some washable sign paint from his dad, so he could paint the black stripes on Rex. We had found a set of real dog harness for Mutt, and we had made a second set for Rex, out of twine. The cage-wagons were all finished and stored away in our garage so they wouldn’t get wet if it rained.
On Sunday morning, I didn’t even wait to eat my breakfast before I rushed out to the garage. Murray was already there, but Bruce didn’t come along for about an hour, and we were getting worried he might not make it at all. By the time he showed up we had the gophers and the white rats all loaded and I was trying to get the dolls’ clothes on the owls. Bruce came into the yard with a shoebox under his arm, and a big grin on his face.
“Hi-eee!” he shouted. “I guess we’ll win the first prize sure. Bet you can’t guess what I have in this box?”
Murray and I couldn’t guess. I shook the box a couple of times, and whatever was inside was pretty heavy. I was just going to untie the string and open it when Bruce grabbed it away from me.
“No, sir,” he said. “Don’t you do that! We might never catch this critter again!”
“Aw, come on!” I begged him. “What you got in there, anyway? Come on, Brucie. You have to tell us.”
“Don’t have to—don’t aim to!” Bruce said. “Just you wait and see.”
Murray and I pretended we didn’t care what he had in his shoebox anyway. I went back to putting the dolls’ clothes on the owls, and it wasn’t easy. Weeps just stood there and whimpered while I pulled a pink dress over his head and pinned a floppy hat on him. But Wol took one look at the sailor suit I had for him and then he rumpled himself up into a ball and began to clack his beak and hiss. It took two of us to hold him down while we got him dressed, and by the time we were finished he was in a terrible temper.
We couldn’t trust him to stay quietly on the wagon-top after all that fuss, so we decided to tie him to it with some twine around his legs. That made him madder still.
While Bruce and I were working on the owls, Murray was trying to paint the stripes on Rex. Rex didn’t like it, and there was about as much black paint on Murray as on the dog. Then Murray said he might as well finish what Rex had started, so he smeared black paint all over his own face and said he would go in the parade as a Zulu warrior.
Just before we were ready to start for downtown, Brucetook the paintbrush and printed some words on the shoebox; then he tied the box to the top of the second wagon. What he printed was:
SU RPR IS PET D O NO T F E EED
We harnessed up the dogs, with Mutt leading because he knew how to pull in harness and Rex didn’t. Rex didn’t seem to want to learn, either. He kept pulling off to one side, and every time he did it he almost upset the wagons. We had an awful time getting our outfit all the way downtown and we were nearly late for the parade, which started at ten o’clock. One thing, though: by the time we did get there, old Rex was just about worn out and he had stopped acting like a bucking bronco.
The parade formed in front of the Carnegie Public Library and then it was supposed to go about six blocks to the T. Eaton Store, where the judges’ stand was.
It seemed like a million kids were there with every kind of pet you ever saw. One little boy, about five years old, was leading a Clydesdale horse as big as an elephant, and the horse had B ABY on the blanket it was wearing. If that thing was a baby, I hope to eat it!
There were a lot of goats, and it was a hot day, and you could smell goats all over Saskatoon. Some of the girls were wheeling cats along in baby carriages, and the cats werewearing silly hats and were pinned down under lacy covers. Some of them were yowling fit to scare the dead. There were more dogs than you could shake a stick at—every kind of dog you ever heard about, and a lot of kinds that nobody ever heard about.
Right in the middle of the parade was a boy
On Sunday morning, I didn’t even wait to eat my breakfast before I rushed out to the garage. Murray was already there, but Bruce didn’t come along for about an hour, and we were getting worried he might not make it at all. By the time he showed up we had the gophers and the white rats all loaded and I was trying to get the dolls’ clothes on the owls. Bruce came into the yard with a shoebox under his arm, and a big grin on his face.
“Hi-eee!” he shouted. “I guess we’ll win the first prize sure. Bet you can’t guess what I have in this box?”
Murray and I couldn’t guess. I shook the box a couple of times, and whatever was inside was pretty heavy. I was just going to untie the string and open it when Bruce grabbed it away from me.
“No, sir,” he said. “Don’t you do that! We might never catch this critter again!”
“Aw, come on!” I begged him. “What you got in there, anyway? Come on, Brucie. You have to tell us.”
“Don’t have to—don’t aim to!” Bruce said. “Just you wait and see.”
Murray and I pretended we didn’t care what he had in his shoebox anyway. I went back to putting the dolls’ clothes on the owls, and it wasn’t easy. Weeps just stood there and whimpered while I pulled a pink dress over his head and pinned a floppy hat on him. But Wol took one look at the sailor suit I had for him and then he rumpled himself up into a ball and began to clack his beak and hiss. It took two of us to hold him down while we got him dressed, and by the time we were finished he was in a terrible temper.
We couldn’t trust him to stay quietly on the wagon-top after all that fuss, so we decided to tie him to it with some twine around his legs. That made him madder still.
While Bruce and I were working on the owls, Murray was trying to paint the stripes on Rex. Rex didn’t like it, and there was about as much black paint on Murray as on the dog. Then Murray said he might as well finish what Rex had started, so he smeared black paint all over his own face and said he would go in the parade as a Zulu warrior.
Just before we were ready to start for downtown, Brucetook the paintbrush and printed some words on the shoebox; then he tied the box to the top of the second wagon. What he printed was:
SU RPR IS PET D O NO T F E EED
We harnessed up the dogs, with Mutt leading because he knew how to pull in harness and Rex didn’t. Rex didn’t seem to want to learn, either. He kept pulling off to one side, and every time he did it he almost upset the wagons. We had an awful time getting our outfit all the way downtown and we were nearly late for the parade, which started at ten o’clock. One thing, though: by the time we did get there, old Rex was just about worn out and he had stopped acting like a bucking bronco.
The parade formed in front of the Carnegie Public Library and then it was supposed to go about six blocks to the T. Eaton Store, where the judges’ stand was.
It seemed like a million kids were there with every kind of pet you ever saw. One little boy, about five years old, was leading a Clydesdale horse as big as an elephant, and the horse had B ABY on the blanket it was wearing. If that thing was a baby, I hope to eat it!
There were a lot of goats, and it was a hot day, and you could smell goats all over Saskatoon. Some of the girls were wheeling cats along in baby carriages, and the cats werewearing silly hats and were pinned down under lacy covers. Some of them were yowling fit to scare the dead. There were more dogs than you could shake a stick at—every kind of dog you ever heard about, and a lot of kinds that nobody ever heard about.
Right in the middle of the parade was a boy
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