A Very Merry Guinea Dog Read Online Free

you.”
    “Didn’t you hear me tell you that I like it closed?”
    That’s what I mean about her not listening.
    I run past her into the house, through the kitchen, and upstairs to my room.
    Fido’s got the present. Again.
    “Put that down!” I command.
    She looks up at me, the pack of dog treats dangling from her mouth. She’s already torn off the wrapping paper and has begun gnawing through the package. Fortunately, it’s made of tough plastic.
    “Now!” I say.
    She reluctantly opens her mouth. The bag of treats hits the floor.
    “I’m trying to work, Rufus,” my dad says. “I think I mentioned that.”
    I jump. I didn’t notice him come up behind me.
    “S-sorry,” I say.
    He wrinkles his nose at the torn paper all over the floor.
    “I’ll clean it up,” I say. I don’t mention that it was Fido’s work. I don’t want him mad at her, too.
    He gives me the Stony Stare, then turns to leave.
    This time I lock Fido in her cage. I don’t like doing that, but I can’t think of any other way to get my presents wrapped. Fido’s isn’t the only one. I also made gifts for my parents in art class and bought my best friend, Murphy, a special hockey puck. A light in the center of it glows when you smack it. The one I got glows this really cool blue color. Murph’s going to love it.
    Fido doesn’t like being put in her cage, either. She starts howling. Dad will come back if I don’t do something, so I use my scissorsto snip open the dog treats package. I fish out one of the tiny T-bones.
    “Here,” I say, passing it to Fido between the bars. “Now keep quiet.”
    She snatches it and starts happily, quietly chewing.

    After dinner, I do the dishes and brush my teeth and get into bed. I want to go to sleep fast so I can wake up early and open my presents. The door is shut so Fido can’t get out. She’s already asleep and snoring at the foot of my bed. I hid her present in the living room, high up in the tree, near the star. Murphy’s puck is wrapped and under the tree with all the other presents. Tomorrow’s going to be great.
    Now I just need to fall sleep.
    The problem is that thinking about how great tomorrow is going to be makes it hard to relax.
    I try thinking about something else, but that’s just more thinking. So is thinking about nothing. I try not thinking. Can’t do it. I trychanging positions: I turn onto my side, onto my other side, facedown, pillow over my head. Nothing works.
    Finally, I get up and go to the bathroom for a drink of water. I’m tempted to go downstairs for a chicken leg, but that’s against the rules on Christmas Eve. It’s actually against the rules all the time, but especially on Christmas Eve. I’m not allowed to go downstairs on Christmas Eve, or on Christmas Day, not until my parents are awake and go down with me.
    On the way back to bed, I stop at my dresser and get my flashlight. I use it to find a book. I pick one my dad bought me called
Grammar Rocks!
and climb into bed with it. It’s as dull as I hoped it would be. Pretty soon I’m too drowsy to read. I close the book and shut off the flashlight.

    When I wake up, it’s still dark. My clock says it’s six thirty. Too early. My parents won’t be up for hours.
    I turn on the flashlight and shine it downat my feet to see if Fido’s still asleep. She isn’t there. I wave the light around the room, looking for her.
    “Fido!” I whisper. “Where are you?”
    No answer.
    I shine the light at the door. It’s shut. Did I shut it when I went to the bathroom? I can’t remember. If I didn’t, she could have gotten out.
    I go out into the hall and whisper her name.
    “She isn’t out here,” Dad answers.
    He and Mom are both out in the hall, in their robes.
    “Why are you guys up?” I ask.
    “Probably for the same reason you are,” Dad says. “The noise woke us.”
    “What noise?”
    “You didn’t hear it?” Mom asks.
    I didn’t. “Maybe that’s what woke me up.”
    “Maybe,” Dad says.