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Authors: Beverly Cleary

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BOOK: Henry Huggins
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“I never heard of a pink dog,” a girl said. “What kind is he?”

“He's a mixed breed,” said Henry.

He put the talcum powder can in his pocket and decided not to say anything about it. Maybe the others would think he had some rare breed of dog.

A man stood in the center of the ring. Henry noticed that he was not wearing dark glasses. “All right,” the man called. “Bring your dogs into the ring and march them around in single file.”

“Come on, Ribsy, they're going to start judging. You'd better behave yourself.” Henry led him by the clothesline into the ring.

The children walked their dogs around in a circle. Ribsy's long rope tangled with the other dogs' leashes. Finally the judge directed them to stop. “Now get your dogs ready,” he ordered.

Henry didn't know what he meant, so he watched the others. Some of them knelt by their dogs and made them stand still and look ahead.

That must be what the judge meant. Henry knelt beside Ribsy. Ribsy sat down. He opened his mouth and let his long pink tongue hang out. He was thirsty.

“Come on, Ribs, stand up,” begged Henry. “Be a good dog.” Ribsy began to pant. “Come on, get up!”

Ribsy lay down on the grass and panted harder. Henry pulled and tugged. He looked over his shoulder at the judge. The judge was looking at the ears and teeth of a dog that was standing properly. Then he ran his hands over the dog. The dog didn't move.

“Come on, Ribsy!” begged Henry. “It'll be our turn pretty soon.” Ribsy closed his eyes. “I know you're thirsty. I'll get you a drink of water just as soon as I can.”

The loud-speaker made an announcement. “Will the boy scouts please take pans of water to each ring?”

Henry was relieved to see a boy scout coming with water, but when Ribsy's turn came, he sniffed at the pan and refused to drink.

“I guess he's used to his own dishes,” explained Henry. “He just doesn't want to use the same pan as the other dogs.”

“Can't help it,” said the boy scout. “It's the only one I have.”

Ribsy continued to pant.

At last the judge came to Henry. “Well, well, a pink dog,” he exclaimed.

“Yes, sir,” said Henry. It was lucky his own green hair had grown out so it could be cut off. A green-haired boy and a pale pink dog would have looked funny.

“Come on, son. Stand him up.”

Henry boosted Ribsy to his feet. Ribsy tried to sit down again, but Henry held up his hind end by the tail. The judge looked at his ears and teeth. Then he ran his hands over him. He looked at his fingers afterward. They were pink. “Hmmmm,” he said.

When the judge had looked at all the dogs, he ordered each child to walk across the ring and back with his dog. Henry noticed that the boys and girls who knew about these things held the leash in the left hand. When his turn came he held the clothesline in his left hand and started across the ring. Halfway across, Ribsy sat down to scratch behind his left ear. Henry pulled at the rope. When he reached the other side of the ring and turned back, Ribsy turned the wrong way so that he crossed in front of Henry.

Henry tripped on the rope and started to change it to his right hand, but just then Ribsy ran around behind Henry to growl at a dog that was mostly spaniel. The boy who owned the spaniel pulled him away and started to the other side of the ring. Ribsy ran in front of Henry and pulled at his rope to get closer to the other dog. The harder he pulled, the tighter the rope drew around Henry's legs. The children began to laugh. Ribsy was so excited he ran around behind Henry and pulled the rope even tighter. The laughter increased.

“Cut that out, Ribsy!” Henry ordered, looking over his shoulder at his dog. He felt silly standing there wound up in a clothesline.

“Come on, son,” said the judge. “We can't waste time. A lot of other boys and girls want to show their dogs, too.”

Now, on top of all his troubles, the judge was cross with him. Henry knew a cross judge would never give him a silver cup. Discouraged and feeling even sillier, Henry twirled around like a top to unwind himself from the rope. Relieved to have that part of the show over, he dragged Ribsy to the side of the ring. In a few minutes he could take his dog home and give him a drink.

After each child had walked his dog, the judge went around the ring pointing to different boys and girls, saying, “All right, you stay in the ring.” He looked at Henry and his dog. “Hmmmm,” he said. “All right, you stay in.”

As the contestants left the ring, the boy scouts handed them prizes. Those who left first won the smallest prizes. The longer they stayed in the ring, the bigger the prize.

“Hey, Henry, are you still in?” Henry looked up. Robert and Sassy were standing outside the rope.

“Yes,” answered Henry, “and I sure don't see why. Ribsy did everything wrong. Did Sassy win anything?”

“Just a dog whistle.” Robert took another look at Ribsy. “Say, how did he get all pink?”

“Aw, mind your own beeswax,” said Henry. He pretended to be watching the judge carefully. One by one the man asked the boys and girls to leave the ring.

“Look what I won!” Henry saw Beezus waving a rubber mouse. “See, it squeaks!” She squeaked it. Then she stopped. “Look!” she squealed. “Ribsy is pink!”

“Shut up!” Henry looked at the judge. He wished he knew why he was staying in the ring. Every time the judge passed him he looked at Ribsy and said, “Hmmmm. Stay in the ring.”

Mary Jane was the next one to see him. “See, I won a pillow for Patsy to sleep on,” she said and then looked at Ribsy. “Why, Henry Huggins! What did you do to that poor dog? He's all pink. Just wait till your mother finds out about this.”

“You keep quiet!” Henry said fiercely. There were only a few left in the ring.

Scooter was last to arrive. “Hi, Henry,” he said. “Are you and that old mutt still in the ring? The judge must be blind. I guess Rags is a pretty good dog. Just the best in his class is all, and now he has to go to another ring to compete for the best dog in the show.” He held up a small silver cup. Like the others, he looked at Ribsy. “I must be seeing things! A pink dog!” Scooter began to laugh. He sat down on the grass, laughing so hard he rolled back and forth.

Henry didn't think Ribsy was that funny. By this time Henry was so hot and disgusted that all he wanted was to get out of the ring, go home and get Ribsy a drink of water out of his own private pan.

“Hmmmm,” said the judge again. At last only Henry and another boy were left. Henry remembered that the other boy's dog had done all the right things.

The judge stepped to the center of the ring with a silver cup in his hand. Henry wasn't at all surprised when the judge handed it to the other boy. He just wondered why he hadn't been asked to leave the ring. He thought he must have made a mistake, but the judge said to Henry and the winner, “Come along to the main ring. There will be some more judging there.”

Puzzled, Henry followed. Beezus and Ramona, Scooter, Mary Jane, and Robert, and their dogs followed Henry. Maybe Henry was going to win a prize after all.

In the main ring were the prize winners from all the other rings. Henry noticed two big silver cups on the table and saw his judge whispering to the other judges. They all looked at Ribsy. Ribsy panted harder than ever. The judges had the winners show their dogs again.

This time Henry wasn't taking any chances with the clothesline getting wound around his legs. He wound it around his hand so that there was only a foot of rope between his hand and Ribsy's collar. Ribsy did not behave any better the second time he was shown than he had the first. When Henry's turn came to lead him across the ring, he stopped to growl at a boxer. The boxer growled back.

Henry heard Scooter say, “If that mutt doesn't look out, he's going to get all bit up.”

Ribsy growled louder. The snarling boxer advanced, dragging the little girl who owned him along on the end of his leash.

Henry tried to pull Ribsy away but Ribsy ignored him. The dogs circled around one another, pulling their owners after them. Henry yanked so hard at Ribsy's collar the dog choked. The boxer snarled and sprang at Ribsy, using his powerful front paws to knock over the smaller dog. Henry's hand was wound in the rope and he could not let go. He was pulled down on his stomach with his face in the grass.

“Look! Henry's in a dogfight!” screamed Beezus in great excitement.

The boxer's owner began to cry.

Henry was so mixed up he wasn't sure what was happening. He smelled the damp grass and felt it tickling his nose. He could hear snarls, growls, and barks. He could hear children screaming and yelling. The boxer stepped on his back. Henry said, “Oof!” He lifted his face from the grass in time to see a boy scout try to stop the fight by throwing a pan of water at the dogs. He missed the dogs but he didn't miss Henry.

Two judges ran into the ring and grabbed the dogs by their hind legs. They yanked the snarling animals apart.

“All right, son. Go ahead,” ordered one judge, while the other helped the little girl hold her boxer.

Embarrassed and dripping, Henry got up from the grass and, without looking either right or left, hurried Ribsy across the ring and back.

Finally only Henry and another boy were left. The judge stepped to the center of the ring. “The big cup for the best dog in the whole show goes to the boy with the setter.” Everybody clapped when he handed the boy one of the big silver cups. Ribsy growled at the winner.

“And now,” said the judge, “the cup for the most unusual dog in the show goes to the boy with the a—a—mixed-breed dog!” He handed Henry the other big silver cup.

“Gee, thanks,” was all Henry could say. The audience clapped and he heard Beezus shout, “Hooray for Henry!” He thought Ribsy looked pleased.

Everyone gathered around to admire his cup until a newspaper photographer asked them to stand back while he took a picture of Henry and his dog and wrote down his name and address. Henry was going to have his picture in the paper!

“Congratulations,” said Scooter, “but I still think he's a mutt.”

“Well, anyway, he won a bigger cup than Rags,” boasted Henry, “but I guess Rags is a pretty good dog, too. Good old Ribsy. Now we'll get you a drink of water.”

He led Ribsy to the nearest drinking fountain. He filled the silver cup with water and put it on the ground. Ribsy greedily lapped the water. Henry patted him. “Good old Ribsy. I knew you wouldn't drink out of any dish but your own.”

A
fter lunch on the Saturday after the dog show Henry was in his room feeding his catfish. He dropped a tiny pinch of food into the water and watched it drift down to the bottom of the aquarium, where the catfish busily dug through the sand to find it.

“He-e-e-nry!” Robert was calling from the front yard.

Henry put the lid back on his aquarium and went out on the front porch. “Hi. What do you want?”

“Come on out and let's practice tumbling like the fellows in the gym at the Y.”

“OK.” Henry ran down the front steps. Ribsy looked up from the bone he was gnawing and growled. It was not a cross growl. It was a growl that meant, “Don't bother me. Can't you see I'm busy?”

The boys practiced standing on their hands and turning somersaults on the lawn until Robert said, “Come on, let's try that trick where one fellow gets on his back with his feet in the air and the other fellow gets on top of his feet and the first fellow turns him around and around.” He flopped on the grass with his feet in the air. “Come on. Try it,” he said.

Henry sat on Robert's feet and lay back with his arms and legs outstretched. Robert tried to twirl him around. Henry teetered.

“Hey, you're kicking me!” Henry toppled over upon Robert.

“Oof!” Robert sat up. “You're too heavy. Let's try something else.”

“I know what. Let's go over to Beezus's house and practice chinning ourselves on her chestnut tree.”

They found the girls in front of Beezus's house. They were busy tying a long jumping rope from the horse chestnut tree across the sidewalk to the lilac bush. Ramona, who was wearing pink coveralls and curlers in her hair, was scratching on the bark of the chestnut tree with her fingernails.

“Hi,” said Henry.

“Hello,” answered Beezus, stopping work on the rope.

“Mewow, mewow,” said Ramona.

“What does she mean, ‘Mewow'?” asked Henry.

“Oh, don't pay any attention to her,” answered Beezus. “That's the way she says miaow. She's pretending she's a cat.”

“Mewow,” said Ramona and patted the curlers in her hair. “I'm a cat with curly hair.”

Henry and Robert exchanged disgusted looks. Girls certainly started to be dumb when they were awfully young. They watched the girls in silence. Then they all sat down on the grass and waited.

“I wish you'd go away,” said Mary Jane at last. “We're busy.”

“Don't mind us,” said Henry. “We have all day.”

Beezus tightened the knot on the jumping rope. “Henry Huggins! I think you're mean. Why don't you play in your own yard?”

“We want to watch what you're doing,” answered Henry, chewing on a blade of grass.

“Ho! I know. I'll bet you think you're going to be tightrope walkers!” scoffed Robert. “Why don't you tie the rope up high? It's only about two feet off the ground.”

“Dumbbell!” said Beezus. “Every time we walk across it without falling off we'll move it up a foot. I'll bet even people in circuses don't start practicing at the top of the circus tent. And they have nets under them, too.”

“Aw, you can't even walk it when it's two feet off the ground,” scoffed Henry. “I'll bet you couldn't walk it if it were one inch off the ground.”

“You be quiet, Henry Huggins!” ordered Mary Jane. “Why don't you and Robert mind your own business? Go on, Beezus. Let's not pay any attention to them. They just think they're smart.”

Beezus opened her mother's umbrella and held it in her right hand. As she stepped up on the rope, Mary Jane took hold of her left hand to steady her. The lilac bush bent under her weight, the rope sagged, and Beezus was standing on the sidewalk with the rope under her feet.

Robert and Henry hooted with laughter. “You sure look silly standing there on that rope with that umbrella in your hand!”

“You keep quiet!” snapped Beezus. “Let's see you do it if you think you're so smart.”

Henry laughed harder. “She can't even walk it when it's a trillionth of an inch off the sidewalk!”

Robert rolled on the grass. “Not even if it's a billionth of a trillionth of an inch off the sidewalk!”

Beezus waved the umbrella. “You get off my property!”

“You can't make us!” yelled Henry.

“If you don't go home, I'll never speak to you as long as I live!” Beezus was really angry.

“Or me either.” Mary Jane glared at the boys.

“See if we care!”

Just then Scooter rode down the street on his bicycle. “Look!” he yelled. “No hands!”

The others stopped squabbling to watch. As Scooter approached, he bent slowly backward while he continued to pedal. When his head had almost touched the fender over the back wheel, the bicycle began to wobble. The handlebars turned and the bicycle headed for the curb. Scooter tried to sit up. It was too late. He had lost his balance. The bicycle bounced up the curb and tumbled Scooter sprawling upon the grass. The bicycle, stopped by the chestnut tree, toppled over on top of him.

Robert and Henry hooted as Scooter sheepishly untangled himself from his bicycle. He rubbed his shin but didn't say anything. The children knew the fall must have hurt, but Scooter wasn't going to admit it.

“Well, anyway, I did it once,” he said, carefully feeling his right elbow to make sure it wasn't broken.

“Aw, I'll bet you didn't.” Henry was pleased. Usually he was the one to have accidents while Scooter watched.

“I did, too!”

“I bet you didn't.”

“Keep quiet, all of you!” shouted Beezus. “And get off my property this minute!”

“Beezus, you keep out of this!” ordered Henry.

“Aw, you're just a dumb girl,” sneered Scooter.

“Yes, a dumb girl,” echoed Robert. “And anyway, it isn't your property.”

“My dad pays rent on it, so it's just the same as my property.” Beezus raised the umbrella to hit Scooter.

“Hit him!” yelled Mary Jane, far from her usual ladylike self.

“Don't you dare hit me!”

“Hey, you kids!”

It was a strange voice. The children stopped quarreling to see who it was. A strange boy was sitting astride a bicycle by the curb. He was a big boy, big enough to be in the seventh or eighth grade. He didn't belong on Klickitat Street and none of them had ever seen him before.

“I've been yelling at you for five minutes,” he said and grinned. “Is one of you Henry Huggins?”

Henry was so surprised he didn't answer. Who was this boy and how did he know his name? Robert nudged Henry, who remembered he hadn't answered. “Oh yes,” he said, “that's me.”

The boy reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the newspaper clipping that showed Henry and Ribsy at the dog show. Henry couldn't understand why this strange boy was carrying that picture with him. Just then Ribsy began to bark furiously and Henry saw him running down the street toward them.

“Dizzy!” the boy shouted and sprang from his bicycle. “Here, Dizzy!” Ribsy jumped up on the boy and licked his hands. The boy laughed and patted him and, when Ribsy would stand still long enough, scratched him behind his left ear.

That's funny, thought Henry. How does he know Ribsy likes to be scratched behind his left ear? And why does he call him Dizzy? “His name isn't Dizzy,” he said to the boy. “It's Ribsy and he's my dog!”

Ribsy looked at the boy and wagged his tail again.

A terrible thought came to Henry. Ribsy must have belonged to the boy before he found him in the drugstore over a year ago. The boy had seen his picture in the paper and had come to take him away!

If only Ribsy hadn't won the prize in the dog show and had his picture in the paper! Then the boy would never have found him. Henry didn't know what to do. He couldn't give up Ribsy after a whole year. He couldn't.

He moved closer to Ribsy and put his hand on his collar. “He's my dog,” he said. “He's my dog and you can't take him away. He was a skinny old dog when I found him and I bought him a collar and a license and a dish and now I buy him two pounds of horse meat every week and Woofies Dog Food besides. And I wash him and brush him and everything.” Henry gulped. “You can't take him away!”

“Henry does take awfully good care of him,” added Beezus loyally.

“Henry found him, so he must have run away from you,” said Robert.

“Finders keepers, losers weepers,” chanted Mary Jane.

“Well, I had him longer than you have,” said the boy. “And I fed him and brushed him, too. I had him when he was a puppy. He used to chase his tail so much I named him Dizzy. And the only reason he ran away was because he was heartbroken. I went to Scout Camp for the summer and Mom and Dad went East and we left Dizzy with my aunt and uncle. They said he was so lonesome and homesick he wouldn't eat or play or anything. Then one day they couldn't find him anywhere. They thought maybe he'd gone home to look for me so they drove over to our house to look for him. He wasn't there and they looked every place. They advertised in the paper and everything.”

“So he did run away,” said Robert. “You left him and he ran away.”

Ribsy licked the boy's hand again.

“Look. He remembers me and wants to come home with me.”

“But he likes me, too,” protested Henry.

Ribsy looked at Henry and wagged his tail.

For the first time Scooter spoke. “We like Ribsy right here in this neighborhood. He's just about the most popular dog around here and every one of us would miss him.”

Henry stared at Scooter in amazement. It was the first time he had heard him say anything good about Ribsy.

“Yes, we all like him,” agreed Robert. “All the kids at Glenwood School like him. He waits for Henry every day under the fir tree and all the kids know him.”

“Yes, what about us?” asked Beezus. “Henry has taken care of him for a whole year and I don't think it's fair for you to take him away.”

“He didn't have a collar or a license tag when I found him,” said Henry.

“He had them when I went off to Scout Camp. I don't know how he lost them except my aunt said he was awfully thin when he disappeared. Maybe he slipped his collar off over his head or somebody took it.” The boy reached in his pocket. “I have my birthday money that you can take.” He held out a five-dollar bill to Henry.

“Five dollars! I wouldn't sell Ribsy for a million dollars!”

“Oh, I didn't mean for you to sell him,” said the boy hastily. “I meant the money to help pay his expenses for the last year. I know it isn't enough, but it's all I have.”

Henry felt sorry for the boy. He could understand why he would want to keep a smart dog like Ribsy. But Henry couldn't part with his dog. Nothing exciting had ever happened to him before and look at all the things that had happened this year!

Henry knelt and put his arm around his dog's neck. “You wouldn't want to leave me, would you, Ribsy? You wouldn't want to leave Klickitat Street, would you?”

Ribsy licked Henry's face.

The stranger knelt and snapped his fingers. “Dizzy, you want to come home with me, don't you?”

Ribsy looked at him, wagged his tail, and said, “Woof!”

“I guess he likes both of us,” sighed Henry. “But I don't care. He ran away from you and I found him.”

“That's right. Just like I said, Finders keepers, losers weepers,” said Mary Jane.

“But I raised him from a pup. And my mother and father and kid sister miss him, too.”

“But he likes to meet me after school and play with the kids.” Henry paused to pet the dog. Then he said slowly, “Maybe we should let Ribsy decide.”

“Sure,” said Scooter. “That's a good idea. Don't worry, Henry. He'll choose you.”

“That seems fair enough,” agreed the boy. “How shall we let him choose?”

“I know,” said Scooter. “Leave Ribsy where he is and each of you go twenty squares down the sidewalk in opposite directions. Then when I say, ‘Go!' you both start calling at the same time. Whichever one Ribsy goes to gets to keep the dog.”

“OK,” agreed Henry. He felt all quivery inside.

“Sounds fair to me,” agreed the boy.

“Oh, Henry, what if he doesn't choose you?” asked Beezus fearfully.

“Don't worry,” said Mary Jane. “He won't want to leave Henry.”

Scooter held Ribsy by his collar. Henry counted twenty squares down the sidewalk toward his house. The boy walked twenty the other way. They both turned and faced the dog. Henry's mouth felt so dry he was afraid he might not be able to call.

BOOK: Henry Huggins
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