Henry and Ribsy Read Online Free Page A

were you,” he said. “He looks pretty ferocious.”
    Henry looked sadly at Ribsy, who rolled over on his back with his four feet in the air to show that he wanted his stomach scratched. “See, he isn’t a bit ferocious.” Henry was anxious to defend his dog, even though he knew he couldn’t convince Scooter.
    â€œYou just saw him, didn’t you?” asked Scooter.
    â€œBut that wasn’t like Ribsy,” protested Robert. “He’s a good dog.” Henry noticed that even though Robert defended Ribsy he was careful to stay away from him, too.
    â€œOh, I don’t know,” said Scooter. “You never can tell about dogs. Sometimes they get mean.”
    â€œNot my dog,” said Henry, trying frantically to think of an explanation for Ribsy’s behavior. “Maybe he just doesn’t like garbagemen.” That gave him a better idea. “Say, maybe the garbageman reminds Ribsy of the vet,” he said excitedly. “Once when Ribsy got foxtails in his ears from running through some tall grass, we had to take him to the vet to have them taken out. The vet had to hurt Ribsy to get the foxtails out of his ears, and for a long time afterward every time I got a haircut Ribsy would sit outside the barbershop and bark at the barber because he wore a white coat like the vet.”
    â€œI suppose Ribsy thought you went to the barber to have foxtails taken out of your ears,” jeered Scooter. “Besides, the garbageman doesn’t wear a white coat. He wears blue overalls.”
    Leave it to old Scooter to spoil an explanation. “Yeah, I guess that’s right,” Henry answered dejectedly. How did he get mixed up in these things, anyway? He had been sitting on the front steps, just minding his own business, and now all of a sudden he was in trouble. And the worst of it was, Scooter had seen the whole thing. Now everyone on Klickitat Street would know about Ribsy.
    And then Henry realized he had another problem—the garbage. A whole week’s collection was still in the can in the backyard. What was worse, it was going to stay there for seven days until the garbageman came around again. What was he going to do with the garbage he had to take out until then?
    That evening Henry put off telling his mother and father what had happened until they were washing dishes and he was cutting up horse meat for Ribsy.
    They both looked serious. “I can’t understand it,” said Mrs. Huggins. “He’s always been such a good-natured animal. If he really is getting to be ferocious, maybe we should keep him tied up.”
    â€œOh, Mom, no,” protested Henry. “He hates to be tied up, and anyway he always chews through the rope.” Henry hoped his mother wouldn’t mention buying a chain. Why, he wouldn’t have any fun with Ribsy chained in the yard—not even riding his bike. It wouldn’t be the same without Ribsy riding in the box tied to the back fender or loping along beside him.
    â€œThere must be some reason for his not liking the garbageman,” said Mr. Huggins. “I wonder if the garbageman ever kicked him.”
    â€œGee, Dad, do you think so?” Henry asked eagerly.
    â€œOh, I’m sure he wouldn’t do that,” said Mrs. Huggins.
    Henry was anxious to change the subject before anything more was said about tying Ribsy in the backyard. He lifted the container out of the step-on garbage can and started to go out. Then, with a groan, he remembered that the can outside was already full. “Jeepers, Mom, what’ll I do with the garbage?” he asked.
    â€œYou’ll just have to manage the best you can. Push it down in the can somehow.” Mrs. Huggins wiped a cup and sighed. “Henry, I don’t know how you get mixed up in things the way you do.”
    Henry emptied the container on top of the garbage in the big can and tried to put the lid on again. He pushed it down as