Authors: Suzanne Selfors
Tags: #Mystery, #Adventure, #Childrens, #Humour, #Young Adult
Smells Like Dog (31 page)
“Twyla sure knows how to lose packages,” Mr. Pudding said as he rubbed his chin. “Did you finish your chores?”
“Yes. All of them.” He’d fed last night’s dinner scraps to the chickens, collected their eggs, put fresh straw in their nesting boxes, filled the goats’ trough with water, milked their largest goat, carried the milk to the kitchen, and swept the front porch.
Please don’t give me more chores
, he thought, eager to run straight to his room and read the letter.
“What do you think of the dogs?” Mr. Pudding asked.
“The groomer did a right fine job.” Max and Lulu, border collies both, hung over the side of the truck bed, their black-and-white coats shiny and tangle free. “I want them to look their best.”
On most days, Mr. Pudding didn’t care if his farm dogs had mud on their paws or twigs stuck to their tails, but this wasn’t most days. That very afternoon Max and Lulu were scheduled to compete in the dog agility trials at the Milkydale County Fair. The border collies were Mr. Pudding’s pride and joy—hence the sign that hung next to the mailbox.
PUDDING GOAT FARMHome of the Champion Pudding Border Collies,
Winners of Four County Fair Blue Ribbons.
Homer reached up and patted Max’s silky black head. “They look good.”
Gus, the farm’s other border collie, barked from the nearby pasture, where he was guarding the goat herd. Too old to compete, Gus had won his share of ribbons in his prime.
Mr. Pudding stuck his head out the window, his gaze dropping to Homer’s feet. “What’s he eating?” he asked with a scowl.
“Oops.” Homer reached down and pulled a stick from
Dog’s mouth. One of Homer’s main chores was to make sure Dog didn’t eat things he wasn’t supposed to eat. Since Dog had been born without a sense of smell, anything could be mistaken for food. He’d been known to eat flowers, slugs, cardboard, whitewash, magazines, boots, and toothpaste.
Dog looked up at Mr. Pudding, his red-rimmed eyes sinking into folds of skin, his ears hanging to the ground as if they were filled with sand. “That’s one droopy dog,” Mr. Pudding said with a shake of his head. “Too bad he can’t herd. Too bad he’s not like the rest of the dogs.” Then he put the truck into gear and drove up the driveway.
Dog wasn’t one bit like the rest of the dogs. The Puddings’ border collies were specimens of perfect breeding, elegant in form. While they had legs made for running, Dog, a basset hound, had legs made for waddling. While they had coats of shiny hair that rippled in the wind, Dog’s short hair didn’t do anything but fall out and get stuck in the carpet. While the border collies had noble names, Dog’s name was plain old Dog. Compared to the rest of the dogs, Dog stood out like a raisin cookie on a platter of frosted cupcakes.
Homer knelt and patted Dog’s head. “Don’t you feel bad. You wouldn’t like going to the groomer. She cleans
everything
. And those dog agility trials are real boring.
All they do is run around and jump over things. You wouldn’t want to do that even if Dad had invited you.” Not that Dog could do those sorts of things. It’s difficult to jump when you’re shaped like an overstuffed sausage.
But if Mr. Pudding knew that Dog could smell treasure, he’d treat him like a king.
“Come on,” Homer said, hurrying up the driveway. “Let’s go read this letter.”
The Pudding driveway was steep and long, and both Homer and Dog were out of breath by the time they reached the top. The driveway ended at a pretty front yard. A little path led to a house built from river rocks. A white picket fence surrounded the vegetable garden, and just beyond were the cherry orchard, the old red barn, and the hills where goats grazed on grass, clover, and wildflowers.
Just inside the kitchen window, Mrs. Pudding stirred something. Homer knew that if he tried to sneak past her to get to his room, she’d probably give him another chore. So, after looking around to make sure the coast was clear, he sat on the corner of the porch. A quick slice with the Swiss army knife and the seal came loose. His hands trembled.
Imagine a secret group of people whose lives were dedicated to the very thing that Homer dreamed about. Imagine the kinds of stories they could tell of the places they’d visited, the wonders they’d seen. His uncle had
been a member of L.O.S.T., and Homer had met two other members, Ajitabh and Zelda, friends of his uncle’s. They’d told Homer that it was his right to take his uncle’s place. It was only a matter of when.
Not only did Homer desire this membership, but he also needed it. He’d promised his late uncle Drake that he’d continue the quest for the most famous pirate treasure of all time—the lost treasure of Rumpold Smeller. But Homer was twelve years old, so he’d need help organizing and funding such a grand quest. That help could come from L.O.S.T.—but only if Homer was granted membership.
“Whatcha looking at?” A little boy popped his head around the corner of the house. The boy was Squeak, Homer’s little brother. He clutched the handle of a red wagon. A baby goat lay in the wagon, nestled on Squeak’s favorite blanket. Since most farms in Milkydale were goat farms, baby goats had been popping out all month like weeds in a carrot patch.
“It’s a letter for me,” Homer told him.
“I like letters,” Squeak said. “I’m naming this goat Butter, ’cause she looks like butter.” He leaned over and rubbed his freckled face against the goat’s back. “She smells like butter, too.”
“That’s nice,” Homer said, only half listening as he pulled out a single sheet of plain white paper.
A bolt of excitement darted up his back.
“What’s it say?” Squeak asked.
Four words that meant everything to Homer. Four words that would be the beginning of his destiny.
Your time has come.
To Catch a Mermaid
Fortune’s Magic Farm
1. Breakfast with the Puddings
2. The Untimely Passing of Uncle Drake
12. The Worst Thing That Ever Happened in Milkydale
18. The Tortoises of City Park
PART FOUR: THE MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY
19. A Party for Very Important People
PART FIVE: THE TOWER IN THE SKY
27. The Most Treasured Possession
The Most Famous Treasure Hunters of All Time
A Preview of
Smells Like Treasure
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2010 by Suzanne Selfors
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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Second e-book edition: November 2011
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ISBN 978-0-316-08913-5