The Dog That Stole Home

Other books in this series

The Dog That Pitched a No-Hitter

The Dog That Stole Football Plays

The Dog That Called the Signals

Copyright

Text copyright © 1993 by Matthew F. Christopher

Illustrations copyright © 1993 by Dan Vasconcellos

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including
information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may
quote brief passages in a review.

Hachette Book Group

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New York, NY 10017

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www.HachetteBookGroup.com

First eBook Edition: December 2009

ISBN: 978-0-316-09541-9

To Timmy and Tommy Oertel
—
M.C

To my parents, Dolores and Arthur
—
D. V
.

Contents

Copyright

Begin Reading

Harry chased after the tennis ball, leaped up two feet into the air, and caught it in his mouth. Head held high, he trotted
back to Mike and dropped the ball at his feet. “Wuff!” he barked as he ran back down the street to wait for the next throw.

“Great catch, Harry!” Mike praised him. “Maybe I can talk Coach Wilson into putting you in our outfield!”

“Sure! And maybe I’ll get my picture in the paper!” Harry replied. He posed as if the cameras were already snapping.

Even though he was a fuzzy Airedale, Harry was able to communicate with Mike through extrasensory perception—ESP. Mike and
Harry had read each other’s thoughts for the first time in the pet shop. Of course, Mike had bought Harry right away.

Now, as he wound up to throw the ball again, Mike wondered what he would ever do without Harry.

“Well, for one thing, you’d still be pitching instead of using that great throwing arm at second base,” Harry replied.

Mike laughed as he hurled the ball down the street. Sometimes he forgot Harry knew everything he was thinking.

The ball arced higher and farther than before. Again Harry caught it, but instead of bringing it back he danced around just
out of Mike’s reach.

“Can’t catch me!” he teased. Mike could tell Harry was grinning even though he had the tennis ball in his mouth.

Mike groaned. He knew from previous experience that he’d have to chase and tag Harry before he’d get the ball back. He took
a deep breath and charged down the street, legs pumping.

Mike was just about to touch Harry’s fur when out of nowhere a tan-and-white dog twice the size of Harry broke away from a
girl and joined in the race. Harry was so surprised he dropped the ball. The big dog snatched it up and took off.

“Hey! Come back with that!” Mike yelled.

“Sam!” shouted the big dog’s owner. “Bring that back!” Harry was after Sam like a shot.

“Don’t worry, Mike!” Harry’s thoughts swept back to Mike. “I’ve got it covered!”

I’ll say, thought Mike as he slowed to a walk. That dog is faster than the speed of sound!

“Thanks, ol’ boy,” Harry panted.

In a matter of seconds Harry caught up with the thief. He tried to wrestle the tennis ball from Sam’s mouth, but the big dog
just wouldn’t let go. He whipped his head from side to side, growling menacingly.

But Harry wouldn’t scare. Instead, he nipped Sam lightly on the nose.

With a loud
yelp!
, Sam dropped the ball. Harry scooped it up and trotted back to Mike.

The big dog was still yelping.

“That animal of yours should be fenced in! It’s dangerous!” cried the girl as she rushed past Mike. “Sam! Oh, my poor little
Sam!”

“Little?” Harry echoed. “I barely touched the big lunk. Besides, he ruined a good race!”

“Lucky for you he did, too!” Mike chuckled. “I was
this
close to beating you! That would’ve wiped that grin off your face, I’ll bet!”

Harry stood up on his hind legs, put his fore-paws over his eyes, and whined pitifully. Mike snorted, then turned to see the
girl and her dog continue their walk as if nothing had happened.

“Michael! Come here! And bring that dog with you!”

Mike whirled to see his mother standing on the front porch of their house. From the look on her face, he knew that he and
Harry were in big trouble.

“Okay, Mom!” he said.

Mike and Harry went to the house.

“Mike, I saw Harry snap at that dog,” his mother said. “I know he’s not vicious, but I’m worried that he might try to nip
someone at your game tomorrow. Fm afraid Harry will have to stay home until he learns not to bite.”

“But we’re playing the number one team tomorrow! If we beat them, we’ll have a chance at the playoffs. You know I always play
better when Harry’s there,” Mike cried.

“Well, you’ll just have to play without him there tomorrow. Please put him in the backyard and teach him to behave,” his mother
said. She turned and went back into the house.

“Grounded,” Harry huffed. “I might as well be put into solitary confinement.” He looked up at Mike’s worried face. “Sorry,
pal. Guess I should have let the big bully have the ball.”

Mike sighed as he opened the gate to the backyard. What was he going to do without Harry’s support tomorrow?