Free A Tale of Two Tails by Henry Winkler

it!
    â€œYou’re arresting him?”
    â€œI have to take him in, Hank. Disorderly canine conduct.”
    â€œBut, he didn’t mean to do anything bad. He just has trouble focusing. And following directions.”
    â€œYeah,” Frankie chimed in. “Underneath, he’s really a good dog.”
    â€œWho tries really hard,” Ashley agreed.
    Oh, now they’re defending Cheerio. Where were they when it mattered? Like this morning.
    â€œI say take him in,” McKelty said. “We’re all safer with that mutt off the streets.”
    Mason jumped in front of McKelty with his hands in the T. rex attack position.
    â€œGrrrrrrrrrrrrr,” he roared in his fiercest, loudest voice.
    â€œI’m not scared of you, kid,” McKelty said. “Go play with your mommy.”
    â€œThat’s an excellent idea,” Mason’s mom said, taking Mason by the hand. “I don’t want him around a bad-mannered boy like you.”
    As Mason and his mom left the park, I reached out and gave Cheerio a pet. Poor guy, he didn’t even know he had caused any trouble.
    â€œI wish you were coming home with me, Cheerio,” I said to him gently.
    â€œI’m sorry, kid,” Officer Quinn said to me. “Your dog’s got to come with me to the station.”
    He held Cheerio in his arms, turned, and walked out of the park.
    All I could do was follow him.

CHAPTER 16
    Oh, no!
    My mind was racing.
    My little Cheerio. My puppy. My pet. My pal. My doggy vacuum cleaner.
    In jail?
    What was going to happen to him? Would he be sentenced to life behind bars? Would he have to eat prison meals? Well, it’s got to be better than my mom’s food. But still, he’d be locked up! When were visiting hours? Would they let him have his little navy blue terry-cloth bed? Or his squeaky kangaroo?
    Oh, Cheerio. I have to help you.

CHAPTER 17
    I couldn’t let Cheerio out of my sight, so I followed very closely behind Officer Quinn. I didn’t think he even knew I was there until we got to the station, when he held the door open for me so I could go in first.
    â€œI have a great idea,” I said, before I went into the station. “Why don’t I just take Cheerio home so you can get on with the business of protecting and serving.”
    â€œI’m sorry, young man,” Officer Quinn said. “A complaint has been filed by one of our citizens.”
    â€œWait. You’re calling Nick McKelty a citizen? Of what? The United States of Bullies?”
    Officer Quinn didn’t answer. He just went inside the station, put Cheerio down on the top of a counter, and asked the officer sitting behind the desk to help him start the booking process.
    â€œThe booking process?” I said, following Officer Quinn to the counter. “You mean Cheerio is a criminal?”
    â€œDon’t panic, kid,” said the officer behind the desk. She had a blond ponytail and was chewing a big wad of bubble gum. “Fingerprinting him, or in his case, pawprinting him, just gives us a record of who’s been in here.”
    I looked at the desk officer and pleaded with her.
    â€œPlease, Officer . . . Kras . . . Kras . . . Krascoz ... I’m sorry I can’t make out all those letters on your name badge. I’m not such a great reader.”
    â€œThat’s all right, sweetie,” she said. “A lot of people have trouble with my name. Why don’t you just call me Officer K and we’ll leave it at that.”
    â€œThank you so much, Officer K.”
    She was really nice. I think Cheerio liked her, too. I could tell because he jumped off the counter and into her lap and started licking her cheek. Or maybe he just liked the smell of her bubble gum. He is a sucker for anything watermelon-flavored.
    â€œWhoa there, little guy,” she said. “I can’t socialize with the suspects.”
    â€œOfficer K, please hand the dog over to me,” Officer