Boys Are Dogs Read Free Page B

so different from girls. Some were really nice and some were big jerks, and most were somewhere in between. And okay, this reasoning didn’t exactly explain the whole camp dance disaster, but I figured that was a fluke thing. Like, maybe those boys had too much sugar that day, or perhaps it was due to the full moon.
    I didn’t bother trying to explain, though, because I knew Sophia would never understand.
    When I heard my mom yelling from downstairs, I was actually glad I had an excuse to get off the phone.
    “Um, I have to go,” I said.
    “Well, call me on Monday, after you get home from school, and don’t forget this time.”
    “Okay.”
    I found Stripe and my mom at the bottom of the steps, playing tug-of-war with one of her sandals. She was on her knees, pulling at her shoe with both hands.
    “Are you okay?” I asked.
    “I’m fine, but my new sandal is a mess.”
    Since I didn’t want her to get any ideas about giving the puppy back, I crouched down and called, “Hey, Stripe. Come here, boy.”
    The puppy was determined. His teeth stayed locked on the sandal and he jerked his head back and forth, trying to wrench it away from my mom.
    “Here, Stripe,” I tried, again.
    “He doesn’t know his name yet,” said Mom. “I don’t think so, anyway.”
    “Maybe he just doesn’t like his name.”
    Mom pulled until the leather ripped, and then she let go with a gasp.
    Unfazed, Stripe took the sandal into the living room, and we followed. Chasing after the dog was our new hobby, I guess.
    He hid under the coffee table, guarding the shoe like it was the only food he’d seen all week. I crouched down and started crawling closer, but Mom said, “Let him have it. It’s already ruined.”
    “You sure?” I asked, standing up.
    “Positive. He’ll get better once you start training him. I figured you could start right now, actually.”
    This was news to me. “I can?” I asked.
    “Yes, unless you’d rather help unpack. It’s your choice.”
    Some choice. I sighed an exaggerated sigh and said, “Fine.”
    Then I ran upstairs and got the book. It was pretty thick, which meant Stripe had a lot to learn. I sat down on my bed and started reading.

    “Stripe, no,” I said in my normal voice. I had to admit, it didn’t sound exactly strong or convincing. “Stripe, no!” I repeated, louder this time, although maybe that was too loud. I didn’t want him to think I was mad at him. I tried a few more times, until my mom poked her head in the room and asked me what was wrong.
    “Nothing,” I informed her.
    “Then why were you yelling?”
    “I’m just practicing my dog-speak.” I held up the book to remind her. “You’re the one who told me to do this, remember?”
    “Oh, yes. Carry on.” She answered me in her “British butler” voice. Mom and I both do that sometimes when we’re alone. I’m not sure why.

    So far these training tips seemed simple enough.
    I flipped ahead to the chapter called “A Walk in the Park.”

    According to the book, I had to get Stripe comfortable wearing the leash before I actually tried to walk him somewhere. I also needed to prove to him that walking with me was fun. This is where the bribery kicked in. If I called Stripe over, and praised him and gave him a treat once he came, he’d learn that listening to me was a good thing.
    This all made sense. Figuring it was time to practice on a real dog, I closed the book and grabbed Stripe’s leash. Then I pocketed a bunch of dog biscuits and went to find him. He was out back, digging up one of Mom’s new tomato plants.
    “Stop it!” I said, rushing over. “Hey, Stripe, cut it out! You can’t do things like that! Mom’s going to be mad.”
    My dog ignored me. Pretty soon I realized why. My voice was totally weak, and I used too many words.
    “Stripe, no!” I spoke firmly this time. “Stop.”
    Now he looked up at me, tilting his head, like he was confused. Clearly he didn’t understand what I was saying, but at