My Dog, My Hero by Byars Betsy & Myers Laurie & Duffey Betsy

Author:Byars, Betsy & Myers, Laurie & Duffey, Betsy [Byars, Betsy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)
Published: 2014-03-25T04:00:00+00:00

Buster

I love Buster. He is the bravest and most remarkable dog in the world. If you’d asked me a year ago, I would have told you I didn’t like Buster. It’s not that Buster’s not cute. He’s plenty cute. He’s a big yellow Lab that lives next door. His eyes look up in a sad sort of way. So you’re wondering why I didn’t like such a cute dog? He ate my toe.

I was cutting the grass in my front yard. I’m supposed to wear tennis shoes, but I had on my sandals. My foot slipped under the edge of the mower, and the blade cut off the tip of my toe. I couldn’t move. I always freeze like that when something terrible happens.

I was standing there staring at my toe when out of nowhere came a yellow streak. Buster! He flew across the yard, grabbed my toe, and ran. That is why I did not like Buster.

Last summer Buster did something to change that forever. It was a hot day and I was in my front yard pulling weeds. My baby sister, Mandy, was napping in her stroller beside me. When Mandy is in the yard, Buster keeps an eye on her stroller. Buster has always had a thing for babies. Every time a mother walks by pushing a baby stroller, Buster sits up and he doesn’t take his eyes off that stroller until it is out of sight.

This day Buster was sitting on his porch watching Mandy and me. I had been pulling weeds for almost an hour and was getting tired. I decided to step inside and pour myself a glass of water.

First I checked on Mandy. She was still asleep. I debated whether to drag her stroller up the front steps and inside the house while I got my drink. I decided against it. I didn’t want to wake her up and listen to her yell for Mama, who had run to the store.

I would only be inside a minute. Nothing could happen in that short time.

Buster had been sitting on his porch. Now he was standing. He watched me like he knew what I was going to do. He was giving me a look—like I shouldn’t leave Mandy alone.

“You’re not my mother,” I said in an ugly voice.

Buster wagged his tail.

I put my hands on my hips. “Quit staring! I’m not mowing today. No more toes for you.”

I yanked open the door. “Watch Mandy while I’m gone,” I said.

I don’t know why I said that. Buster didn’t understand me. And even if he did, what was he going to do? He’s overweight. And those skinny legs weren’t going to carry him anywhere, except to grab defenseless toes.

Buster walked to the edge of the porch, like he understood me or something.

I went inside.

It’s hard to know what happened next. The garbage man said he lost control, claimed his brakes didn’t work right. All I know is that I heard screeching tires.

I ran to the window. The garbage truck was barreling down our street, completely out of control.

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