Rootin' Tootin' Cow Dog #8

Yeehaw, Sparky is off to the Texas rodeo to find himself a job! There he eats delicious-smelling BBQ, watches mutton chasing and barrel racing, and even helps a new friend become a rodeo dog. But as Sparky heads home, he still doesnt have a job himself. What's this dog to do?Nancy Krulik has written more than 100 books for children and young adults, including two New York Times bestsellers. Her very first story (in first grade) was about how she wanted to be Mary Poppins so she could dance in the park with Bert and the penguins.

Sebastien Braun (www.sebastienbraun.com) studied fine and applied arts at Strasbourg University in France. Since his move to London in 2000, he has been illustrating children’s books.

CHAPTER 1

“Get off me!” Samson grumbles angrily. “It’s not my job to give rides!”

Samson is the old mixed-breed who lives next door to me. I’ve never heard him so upset. I wonder what’s going on.

I hurry over to my fence and peek at him through the holes. Samson’s two-leg is sitting in a chair. There’s a mini two-leg sitting on
Samson’s back.

The mini two-leg is smiling, which is something both two-legs and dogs do when they are happy.

But Samson isn’t smiling. And he isn’t happy.

“I said, get off!” Samson barks. He kicks his back legs in the air.

Wham! The mini two-leg falls off his back.

Whaaa! The mini two-leg’s not smiling anymore. She’s screaming. Whaaa!

Samson’s two-leg starts shouting, too. I don’t understand a lot of two-leg words. But I do understand “bad dog.” And I know that means Samson is in trouble.

Samson’s two-leg carries the mini two-leg into the house and closes the door, leaving Samson outside alone.

“I can’t believe my two-leg yelled at me,” Samson grumbles.

“Two-legs do that a lot,” says Frankie, the German shepherd who lives on the other side of my house.

I guess Frankie was watching from behind his fence, too.

“Ever since that mini two-leg came to visit, she’s been crawling on my back,” Samson explains. “It was making me nuts. So I threw her off.”

“Makes sense to me,” Frankie says.

“It’s not my job to carry a little two-leg around,” Samson continues. “I’m a dog, not a horse.”

“Right,” I say. “I’ve never met a dog who had a job giving rides to two-legs.”

Frankie laughs. “It’s not like you’ve met that many dogs, Sparky,” he says. “You only hang out with Samson and me.”