The Case of the Lost Boy by Dori Hillestad Butler, Jeremy Tugeau Read Free Book Online Page A

human boy and his mother come to visit. They stop in front of me.
    “What do you think of this dog, Connor?” the human mother asks the human boy. I bet her name is Mom, too.
    The boy doesn’t look at me. And he doesn’t answer his mother. His arms are folded tight across his chest. He smells sad.
    I wonder why he is so sad. I haul myself up onto my legs and go over to the mother and the boy. I sniff the mother’s shoes. They smell like new carpet, pizza, a sweaty gym, other dogs, and ... Mole? Not just any mole ... this mother’s shoes smell like the mole I keep chasing out of Kayla’s backyard.
    I look up at the mother, and she scratches my ears through the bars. Actually, it’s not just Mole that I smell on this lady. If I take in a deep breath, I can smell my whole neighborhood: the Gormans’ cat, the Sanchezes’ plum tree, flowers, bushes, humans, and animals I know.
    Why does this stranger smell like my neighborhood?
    I sniff at the boy’s shoes and up his pant leg. I can smell my neighborhood on him, too.
    “Excuse me?” the mother says to the guy who cleans our cages every morning. We call him Hose Guy because he always carries a hose over his shoulder.
    “Could we see this dog, please?” the mother asks Hose Guy.
    Hose Guy comes over and unlocks my cage. He snaps a leash to my collar and hands it to the mother. I sniff her all over.
    “Down, boy,” Hose Guy says, pulling me off the mother.
    Oops. Humans don’t like it when you put your paws on them. But I can’t help it. I love the smell of my neighborhood!
    We all walk to the meet-and-greet room. I’ve never been here before. But I’ve heard about it. This is where they bring you to meet new families. Families you can adopt.
    I’ve also heard that sometimes there are treats hidden around the meet-and-greet room. I press my nose to the ground and search for goodies.
    Jackpot! There are dog biscuit crumbs under a chair. And one ... two ... nine ... five ... THREE Cheerios. I LOVE Cheerios. They’re my favorite food!

    “I’m going to be the new principal at Four Lakes Elementary,” the mother tells Hose Guy. “I’m starting in just a few weeks, and I’m looking for a dog that I can bring to school every day. It’s good to have a dog around a school.”
    “This guy would make a fine dog for a school,” Hose Guy says. “He’s very calm and laid back for a golden retriever.”
    What do you mean “for a golden retriever?” We are all calm and laid back!
    “He’s also completely housebroken,” Hose Guy says.
    I don’t know what that means.
    But the mother does. And whatever it is, it makes her happy.
    I want to make her happy because she smells like my neighborhood. Maybe she knows my humans. Maybe she can help me find them.
    That’s why when she asks me to sit, I sit. When she asks me to lie down, I lie down. And when she asks me to shake, I hold up my paw.
    Now she is extra-happy. She is so happy that she turns to the boy and says, “What do you think, Connor? Should we adopt this fella?”
    Wait a minute! Humans do not adopt dogs. Dogs adopt humans!
    The boy, Connor, must know this because he does not answer his mother. He just hangs back by the corner.
    He smells even sadder than he smelled before. I go over to him and lick his hand because it’s not his fault I can’t adopt him. He and his mother are the kind of humans I would adopt if I didn’t already have a family.
    “We’ll take him,” the mother tells Hose Guy.
    “What? No, you can’t take me ... I already have a family. Didn’t you know? A DOG CAN ONLY HAVE ONE FAMILY!!!” I say this extra loud because it’s important.
    “I think he knows we’re adopting him,” Mom says. “Look how happy he is.”
    “HAPPY? YOU CALL THIS HAPPY?”
    Everything happens really fast after that. The alpha human at the P-O-U-N-D comes in and gives Mom some papers to write on. He gives me a new collar and Mom and Connor a new leash. Then they take me out of the meet-and-greet