Free A Tale of Two Tails by Henry Winkler Page B

burst open as if they were propelled by a superhuman force, and my father, Stanley Zipzer, stormed through them with his finger pointed directly in between my eyes.
    Let me just say from previous experience, I knew at that moment I was toast . . . burnt to a crisp.
    â€œYou,” he said with his pointer finger getting closer and closer to my forehead, “need to start an explanation, and it had better be specific and convincing. Go!”
    Okay, there it was. I knew exactly what I had to do, which, by the way, was a lot easier than the actual doing of it.
    I figured out that after the chaos in the park, Frankie and Ashley and Emily and Robert probably ran home to get my dad and tell him Cheerio and I were in trouble. I couldn’t blame them for doing that. I mean, after all, we were in the police station, which is like a major step up from Principal Love’s office.
    Part of me was glad to see my dad. And the other part could’ve done without him being there.
    I took a deep breath and felt all that good oxygen flood my brain. Finally I could start to think a little, and I noticed Frankie and Ashley trailing behind my dad.
    â€œDad. Let me just ask that you don’t say one word until I finish the whole story,” I began.
    â€œYou have no bargaining position here, young man, and I will speak whenever I have something to say.”
    â€œDeal. We’ll play by your rules.”
    Before I could get one word out, Cheerio, who had finished posing for his mug shots, jumped off the stool and ran over to my dad. He sat down at his feet, put on his cutest face, looked my dad right in his not-so-cute face, and started to whimper like when he was a puppy.
    â€œDon’t you even try, mister,” my dad said to him, wagging his pointer finger at Cheerio’s snout. “You can’t butter me up. I am hopping mad.”
    Officer K got up from her desk, walked over to Cheerio, and picked him up. He put his nose up to her mouth and took another whiff of the gum. His tail started to wag.
    â€œI’ll watch the dog while you two have your conversation,” she said. “Sounds like you have a lot to work out.”
    â€œThanks, Officer K,” I said, hoping to impress my dad with what good manners I was displaying. He wasn’t impressed.
    â€œReady, begin,” he said. “And I mean now.”
    â€œSo listen, Dad,” I stammered. “You know how I have learning challenges and it’s really difficult for me to focus sometimes.”
    â€œOh, that again,” my dad said. “I thought we had dealt with that.”
    â€œMaybe you did,” I said. “But I’m sorry to tell you, Dad, my brain didn’t. I keep trying to explain to you that it doesn’t just go away.”
    â€œAnd what does all that learning challenges business have to do with you being here in the police station?”
    â€œI’m thinking that some of those things I have a hard time with—like paying attention and following directions and stuff—fell right out of my body and into Cheerio’s. No matter what I tried at the park, he would get distracted by everything and cause trouble.”
    â€œWhich is why I had to bring him here,” Officer Quinn piped up. “I hated to do it, but your elongated dog racked up quite a list of complaints and almost caused bodily harm.”
    My dad shot Cheerio a disapproving look. Cheerio kind of cocked his head to the side, as if to say, “Don’t blame me, I couldn’t help it.”
    â€œI was there, Mr. Z,” Frankie said. “And it really wasn’t Hank’s fault. He was trying his hardest.”
    â€œAnd Cheerio didn’t even try to cooperate,” Ashley added.
    â€œListen, kids. I know you’re concerned about your friend,” my dad said. “But this is between me and Hank.”
    That certainly zipped their lips. When my dad’s in one of his fact-finding moods, nothing can