Page 51 of Will Bark for Pizza

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Pizza.

Donuts.

Mini squirrel.

“You can’t chase the chipmunks, Bubbies.”

But he’s looking at me funny.

I can’t fit through the window.

I need to get him.

Where did he go?

He’s fast.

I’m fast too.

“Want to go to the lake?”

Lake?

Is that where the pondweed lives?

I don’t want to get wet.

But I want to find the pondweed.

Beingwet is dumb.

There are chipmunks at the lake.

And deer.

Big, giant deer.

I hope Mom brought treats.

Maybe I should rub my nose against her neck to ask.

“Sit down.”

Still mad.

I better listen.

Plop.

“Thank you.”

Mom is sighing.

“Sorry, Bubbies. I’m not mad at you.”

Crinkle, crinkle, crinkle.

Is that the treat bag?

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