The Misadventures of the Magician's Dog Read Free Page B

really good pet.”
    Peter studied the dog his sister had been holding.
At least he’s small
, he thought—not much bigger than a loaf of bread. And he looked gentle enough, lying there on the rag. He kind of resembled an oversized guinea pig.
    â€œMaybe,” he said. “Let me think about it, okay? You want to walk with me and look at more dogs?”
    â€œSure,” said Izzy, but a moment later, Peter’s mom entered the room, and Izzy darted off to show Teddy to her.
    Peter forced himself to look at the rest of the dogs, but he couldn’t help dismissing all of them.
I guess it’s going to be Izzy’s dog
, he thought.
    Then he got to the last cage. It was set apart from the others at the end of the long room. While the other cages just had walls, this one had mesh over the top, too, and three separate locks on the door.
Must be a fierce one
, Peter thought,
to have so many locks
. He started to move away.
    â€œI want that one,” a boy’s voice said.
    Peter looked around in confusion to see who had spoken.
    â€œThis dog,” the voice insisted. “This one is perfect.”
    â€œWonderful!” said his mother, hurrying over to Peter’s side.
    â€œReally?” said Celia.
    â€œHe’s . . . I guess he’s cute,” said Izzy.
    â€œWho said that?” asked Peter.
    â€œWho said what?” asked Peter’s mom.
    â€œWho said they wanted this dog?”
    â€œWhy, you did, honey. Do you not want that dog?”
    And the voice spoke again, and Peter now recognized it as his own, and he could even feel his own mouth moving, only he knew—he knew!—that he wasn’t the one doing the talking. “This is the dog,” his voice said. “This is the dog I want for my birthday.”
    Peter’s hands rose up to his mouth. But short of gagging himself, there was nothing he could do to stop the voice. Should he argue with it? he wondered. But his mother was already looking at him strangely; if he denied saying those words when he had clearly been the one speaking, she would think he was crazy. They would
all
think he was crazy.
    Maybe he
was
crazy.
    His mother left to get Timothy. His sisters stood next to him, staring down into the cage with all the locks. It occurred to Peter that he ought to look at the dog, too, and for the first time he let his eyes move past the cage to its occupant.
    The dog inside was . . . well, calling him scruffy would be generous.
    His fur was dirty white. His legs were short, but his body was long; he looked like a big dog with a short dog’s legs. His ears stood straight up from his head like a jackrabbit’s, his beard was going gray, and his long, pointed nose had what seemed to be a wart on one side. His tail, which ended in a rather magnificent plume, was his only redeeming feature. As Peter watched, he began to lick his bottom.
    To make matters worse, Peter could tell that Celia was just barely holding in giggles. “Peter, are you sure about this?” she asked.
    â€œNo!” Peter wanted to shout, but his mouth was once more in control. “Yes,” it answered. “I think he’s beautiful.”
    Celia collapsed in laughter.
    Enough already, mouth
, Peter thought in despair.
    His mom returned, Timothy following her. Timothy’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw which cage they were standing in front of.
    â€œYou want to adopt
this
dog?” he asked.
    At least this time Peter expected what was coming. “Yes,” answered his mouth.
    â€œHmm . . . Well . . . This dog, huh?”
    Peter’s mom got to the point. “Timothy, why are there so many locks on the dog’s cage? Is he dangerous?”
    Timothy dropped to his knees and held out his hand to the dog, who promptly came over to sniff it. “Oh, no, he’s not dangerous,” Timothy said, “not in the least. It wouldn’t be right,