CHAPTER 5

HOT-AIR BALLOONS. CORRECTION: STRIPED HOT-AIR BALLOONS

It was the first time Stick Dog and his friends had ever run through Picasso Park without stopping to search for food. Karen didn’t even slow down when they passed her favorite garbage can.

They ran past that garbage can. Then they motored past a swing set, basketball court, and gazebo. They exited the park on the other side and made their way across two fields, three streets, one creek, and two meadows before arriving at the foot of the tallest hill in the suburbs.

They stood in a patch of rocks and pebbles that had rolled down the hill over time. They looked up. There was, indeed, a building on the hilltop, but it was too far away to identify.

“We’re never going to make it up there,” moaned Stripes.

As soon as the others—well, everybody except Stick Dog—heard Stripes’s doubt, they expressed similar sentiments.

“It’s too far.”

“I’m too tired.”

“My legs hurt just looking at this hill.”

Stick Dog, as you can probably guess, had a plan. He said, “It looks pretty daunting, all right. Maybe Mutt’s plan can get us to the top.”

Stripes, Karen, and Poo-Poo turned to Mutt with hope on their faces.

“Okay,” Mutt said. “The first thing we need is a hot-air—”

Stick Dog interrupted him just then.

“Mutt, before you get started,” he said, “I wonder if we could just find a better place to hear about your strategy. It’s kind of rocky and uncomfortable here, and I want to settle in and really give your plan a good listen.”

The others looked around on the ground, noticed the rocks and pebbles, and agreed with Stick Dog.

Mutt asked, “Where should we go, Stick Dog?”

Stick Dog looked up the hill and saw exactly what he wanted to see. There was a small plateau—a little, flat spot on the hill—about one-third of the way up.

“Look at that nice spot right there,” Stick Dog said, and pointed. He made certain not to use the word “up.” He continued, “It looks perfect. I bet it’s covered with soft grass too. Let’s go there to hear your plan.”

“Okay” is all Mutt said before he and the others hurried up the hill to get there. He was anxious to share his plan with the group.

Stripes, Karen, and Poo-Poo all flopped down on their bellies when they got there. Mutt sat back on his rear legs in front of them. Stick Dog scanned the rest of the hill—he appeared to be looking for something. After a moment, he flopped down to listen to Mutt’s plan as well.

“Okay,” Mutt said. “The first thing we need is a hot-air balloon.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Stripes said immediately.

“What is it, Stripes?” Mutt asked.

“This whole hot-air balloon thing,” she said.

“Yes. What about it?”

“I was wondering if it could be one of those really cool striped balloons,” she said. “You know, my name is Stripes, and the balloon would be covered in stripes. I just think it would be neat. Is that okay?”

“Sure,” answered Mutt, happy to oblige.

“Excellent!” Stripes yelped.

“Okay. So we get this hot-air balloon. And then—”

“Striped hot-air balloon,” reminded Stripes.

“Right, right,” Mutt acknowledged. “So we get this striped hot-air balloon. Then we all climb into the basket thing. The hot-air balloon soars over the top of the hill, and we jump out. Then it’s spaghetti for everyone!”

“Great plan!” Poo-Poo said with terrific enthusiasm.

Karen and Stripes endorsed the hot-air balloon strategy as well.

Stick Dog asked, “Where exactly do we get the hot-air balloon, Mutt?”

“You mean striped hot-air balloon,” Stripes corrected.

“Excuse me. Of course,” Stick Dog said quickly. “Where do we get the striped hot-air balloon?”

“Oh, we just grab one when it floats by,” Mutt answered with complete confidence. “Those things fly by all the time. You can’t throw a rock around here without hitting a hot-air balloon.”

“Oh, I see.”

Karen then threw a couple of rocks.

She didn’t hit a hot-air balloon.

“What if one comes by that isn’t striped?” asked Stripes. “I’m not getting into just any hot-air balloon.”

“No worries,” Mutt reassured. “We’ll wait for a striped one.”

“Excellent!” Stripes said. She got excited about the prospect all over again.

They were all up off their bellies now. They scanned the darkening sky for hot-air balloons. Mutt kept saying things like “There should be one any second now” and “Anybody see anything? I don’t want to miss one.”

After a couple of minutes, Karen screamed, “I saw one!”

“Where?!” Mutt, Stripes, and Poo-Poo shouted in unison.

“I just got a glimpse of it!” Karen said. “Behind that big cloud. Where the moon was a minute ago!”

This comment caught Stick Dog’s attention. He asked Karen, “The moon isn’t where it was a minute ago?”

“No. Now there’s just a big cloud there,” Karen answered. “The cloud the balloon is behind.”

“What color was the balloon?” asked Stick Dog.

“Kind of grayish-yellowish-whitish,” Karen answered. “And really bright. Like it was glowing or something.”

“Did it have stripes?” asked Stripes.

“Not that I remember, I’m sorry to say,” said Karen. “It had, like, faded irregular-shaped spots or something, I think. Remember, I only got a quick glimpse.”

“Maybe it has stripes on the other side,” offered Mutt.

This idea lifted Stripes’s spirits considerably.

Mutt, Karen, Stripes, and Poo-Poo stared at that cloud and waited for the hot-air balloon to emerge.

And waited.

Then it happened.

The edge of a circle appeared as the cloud slowly slid aside. It was just as Karen had described: grayish-yellowish-whitish, bright, and marked with faded, irregular spots of several sizes.

Stick Dog watched and listened.

“Karen!” yelped Poo-Poo.

“What?”

“That’s not a balloon!” he exclaimed.

“What is it then?”

Mutt, Poo-Poo, and Stripes all screamed the answer at the same time.

“It’s the MOON!”

Then they all started laughing.

Karen shook her head and stuck her chest out in defiance. She said, “Maybe it’s a hot-air balloon that’s shaped like the moon.”

Stick Dog decided to step in then.

“It’s the moon, Karen,” he said definitively but kindly. “It’s an honest mistake.”

Karen hung her head. “That’s really embarrassing.”

“You know what might make you feel better?” asked Stick Dog.

“What?”

“If you shared your plan with us.”

“What plan?” Karen asked. She was still quite dejected. Her head hung low; her tail didn’t wag at all. It just drooped.

“Your plan to get to the top of the hill.”

“Oh, right,” she said, and lifted her head. She seemed suddenly happier. “It’s a pretty nifty plan! And totally feasible. I know it will work easily.”

“Before you tell us,” Stick Dog suggested, “let’s move away from this place. That darn moon is taunting us. It just looks so much like a balloon. Why don’t we get out of here?”

“I’m with you,” Karen said gladly—and then took a brief second to scowl at the moon high in the sky.

“What about my plan?” asked Mutt. “What about searching for a hot-air balloon? There’s bound to be one soon.”

“We’ll keep an eye out,” Stick Dog said quickly. “Don’t worry. As soon as we see one, we’ll put your plan into action.”

“Sounds good.”

“Where are we going, Stick Dog?” asked Poo-Poo.

“Let’s just move to that next little flat area,” Stick Dog said casually. He nodded his head toward another plateau farther up the hill. And before anyone could question his motives, he started walking toward the new spot.

Without thinking about it, Mutt, Stripes, Poo-Poo, and Karen followed after him.