Free How to Steal a Dog by Barbara O'Connor

hoped he was okay.
    As soon as I rounded the corner of the house, I heard a little yip from the back porch. Then I saw Willy poke his head through the torn screen door, and my heart nearly leaped right out of me, I felt so glad to see him.
    Right away, he started wagging his whole body like he was the happiest dog on earth.
    â€œHey there, fella,” I said, sitting on the top step of the porch and giving him a hug. He licked my face all over.
    â€œAre you hungry?” I said. Before I could even open the bag of food, he was pushing at it with his whiskery nose.
    â€œHere you go.” I opened the bag and let him gobble up the eggs and stuff inside.
    â€œHe sure was hungry,” Toby said.

    I rubbed my hand down Willy’s back while he ate. He was a little wet and smelled kind of bad, but he seemed okay. I opened the soda bottle of water and poured some into the margarine tub.
    Willy went to town lapping it up.
    â€œWe got to let him run a little bit,” I said.
    â€œBut what if he runs away?” Toby said.
    â€œWe’ll keep the leash on him, dummy.”
    I untied the string from the doorknob. “Come on, Willy,” I said.
    Me and Toby took turns running up and down the road. Willy ran right through puddles. Sometimes he’d stop and shake himself, sending sprays of muddy water all over me and Toby. Once in a while he stopped to take a good long drink from a puddle. But mostly he just ran and leaped and barked a happy kind of bark. We had to run real fast to keep up with him or else he was liable to bust that string right in two.
    â€œThere,” I said. “That ought to be enough.”
    Willy sat in the road in front of me, panting. He lifted his doggy eyebrows and watched me, like he was waiting for something. I knelt down and scratched his ears.
    â€œDon’t worry,” I said. “You’re gonna be going home real soon.”
    He stopped panting and perked his ears up. Then he put his paw on my knee.
    â€œHe sure is cute, ain’t he?” Toby said.

    â€œHe sure is.” I stroked Willy’s paw and felt a stab inside. Was it really, really wrong to do what I was doing—or was it just a little bit wrong?
    I pushed Willy’s paw off my knee and stood up. I had to shut those thoughts right out of my head and keep just one thought and one thought only in there. I was doing this for Mama and Toby and me. To help us have a real place to live. Not a car. What was so wrong about that?
    We took Willy back to the porch, and I tied the string around the doorknob again.
    â€œDon’t worry, fella,” I said. “You’ll be home soon. I promise.”
    I filled the margarine tub with water again and set it on the porch beside Willy.
    â€œHe needs a bed,” Toby said.
    I looked at the crummy old back porch. Toby was right. The porch was damp and dirty and covered with sticks and leaves. I should have brought a towel or something to make a bed. I felt another stab inside. I was being mean to Willy, wasn’t I?
    â€œWe’ll bring something next time we come,” I said. But then I added, “If he’s still here.”
    Toby frowned. “Why wouldn’t he be here?”
    I sighed. It sure was tiring having to explain every dern little thing to Toby. “We’ll be taking him back home , you idiot. As soon as we find that reward sign.”
    â€œOh, yeah.”

    I gave Willy one last pat on the head and made my way down the rotten porch steps. I wanted to look back, but I didn’t. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of that little dog watching me walk away and leave him all alone.
    I led the way through the bushes to the road. Behind us, I thought I heard Willy barking.
    I don’t hear that , I told myself.
    I’m not mean , I reminded myself.
    This was a good idea and everything is going to turn out fine , I repeated in my head.
    I guess I was hoping that if I said those things, then maybe