Waylon! Even More Awesome, Volume 2 Page 7

  The door opened.

  There stood Sure-Not-Meg.

  With a dog in his arms.

  Who was Dumpster Eddy!

  Eddy went berserk. He wriggled free and tore over to the boys, leaping from one to the other.

  Waylon scooped him up. “You brought him back! You brought him back! How long…how long can he stay this time?” Waylon held his breath.

  “Sorry,” Officer Sure-Not-Meg said. “This dog can’t stay in my lockup. He’s not a stray anymore.”

  Waylon held Eddy tight to his chest, which felt like it had been kicked. “He’s not?”

  “No. This dog’s been adopted.”

  Waylon felt his throat tighten and his eyes well up. He should just leave now. But his arms wouldn’t unclasp around Eddy.

  Besides, he had to know.

  He locked his face and sucked in a breath. “Who took him?” he asked out loud. Please let it be someone who deserves such a great dog, he prayed silently. Please let it be someone who will let Eddy run, who will sneak him scraps under the table, and who drives with the window open.

  Sure-Not-Meg tipped his head. Waylon followed his gaze to the dispatcher. The dispatcher crooked her finger at him. When Waylon got there, she pointed to the floor.

  And there was Eddy’s basket, lined with Waylon’s own beagle pajamas. Hanging on a peg beside it was Eddy’s retractable leash and a new red collar, with its shiny license tag.

  “I figured it this way,” the chief said. “I figured a police station that’s just acquired a junior officer could use a junior canine officer as well. Problem is, we don’t have the staff to take care of him. We’d be looking for someone to walk him every day, to feed him, brush him—you know what I mean. This dog can live here, but someone’s got to own him. You know anyone up for this job?”

  Waylon let Eddy scramble down to inspect his new home. “Me, sir. I volunteer.”

  He looked over at Baxter, still holding his certificate to his chest, but gazing down at Eddy, too. “With my partner, Baxter,” Waylon said. “We volunteer to take care of this dog.”

  Baxter came over and crouched down with Waylon beside Eddy, who had curled up in his new bed. He fastened Eddy’s collar around his neck. Baxter was smiling, but he looked worried, too. And Waylon knew why.

  Dumpster Eddy was a runner. And the police lobby doors opened about a thousand times a day.

  Just then, the doors did open. A woman stood in the doorway, struggling to get a stroller in.

  Across from him, Baxter caught his breath.

  Waylon’s hand reached out to grab Eddy’s collar.

  But he stopped himself. If Dumpster Eddy was going to run when he had the opportunity—if Waylon was never going to own this dog—he wanted to know it now.

  Baxter must have been feeling the same way. “Go on, if you’re going,” he said to Eddy. “This is your chance.”

  Eddy looked at the door. He sniffed the cold air that came in and shivered. Then he looked up at Waylon as if he was trying to tell him something.

  And Waylon didn’t even have to go into Vulcan mind-meld position to grok his message. Are you crazy? Dumpster Eddy’s dog-face said, loud and clear to everyone in the room. I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted right here.

  THE END

  (almost)

  There was just enough daylight left for a trip to the dogloo.

  When they got there, Waylon unleashed Eddy. Eddy pranced over and circled the icy walls, sniffing every square inch he could reach. Then he zipped inside and popped back out, the rawhide chew clamped in his teeth.

  “Genius,” Baxter approved. “Your dog’s a genius.”

  “He’s your dog, too,” Waylon said.

  “Nah.” Baxter held up his certificate. “This is going to take up a lot of time. I’ll walk him with you, but he’s your dog.”

  Dumpster Eddy! All his!

  For a minute, Waylon didn’t know what to say.

  And then he did.

  “Want to come home for dinner, Baxter?”

  “Oh. Huh. Well, okay, I guess.” Baxter didn’t sound very excited. But even in the darkening alley, Waylon could see that his new friend was smiling.

  And that his new dog was lifting his hind leg. He was giving the dogloo the finishing touch it had always been missing: bright yellow against the blank white snow.

  THE END

  SARA PENNYPACKER splits her time between Florida and Massachusetts, where she feels lucky to be able to write every day. She is the author of many children’s books, including Waylon! One Awesome Thing; the critically acclaimed and New York Times #1 best-selling novel Pax; seven in the New York Times best-selling Clementine series; and Sparrow Girl. Her books have won numerous accolades, including a Golden Kite Award, a Christopher Award, and several children’s choice state awards, and they have appeared on many Best Books of the Year lists. For more information, visit www.sarapennypacker.com.

  MARLA FRAZEE illustrated Waylon! One Awesome Thing and all of the books in the Clementine series. She was awarded a Caldecott Honor on two occasions: for All the World by Liz Garton Scanlon and her own A Couple of Boys Have the Best Week Ever. She is also the author-illustrator of Roller Coaster, Walk On!, Santa Claus: the World’s Number One Toy Expert, Boot & Shoe, The Farmer and the Clown, and The Boss Baby, which inspired a major motion picture. Marla lives in Pasadena, California, has three grown sons, and works in a small backyard cabin under an avocado tree. Visit her at www.marlafrazee.com.