FLORENCE AND PERRY Dolittle thought that their lives in Little Spring Valley were nearly perfect. They lived on a pleasant street and had pleasant jobs and two very nice children, Egmont and Caramel. The children were pleasant as well, except for those times when Egmont, who was eight, would ask if he could get a pet. He never asked just once. Instead, his conversations with his parents went like this:
“Can I get a pet?”
“No.”
“Can I get a pet?”
“No.”
“Can I get a pet?”
“No.”
“Can I get a pet?”
“No.”
“Can I get a pet?”
“No.”
One night, after Egmont had asked twenty-two times in a row if he could get a pet, Florence threw her hands in the air and declared to her husband, “He’s relentless!” Most likely, she meant that Egmont was annoying, but she didn’t want to say that out loud about her own son. It seemed wrong. Still, Egmont’s quest for a pet left Florence and Perry feeling exhausted.
It was unfortunate for the Dolittles that right next door to them lived the LaCarte family. There were two LaCarte children—Della and Peony—and they were close in age to Egmont and Caramel. Everyone in Little Spring Valley knew that the LaCarte girls were perfect. They never did anything wrong. They were polite. They were on time. They didn’t make messes. They cleaned up other people’s messes unasked. They came directly home from school each afternoon—as sparkling clean as when they had left in the morning—and started their homework the moment they had politely thanked their mother for their healthy snack. They helped each other with their homework. They didn’t fight over what to watch on TV, because they had long ago agreed that watching TV was not a productive use of their time.
The reason it was unfortunate for the Dolittles that the LaCartes were their neighbors was because Florence and Perry knew with absolute certainty that if Della and Peony had asked for a pet, the conversation would have gone like this:
“Could we please get a pet?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Okay. Thank you for considering our request.”
The Dolittles couldn’t figure out where they had gone wrong.
“It must be our fault,” Perry said to his wife the night Egmont asked for a pet twenty-two times.
“What must be our fault?”
Perry shook his head. Suddenly he wasn’t sure. “All I know is that the LaCartes have never had this problem.”
“The LaCartes have never had any problem with their angels.”
Caramel, who was seven, had been listening at the door to her parents’ bedroom. “I think Della and Peony come from outer space,” she announced. She hurtled herself into the room and flopped onto the bed. Then she said, “Anyway, couldn’t you just talk to Egmont about getting a pet? Maybe all he wants is a teensy little goldfish or something.”
Florence and Perry looked at each other in surprise. “Carrie, how perceptive of you,” said her mother.
“Why, of course,” added Perry. “We must have a conversation with Egmont instead of cutting him off every time he brings up the subject.”
Mr. and Mrs. Dolittle felt quite pleased about this turn of events. “I was beginning to think we might need to ask Missy Piggle-Wiggle for advice, but instead we’ve solved the problem all by ourselves!” said Florence.
“And simply by listening to our daughter,” said Perry. Secretly, he was thinking, This must be the sort of thing that goes on all the time next door.
It’s important to know that Egmont was a very nice boy when he wasn’t asking over and over if he could get a pet. He wasn’t perfect like Peony and Della, but then, nobody was, except Peony and Della themselves. Egmont was known in school for his imagination. He kept notebooks full of stories and poems with titles like “The Perfect Horse for Me,” “Guinea Pigs I Have Known,” and “How the Peacock Got His Tail.” Once, he won fifty dollars in a newspaper contest for young writers with his story called “Oink! Oink! Meow!” about a pig who wanted a kitten. He donated the prize money to Friends Furrever, Little Spring Valley’s animal shelter, so then he got his picture in the paper—a picture of him surrounded by animals, handing over his check to Venice Dudley, the manager of the shelter.
“I couldn’t be more proud,” Perry had said to Florence as he cut the photo out of the Wednesday edition of the Little Spring Valley Weekly News and Ledger.
“Della and Peony have never been in the paper,” added his wife.
Since Egmont was in fact a very nice boy, he waited a full week after the night he asked his parents twenty-two times for a pet before he asked again. This time he thought he might ask fifty times. If his parents still said no, at least he would have the material he needed to write a story called “They Said No Fifty Times.”
“Mom? Dad?” said Egmont as the Dolittles were finishing dinner. He swung his legs back and forth under his chair.
“Yes?” said Florence and Perry. They glanced at each other and smiled, since they knew what was coming.
“Can I get a pet?”
There was a pause. Then Florence replied, “What kind of pet do you have in mind?”
Egmont said “Can I get a pet?” again before he realized what his mother had asked him. Then he was so surprised that he dropped his fork to the floor and had to bend down to retrieve it before exclaiming, “What?!”
“What kind of pet do you have in mind?” Florence repeated.
Egmont’s mouth dropped open. “Well … how about a horse?”
Mrs. Dolittle saw her husband’s face go pale, but all he said was, “How about a fish?”
“Horse,” said Egmont.
“Fish.”
“Horse.”
“Fish.”
“Horse.”
“Fish.”
Egmont’s parents sagged in their chairs. Mrs. Dolittle tried to recall Missy Piggle-Wiggle’s phone number.
Across the table, Caramel cleared her throat. Her parents looked at her hopefully.
“Do you want any other kind of pet?” Caramel asked her brother. “Does it have to be a horse? I don’t think we have room for a horse in our yard.”
“Hmm.” Egmont swirled his mashed potatoes around and arranged a grouping of peas in the middle of them.
“How about a cat?” suggested Caramel. The Freeforalls, who lived two doors away on the other side of the LaCartes, had a puffy-tailed cat named Muffet.
“Or, hey! How about a dog?” exclaimed Egmont, as if the idea had just occurred to him.
Caramel looked appealingly at her parents.
Her parents looked nervously at each other.
“A dog…” repeated Mr. Dolittle.
“A dog…” repeated Mrs. Dolittle.
“You do know that a dog is a lot of work,” said Mr. Dolittle, at the very same time that Egmont said, “I know a dog is a lot of work.”
“A dog needs to be fed and walked,” added his mother.
“In all kinds of weather,” agreed Egmont. “Yes, I know.”
“And a dog needs to be bathed and groomed,” said his father.
“Bathing a dog would be fun!” said Egmont. He was picturing something he had seen on television once—a large tin tub in someone’s backyard, the tub overflowing with soapsuds, in the middle of which sat a happy, cooperative, sudsy dog.
“A dog needs to be trained,” his mother went on.
“We could help with that,” said Caramel.
“You do know,” said Mr. Dolittle, “that when you walk a dog and it poops, you have to clean up the poop. You can’t just leave it on the sidewalk.”
Egmont frowned slightly, but then he put a smile on his face and said, “I promise that if we get a dog, I will do everything. I’ll feed it and walk it and bathe it and clean up the poop. Everything,” he said again.
“Maybe we could borrow a dog,” spoke up Caramel.
“What?” said Mr. and Mrs. Dolittle and Egmont. They looked slightly alarmed.
“Maybe we could take care of Dottie sometime. You know, Beaufort Crumpet’s dog? Just to see how it goes?”
“Oh! What a wonderful idea, Carrie. You’re always thinking,” said her mother.
* * *
By now it should be apparent that Egmont had never wanted a horse in the first place. He’d wanted a dog all along. So he was overjoyed when his parents arranged for Dottie, a small, gray, floppy-eared dog who was just as polite as Lester the pig, to spend a weekend at their house. Beaufort walked her there, and when he arrived, he handed Egmont a roll of paper. He let it unfurl, and Egmont watched as it stopped just inches above the ground.
“What’s that?” asked Egmont.
“Instructions for taking care of Dottie.”
Egmont looked at the paper. It was a schedule, and it began:
7:00—walk Dottie outside until she pees
7:15—breakfast—½ can Petmore Chicken-In-Gravy with one scoop Petmore dry food
7:30—walk Dottie outside until she poops
The schedule went on and on and on. Then Beaufort handed Egmont a large shopping bag. Egmont peered inside. “And what’s all this?”
“Pooper scoop, poop bags, food, leash, toys, blankie, towel for muddy paws, Daisy Fresh cleaner in case she has an accident…” Beaufort ticked the items off on his fingers.
“Wow,” murmured Egmont.
“Yikes,” said Caramel.
Beaufort knelt down and put his arms around Dottie. “You be a good girl this weekend, okay?” Dottie licked Beaufort’s nose. Beaufort turned to Egmont. “Call me if you have any problems,” he said.
Egmont did not have a single problem with Dottie. He followed the schedule to the minute.
“I’m impressed!” Florence Dolittle said to her son at the end of the weekend.
“That was a lot of work, and you were very responsible,” added Perry.
“You walked Dottie in the rain,” said Florence.
“You came home early from the Freeforalls’ to give Dottie her dinner,” said Perry.
“You scooped up poop and carried it home,” said Caramel. “In front of all your friends!”
* * *
It was decided that Egmont was responsible enough to care for a dog of his own. The very next weekend, the Dolittles hopped in their car and drove to Friends Furrever. Venice Dudley recognized Egmont and gave the Dolittles a personal tour of the shelter. They walked up and down the corridors in the dog wing, looking at Chihuahuas and sheepdogs and mutts, spotted dogs and brown dogs and golden dogs, frightened dogs and yappy dogs and happy dogs.
“It’s so hard to choose,” said Egmont after half an hour. “Could we get two?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
An hour and a half after that, Egmont had made his decision. “That one,” he said, pointing to a brown-and-white dog whose cage card read: My name is Sunny. I’m two years old. I’m already trained, and I’m very sweet. I like children and other dogs, but I’m not fond of cats. Will you give me a home?
The Dolittles drove Sunny to her new home. “Remember,” Florence said to Egmont as they climbed out of the car, “Sunny is your dog, so she’s your responsibility.”
“I know!” he replied. “Come on, Sunny. I’ll show you around.”
The first weekend with Sunny went very well.
“I’m so proud of Egmont,” said Mr. Dolittle on Sunday night. “We haven’t had to lift a finger.”
Egmont had fed Sunny, carefully following the directions from Friends Furrever. He had walked her on a schedule, as Beaufort had recommended. He had scooped her poop and deposited it in the trash can in the garage. He had played with Sunny and brushed her and hugged her, and Sunny had rewarded him by sleeping on his bed at night.
“Look at them,” whispered his mother, peering into the darkened bedroom on Sunday evening. “Angels, both of them.”
Six days went by. When Mr. Dolittle met Mr. Crumpet in the grocery store the next weekend, he said, “Thank you so much for letting us borrow Dottie. Egmont is doing splendidly with Sunny. He’s a champion feeder, groomer, and walker. Why, I don’t think the LaCarte girls could care for a dog any better.”
Beaufort’s father set a head of broccoli in his cart. “That’s great news,” he replied.
Mr. Dolittle knew it was probably bad luck to compare Egmont to Peony and Della, but he couldn’t help himself. He was too proud of Egmont.
Not half an hour later, Mr. Dolittle drove into his garage, walked inside to the kitchen, slipped in a puddle on the floor, and dropped the three bags of groceries he’d been carrying.
Mrs. Dolittle came hurrying downstairs. “What on earth?” she cried. “What was that crash?” She found her husband sprawled on the floor, surrounded by broken eggs and rolling oranges.
Mr. Dolittle rubbed his elbow. “I slipped in…” He glanced around. “I slipped in … whatever that is.” He leaned over to examine the puddle. “I think Sunny had an accident,” he said.
“Well, that’s odd,” his wife replied. “Egmont has been sticking to the schedule.”
“Really? Where is he?”
“Over at the Freeforalls’.” She paused. “And he’s been there for hours!” She stepped out into the backyard, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted, “Egmont!” She ignored the fact that in the yard between the Freeforalls’ and hers, Della and Peony, wearing spotless yellow dresses, were sitting primly on lawn chairs, reading. “Egmont!” she yelled again.
From two yards away she heard an answering, “What?”
“Come home right now!”
Egmont returned home, full of apologies, and cleaned up Sunny’s accident with Daisy Fresh. Then he cleaned up the broken eggs and put away whatever groceries could be saved. “I promise it will never happen again,” he said to his parents.
“I hope not,” said Florence. “Your poor father. And poor Sunny.”
The next morning, which was Sunday, Egmont overslept. He lay in bed while Mr. and Mrs. Dolittle and Caramel sat in the kitchen eating breakfast, and Sunny stared first at them and then at her empty food bowl.
“I can’t stand it anymore,” Florence finally said, and she fed Sunny.
Later, Egmont neglected to brush Sunny when she came inside with burrs in her fur. Then he began to find excuses not to walk her. “The walks are boring!” he exclaimed on Monday. “All I do is stand around and wait for her to pee.” On Tuesday, he claimed to be tired. On Wednesday, he said he wanted to play video games instead.
Mrs. Dolittle found herself saying “Poor Sunny” over and over again. “She misses her friend,” she added, glancing at Egmont, who was lying on the couch in front of the television.
“What friend?” asked Egmont.
“You!” said his exasperated mother.
Egmont let out a sigh and continued watching TV.
“You do realize, don’t you,” said Mrs. Dolittle, “that Sunny is sitting by the door with her tennis ball in her mouth?”
Egmont grunted.
His mother went outside to play with Sunny.
* * *
That night, Mrs. Dolittle waited until Egmont and Caramel were asleep, and then she said solemnly to her husband, “Things have come to a head.”
Mr. Dolittle nodded. He didn’t have to ask what she meant. He had been the one to walk Sunny that evening, and his wife had been the one to feed her dinner.
“It is time,” Florence Dolittle said slowly, “to call upon Missy Piggle-Wiggle.”
Mr. Dolittle nodded again. “I’ll take care of it.” He dialed Missy’s number.
Across town, Missy was enjoying a pleasant evening with Harold. They were seated at the dining room table in the upside-down house playing Scrabble with Lester. When the phone rang, Lester jumped up to grab it and Penelope screeched “Announce yourself!” into the receiver while Lester was passing the phone to Missy, so that Mr. Dolittle felt somewhat flustered when Missy finally said, “Hello?”
“Yes, well, hello,” stammered Perry Dolittle. He introduced himself, then said, “Our son Egmont wanted a pet in the worst way, so finally we adopted a lovely dog named Sunny, but now—”
Missy interrupted him to say, “Ah. You must need the Won’t-Walk-the-Dog Cure.”
“Well, yes, I suppose we do. How did you know?”
“It’s a common-enough problem. Nothing to worry about. Could you bring Sunny over tomorrow morning while Egmont is at school?”
“Sunny?”
“Yes, Sunny.”
“All right.”
Mr. Dolittle hung up the phone feeling perplexed. “I hope she knows what she’s doing.”
“Oh, I’m certain she does,” said his wife. “She cured all of the Freeforall children.”
* * *
The next morning, Mr. Dolittle walked Sunny to the upside-down house, since she needed the exercise. They hurried through town and then along the crooked little path to the front door with its two knobs. Above him, Serena Clutter was hammering away at a window frame. She waved to him while he gaped at the tarps covering the roof. He was about to ring the bell when the same raucous voice he’d heard the night before shrieked, “Missy, Mr. Dolittle and Sunny are here!”
Missy Piggle-Wiggle, wearing a strange flowing outfit that seemed to waft silver mist and sparkles into the air when she moved, greeted him, holding a biscuit in one hand.
“Let’s see if Sunny will eat this,” she said. Then she chuckled. “My friend Harold suggested that I give Egmont a dose of the Promise Potion, but I really don’t see what that would accomplish. Here, Sunny. Have a treat.”
Sunny stretched her neck toward Missy and took the biscuit delicately. She crunched it between her teeth and swallowed.
“That should do it,” said Missy.
Perry Dolittle frowned, feeling more perplexed than ever.
“Starting right now,” Missy went on, “put Sunny in charge of Egmont, rather than the other way around.”
“Put Sunny in charge? Well … all right.”
Mr. Dolittle began the walk home. He had almost reached Juniper Street when he noticed that Sunny’s front paws were rising above the sidewalk and she was trundling along on her back legs. She looked over her shoulder at Mr. Dolittle and waved at him with her right front paw. By the time they were approaching the other end of Juniper Street, Sunny was walking fully upright on her hind legs. Mr. Dolittle was surprised at how tall she was. The leash seemed sort of unnecessary. He felt as though he were walking a friend on a leash, so he unclipped it.
“Thank you,” said Sunny.
They passed A to Z Books, and Sunny waved through the window to Harold. She waited for Mr. Dolittle to catch up to her, and as they walked along side by side, she said, “Maybe I’ll take Egmont to the bookstore one day.” Then she added, “In case Missy didn’t make it clear, when she said that I’ll be responsible for Egmont, she meant that I’ll be giving him his meals, doing his laundry—everything.”
“My” was all Mr. Dolittle managed to reply.
* * *
It shouldn’t come as a surprise to learn that Egmont was delighted to return from school that afternoon and find that he had a talking dog. “I’m going to show you off to everyone!” he announced to Sunny.
“Let me fix you a snack first,” Sunny replied. “I don’t want you going out to play on an empty stomach.”
Mrs. Dolittle and Caramel watched in fascination as Sunny expertly made an open-faced peanut-butter-and-banana-sandwich and placed it in front of Egmont.
“Could I have one, too, please?” asked Caramel.
“Certainly.”
After snack time, Sunny, Egmont, and Caramel went to the Freeforalls’. (They took a shortcut through the LaCartes’ yard. Della shrieked when she saw Sunny walking tall between Egmont and Caramel, holding each one by the hand, and she fled into her house.)
“Look what I have,” said Egmont when Frankfort answered the Freeforalls’ door. “A talking dog-person.”
“Cool,” replied Frankfort.
That night, just as Missy had promised, Sunny took complete charge of Egmont. She made him his dinner, which was a lucky thing, since Mr. Dolittle was preparing artichokes and when Egmont saw them he cried, “I will not eat food with thorns on it!” Sunny fixed him chicken nuggets instead. Later she sat patiently by his side while he did his homework and checked the spelling in his composition titled “Sunny, the Talking Dog.” She reminded him to brush his teeth, and she read a chapter from Danny, the Champion of the World to him before he fell asleep.
The next morning, Sunny fixed Egmont’s breakfast and walked him and Caramel to school.
“Will you come inside with me?” asked Egmont at the door.
“If you’d like me to.” Sunny walked Egmont to his class and stayed by his side all day, making Egmont the most popular kid at Little Spring Valley Elementary, since no one else had ever brought a talking dog to school.
That afternoon, when Sunny asked Egmont what he’d like to do, he said, “Can we go to the upside-down house?”
“Certainly,” replied Sunny, which was another lucky thing, because Egmont and Caramel weren’t allowed to cross streets by themselves. Sunny called to Mr. Dolittle, who was working in his home office, “I’m taking the children to Missy Piggle-Wiggle’s!” and off they went.
It was a dreary, rainy, end-of-spring day, the kind of day most grown-ups dread. The Dolittles dreaded those days because Egmont and Caramel would whine, “What are we supposed to do with ourselves? There’s nothing to do indoors. We want to go outside.”
Missy Piggle-Wiggle, the only grown-up at the upside-down house, never minded rainy days. When bored, whiny children showed up, she would suggest that they find new ways of jumping on the couch, or she would show them how to make invisible ink. On this rainy day, Egmont found eight children at Missy’s having indoor relay races. He and Caramel joined in, and Sunny cheered them on. “Way to go, Egmont!” she called from the sidelines. “Good try, Carrie!”
They walked home at the end of the afternoon, Sunny holding a large umbrella over the Dolittle children. Egmont looked forward to the dinner Sunny had promised to fix for him: eggs and pancakes. “BFD,” Sunny informed him. “Breakfast for Dinner. The best kind of meal.”
Egmont went to sleep that night with a smile on his face. Sunny slept soundly beside him.
* * *
The next morning, the rain had ended. Egmont bounded out of bed. “Sun’s out!” he announced. He opened his bureau drawer. “Hey, I don’t have any underwear.”
Sunny rolled onto her side and pulled a pillow over her head. “I guess I forgot to do your laundry,” she murmured.
Egmont said, “Oh.” He looked around his room. “What should I wear instead?”
“How about your bathing suit?”
“Okay, I guess. Will you do my laundry today?”
“Sure.”
Egmont dressed himself in a shirt and a pair of shorts over his SpongeBob bathing trunks. He could hear Sunny snoring underneath the covers. He checked the time. “Um, Sunny?” he said. “It’s a school day. I need to eat breakfast now.”
“Okay, go ahead.”
“But aren’t you supposed to make it for me?”
“I’m a little tired.”
Egmont walked slowly down the stairs and fixed himself a bowl of cereal. He missed having Sunny seated next to him at the table.
Sunny did get up in time to walk Egmont and Caramel to school, but she left them at the door.
“I guess you have a lot to do today,” Egmont said to her.
“What? Oh, right. Your laundry and so forth.”
Egmont felt funny all morning. He tried to identify the feeling. He didn’t feel sick exactly, although his stomach didn’t feel quite right. His thoughts kept drifting to Sunny, the Sunny who would play with him and read to him and fix him BFD. He was actually glad when his teacher announced at the end of the day that they were going to have a spelling test the next morning.
“Sunny!” Egmont said breathlessly. He was relieved to find her waiting in front of Little Spring Valley Elementary. “We have a big test tomorrow. Our teacher just announced it. Will you help me study for it tonight? I need someone to quiz me.”
“Hmm,” said Sunny. “I don’t know. There’s a Dog Whisperer marathon on TV.”
Egmont walked along in silence between Sunny and his sister. Finally he said, “Um, Sunny, did you do the laundry today?”
“No. Why?”
“Well, my bathing suit isn’t very comfortable.”
Sunny clapped her front paw to her forehead. “Laundry is so boring! Maybe you can do the laundry.”
“But I have to study for the test.”
“All right, I’ll try to get around to it.”
At home that afternoon, Sunny handed Egmont a peach for a snack and settled in front of the TV.
“Want to play catch before I start studying?” Egmont asked her.
Sunny wrinkled her snout and shook her head.
Egmont went to his room and sat at his desk. He opened his book and tried to concentrate on spelling discipline and responsibility, but his mind kept wandering. Egmont might have been bright, but he hadn’t wondered until right that very minute how Sunny had turned from an ordinary dog into a walking, talking dog. The more he thought about it, the more he felt that Missy Piggle-Wiggle might have had something to do with the transformation. After all, she was the one who had put Frankfort Freeforall into the giant Bubble of Apology to help him learn to think about others. And she was the one who had given Linden Pettigrew that disgusting magic gum ball to help with his gum smacking.
Egmont crept downstairs. Sunny was stretched out on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. The TV was blaring. “I’m going out,” he called to her.
“Bye!” Sunny replied.
Egmont wasn’t allowed to walk to Missy’s by himself, so he went to the Freeforalls’ and asked Honoriah if she would walk with him to the upside-down house. “I have to cross streets with an adult,” he told her.
Honoriah, who was nine, was thrilled to be considered an adult. “Let’s go,” she said.
Egmont was dismayed to find a whole yardful of children at Missy’s house. He needed a private moment with her. “Missy?” he said.
Missy looked up from the geraniums she and Melody were planting in one of the many holes in the lawn. (She was transplanting the flowers from the backyard to the front yard since she couldn’t afford to buy new ones.) “Oh, Egmont. I expect you need to talk to me,” she said.
“Yes,” Egmont replied, not feeling even a little surprised.
“Let’s go into the kitchen.”
Egmont and Missy sat at the table with cups of ice water. Egmont stared at his cup and swung his feet until Missy said, “Egmont?”
“I think I broke Sunny!” he suddenly exclaimed. His chin quivered. “You gave me a talking dog, and everything was great at first, but then Sunny just … She just…”
“Forgot about you?” suggested Missy.
“Sort of,” said Egmont miserably. “She won’t play with me or take care of me or anything.”
“I suppose you feel as though you’ve lost a friend.”
Egmont nodded again. He remembered his mother saying to him that Sunny missed her friend. And Egmont, lost in a TV show, had actually replied, “What friend?”
Egmont dropped his head onto his arms and bawled. “Sunny sat at the door with her tennis ball in her mouth, and I ignored her because something was on”—he let out a loud sob—“because something was on”—sob, sob—“something was ON TV!” Sob, sob, sob, sob.
“Goodness me,” said Missy. “What do you think we should do?”
“All I want is Sunny back. The old Sunny, my friend. The talking Sunny is fun, but I want the Sunny who would chase me around the yard—on four legs—and who licked my face when I fed her and then breathed dog-food breath on me.”
“You do know that’s the same Sunny you have to walk several times a day—”
“And clean up after. I know.” Egmont’s sobs had subsided, and he began to sniffle. Missy handed him a tissue. “Can you help me?” he asked.
“Of course.” Missy reached into a jar that Egmont could have sworn wasn’t there a moment earlier. She pulled out an ordinary-looking dog biscuit. “Give this to Sunny when you get home.”
“Thank you, Missy,” said Egmont. Then he leaped out of his chair and yelled, “Honoriah, we have to go home RIGHT NOW!”
* * *
That night, Harold Spectacle and Missy sat on the front porch of the upside-down house and looked at the stars in the sky. He could hear the tarp flapping softly in the breeze.
“What did you do today?” asked Harold. Missy always had the most interesting answers to this question.
“I returned Sunny to her dog self.”
“So Egmont is cured?”
“I believe so.”
“How long did the cure take?”
“Just a few days.”
“Your cures are so … meaningful,” said Harold. “Once my teacher made me write ‘I will not talk in class’ one hundred times on the blackboard.”
“Did that teach you not to talk in class?”
“Nope. It just made me hate chalk.”
“Naturally.”
Missy was very, very wise, Harold thought. He reached for her hand, and they sat for a long time under the stars.
Across town, Egmont took Sunny into the yard for her last walk before bedtime. Sunny leaped up and down beside him as they returned to the house. Then she rushed upstairs and curled herself into a ball on Egmont’s bed.
Egmont slept soundly next to his best friend all night.