Upchuck and the Rotten Willy by Bill Wallace

Author:Bill Wallace
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aladdin

CHAPTER 9

Yes, sir! Best friends just don’t come any better than Tom.

That made twice he had saved my life. Once, when I froze in the tree over Rocky’s backyard. Again, when I was within reach of Rotten Willy.

Man—dogs sure are sneaky. You can’t trust the things for a second. Most are loud and obnoxious and rude. They bark and snap and chase you, even when they know they can’t catch you or even reach you. Others are real quiet. They try to sneak up on you. They lurk in the bushes, thinking you won’t hear or smell them and will walk close enough so they can grab you.

Still others—like Rotten Willy—pretend to be nice. They try to get you to trust them, to drop your guard. Then . . . then, it’s all over!

That’s the way Tom explained it when I scampered up the tree to join him on his branch. For a time I wasn’t sure whether this huge beast was a dog, like he said, or some strange animal called a Rotten Willy. Now, I was certain. Only a dog could be so sneaky.

And to think that I’d trusted him. . . .

Rotten Willy kept us in the tree for a long, long time. He kept asking stuff about the neighborhood, and if there were other cats and dogs besides us and Rocky. He said he smelled something good to eat and wanted to know what it was. Tom and I didn’t speak to him. Hoping he’d go away when he realized we weren’t falling for his tricks and coming down the tree, we just ignored him.

Only, he didn’t go away. He curled up and took a nap.

When we heard the sound of Pat’s car, we both yowled: “Mama, help! Mama, help!” Only Tom’s Pat didn’t hear us. She took a sack of groceries and went inside.

After a while, we heard the sound of another car. Rotten Willy perked his ears. With his little stub tail tucked tight against his fat bottom, he took off like a shot.

I started down the tree, but Tom stopped me.

“Could be another one of his tricks,” he cautioned.

We stayed put. A little while later, we heard a woman’s voice.

“Willy, did you do this? Bad dog! Bad dog!”

Quickly, Tom and I trotted across the limbs that arched over Rocky’s yard. Like always, he leaped and barked his threats. I ignored him, like Tom had told me to. I kept my eyes on the branch and never so much as glanced down.

From Rotten Willy’s tree, we watched as a woman-people shook her finger at the big, black monster. He lowered his head, and his stub tail pressed so tight against his bottom I could hardly see it. The woman-people got a shovel and filled the hole. All the time she worked, she kept scolding Rotten Willy and telling him: “Bad dog. Bad dog.”

Tom laughed. I did, too—but only because Tom did. It wasn’t much fun to get in trouble with your people. I felt sorry for Rotten Willy.

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