Young Writers Society

Wally Bullwinkle hated Jerry and Rachael Pye. He hated them for a lot of reasons too. They were locally famous, not to mention well-liked, and had lots of friends. But Wally hated one thing in particular, and while it was mostly about Jerry, he still hated this particular fact. See, Jerry, being the obnoxious boy he was, had stolen the rights to Mr. Speedy’s smartest puppy. A dollar, and Jerry could have the puppy. But Wally already had the dollar, and he’d been after this pup for a while now. Only, every time he asked Mr. Speedy about the puppy, Mr. Speedy would say, “Oh no, not yet. Jerry’s already reserved this one.”

Finally, on the hot summer day that Mr. Speedy had promised would be Jerry’s last day to bring in the dollar, Wally raced to Mr. Speedy’s house. He had to take the long way ‘round, since he didn’t want to run into Jerry and Rachael, and leapt over old telephone poles that lay criss-cross over the fields behind Mr. Speedy’s barn. As the sun sort of dropped below the horizon, clearing away the blinding rays of a sunset, Wally could just see the Pyes leaving Mr. Speedy’s barn. He pulled down the brim of his mustard yellow hat, biting his lip in anticipation. Did Jerry bring the dollar? Or would Wally finally have his show dog?

No. No, he wouldn’t get the puppy. A squirmy little brown and white bulge rested in Jerry’s arms, and Rachael and a little kid who was with them were fawning over the bulge, crooning and patting it. Knowing that with his hat on, no one would never guess that it was Wally from Jerry’s class following them, he silently pursued the Pyes as they returned home with the dog.

For a long time, Wally would watch the Pyes and the puppy, which they had named Ginger. He always, always spied on them when they took walks, or went swimming with Dick Badger, whose dog was too old and clever to be stolen. Far too often, Wally thought, the dog would prove itself too smart to be in the Pye family’s fawning hands.

The time the dog brought Jerry a forgotten pencil during school, for instance. Wally had seen that for sure. There had been a pitter-pattering on the fire escape outside, which distracted all the students in class. For who could concentrate when anything was clattering about on the fire escape?

“My dog, Ginger,” Jerry had begun reading. He might have been the only person who was proud to read his essay. He cleared his throat just as a sharp yip arose from behind the window. Everyone, Wally Bullwinkle included, turned around in their seats. And there was the little, brown and white dog that most people knew as ‘Ginger Pye’. Yellow pencil gripped in its jaws, the dog wagged its cut-off tail, sending girls screaming and giggling, and boys cheering.

Well, all the boys except Wally. He frowned, noting as Jerry praised the dog for its behavior. Didn’t he know how to train a dog to stay at home? Such a smart puppy, and yet stuck with such an unappreciative owner. Wally watched carefully as Jerry laid the dog under his desk and pleaded for it to stay, to ‘play dead’.

It was on Thanksgiving, which ended up being one of those only-sort-of-cold days, that Wally could finally claim the dog that rightfully ought to be his. He had, after all, came up with the dollar before Jerry Pye, and therefore should have gotten the dog way back during the summer. Late was better than never though. As he strolled past the Pyes’ house again and again, his mind dreaming of what the dog’s brilliance could bring him and his Papa, Wally heard a sudden whining in the backyard. This was very strange, because the Pyes normally left the dog in the front, where everyone could see, and where the dog could chase cats. But today, they had left the puppy in the back.

Seizing this opportunity, Wally climbed over the white, high fences, using the cross-boards for footing before jumping down into the Pyes’ backyard. The dog, clearly loyal to the wrong family, growled at him, a low, soft growl that no one inside the house would hear, especially not over the Thanksgiving hullabaloo. Wally lifted his yellow hat off his head, and in a swift, surprise motion, he lunged forward. His hat he stuffed into the dog’s jaws, to keep it quiet as he tucked it under his arm—gently, of course. He couldn’t harm what might someday be a circus star. Then, as quietly as possible, he hefted himself over the Pyes’ backyard fence and escaped back home.

It was time to start training the ‘Dog of Bullwinkle’s: Smartest Dog in the World’.