001Hi everyone. I'm Phyllis me, STEM coordinator for Henry County Public Schools. We're going to continue reading on Dog Town. So grab your book and get comfortable. Let's get ready to read. Chapter 80, sabbatical. One day I learned a new word, sabbatical. A sbatical is six months of paid leave. I figured that meant Professor Besser wouldn't have to go to work for six whole months. It was a dream come true. She'd be home all day with me. Until Jesse began to ask questions. Why do I have to learn Italian? Why do I have to go to a new school? When are we leaving? Why can't Chance come with us? Chapter 81. open suitcase. Then the suitcases came out. I had some good friends in the neighborhood, two labs named Harry and Jerry. Harry and Jerry had
002warned me of the dangers of an open suitcase. Suitcases meant your humans were leaving. If you were lucky, you would go with them. And if you weren't, watch and see if they pack your food and your leash, Harry had said. If they don't, Jerry yipped, you're in trouble. Every day I watched, and every day the leash embroidered with my name on it stayed on the hall closet. I told myself that Harry and Jerry were just trying to scare me with their suitcase talk, but I had a bad feeling about it. Finally, the day came when the suitcases were zippered closed. Then a young lady with a pink nose and a sharp chin rang the front bell. She smelled of chlorine and cherry cough syrup syrup. Never trust a human who smells like that. But Professor
003Besser had weak oldactory glands. All humans do. Without a good nose, they have no idea who to trust. Chapter 82. The dog sitter. It all happened so fast. Professor Besser and Jesse wheeled their suitcases out the door. Jesse sobbed while the lady they called the house sitter, or sometimes the dog sitter, held my collar. Don't worry, I'll take good care of Chance. She patted my head like she was dribbling a basketball. When I tried leaning against her leg, she leapt away as if I had fleas. I whimpered. I barked. I wriggled out of the dog sitter's grasp and took off. I had four legs back then, so I ran fast, but not fast enough. The door shut in my face. I stared out the window as Jesse and the professor Besser rode away. Chapter 83.
004The dog sitter's boyfriend. I dislike the term dogsitter. Dogs are not chairs. We are not couches. We are not tables. Maybe if I had a kind dog sitter, I wouldn't hate the word so much. But I did not. By lunchtime on the first day, my water bowl had dried up, and I was forced to drink from the toilet, something no dignified dog ever does. Then my kibble bowl went empty. The dog fits sitter refilled it occasionally, but not often and never with table scraps. Then the smells of my home began to change. The blueberry pancake smell gone. The toasted almond smell gone. The manila folder smell gone. Now the place rire of chlorine, cherry cough syrup, bleach, burnt plastic, and bad breath. Only the yard smelled the same, like pine and sycamore, and squirrel nuts
005and Harry and Jerry's pee, and mine, too, of course. And if that weren't bad enough, the boyfriend arrived. The dog sitter's boyfriend didn't care for me. And as far as I could tell, he didn't care for the dogs sitter either. Humans are so confusing. No dog would ever stay with a mate who treated her badly. Sure, we have our share of bossy dogs, but leadership is one thing. Mistreatment is another. I couldn't stand either of them. I spent as much time as possible in the yard, but we had a rough winter and the weather was bitter cold. Icy rain, hail, snow, and a biting wind. The weather forced a dog sitter and the dogs sitter's boyfriend indoors. The house on Sycamore Avenue, which had been so cozy with the Bessers, grew smaller and smaller. The
006dog sitter and the dogs sitter's boyfriend locked inside. I did my best to stay out of their way. Chapter 84. for the love of salami. Then one night, the dog sitter and the dog sitter's boyfriend had a terrible fight. The boyfriend said mean things. I'm not going to repeat. The dog sitter hurled a salami against the wall. The boyfriend stomped out, got in his truck, and careened down the driveway. The dog sitter retreated to the bedroom. I tiptoed on silent paws to retrieve the salami that had rolled under the couch. I knew it was risky, but the smell of salami was too tempting. The dog sitter must have heard me because she tore out of the bedroom and lunch for my collar. That's mine, she shouted, grabbing the salami and shoving me out into the
007cold, dark night. I huddled outside, shivering, my paws like ice cubes. Soon I began to whimper at the door. "Shut up!" the dog sitter shouted. I hid under a bush. It was covered in snow, but the ground underneath was dry. The boyfriend's truck roared back into the driveway, and the boyfriend hopped out, leaving the truck running. He'd forgotten his coat. He came out of the house a minute later, all bundled up in his puffy coat, big leather gloves, and a knit cap. I decided that huddling near the door on the back porch might be warmer, so I made a dash from the bush to the back porch. The route I took was nowhere near the truck, but the driveway was icy and the truck spun out of control. When I woke up, I had three
008legs. Chapter 85. It's the dog's fault. The dogs sitter and her boyfriend took me to the vet. At least when I came back, I was all bandaged up and I heard them talking. I can't tell the bersers we ran over her dog's leg. How will that look? The dog sitter asked. Yeah, they might not pay you. Tell them the dog ran away. Why is that better? Because then it's the dog's fault, said the boyfriend. Not yours. How are we going to pay the vet bill? Dog food money. We won't need to feed her anymore. She'll be gone. Good idea, said the dog sitter, planting a kiss on her boyfriend's cheek. That's when I knew I had to run away. My life depended on it. [Music]