up from the ground. She smiled and nodded a bit as she regained some strength from this encouragement. “Thanks so much.”
“Wouldn’t you agree, Stick Dog?” Stripes asked. “Wouldn’t you agree that if there was an Olympic event for chasing your tail but not catching it, then Karen would win a gold medal?”
Now, Stick Dog knew the other dogs were making fun of Karen. And, to be honest, Stick Dog was getting a kick out of the whole business. But he also knew when having fun was getting close to teasing. And Stick Dog didn’t like teasing. So instead of answering, he turned to Karen and asked, “What would you like to do now?”
Stick Dog knew exactly what Karen was going to say.
MATHS BY MUTT
Karen didn’t hesitate. There was only one thing she liked more than chasing her tail. “Frisbee!” she yelped. “Frisbee. Frisbee! FRISBEE!!”
“Excellent idea,” said Stick Dog. “Let’s play Frisbee. And what are we going to need to do that?”
The other four dogs just looked at Stick Dog with blank expressions.
“What are we going to need?” he repeated.
Suddenly Mutt spoke up. “I know what we need! Our mouths! To catch the Frisbee with!”
“Well, that’s true enough,” said Stick Dog. “We definitely need our mouths. But I was thinking of something else. What is it that we catch with our mouths?”
This time Poo-Poo answered really fast. He was so certain of the answer that he wanted to beat everyone in saying it. “I got it! Our tongues,” he said quickly and proudly. And as if to prove his point, Poo-Poo opened his mouth and let his tongue drop out and began wagging it around. He snapped his mouth shut on it a couple of times by accident. You could tell it hurt, but he tried to not let it show.
Stick Dog didn’t say anything for a moment. “I guess you do sort of need your tongue a little to play Frisbee.”
“See, see, see? I told you!” Poo-Poo said. His tongue flapped up and down and slapped his own face as he nodded with tremendous enthusiasm and vigour. “It’s not easy being right all the time, let me tell you.”
“Mm-hmm. I’m sure that’s true,” replied Stick Dog. “Now, who can tell me the most important thing we need to play Frisbee? Besides our mouths and tongues, I mean.”
Mutt, Karen, Poo-Poo, and Stripes all turned their heads towards Stick Dog. Nobody said anything at all.
Stick Dog answered his own question. “We need a Frisbee.”
As soon as he said it, his four friends all started nodding their heads up and down like crazy.
“Didn’t I say that?” asked Mutt. “I’m pretty sure I did.”
“It’s so obvious,” said Poo-Poo, “that I didn’t think it was worth saying.”
“I was going to say that,” added Karen, “but Poo-Poo interrupted me.”
Stripes said, “I was about to answer that exact thing. But the sun got in my eyes.”
Stick Dog looked up at the sky. It was getting near dusk. The sun would be setting soon. He glanced at Stripes and shook his head. “Why would the sun getting …” he began to ask, but then stopped himself. He didn’t finish his question. “Well, I figured you all knew the answer. Let’s find a Frisbee.”
“That’s easy,” said Stripes. “You and Mutt were playing with one just a couple of days ago, Stick Dog. Don’t you remember? It’s orange. We found it by the basketball courts at Picasso Park. It’s probably in the pipe by your sleeping cushion. I’ll go get it.”
“I don’t think so,” said Stick Dog.
“Why not?” asked Mutt.
“Think back,” said Stick Dog, “to when you and I were playing Frisbee, Mutt. Do you remember what happened to it?”
“Oh, Stick Dog,” said Mutt. “I can’t remember that far back.”
“But it was just the day before yesterday,” said Stick Dog.
“That’s what I mean,” Mutt said. “That’s a couple of weeks in human years.”
This, frankly, caught Stick Dog by surprise. He asked, “What do you mean?”
“Well, dogs typically live about one-seventh as long as humans. So one dog day equals seven human days. The day before yesterday was two days ago to us – that equals fourteen human days. I can’t remember that long ago,” Mutt explained. “I always measure time that way. It’s easier.”
Stick Dog shook his head for a second and then asked, “It’s easier for you to take a period of time, multiply it by seven, then pretend and think like a human to understand that period of time?”
“Yes, yes indeed,” answered Mutt matter-of-factly. “And that is why I obviously cannot remember what happened the day before yesterday. It’s the equivalent of fourteen human days. That’s quite a way back.”
“No, it’s not a way back at all,” said Stick Dog. He scrunched up his face and tried to understand what Mutt was saying. “It was the day before yesterday.”
Mutt began to talk very slowly, hoping it would help Stick Dog understand. “It only … seems … like the day … before yesterday. It was really … two weeks ago.”
“But that’s only if you’re measuring things in human-to-dog time,” said Stick Dog.
Mutt nodded his head. “That’s correct. I’m glad you finally understand.” He was pretty sure talking slowly had really helped.
“But you’re not a human,” sighed Stick Dog. “You’re a dog.”
“Exactly.”
Stick Dog stood there in front of Mutt for a minute. He shook his head a final time and turned to Poo-Poo, Stripes, and Karen. “Do any of you understand this?” he asked.
“We weren’t listening,” they all answered in unison. To explain further, Karen added, “There was a really cool-looking beetle on the ground over here. It had a red stripe running down its back. We were checking it out. According to Stripes, it doesn’t taste very good though.”
Stripes
