asked the one question they all had on their minds.

“How?”

“Like this!” Stick Dog said, and smiled. He stretched up on his back paws, propped himself up at the table with his front paws, and gripped the handle of the first pot with his mouth. He could reach it now. With a gentle tug, it began to tilt. And with that tilting momentum and a little extra tug, it tipped over on its side. The rim overhung the edge of the table by a few inches.

A great mass of noodles fell to the floor.

While Mutt, Karen, Stripes, and Poo-Poo stared in shock at the pile of spaghetti, Stick Dog tipped the second pot in the same manner. In seconds, a giant puddle of red sauce accompanied the noodles on the floor.

Stick Dog said just one thing.

“Dig in!”

And they did.

Now, eating a pile of noodles—and a puddle of tomato sauce—off a kitchen floor may not sound too appetizing to you.

But that's to you.

To the dogs, it was absolutely delicious.