Spy Dogs
1
J.C. watched as the Andersons pulled away. He hated it when they left. You were supposed to have a good time over the weekend. Now he had to stay with his caretaker named Ann. She was nice, smart, and definitely pretty, but she always brought her little wiener dog named Joey. J.C. hated Joey. He hated everything about him. He hated that he always got more food than him and he’s smaller, he hated how annoying he was, and he hated that he wasn’t edible. Why would they call him a wiener dog if he weren’t food? Life is very strange. Besides, J.C. was a golden retriever! There was no way he’d be allowed back into the Dogs For Life Club if they heard he hung out with Joey. J.C. was the size of a third grader. He loved to play fetch with his owner, Paul Anderson. He also loved to play Frisbee, take hikes, and occasionally tear up the Anderson’s garden.
“Wanna go play Frisbee? Wanna go take a 50-mile hike? Wanna go tear up the Anderson’s garden? Do ya? Do ya?” Wow. That was a pretty big coincidence. All the things he loved to do, and yet he had to do them with Joey.
“Joey, do you want to help out the world?” J.C. asked. Joey jumped up and down saying,
“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” J.C. laughed.
“Then remember these two words: SHUT UP!!!” For once, Joey was silent. Then, he burst out laughing.
“You’re a funny guy, J.C. A real funny guy!” I think I’m going to die, J.C. thought.
Dinner was served. As usual, J.C. had leftover lasagna. He loved lasagna. More than Garfield. In about two seconds, he had gulped down not only his dinner, but Joey’s dinner too. Joey didn’t even notice. Then, all of the sudden, J.C. started to choke. It must have been something he had eaten. Hack! Something came out of J.C.’s mouth. It was a little walky-talky that you could stick in your ear.
“J.C.” Where was the noise coming from?
“J.C.” It was coming from the walky-talky.
“Hello?” J.C. tried his luck.
“J.C., meet me by the Pets Mart at 2:00 a.m. tonight.” That was all it said, because then the line went dead.
2
J.C. paced up and down the floor, thinking about what the walky-talky had said.
“Time to go to bed everybody!” Ann called. J.C. crept up to his bed and pretended to go to sleep.
About an hour later Ann dozed off, her magazine still in her lap. J.C. crept out through his doggy entrance. The crisp, night air felt good after being kept in the house with tweedledee-dumb all afternoon. Hey, where was the little pain? Ah well, it didn’t matter. J.C. ran in the direction of the Pets Mart. He hadn’t run this fast since the time he tried to chase the mailman a whole block when he was three. J.C. was five in people years. Thirty-five in dog years.
As he got closer to the store, he spotted a dog pacing up and down the sidewalk. He was hard to see because it was so dark out.
“You’re late,” he said. “You were supposed to be hear at 2:00. It’s 2:06.” J.C. looked puzzled.
“How did you know I was coming?” J.C. asked. “Wait, you were the one who must have told me to meet you at the Pets Mart!”
The dog rolled his eyes.
“No, you think?” Could it possibly be anymore obvious?” He was irritated, no doubt about that. Feeling dumb, J.C. asked,
“So, what’s your name?”
“The name’s Dog. But you can call me Boss.” His name was Dog! J.C. couldn’t help from laughing. He flipped over and landed on his back, howling with laughter.
“Shut up you dumb mutt! And what might your name be? Sweetie Pie? Honey-buns? J.C. stopped laughing. You know, for being a miniature Chihuahua, he was pretty vicious.
“Now,” said “Boss.” “There has been a terrible accident downtown. There was a bomb that exploded. The dog that was behind this stole the ingredients for the tastiest dog biscuits in the world.” J.C. wagged his tail.
“How’s that a problem? It’s like a dream come true!”
“Not so fast. There’s a special ingredient the dog has added to turn all of our fellow friends into zombies. We’re not sure which dog is behind it all, but we’re working on it. The entire dog race is in your hands. Come with me. You need to start training.
3
J.C. was about as excited as he could be. And when dogs get excited, you know what that means. As Boss waited by the fire hydrant, he grew more and more impatient.
“The whole dog race could very well come to an end, and all you can think about is the bathroom? Hurry up!”
After J.C. finished, they continued walking for what seemed like an hour. Finally the Chihuahua stopped and held up his walky-talky.
“Doggy biscuits.” A garage door suddenly opened, and Boss led him into the gigantic room.
“Welcome to MBF. We are the protectors of dog snacks. We make sure nothing disturbs the process of our treats, or our food.” J.C. sat there in awe. This was amazing! Dogs of all sizes worked together. They all went about their business, quickly and secretly.
“What does MBF stand for?” J.C. asked.
“Man’s best friend. We have been that way for a long time, and we don’t want any dog to screw that up.” It was a lot to take in. But J.C. was feeling awkward. A question was building up inside of him, greater than all the others.
“Why me?” he asked. Boss turned to him.
“You may not remember it, but your mom used to run this organization. We figured she passed down some of her skills to you.” J.C. gasped. That was why she was never around! Every night she would sneak out of the barnyard house. He had never figured out why.
“Boss! Boss! Boss!” J.C. turned around, half expecting to find Joey. But it wasn’t Joey. It was a wiener dog, still annoying, but he had no right leg!
“What now, Freddy,” Boss said, annoyed. Freddy was always worried and appeared not to be popular around here.
“It’s bad. It’s hard to say. But I’ll try.” He took a deep breath. “Bobby was running around with scissors! He could’ve tripped! He could have died!” Freddy screamed and ran off.
“Don’t go near him for a while,” Boss said. “He’s kind of . . . well, you know.” J.C. nodded knowingly.
“How did he loose his leg?” J.C. asked. Boss sighed. J.C. figured he didn’t want to talk about it, so he backed off and didn’t bother him.
“Hey, Boss!” Another golden retriever appeared. She had long, beautiful fur and had a small, pink collar around her neck. J.C.’s jaw dropped.
“What is it, Lynda?” Boss asked.
“We have received a message.” J.C. hadn’t even noticed the big screen that was right in front of him. A dog appeared on the screen. J.C. screamed. The dog had an eyeglass, and wore a little tuxedo. But that’s not why he had screamed. He had screamed because he knew who this dog was. He knew the dog behind it all. He knew the evil villain. It was Joey.
4
J.C. stared at the screen.
“Unless you hand over that KBL bomb of yours, the whole human race will come to an end!” Joey laughed an evil laugh.
“We’ll never hand over the bomb!” Boss replied.
“Well, suit yourself. I guess the whole human race will just have to come to an end. Chow!” The screen went blank. Boss cursed.
“Why does he need the bomb?” Lynda asked.
“NYTF—New York Treat Factory. With the KBL bomb, he’ll be able to break in, and fill it with his zombie poison, turning us all into zombies.
“Well, we won’t hand it over!” Lynda said. “I mean, how could that little wiener possibly destroy the whole human race?”
“That ‘wiener’ has more atomic bombs than the entire US army! The KBL bomb, or Kibble bomb, would be all he would need to distribute the poisen!” As they argued, everything became clear to J.C. That Joey was the villain, Joey actually wasn’t annoying, and that he had to be stopped.
“I’m going.” Boss and Lynda became silent.
“You’re not going,” Boss said. “You don’t know anything about being a spy dog.”
“Well, I could go with him,” Lynda suggested. “I could teach him the basics and then take it from there.” J.C. blushed.
“Well, I guess if you go with him,” Boss gave in. “We picked up the coordinates of where that little runt is hiding. You’ll come to an intersection at Jeer Boulevard and Nollen. You take a right, and there will be a shack, about the size of a two-story house. You are to destroy the container of poison and that’s it. We’ll take it from there.” Lynda looked at J.C.
“Ready?” she asked. J.C. didn’t know what to say. This had happened so fast. How could they expect them to do all this? Of course he wasn’t ready! This was insane! This was . . .
“We’ll talk in the limo on the way there,” Lynda said. Limo!
“Yes, I am ready,” J.C. said. Who cared if this had happened so fast? He was going to ride in a limo! They hurried outside, shut the garage door, and hopped into the limo.
“Take us to that shack,” Lynda commanded.
“As you wish,” the driver said. Then, they were off.
5
“Let’s see here,” Lynda said, searching through here doggy bag. “Here we go. We have a ring that you can put around your paw. If you press a little button on it, a laser will come out of the ring. Next, we have a watch. We will be able to signal each other and Boss. Last we have suction cups. You can use them to walk on the top of the ceiling. Oh, and we also have . . .”
J.C. wasn’t listening. He was to busy looking at Lynda. She was as beautiful as ever. Her eyes sparkling, her golden hair brushed and shiny. She was one of a kind.
“ . . . and that’s about it. Any questions?” J.C. shook his head. “Good. Here’s our stop.”
The shack looked like a tornado had been through it. It didn’t look anything like a mad wiener dog’s secret layer that contained a poison to turn all dogs into zombies.
They quickly made their way toward the shack. When they reached the wall, Lynda gave J.C. the thumbs up sign. J.C. nodded. He pulled out his suction cups and began to climb. The shack had to be at least twenty feet high. As J.C. made his way up the shack, Lynda crept through the door. But she didn’t make it. J.C. could tell because he heard a voice. Joey’s voice.
“Feed her to my beloved sharks.” J.C. stopped climbing. Not only did he have to destroy that poison, but now he had to save Lynda. He started to climb again, but didn’t make it very far.
“Hey, boss! There’s another one!” J.C. started climbing faster. He was almost there . . . yes! J.C. reached the top and took off. As he came to the stairwell, he was stopped by Joey and his guards.
“So, J.C. You’ve finally joined their rotten organization,” Joey chuckled.
“You were always annoying,” J.C. retorted. “You were nothing but a little runt!” Joey smiled.
“Good acting, don’t you think?” J.C. stared.
“So, you were playing with me? You were just stopping me from joining MBF!”
“Well look who finally caught up! My sharks are going to get extra dinner tonight!”
6
J.C. had blown it. Lynda and he were dangling from a rope, right above the shark’s pool. Not only had he not saved Lynda, now he was in danger too! It couldn’t have gotten any worse than this.
“Now, I will release my wonderful poison that will turn all dogs into zombies!” Joey laughed his high-pitched, squeaky little laugh. Well, maybe things could get worse.
“I’ll just leave you two to lunch,” Joey said to his sharks. Then, he turned and waddled away.
“We have to
get out of here!” Lynda shouted.
“But how?” Lynda looked around. The rope was breaking, and
fast. They probably only had about twenty seconds before they were shark
food.
“The ring!” Lynda exclaimed. “See if you can use it to hit that button.” She pointed her paw towards a shiny red button. “That laser is red hot. If you hold it there long enough, the button will explode, and the pool will close.” J.C. nodded. With all his might, he reached into his pocket. It was extremely difficult to move, so reaching into his pocket was like lifting 500 pounds. J.C. aimed for the button, and activated the laser. A red line shot out of the tiny machine, and after about three seconds . . . BOOM! The whole wall was blown to bits. The pool closed just in time, for right then was when the rope broke. They landed with a loud thud.
“Let’s go,” Lynda said. “That little mutt probably knows we’ve escaped.” The duo quickly made their way through the hallway. After many twists and turns, they finally found themselves in the biggest room they had ever seen. I mean this thing was gigantic! But, they didn’t have time to admire it. Quietly, Lynda and J.C. ran across the railing.
“ . . . and I want it all sent in five minutes!” J.C. looked down. There was Joey, hopping up and down, shouting at his crew. Lynda got out her laser, and pointed it at Joey. She pressed the button, and immediately heard a scream.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” Joey was hopping up and down again, but for a different reason. Grabbing his little behind, he ran around and around, knocking into this and that. Meanwhile, J.C. was on the move. Ever so quietly, he tip-pawed all the way up to the control room. How did he know this was the control room? Because the stupid little Joey had a sign in big red letters that said CONTROL ROOM. J.C. was lost. There had to be over fifty buttons in here. So, what did the very high-trained spy dog do? Of course, he pressed the big red shiny button.
“Thank you for choosing the self destruct system,” a computer voice said. “Please remove all belongings. We will self-destruct in 3 minutes. Have a nice day.” J.C. didn’t have to be told twice. He darted out of the room and grabbed Lynda.
“What are you doing?” Lynda whispered.
“Um, I kind of accidentally hit the self destruct button,” J.C. answered stupidly.
“GET THEM!” Joey roared. Time to go! J.C. and Lynda hurried down the isle. They were running at top speed. As they past the control room, J.C. heard the computer say,
“10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . .” J.C. ran faster. They crashed through the window, not caring at all they were two stories up. As they were in midair, it happened.
BOOM!!!! The shack blew up. Just like that. It was so quick; you might not even have known it had happened. Lynda landed on all four paws, but J.C. was the exact opposite. He landed on his back and slid across the grass about five feet.
“J.C.!” Lynda shouted. “Are you alright?” J.C. whimpered.
“Sure,” he said. Lynda helped him up.
“I guess the poison was destroyed,” she said, and turned to J.C. J.C. looked at her.
“I guess so,” he said softly. And then J.C. did something totally unexpected. He kissed Lynda. After a while, he realized what he was doing, and pulled away. Lynda smiled.
“Sorry,” J.C. said.
“No, that’s ok,” Lynda replied. J.C. sighed.
“So, I wonder where Joey is,” he said. “Do you think he went down with the rest of the shack?” Lynda turned and faced the shack.
“I don’t know. I don’t think we’ll ever know.” And with that, she grabbed J.C.’s paw and they walked down the road, back to Spy Dogs HQ.
Lynda and J.C. ended up getting married about two months later, when J.C. got down on his knees and proposed at the Pets Mart. They ended up having a litter of 16 golden retrievers.
About three weeks after the litter, J.C. received a letter. Here’s what it said:
Dear J.C.,
I have been watching you and I am quite impressed. That little Joey was a mere distraction for you. Unfortunately, he lived through that little explosion. He was the most annoying little pest in the world. Anyway, you haven’t seen anything compared to what you’ll be through if you stay with the Spy Dogs. Oh, and your mother. All I’ll say is that she didn’t get run over by a car.
Sincerely,
Your unknown enemy
To be continued . . .