Stay!: Keeper's Story

Stay!: Keeper's Story

Lois Lowry

Language: English

Pages: 128

ISBN: 0440415241

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


This is the story of a dog who tells his own tale. As a pup he is separated from his mother and siblings. This unusual dog learns about living on the dangerous streets and even makes up poetry. He finds human friends, has the chance to win fame and fortune, and is given the name Keeper. Through it all Keeper can't forget his long lost little sister. If only they could be together again, life would be perfect. But an old enemy is watching and waiting to make his move.

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kind of contentment. I viewed myself as something of a combination of the various categories. Though never trained as a watchdog, I had guarded Jack's turf with authority, I felt; and though untrained as a guide, I had steered and directed him in his last weeks with patience and gentleness. I had little interest in hunting as a sport or game as a meal, but I could say of myself that I was adroit at the pose, and that my glorious tail would, if called upon, lend itself to the kind of vigilant

puttanesca sauce! The funghi and the carbonara! Dogs don't weep, but the memory of those sauces, French and Italian both, almost brought tears to my canine eyes during those two days in the woods. I thought of tender asparagus—perhaps a crème d'asperges vertes —when I found myself, ravenous, nibbling at slimy swamp cabbage; and when I shared a rotting rabbit carcass with a roaming possum, I remembered lapin au saupiquet with ineffable sadness. It was, in fact, while gnawing at rabbit that I

was eager for me to see everything. "Come on," she said, and pranced toward the stairs. "I'll show you my room, and you can see Bert and Ernie. They're on my bed." Padding up the narrow staircase behind her, I gave a little inward dog-chuckle. It is a thing that dogs have in common with human young: the love of, the need of, stuffed animals to carry about, tussle with, and sleep beside. The photographer, in what I was already beginning to think of as my previous life, had provided me with

some in the microwave, do you think?" she asked Emily. I groaned in reply. A dog doesn't need his food warmed. Cold macaroni and cheese was the finest treat I could imagine. I lifted my head and upped my ears slightly. I allowed my tail to thump pathetically against the floor. "I don't think he cares," Emily said. "Just give it to him cold. See? He's looking better already." I watched alertly while her mother scooped a lavish helping of macaroni and cheese into the bowl marked FIDO. But as

dog to learn the language of humans, and Tug was not the most intelligent of our litter. I am not inclined to vanity. But I will explain that my sister, Wispy, was not much interested in study or education. She had listened politely to my delighted discovery of rhyme and had asked a few cordial questions, but Wispy was hardly a scholar. And of my two brothers, Tug, the elder and braver, was ... well, all right, I'll say it—not at all bright. Tussle, the playful one, had an endearing love of a

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