Love That Dog (3 page)

Yes, you can type up

what I wrote about

my dog Sky

but don't type up

that other secret one

I wrote—

the one all folded up

in the envelope

with tape on it.

That one uses too many of

Mr. Walter Dean Myers's

words

and maybe

Mr. Walter Dean Myers

would get mad

about that.

I was very glad

to hear that

Mr. Walter Dean Myers

is not the sort of person

who would get mad

at a boy

for using some of his words.

And thank you

for typing up

my secret poem

the one that uses

so many of

Mr. Walter Dean Myers's

words

and I like what

you put

at the top:

Inspired by Walter Dean Myers.

That sounds good

to my ears.

Now no one

will think

I just copied

because I

couldn't think

of my own words.

They will know

I was

inspired by

Mr. Walter Dean Myers.

But don't put it

on the board

yet, okay?

Is Mr. Walter Dean Myers

a live person?

And if he is

do you think

he could ever come

to our city

to our school

to our class?

And if he did

we should hide

my poem

with his words—

hide it real good—

just in case

he
would
get mad

about that.

No.

No, no, no, no, no.

I can't do it.

You should do it.

You're a teacher.

I don't agree

that Mr. Walter Dean Myers

might like to hear

from a boy

who likes his poems.

I think Mr. Walter Dean Myers

would like to hear

from a teacher

who uses big words

and knows how

to spell

and

to type.

Dear Mr. Walter Dean Myers,

You probably don't want to hear from me

because I am only a boy

and not a teacher

and I don't use

big words

and you probably won't read this

or even if you do read it

you probably are way too busy

to answer it

let alone do the thing

I am going to ask you

and I want you to know

that's okay

because our teacher says

writers are very very very very

busy

trying to write their words

and the phone is ringing

and the fax is going

and the bills need paying

and sometimes they get sick

(I hope you are not sick,

Mr. Walter Dean Myers)

or their family gets sick

or their electricity goes off

or the car needs fixing

or they have to go

to the grocery store

or do the laundry

or clean up messes.

I don't know how

you find the time

to write your words

if you have to do all that stuff

and maybe you should get

a helper.

So what I am asking you

is this:

If you ever get time

to leave your house

and if you ever feel

like visiting a school

where there might be some kids

who like your poems

would you ever maybe

think about maybe

coming

maybe

to our school

which is a clean place

with mostly nice

people in it

and I think our teacher

Miss Stretchberry

would maybe even

make brownies for you

because she sometimes

makes them for us.

I hope I haven't too much

stopped you from doing your

writing of words

and fixing your car

and getting groceries

and all that stuff—

just to read this letter

which probably is taking you

maybe fifteen minutes

and in that time

you could've maybe

written

a whole new poem

or at least the start

of one

and so I am sorry

for taking up your

time

and I understand

if you can't come

to our clean school

and read some of your poems

to us

and let us see your face

which I bet

is a friendly face.

My name is Jack.

Bye, Mr. Walter Dean Myers.

Did you mail it?

Did he answer yet?

Months???

It might

take
months

for Mr. Walter Dean Myers

to answer my letter?

If
he answers it?

I didn't know—

until you explained—

that the letter has to go

to Mr. Walter Dean Myers's

publisher company

and then someone

at the publisher company

has to sort all the mail

not just my letter

but hundreds and hundreds

of letters

to hundreds of authors

all that big mess of mail

piled up

and someone sorting sorting sorting

all that mail

and then the letters for

Mr. Walter Dean Myers

go to him

and maybe he's away

maybe he's on vacation

maybe he's sick

maybe he's hiding in a room

writing poems

maybe he's baby-sitting

his children or his grandchildren

(if he's married and stuff)

or maybe he has to go

to the dentist

or get that car fixed

or maybe someone died

(I really really really hope

someone did not die)

so

if you ask me

it could take him

years

to get around

to answering

that letter

so I guess

we'd better

just forget about it

not count on it

get it out of our minds

do something else

forget it.

Sometimes

when you are trying

not to think about something

it keeps popping back

into your head

you can't help it

you think about it

and

think about it

and

think about it

until your brain

feels like

a squashed pea.

Yes

you can type up

the thing about

trying not to think about

something

but

you'd better

leave my name off it

because it was

just words

coming out of my head

and I wasn't paying

too much attention

to which words

came out

when.

Maybe you could

show me

how to use

the computer

and then

I could type up

my own words?

I didn't know about

the spell-checking thing

inside the computer.

It is like a miracle

little brain

in there

a little helper brain.

But I am a slow typer person.

Did you say there is

a teaching-typing thing

in that computer, too?

Will it help me type

better

and

faster

taptaptaptaptap

so my fingers

can go as fast

as my brain?

(I typed this up myself.)

We were outside

in the street

me and some other kids

kicking the ball

before dinner

and Sky was

chasing chasing chasing

with his feet going

every which way

and his tail

wag-wag-wagging

and his mouth

slob-slob-slobbering

and he was

all over the place

smiling and wagging

and slobbering

and making

us laugh

and my dad

came walking up the street

he was way down there

near the end

I could see him

after he got off the bus

and he was walk-walk-walking

and I saw him wave

and he called out

“Hey there, son!”

and so I didn't see

the car

coming from the other way

until someone else—

one of the big kids—

called out

“Car!”

and I turned around

and saw a

blue car blue car

splattered with mud

speeding down the road

And I saw Sky

going after the ball

wag-wag-wagging

his tail

and I called him

“Sky! Sky!”

and he turned his

head

but it was too late

because the

blue car blue car

splattered with mud

hit Sky

thud thud thud

and kept on going

in such a hurry

so fast

so many miles to go

it couldn't even stop

and

Sky

was just there

in the road

lying on his side

with his legs bent funny

and his side heaving

and he looked up at me

and I said

“Sky! Sky! Sky!”

and then my dad

was there

and he lifted Sky

out of the road

and laid him on the grass

and

Sky

closed his eyes

and

he

never

opened

them

again

ever.

I don't know.

If you put it on the board

and people read it

it might make them

sad.

Okay.

I guess.

I'll put my name on it.

But I hope it doesn't make

people feel too sad

and if it does

maybe you could

think of something

to cheer everybody up

like maybe with

some of those brownies

you make

the chocolate ones

that are so good?

Wow!

Wow wow wow wow wow!

That was the best best BEST

news

ever

I can't believe it.

Mr. Walter Dean Myers

is really really really

coming

to our school?

He was coming

to our city

anyway

to see his old buddy?

And he would be

honored

to visit

our clean school

and meet the mostly nice kids

who like his poems?

We sure are lucky

that his old buddy

lives in our town.

WOW!!!

The bulletin board

looks like it's

blooming words

with everybody's poems

up there

on all those

colored sheets of paper

yellow blue pink red green.

And the bookcase

looks like it's

sprouting books

all of them by

Mr. Walter Dean Myers

lined up

looking back at us

waiting for

Mr. Walter Dean Myers

himself

to come

to our school

right into our classroom.

Wow!

I can't wait.

I can't sleep.

Are you sure

you hid my poem

that was inspired

by Mr. Walter Dean Myers?

I don't want to do

any any anything

to upset him.

MR.

        WALTER

                           DEAN

                                        MYERS

                                                       DAY

I NEVER

in my whole life

EVER

heard anybody

who could talk

like that

Mr. Walter Dean Myers.

All of my blood

in my veins

was bubbling

and all of the thoughts

in my head

were buzzing

and

I wanted to keep

Mr. Walter Dean Myers

at our school

forever.