{"product_id":"super-special-two-tales-one-dog-isbn-9780448488776","title":"Super Special: Two Tales, One Dog","description":"\u003cb\u003eSparky\u003ci\u003e kabooms\u003c\/i\u003e into TWO adventures in this 2-in-1 Magic Bone Super Special!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eOne bite of his bone lands Sparky in Tanzania, where he meets a pack of African wild dogs. But when a pack member runs away, it's up to Sparky to lead the search party through the Serengeti. But when Sparky is ready to return home, his bone sends him to India instead! There he finds a new friend and a magic lamp—but can they help him find his way home?\u003cb\u003eNancy Krulik \u003c\/b\u003ehas written over one hundred books for children and young adults, including two \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestsellers. Her very first story (in first grade) was about how she wanted to be Mary Poppins because she wanted to dance in the park with Bert and the penguins. Follow Nancy on Twitter at @Nancykrulik\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eSebastien Braun\u003c\/b\u003e studied fine and applied arts at Strasbourg University. He began his career teaching art, but when he moved to London in 2000, he started to illustrate children's books and has been working on picture books ever since.\u003cb\u003eChapter 1\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “GRRRRRRR! GET THIS THING OFF OF ME!”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e My eyes fly open. I leap onto my paws.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I was asleep. But that barking woke me right up!\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I said, GET THIS THING OFF OF ME!”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e It’s coming from my next-door neighbor, Frankie. He’s a German shepherd. When he barks like that, the whole neighborhood can hear him.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eWhat’s going on?\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I walk over to my fence and peer through the holes.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Frankie’s two-leg is trying to take something off his back. It looks like a coat that is tied to a leash.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Get this harness off of me!” Frankie sounds really mad.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Frankie’s two-leg unstraps the coat-leash thing. She takes it inside.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “That’s better,” Frankie says, shaking his body. Then he spots me peeking through the fence. “What are you staring at, Sparky?”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Nothing,” I tell him. “I just wanted to say hi.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Hi,” Frankie grumbles back. “Did you see that awful thing? There is no way I am ever going for a walk with that harness on again. Ever.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “What’s wrong with a harness?” I ask him.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Are you nuts?” Frankie yells at me.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “No, I’m \u003ci\u003eSparky\u003c\/i\u003e,” I tell him. “Remember?”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Frankie frowns and grumbles something under his breath.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I like when Josh and I go for a walk with my leash,” I continue. “That way I know we’ll stay together.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Dogs are supposed to run free,” Frankie tells me. “My two-leg is so slow. Sometimes I have to pull her just to get her moving.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Sometimes I pull Josh, too,” I admit. “And sometimes he pulls me. But the best time is when we walk side by side.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Yeah, well, my two-leg can \u003ci\u003enever \u003c\/i\u003ekeep up with me,” Frankie says. “Now she’s making me wear this ridiculous harness instead of a collar when we walk.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Why does she do that?” I ask him.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Why do two-legs do \u003ci\u003eanything\u003c\/i\u003e?” Frankie asks me.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I don’t have an answer for that.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I’m telling you, one day I’m going to break free of that thing,” Frankie says. “Then I’m going to run and run and run. Like a dog is supposed to.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I do not think dogs are meant to run like that. What if I ran really far away, and Josh couldn’t find me? That would be awful.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e But I don’t say that to Frankie. I don’t think he is in the mood to hear me argue with him.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Frankie lies down under the tree in his yard.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eSnore. Snore. Snore.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Frankie isn’t talking anymore. He’s asleep.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Now I have no one to talk to.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Josh is not home. He went away in his metal machine with the four round paws.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e So I have no one to play with, either.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I have nothing to do. Unless . . . Wait! I know something fun I can do all by myself. I can dig!\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I race over to the place where Josh keeps his flowers. \u003ci\u003eDiggety, dig, dig\u003c\/i\u003e. Dirt flies everywhere. I am digging a really big hole. I am a great digger. \u003ci\u003eDiggety, dig\u003c\/i\u003e . . .\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Hey. What’s that in the middle of my hole?\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e It’s a bone. \u003ci\u003eMy\u003c\/i\u003e bone. My big, bright, sparkly bone.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Hello, bone!” I bark.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The bone doesn’t answer. Bones can’t bark.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eSniffety, sniff, sniff.\u003c\/i\u003e The bone smells so meaty. I just have to take a bite.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eCHOMP!\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eWiggle, waggle, whew.\u003c\/i\u003e I feel dizzy—like my insides are spinning all around—but my outsides are standing still. Stars are twinkling in front of my eyes—even though it’s daytime! All around me I smell food—fried chicken, salmon, roast beef. But there isn’t any food in sight.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eKaboom! Kaboom! Kaboom!\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003eChapter 2\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The \u003ci\u003ekabooming\u003c\/i\u003e stops.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I look around. I see trees.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e But none of them are \u003ci\u003emy\u003c\/i\u003e tree!\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I see rocks.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e But I don’t see my fence.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Or my house.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I don’t know where I am, but I know where I am \u003ci\u003enot\u003c\/i\u003e. I’m not home anymore. I’m somewhere I’ve never been before.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e How did I get here?\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Then I remember the meaty-smelling bone I am holding between my teeth.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e That’s right! My bone \u003ci\u003ekaboomed \u003c\/i\u003eme to this place. It can do that because it is a magic bone! It can \u003ci\u003ekaboom\u003c\/i\u003e me \u003ci\u003eanywhere\u003c\/i\u003e!\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The first time I took a bite of my magic bone, it took me all the way to London, England. London was fun—and \u003ci\u003eyummy, yum, yum\u003c\/i\u003e. Two-legs there drop all kinds of food: sausages, cheese, fish and \u003ci\u003echips\u003c\/i\u003e. They’re all just waiting for a dog like me to scoop them up!\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Another time my bone \u003ci\u003ekaboomed \u003c\/i\u003eme to Paris, France. I got to dance around in puddles of paint, which was a lot of fun—even if the paint turned my paws purple.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I’ve been to a lot of different places with my magic bone. But the best place my bone takes me is home. Whenever I’m ready to leave a place, I just take a bite and my bone brings me right back to the house I share with Josh.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e That is why I have to keep my magic bone safe. I do not want some other dog getting its teeth on it. I will need my bone when I am ready to leave this place.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eDrip. Drip. Drip.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eWiggle, waggle, weird.\u003c\/i\u003e It sounds like it’s raining. But I don’t feel any water on my fur.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I turn and look around.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eWiggle, waggle, weirder.\u003c\/i\u003e Those rocks behind me are drooling water. Lots and lots of water. There’s a big pool of rock drool underneath them.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Sometimes I drool when I’m hungry.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e But I’ve never seen \u003ci\u003erocks\u003c\/i\u003e drool before.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I think I’ll bury my magic bone next to this big pile of drooling rocks. That will make it easy to find when I want to go home again.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I look around to make sure no one is watching where I bury my bone. All I see are trees, bushes, flowers, and rocks. There’s no one here but me.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e So I start to dig.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eDiggety, dig, dig.\u003c\/i\u003e Dirt flies all around. I am making a big hole.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I drop my bone into the hole and \u003ci\u003epushity, push, push\u003c\/i\u003e the dirt back over it. Now no one will be able to find my bone—except me, of course.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “What you got there?”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eUh-oh. \u003c\/i\u003eThere’s someone else here. And that someone else is another dog. I can tell because she’s speaking dog.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e But I don’t see the other dog. She must be hiding.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Um . . . nothing,” I say quickly.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Just then the other dog comes walking out from behind a big bush. She is all wet. There are leaves in her short brown-and-tan fur.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “You were pretty busy burying something,” she says.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eGulp.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Was it food?” she asks me.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I shake my head. “No. It was . . . nothing.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Okay.” She shrugs. “I’m not hungry, anyway. I just caught a giant fish and ate the whole thing.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Fish. \u003ci\u003eYummy, yum, yum. \u003c\/i\u003eI love fish. Now I’m kind of hungry. And thirsty, too. All that digging is a lot of work.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I walk down to the pool of water below the drooling rocks. I start to lap up some water. \u003ci\u003eSlurp, slurp, slurp.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Yum! The water is nice and cool. Which is great, because this place—whatever it’s called—is really, really hot.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I’ve never seen a dog like you before,” the other dog says.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I’ve never seen a dog like you before, either,” I tell her.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “You haven’t run into a pack of African wild dogs in the Serengeti before?” she asks, sounding surprised.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The Serengeti. That must be the name of this place.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “What kind of dog are you, anyway?” she asks me.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I’m a sheepdog puppy,” I tell her. “My name is Sparky.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I’m Rehema,” she says. Then she looks around. “Where’s the rest of your pack?”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e My pack? I don’t have a pack. It’s just me and Josh.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e But I don’t want to tell her about Josh. I don’t want to say that he went away for a little while in his metal machine with the four round paws and left me in our yard.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Because then she might ask me where my yard is. And how I got here.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I do not want to tell her about my magic bone.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Don’t worry,” she says. “I won’t tell anyone else that you’ve run away from your pack. I’ve run away from my pack, too. I do it all the time. Sometimes a dog’s just got to run free, you know?”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I guess,” I say.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I mean, I don’t need some other dog telling me where to hunt. Or when to sleep, or . . .” Rehema keeps talking. I’m having a hard time keeping up with her. She talks really fast.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “If I want to catch my dinner in the morning, then I should be able to catch my dinner in the morning,” Rehema continues. “And if I want to climb to the top of Mount Kilimanjaro, then I should be able to—”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Mount Kili-what?” I interrupt her.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Mount Kilimanjaro,” Rehema repeats. “It’s a mountain that’s pretty far away from here. It is so tall, you can’t see the top.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Why would you want to climb that?” I ask her.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I don’t know.” Rehema shrugs. “Because it’s there, I guess. No one should tell me what I can or can’t do. Like, right now, I want to swim. So I’m gonna swim.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The next thing I know, Rehema is in the big pool of water, paddling around.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Come on in,” she says. “The water is fine.” \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e I shake my head. I like to put water in my inside. I don’t like to feel it on my outside.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Rehema! Rehema!” Another dog is calling Rehema’s name.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Who’s that?” I ask.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Rehema paddles back to the land and walks out of the water. “Shhh . . .” she whispers. “Be quiet. We don’t want \u003ci\u003ehim\u003c\/i\u003e to know we’re here. Believe me.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e She shoots me a look that tells me I better not ask any more questions. So I just stand there. I don’t move. I don’t speak.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Rehema, let’s go.” The dog barks even louder. “Now!”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eGulp.\u003c\/i\u003e That dog sounds really angry. And scary. So scary that I forget I’m supposed to be quiet.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Why are we hiding?” I whisper to Rehema.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Shhh . . . ,” my new friend warns. “He’ll hear us. African wild dogs have really good hearing.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e That’s no big deal. I have good hearing, too.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e But I don’t say that. I’m trying to \u003ci\u003eshhh.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Just then a brown, black, and tan dog peers through the bushes. He is much bigger than Rehema and me, and he does not look happy. \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “The pack is back from the hunt, Rehema,” he growls. “So we’ve got food—no thanks to you.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I already ate,” Rehema tells him. “I caught a fish.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “\u003ci\u003eI’m \u003c\/i\u003ehungry,” I say.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e The big dog looks at me. “Who’s this?” he asks Rehema.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I’m Sparky,” I tell him.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “He’s a stranger,” the big dog says.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “He’s my friend,” Rehema insists.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “He’s not one of our pack,” the big dog tells her.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “He’s a dog,” Rehema says. “And he’s nice.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “He’s a different \u003ci\u003ekind\u003c\/i\u003e of dog,” the other dog grumbles.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “We’re all different, Amiri,” Rehema says. “You have brown and black spots. I have brown and tan spots. Sparky’s practically all white. So what?”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e Amiri shakes his head. “You know how risky it is to be around someone who isn’t in the pack,” he says. “The Serengeti is filled with dangerous characters.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “I’m not dangerous,” I tell him.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Where’s \u003ci\u003eyour\u003c\/i\u003e pack?” Amiri asks me.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “At home,” I say.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “He’s alone.” Rehema smiles at me.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eGrumble rumble.\u003c\/i\u003e That’s the sound of my tummy telling me that it’s hungry.\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Sounds like you could use some food,” Rehema says. “Let’s go have dinner.”\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Oh brother,” Amiri says. “Another mouth to feed. Just what we need.”","brand":"Grosset \u0026 Dunlap","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303958925541,"sku":"NP9780448488776","price":7.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780448488776.jpg?v=1767737567","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/super-special-two-tales-one-dog-isbn-9780448488776","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}