The One and Only Bob

by Katherine Applegate

The way I understand things, it’s like this. We live on a lonely ball called Earth, and humans have basically been throwing it against the wall for so long that the poor ol’ ball is falling apart.

Worry’s a waste of time. And it doesn’t fit with my tough-guy act. But sometimes I can’t seem to help myself.

Awoakakawak ok

I woke up then, like I always do. I did an all-over shake, trying to toss off the stench of nightmare that clung to me like shampoo after a bath.

It’s as if the air is up to no good, sneaking up on the world and looking for trouble.

Dogs are experts at odor. Students of stink. We analyze the air the way humans read poetry, searching for invisible truths.

We smell feelings, too. Sad has a sharp scent, with an undertone of sweetness. Sad smells like being lost in a winter forest as the sun goes down. And happy? Happy is the best, but there’s a touch of wistfulness around the edges. Happy smells like bacon ice cream served up in an expensive leather shoe.

Humans love it when we get silly. I think they’re so weighed down by people problems that sometimes they need to be reminded what happy looks like.

Families, I’ve noticed, take a lot of different shapes. Jim and Joe, the penguins, adopted an abandoned egg, and they are the sweetest doting parents you ever saw. I see it with humans at the park, too. Families of all shapes and sizes and colors and genders and yep, they all seem to do just fine.

They’ll tell you about how animals used to roam one part of the world or another until things changed. Things change. That’s one thing I’ve figured out. Don’t ever assume a little patch of the planet belongs to you. Things change. Boxes go flying.

:(((

I looked at him and, for the first time, wondered if I really did have any wolf in me. He was a majestic animal, with teeth that could shred a tree trunk. I am also majestic. But more portable. With teeth that could mangle a pencil with enough time and effort.

BOB @?!'

That’s the best kind of snooze, if you ask me. Good, warm, safe-in-someone’s-arms sleep.

When you’ve been through the worst with someone, you appreciate the best.

Life is short. Play is good. And there are plenty of tennis balls to go around.

Sometimes nothing is the worst sound in the world. Ruby lets out a little elephant cry, and then I realize maybe that’s the worst sound in the world.

“When someone does something hurtful, they have to admit it,” I say. “Then they have to be punished for it. And maybe then, if they apologize and change, maybe—maybe—then they get forgiven.”

“All I know is, I’ve done lots of bad stuff in my life, Bob. I’ve had to forgive myself plenty, just, you know, to get through the day.” Boss gazes at me with her wise, weary eyes. “And I figure if I’m going to forgive myself, I’d better be ready to cut everyone else some slack, too.”