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  Ruff opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, then opened it… I’d never seen my pet human looking so confused and stressed.

  “Anyway,” the lady said, “I run the obedience classes here at Hills Village Park. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a dog that needs them more.”

  “No… you don’t understand,” Ruff tried to explain, but Cranky-Pants Stricker grunted.

  “Wrong!” she snapped. “It is you who doesn’t understand.”

  She turned and glared at me for the first time, and before I could stop myself, a low growl rumbled out of my throat.

  “This creature is a nuisance, a blight, an embarrassment to the park,” Stricker said, pointing at me again. “If you do not enroll yourself and your dog in my intensive best-behavior course immediately, I’ll be forced to report him to the Hills Village Dog Shelter and have him taken away.”

  11:57 a.m.

  I can’t do it, my furless friend.

  I… I… I’ll never survive obedience classes. I just know it!

  How can a dog like me spend all those hours running this way and that, listening to Iona “Whistle Pants” Stricker jabber on when there’s serious sniffing to be done?

  Who’s going to guard the kennel from the Vacuum Cleaner, or separate the pairs of socks and bury one of each color in the backyard?

  Who’s going to bark at the mailman in the morning? He’ll be devastated if he doesn’t receive his special greeting!

  WHO’S GOING TO WAKE UP RUFF AT SUNRISE WITH A LOVING PAW-POKE!?!

  This is the worst day in the history of the universe… EVER!!

  I’m a goner, I can feel it.

  Boredom is going to rot my brains and I’ll be heading up to that great kennel in the sky any day now.

  Good-bye, cruel world. Good-bye!!

  The Last Will and Testament of Junior Catch-A-Doggy-Bone

  Dearest friends of the four-legged and two-legged variety,

  If you are reading this, it means I shriveled up and bit the duster at the unimaginable shock and horror of having to attend The Perfect Pooch obedience training. I hereby leave my precious possessions as follows:

  1. Ruff, I want you to have my collection of prize sticks that I hid in the back of your closet under your old T-shirt with the paint stains on it.

  2. Mom-Lady can have the half-peeled tennis ball I keep buried down the side of the cushions on the comfy squishy thing.

  3. Grandmoo can have my water-bowl—even better for drinking from than the toilet.

  4. Jawjaw is allowed to keep the poop I left in her phys ed sneakers. You’re welcome.

  5. Odin and Diego, to you I leave all my Canine Crispy Crackers. The best doggy treats in all the world.

  6. Lola gets my Denta-Toothy-Chews. May they keep your teeth strong and plaque-free forevermore.

  7. Genghis can have my cans of Crunchy-Lumps. Don’t eat them all at once.

  8. Betty can take the big bag of Doggo-Drops—one for every joke you ever told me.

  9. Oh, and whenever someone gets a moment, please pee (and/or poop) on Iona Stricker’s doorstep as much as possible.

  Yours sincerely,

  Dead Junior

  8:30 p.m.

  Okay… so I may have overreacted a little, but that was a pretty nasty surprise for a little mutt like me to have, no?

  Did you survive the terrible shock, my person-pal?

  Tell me you’re still here and haven’t sunk into a pit of hopelessness, screaming “IT’S TOO AWFUL!”

  Don’t despair just yet. I know it looks as though things couldn’t get any worse right now, and the idea of having to go to Iona Stricker’s boring, brain-numbing, dull and dreary, humdrum, horrible LECTUROUS LESSONS seems like a fate worse than death, but hey… they don’t call me “Crafty McSmart, the Cleverest Canine” for nothing.

  Okay… no one has ever called me that… EVER… but I’m as sharp as they come and I’ve got a plan.

  After the INSANE WHISTLE-LADY flounced off, Ruff and I plodded home in silence. It was terrible! I felt so guilty for my poor human pet. He’d have to go through all the pain and sorrow of obedience classes, too, because of me.

  BUT… every kibble bowl has a silver lining.

  Before long, the two of us snuggled up on the comfy squishy thing in the Picture Box Room, and Ruff opened a jumbo pack of

  SIZZLE-CHICK’N-POTATO-CHIPS.

  I gotta say… most human food is pretty bland. A lot of it doesn’t even have giblets in it! But OH BOY, do I love potato chips.

  I don’t know which part of a chicken it is that potato chips come from, but it’s the BEST part for sure.

  I always get my best ideas when I’m curled up with Ruff eating snacks and looking at the picture box, and in no time a BRILLIANT, TERRIFIC, BRAINYBONKING plan popped into my head.

  It’s simple really.

  Ready to hear it?

  Okay…

  I’ll just ace the class!!

  TA-DAA! I told you it was BRILLIANT. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner.

  I’m such a super-smart dog… well… I think… no, I KNOW! What can be so difficult about sitting, begging, rolling over, and all that useless stuff?

  I’ll wander down to old Stricker’s obedience school with Ruff tomorrow and we’ll graduate in ten minutes. EASY!

  Sunday

  8:16 a.m.

  Up bright and early for a little bit of practicing on my own, ready to show the world just how easy obedience can be.

  Now, in case you didn’t know what obedience means—it’s a strange human game of make-believe where the person pretends they are the owner, and their dog is the pet. I know… it’s super weird!

  The idea of the game is to impress your human so much with a kind of dance of sitting down, lying flat, staying put, and rolling over, that they give you a squillion treats.

  From what I’ve heard, the human will bark lots of commands in a serious voice.

  Now, my understanding of the Peoplish language is obviously great, but sadly I never bothered to learn all those types of command words.

  I’m not worried though. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t really matter what command your pet human is saying, as long as you do all your best moves… and BOY, DO I HAVE SOME GOOD MOVES!

  There’s no way I won’t be top of the class! I’m going to be swimming in snacks at Stricker’s classes. HA HA!

  9:07 a.m.

  I’m starting with all the basics in the backyard. Ruff is indoors practicing a few of his command words, while I’m perfecting all the amazing stuff I can do.

  It should be as easy as napping—I’ve seen this stuff on the picture box billions of times.

  10 a.m.

  We’re here, my furless friend… back at Hills Village Park, and it’s looking like obedience class is super busy today. I’m raring to show old Prissy-Pants Stricker how wrong she was about me.

  I’ll prove I’m no embarrassment, or nuisance, or whatever it was she called me… I wasn’t really listening.

  10:03 a.m.

  Here we go…

  Servants? She’s loop-the-loop crazy! Whoever heard of a dog serving its human? Ha ha!

  Let’s get this over and done with, my person-pal.

  3:56 p.m.

  Phew! We’re done, my furless friend… I was amazing! While all the other dogs were doing the same old tricks, I showed off some incredible doggy skills.

  There were moments when Miss Stricker was staring at me with eyes as big as kibble bowls and her mouth hanging wide open. If that isn’t a look of complete amazement, I don’t know what is.

  We’re having the graduation ceremony on the bandstand in just a few minutes. I can’t wait to see all their faces when I’m awarded TOP OF THE CLASS. Ruff will be so proud of me, I can just feel it!

  I’ll let you know how it goes…

  4:15 p.m.

  STOP EVERYTHING!

  THE WORLD HAS GONE MAD!

  IT’S COMPLETELY BONKERS!!

  IT’S HAD IT
S BRAIN SCRAMBLED!!!

  I don’t know what happened, my person-pal. It’s all gone wrong. My perfect plan failed and I… ugh! I can’t bring myself to even say it.

  I… I… OH, JUST LOOK AT THE GRADUATION PHOTO.

  We failed! Ruff and I are the BIGGEST LOSERS in the whole class and that means… OH NO!

  8 p.m.

  I really don’t know where to start. This has been a serious evening for the books, let me tell you.

  So… last time we spoke, Ruff and I had just failed STUPID STRICKER’S STUPID, STUPID, STUUUUPID SCHOOL!

  Ruff tried to reason with her, but that whistling old whiner was having none of it.

  They argued for ages, but nothing Ruff said could convince that RABID RODENT to change her mind.

  I could almost smell the disgusting whiff of the gross meat-free dog food they feed the inmates at Hills Village Dog Shelter. It’s puke-a-licious!!

  What was I going to do?

  I couldn’t go back there!

  But THAT was when things got interesting…

  I’m ashamed to admit it, but after I saw how helpless and sad Ruff looked with Stricker yelling at him, I was about ready to give up.

  I was whimpering to myself, hanging my head, and figuring that Ruff might just be better off without me, when I spotted it…

  There, trampled into the mud by a gazillion feet and paws, was a paper flyer.

  At first I glanced straight past it. Who cares about a flyer in the dirt at a time like this, right?

  Now, I may be able to understand Peoplish speak more than most dogs, but I’m no reader. Human writing is strange and twisty and downright confusing to us canines, but one word across the top of it caught my eye.

  There was a “D,” and an “O,” and a “G”…

  I knew that word. It’s written on all the boxes of kibble that Mom-Lady keeps next to the broom in the Food Room cupboard. It spells “DOG.”

  I scraped my paw across it and uncovered more of the flyer.

  There was a picture of the happiest pooch I think I’d ever seen. He was being lifted into the air by his pet human and between them was an enormous trophy.

  A trophy?

  I snatched up the flyer in my jaws and ran to Ruff’s feet.

  At first Ruff just ignored me as I poked and scraped at his ankle to get attention. He was still busy being yelled at by Stricker, so I can’t say I blame him.

  I put the flyer on his shoe and tried tugging at Ruff’s jeans with my teeth, but he still didn’t look down at me.

  I yanked on his laces and head-poked his shins. I even sniffed his butt to see if that would make a difference… It didn’t.

  There was only one thing for it. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so I…

  Okay, okay, okay… I know that was a revolting thing to subject your pet to when he’s trying to save you from being thrown back into pooch prison, but what else was I supposed to do?

  And anyway… it did the trick… HA HA!

  Ruff let out a cry of disbelief and gaped down at me. He made a swipe to catch me by the collar but I was WAY quicker. As he reached down toward me, I snatched up the crumpled flyer and stuffed it into my pet’s hand… And the rest, as they say, is history.

  8:45 p.m.

  As you can probably guess, I’m not back at the shelter yet, my person-pal. NOT EVEN CLOSE!

  Right now, Ruff and I are curled up on the comfy squishy thing, watching Zombie Apocalympics on the picture box. It’s one of Ruff’s favorite moving pictures to watch.

  Ha ha! Don’t panic! Don’t start flapping about like a demented rooster!! I’m going to tell you what happened earlier.

  After I stuffed the flyer into his hand, Ruff took one look at it and gasped.

  “A dog show!”

  “So what?” Stricker scoffed in his face.

  “We’ll enter!”

  “You and that mutt?” she laughed. “In the Debonair Dandy-Dog Show?!”

  “Yes!” said Ruff. “We’ll enter!”

  “And?”

  “If we win a prize, you can’t report Junior to Hills Village Dog Shelter.”

  Stricker smiled a vinegary smile.

  “You foolish boy,” she hissed. “The Dandy-Dog Show is only one week away.

  You think someone as unruly as you could ever train up a rotten beast in time to… to… WIN A PRIZE?” She burst out laughing.

  “Yes! It says here there’s a BASIC BEGINNERS round. We could win that… I know we could.”

  “Nonsense!”

  “What’s the matter, Mrs. Stricker?” Ruff said with a grin. “Scared I’ll prove you wrong, like I did your aunt?”

  Stricker’s face turned bright red and her head looked like it might rocket off her shoulders.

  “That’s PRINCIPAL AUNT to you!” she barked. Then her face fell into an angry frown. “Fine! You have one week… and when you lose in every category, I’m going to have that mangy mongrel locked away for good.”

  “Fine!” Ruff snapped back at her.

  Stricker turned to go, but just before she marched off across the park, she stopped and said…

  “I’d be very worried if I were you, Mr. Khatchadorian.”

  I nearly laughed in her face. That’s not how you pronounce Catch-A-Doggy-Bone!

  “I shall be entering my own dog, Duchess, into the Basic Beginners round…” Stricker continued. “And Duchy-Poo wins everything!”

  She grinned like someone sucking on a lemon, then placed the whistle that hung around her neck to her crusty lips and blew a long PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP! on it.

  In no time at all, the most perfectly poised poodle I’ve ever seen trotted over from somewhere behind the flowerbeds and sat in front of Stricker like a curly-haired robot.

  I’d never seen anything like it. She didn’t scratch or sniff the air or even beg for a treat!!

  HELLO?!? I was only a few feet away and she didn’t even glance at me once. What kind of pooch sees another dog for the first time and doesn’t even give it a good sniff?

  “As I was saying,” Stricker continued, “you don’t stand a chance of beating Duchess.”

  With that, the sour-faced woman performed a series of hand gestures and her poodle-princess leaped into a display of the tidiest, most perfect rolls and twists and jumps. She even twirled about on her hind legs like a human.

  I couldn’t help but be impressed by Stricker and her curly-haired canine. Maybe the woman was right—maybe we didn’t stand a chance? I’m not sure I could do any of the amazing tricks I’d just witnessed.

  I looked up at Ruff and saw that his face had turned as pale as one of my Denta-Toothy-Chews.

  “Well…” he blurted, “if… if your dog is so good, why are you entering her into the Basic Beginners round?”

  “That’s only a warm-up to us,” Stricker said, sneering. “Winning is no fun unless you win EVERYTHING! We plan to take home every trophy there is, and you and your mangy mutt won’t stop us.”

  It was at that moment that Duchess looked at me for the first time, and it’s hard to tell with all that curly fur, but I would swear she was sneering just like her pet human…

  AND THAT WAS THAT! Stricker and her POOP-dle flounced off, and we headed home.

  Sooooo… Ruff has gotten us the second chance we needed. Now all we have to do is win a trophy at the dog show next weekend.

  How hard can it be? I mean… I know we got pretty much everything wrong in the obedience class, and I got the lowest score ever from any dog that attended it… but I’m optimistic… I think…

  Monday

  Training Day 1!!

  4 p.m.

  Ruff ran straight home from school and we’re in the backyard ready to perfect our dog-to-human synchronicity.

  I think that’s what they called it…

  Late last night, Ruff found some moving picture clips of these dog show thingies on his compu-za-ma-wazit. It doesn’t look too difficult… just lots of doing weird stuff for treats.

&nbs
p; He says we’re going to enter the Basic Beginners round.

  In case you didn’t know, “Basic” is the human word for really, really, really AMAZING… and “Beginners” means the most talented dogs.

  Naturally, I’m certain we’ll ace it. It can’t go wrong twice in a row, huh?

  Okay, let’s figure this out…

  OH, MY WAGGY TAIL, I JUST GOT IT!!

  Are you telling me, after all this time, I only had to listen to my pet human and actually do what he asked to graduate obedience class?!?!?

  WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SO?

  THIS IS A REVELATION!!!!

  Tuesday

  4 p.m.

  This is so EASY, a pup could do it! WHO KNEW!?!

  Wednesday

  4:30 p.m.

  SIMPLE!

  Ha ha! Just kidding!

  6:28 p.m.

  Hold everything… something really weird is going on, person-pal!

  After our TREMENDOUS training session in the backyard, Ruff and I headed inside the kennel, ready for our dinner.

  While Ruff stopped to talk to Mom-Lady in the Food Room, I quickly trotted off to the Sleep Room to dig out an extra-tasty bone I’d been hiding in the laundry pile for ages. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion and today felt like the right day to feast on it.

  So… I was carrying my bone back down the hall to the Food Room when I heard Mom-Lady talking to Ruff in her serious voice.