Mutt, Stripes, and Poo-Poo all gathered around Karen. They patted and petted her as they welcomed her back.
“Hey,” Karen said after a moment. “Where’s Stick Dog?”
“Here I am,” Stick Dog called from the rim of the hole. His head and front legs stuck out as he pulled himself up. While there was no way for Karen to do this—she was far too small—it was possible for Stick Dog.
“What are you doing in the hole, Stick Dog?” asked Mutt.
“Umm—” he replied as he worked himself out farther.
“Did you fall in, you clumsy guy?” Poo-Poo asked, and chortled.
Stick Dog didn’t answer but scratched and clawed at the ground to extract himself some more.
“Only you, Stick Dog, only you,” said Stripes. “After all that effort getting Karen out of that hole. And you go and fall in right after we rescue her? I mean, really?!”
Stick Dog’s entire body hurt. His face and head hurt from when Karen stomped on it. His back and neck hurt from being stretched out in such an awkward position—and for such a long time. And his tail definitely hurt.
He got all the way out, gave himself a little shiver to shake the dirt off, and then looked at his four friends. They were so happy to all be together again. He decided not to ask them about letting him tumble into the hole—or about biting his tail. Instead, he felt it was time to move on.
He said, “I think I know where that meat truck went.”
Poo-Poo, Mutt, Karen, and Stripes gathered immediately around Stick Dog.
“We know that truck is full of different kinds of meats,” Stick Dog said to his friends. He spoke quickly. They had a tendency, he knew, to interrupt him, and Stick Dog wanted to get this moving as fast as he could. “Poo-Poo smelled them all. And I read the words on the boxes that man took into the Protein Powerhouse Gym. And the side of the truck said so too.”
“What do you mean ‘the side of the truck said so’?” Poo-Poo interrupted.
“Yeah, Stick Dog,” Stripes jumped in.
“Trucks can’t talk. How could it say that it was full of meat?”
“I mean—” Stick Dog started to explain.
“Wait, wait,” Karen interjected. “Is this some kind of magical talking truck, Stick Dog? I mean, if it can communicate, why don’t we just ask it for some of its scrumptious meaty contents? We could just say, ‘Hey, Mister Meat Truck, how about you share some meat with us’?”
“It’s not just going to give us some meat if we ask, Karen,” Poo-Poo said. “That would be ridiculous.”
“Guys, I didn’t mean the truck could actually—” Stick Dog tried to say. But his friends had placed their attention elsewhere now.
“Why not, Poo-Poo?” asked Mutt. “Why wouldn’t the truck just give us some meat if we ask?”
“If you had a bunch of meat, would you just hand it out willy-nilly?” asked Poo-Poo rhetorically.
“No, I guess I wouldn’t,” Mutt replied.
“Guys, umm—”
“So, what should we do, Poo-Poo?” asked Stripes. “What should our approach be?”
“I think we should flatter this talking meat truck,” Poo-Poo suggested.
Mutt asked, “How so?”
“Well, we just give it tons of compliments and stuff,” Poo-Poo explained. “You know, tell it how great it looks. How its tires are nice and round. How it smells good. How its headlights sparkle in the sunshine. That kind of stuff. Then, once it’s feeling good about itself—and good about us—we could politely ask it for some meat. It would probably just spit some out the window at us. Then it’s chow time!”
“Just a bit of flattery will do the trick?” asked Mutt. “Do you really think so?”
“I do,” replied Poo-Poo. “You’d be surprised how far a few compliments can go.”
“Great plan!” exclaimed Karen. “Boy oh boy. It’s really fortunate that this meat truck can talk. I mean, who needs a plan when you can just ask it for stuff? That’s the best!”
Poo-Poo was excited that his friends had bought into his idea so quickly. He said, “Come on!”
And with that, Poo-Poo took three quick steps away from Karen’s hole and toward the parking lot.
Stripes, Mutt, and Karen followed him without hesitation.
Stick Dog did not.
“Stop,” he called before they could go any farther. He didn’t yell or scream. But he did raise his voice just a smidgeon.
They stopped.
“What is it, Stick Dog?” Stripes asked. “We’re in a bit of a hurry here.”
“I didn’t mean the truck could talk,” Stick Dog explained quickly. “I just read the words on the side. And it’s also, you know, not there. It drove away a little while ago.”
“It did?” asked Mutt.
“It did.”
“Well, where in the world were we going then?” asked Poo-Poo.
“I’m not sure,” Stick Dog said kindly. “But it doesn’t really matter.”
Stripes asked, “Why not?”
“Because I think I know where that meat truck went,” Stick Dog replied, and watched as his friends turned around and came closer to him. “The side of the truck read, ‘Mike’s Magnificent Meats. Get your meat where the four streets meet.’ And there’s only one place I can think of around here where four streets come together. It’s right in the middle of town.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Poo-Poo said. He wasn’t completely convinced. “You think if we go to the place where four streets meet, then we’ll find the meat truck.”
“And maybe even a meat store or something,” Stick Dog said.
Then Stick Dog did something he doesn’t usually do. He didn’t wait to discuss the matter any further with his friends. Instead, he just took off toward town.
And, thankfully, Mutt, Poo-Poo, Karen, and Stripes took off right after him.
Stick Dog wanted to get to that place where the four streets meet.
He was thinking about the prospect of a meaty meal for his friends and himself.
And he was thinking about that German shepherd.