weekend.”
Whew—that statement took the wind out of my sails! For one thing, my classmates usually begged to take me home. For another thing, if nobody took me home, I’d get awfully hungry and thirsty because I can’t go without food and water as long as Og can.
“I can’t believe we all forgot,” Heidi said.
“Raise-Your-Hand-Heidi,” Mrs. Brisbane reminded her. “But don’t worry. I’ll be taking him home with me.”
I felt a lot better hearing that. But I felt worse when she said, “I’m afraid there’s no time for me to read aloud today. We’ll continue with our book on Monday.”
No time to read aloud! Just when Uncle Jolly Roger and Vic and Vi were in great danger! I was about to squeak up in protest when the bell rang. Class was over, the school day was over and as soon as Mrs. Brisbane gathered up her jacket and books, we were on our way out of Room 26 for the weekend.
“Farewell, matey,” I called to Og.
“BOING-BOING!” he twanged in return. I wonder if that’s how frogs say, “Aye-aye.”
Life at sea—it’s either sink or swim, mateys. Sink or swim.
From JOLLY ROGER’S GUIDE TO LIFE,
by I.C. Waters
7
An Unpleasant Discovery
M y friends in Room 26 had been thinking so much about boats, I was relieved to be at the Brisbanes’ house, where they always paid a lot of attention to me . You can imagine my surprise when they continued to think of nothing but boats all weekend, too!
Mr. Brisbane read about model sailboats, sketched them and worked on them in his garage workshop. Meanwhile, Mrs. Brisbane kept busy writing things on a piece of paper. Every once in a while, she’d stop and chuckle.
When I first met Mrs. Brisbane, she never chuckled. In fact, she hardly ever smiled, because of Mr. Brisbane’s automobile accident. But slowly, over time, she regained her sense of humor. Maybe I helped just a little bit. Still, it was unusual for her to sit and chuckle in a room all by herself. People often say and do very strange things in front of me, almost as if I’m invisible.
Finally, Mr. Brisbane came in from the garage. “You’re still working on your list?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, chuckling again. “I tell you, this is going to be one fun field trip.”
So that was it. She was planning the picnic at Potter’s Pond. Oh, what I would give to get a peek at her list! Luckily, the Brisbanes started yawning early, and even though I would have liked to have them set up a nice obstacle course for me to run, I wasn’t that sorry to see them go to bed.
You see, I had a Plan. And when a hamster has a Plan, nothing (well, almost nothing) can stand in his way.
I waited until the house was VERY-VERY-VERY quiet. Then I fiddled with my cage door, and as usual, it swung right open. Thank goodness for my lock-that-doesn’t-lock!
I was feeling especially adventurous because the only peril I faced at the Brisbanes’ house was the possibility of being caught outside my cage. I was willing to take the chance because I had a mission: to find out more about the picnic at Potter’s Pond.
I could see that the list was sitting right on Mrs. Brisbane’s desk. Of course, before I set out, I had to map my route, just like sailors—and even pirates—do.
I slid down the leg of the low table where my cage sat and scurried across the carpet. It felt nice on my paws, but I couldn’t move as fast on it as I can on Aldo’s shiny, slippery floors. The desk looked like a mountain to a small hamster like me. However, I knew that where there’s a will (and a Plan), there’s a way.
Close to the desk, there was a nice cozy chair with a striped blanket draped over it. I grabbed onto the blanket and pulled myself up, paw over paw, then hopped onto the desk. There was Mrs. Brisbane’s list, right in front of me.
I was pretty excited until I looked more closely and saw that Mrs. Brisbane had a rectangular paperweight angled on top of the list, blocking part of the writing. I could only
Whew—that statement took the wind out of my sails! For one thing, my classmates usually begged to take me home. For another thing, if nobody took me home, I’d get awfully hungry and thirsty because I can’t go without food and water as long as Og can.
“I can’t believe we all forgot,” Heidi said.
“Raise-Your-Hand-Heidi,” Mrs. Brisbane reminded her. “But don’t worry. I’ll be taking him home with me.”
I felt a lot better hearing that. But I felt worse when she said, “I’m afraid there’s no time for me to read aloud today. We’ll continue with our book on Monday.”
No time to read aloud! Just when Uncle Jolly Roger and Vic and Vi were in great danger! I was about to squeak up in protest when the bell rang. Class was over, the school day was over and as soon as Mrs. Brisbane gathered up her jacket and books, we were on our way out of Room 26 for the weekend.
“Farewell, matey,” I called to Og.
“BOING-BOING!” he twanged in return. I wonder if that’s how frogs say, “Aye-aye.”
Life at sea—it’s either sink or swim, mateys. Sink or swim.
From JOLLY ROGER’S GUIDE TO LIFE,
by I.C. Waters
7
An Unpleasant Discovery
M y friends in Room 26 had been thinking so much about boats, I was relieved to be at the Brisbanes’ house, where they always paid a lot of attention to me . You can imagine my surprise when they continued to think of nothing but boats all weekend, too!
Mr. Brisbane read about model sailboats, sketched them and worked on them in his garage workshop. Meanwhile, Mrs. Brisbane kept busy writing things on a piece of paper. Every once in a while, she’d stop and chuckle.
When I first met Mrs. Brisbane, she never chuckled. In fact, she hardly ever smiled, because of Mr. Brisbane’s automobile accident. But slowly, over time, she regained her sense of humor. Maybe I helped just a little bit. Still, it was unusual for her to sit and chuckle in a room all by herself. People often say and do very strange things in front of me, almost as if I’m invisible.
Finally, Mr. Brisbane came in from the garage. “You’re still working on your list?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, chuckling again. “I tell you, this is going to be one fun field trip.”
So that was it. She was planning the picnic at Potter’s Pond. Oh, what I would give to get a peek at her list! Luckily, the Brisbanes started yawning early, and even though I would have liked to have them set up a nice obstacle course for me to run, I wasn’t that sorry to see them go to bed.
You see, I had a Plan. And when a hamster has a Plan, nothing (well, almost nothing) can stand in his way.
I waited until the house was VERY-VERY-VERY quiet. Then I fiddled with my cage door, and as usual, it swung right open. Thank goodness for my lock-that-doesn’t-lock!
I was feeling especially adventurous because the only peril I faced at the Brisbanes’ house was the possibility of being caught outside my cage. I was willing to take the chance because I had a mission: to find out more about the picnic at Potter’s Pond.
I could see that the list was sitting right on Mrs. Brisbane’s desk. Of course, before I set out, I had to map my route, just like sailors—and even pirates—do.
I slid down the leg of the low table where my cage sat and scurried across the carpet. It felt nice on my paws, but I couldn’t move as fast on it as I can on Aldo’s shiny, slippery floors. The desk looked like a mountain to a small hamster like me. However, I knew that where there’s a will (and a Plan), there’s a way.
Close to the desk, there was a nice cozy chair with a striped blanket draped over it. I grabbed onto the blanket and pulled myself up, paw over paw, then hopped onto the desk. There was Mrs. Brisbane’s list, right in front of me.
I was pretty excited until I looked more closely and saw that Mrs. Brisbane had a rectangular paperweight angled on top of the list, blocking part of the writing. I could only
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