Everyone was talking about SPRING, but Roxy had no idea what that meant.
She trotted
to the treat cupboard. No one paid any attention. SPRING couldn’t be about
food.
She dropped
her rubber bone in a lap. It fell to the floor. SPRING wasn’t about fetch.
She flopped
on her bed and sighed. SPRING obviously wasn’t for dogs.
Her leash
jingled.
“Come, Roxy.
Let’s go on a Spring walk,” said her girl.
Roxy danced through
squishy grass. She barked at a bright-chested bird. And she stared longingly at
a ball slapping into a boy’s gloved hand.
Which one
was SPRING?
“Mmmm,” said
her girl. “It smells like Spring.”
SPRING was a
smell? Roxy absolutely loved smells.
But there were so many.
The leftover
people smell of a soggy mitten.
The
earthiness of a wriggly worm.
Puddles. Leaf
shoots. New grass. Rubber boots.
Which one
was SPRING?
Roxy caught
a whiff of something fresh. Something different. That had to be it!
She lunged
for the smell. Her leash slipped free.
“Roxy,
wait!”
But Roxy had
to find SPRING.
She splashed
through trickling water.
Quack!
A fat bird
snapped. A whole line of little ones peep, peep, peeped.
Roxy
sniffed, but they were not SPRING.
She
scrambled up a muddy bank.
Plunk!
A small,
spotty lump hop, hop hopped.
Roxy sniffed,
but that was not SPRING.
The fresh,
sweet smell of SPRING filled her nose. She was close.
Her girl
called, “Roxy, stop!”
But Roxy
couldn’t. SPRING smelled too delicious.
Her nails
clicked on the sidewalk.
Ding-a-ling!
Ding-a-ling! Wheels gritted to a stop.
Roxy’s nose twitched.
She drooled. She shook off the mud, ready to sniff up SPRING.
“Euw!” someone
said.
“Get that
muddy dog away from the ice cream!” cried someone else.
PLOP!
At last!
SPRING! Roxy licked as fast as she could.
Her girl
snapped on her leash. “Roxy, you found the ice cream truck! Now I know Spring
is really here.”
