001Hello boys and girls. I'm Mrs. Peters and I'm going to be reading chapters 21 through 25 in your summer reading book, Dog Town. Chapter 21, First Night. To understand what happens next, you need to know how Mouse and I became friends. I arrived at Dogtown last winter. A new snow had fallen and there was a howling wind that bit through my fur. Even a husky needed a parker in the park in the bitter cold we were having. A park is like a thick jacket. Management took one look at me and tossed me in a cage at the back of the basement. She knew from experience that nobody wants a dog with three legs. The plan was to wait enough time went by and they could put me on the list. I didn't know then. I
002had no idea there was such a thing as the list. But I know now. Like every other newcomer to Dog Town, my heart was broken. I missed curling up in the furry blanket at the foot of Jesse's bed. I missed the jingle of my leash and the squeak of the school bus door when Jesse came home. I missed pepperoni pizza, pulled pork, and chasing pigeons in the park. But mostly I missed Jesse and Professor Besser. I slept during the day and started out and stared out the tiny basement window at night. I memorized the stars and grew familiar with the train whistles. I could tell the time of day by the sound of the tootses. So it's toot toot. Dog town had heat. Only it didn't work very well in the basement. It felt like
003minus 25. My kibbles were popsicles. My water bowl had iced over. And the cement floor was like an ice skating rink. So I did what dogs all over the world do when they're unhappy. I barked. But all I got for my troubles was a sore throat. Chapter 22. Bad speller. Those were terrible days. Worse than the cold was the loneliness. I woke up hearing my little Jesse calling my name. I imagined her so clearly. Jesse with the fuzzy pigtails and a smile so radiant that every dog in the park ran to her. I pined for Jesse's mother, Professor Besser. I achd to have my belly rubbed, my fur stroked, my left ear massaged in that special way. Even when management came by, it was only for a moment or two. With a hundred dogs to
004care for and nowhere near enough help, they could barely keep up with the basics. Food, water, and cage cleaning. Now and then, they'd pat me on the head, but a belly rub. There were too many bellies and not enough minutes in the day. So, there's your picture. I hope you're making a movie in your head as you're listening. I wondered if I had enough kibble left in my bowl to write a note. Spelling has never been my strong suit. My grammar is not so hot either. In human anyway, I'm fluent in dog. I moved the kibble around until I had my message, but the wind gusted down the quarter and blew away the pellets that read, "I need to be petted." It's kind of see, but it's I think it's going to show up backwards,
005but I need to be petted. Chapter 23. Volunteers. I've ran into a few dogs at Dog Town who'd done time in other shelters. They claimed Dog Town wasn't half bad compared to those places, mostly because there were so many volunteers who helped out. The volunteers were all right. I mean, what kind of person volunteers to clean up poop? You could smell the kindness on those people. Also, the dog poop and management. She was doing the best she could, but she was outnumbered. There were a whole lot of unwanted dogs in the world, it seemed. Dogs, dogs, dogs. Chapter 24. Supper time. Do you like supper time? I like supper time. Supper time was the worst. But he doesn't like supper time. I'd always eaten my supper with the Bessers in the TV room. I wasn't
006used to eating alone. I missed the blueberry pancake smell of Jesse and the toasted almonds and vanilla folder smell of Professor Besser. That was back when I had given up hope I'd see Jesse and Professor Besser again. Back then, every footstep sounded like theirs. Every person looked like them. Every time the basement door opened, I was sure it was them. Mostly what I heard was the whistle of the train and the clanking of the railroad crossing gates. I looked out at the long row of empty cages and I breathed in the bitter ammonia of loneliness. I did all the usual things to keep myself occupied. I scratched my ears. I gnawed my paws. So he's like chewing on his paws. I cleaned myself. And I dreamed of my bowl at the Bessers, full of dumplings
007and drippings, burgers and bacon, chicken bites and big chunks of chili beef. Dog Town kibble tasted like tree bark. I couldn't eat it. I just beun begun chewing the chain link. So the fence around his cage when a small brown mouse made a dash for my dish. I jumped up. My hackles raised, but at the last second, I held my growl. It had been such a long time since I'd been around another creature. I suddenly realized I was happy to share the contents of my kennel bowl. Kibble bowl. What was the harm? So, he's going to share his food. There we go. That's That's a picture of the house at the Besser's place. Chapter 25. Mouse. Mouse lived in a safe little hideway above cage 91. Management didn't know about mouse's house because she didn't
008like coming down to the basement any more than anybody else did. Mouse wasn't jumpy the way most mice are. And he was exceptionally intelligent. He knew how to read and he was triilingual. He could speak mouse, human, and dog. And besides that, he was crafty. He could get anywhere in Dog Town without being seen. That night, I watched him set about the business of rolling kibble across the cement and to the back of the pin. Then, one by one, he'd take them in his mouth, climb the chain link to the the knot hole in the corner, and disappear inside. A minute later, he'd appear again, scramble down, retrieve another kibble, and climb back up. He made five trips, then nodded his thanks, and disappeared into the notthole door. I hadn't eaten much since I arrived
009at Dog Town, but seeing another creature creature's interest in my dinner made me hungry. I finished all of my kibble that night. So, there is the little mouse. I'm sorry. There's the little mouse getting the kibble, running with the kibble. It's a pretty cute little mouse, but you don't want one of those in your house, do you? Mouse was small, so I figured five kibble bits would last the better part of a week. But the next day, he was back. That's when I figured out he was feeding a whole lot of other mice up there. I looked forward to mouse's visit. Every day I would wait for him to come down, take his five kibble, and nod his thank you. And every evening his visit gave me back my appetite. It doesn't sound like much,
010but Mouse, the train whistles, and the stars in the night sky got me through the long winter in Dog Town. Thank you for listening.