12

MY Dog

I held the trophy high in the air. Edward and I ran across the field to my family.

There was lots of back patting.

And high-fiving.

And way-to-going.

I felt pretty amazing. I was definitely going to be the star of show-and-tell.

Something cold touched my hand.

I looked down, and there was Goofy.

He was nudging me with his nose.

He wagged his tail like he was happy for me.

He even touched noses with Edward.

Good old Goofy.

I gave him a hug.

“Will the contestants please return to the judges’ table for photographs?” said the loudspeaker guy.

“Come on, Edward,” I said. “They want to take our picture.”

Edward and I walked back to the judges.

“Sit, Edward,” I said. And of course Edward sat.

“Congratulations, Roscoe,” the lady judge said. “You and Edward must have a very special relationship.”

“Well, I—,” I began. “He’s a nice dog, yeah.”

I looked back at my family.

Goofy was watching me. He wagged his tail. Just a little.

I held up the trophy. It glittered in the sun.

Just like I’d imagined.

Then I set the trophy down on the table.

“Edward’s a nice dog,” I said, “but he’s not my dog.”

“What do you mean, son?” another judge asked.

“That’s my dog,” I said. “Over there. I just borrowed Edward because I wanted a trophy, but he’s not mine, he’s Martin’s, and I really want my sweater back too.”

The judges just looked at me.

“What sweater, sweetheart?” asked the lady judge finally. “I’m afraid you’ve lost us. And which dog is really your dog?”

I handed her Edward’s leash. “I’ll show you,” I said.

“Goofy!” I called. “Goofy! Come here, boy!”

Goofy yanked free of Max. He dashed across the field like he was going after Hector.

He leaped into my arms.

We fell back.

We rolled and rolled and rolled and rolled.

It was great.

Goofy licked my nose.

The crowd went wild.

“This,” I said, “is MY dog.”