Stay!: Keeper's Story

Stay!: Keeper's Story

Lois Lowry

Language: English

Pages: 128

ISBN: 0440415241

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

This is the story of a dog who tells his own tale. As a pup he is separated from his mother and siblings. This unusual dog learns about living on the dangerous streets and even makes up poetry. He finds human friends, has the chance to win fame and fortune, and is given the name Keeper. Through it all Keeper can't forget his long lost little sister. If only they could be together again, life would be perfect. But an old enemy is watching and waiting to make his move.

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exhausting contest. Inevitably they extended playful wrestling matches into real battles, until Wispy and I scampered whimpering to our mother to be licked and calmed. My mother gave them pet names that reflected their contentious personalities. Tug and Tussle, she called them. One day, as the boys were quarreling in a corner near the trash cans while I lay quietly with Wispy, enjoying a patch of sunshine that had worked its way around the side of the building, I said casually to my sister,

puttanesca sauce! The funghi and the carbonara! Dogs don't weep, but the memory of those sauces, French and Italian both, almost brought tears to my canine eyes during those two days in the woods. I thought of tender asparagus—perhaps a crème d'asperges vertes —when I found myself, ravenous, nibbling at slimy swamp cabbage; and when I shared a rotting rabbit carcass with a roaming possum, I remembered lapin au saupiquet with ineffable sadness. It was, in fact, while gnawing at rabbit that I

"Listen to Thug and Muscle." Wispy, who had been half asleep, opened her eyes. She giggled. "Thug and Muscle?" I had surprised myself. "It just came out that way," I told her. "Cute," Wispy said, and closed her eyes again. I said it to myself several times, liking the sound of it, the way Tug turned into Thug and Tussle into Muscle. It was cute. Stretching there in the sun, listening to the boys fight, I tried a few more experiments with human words. "Yip," I whispered to myself, as one of

dog to learn the language of humans, and Tug was not the most intelligent of our litter. I am not inclined to vanity. But I will explain that my sister, Wispy, was not much interested in study or education. She had listened politely to my delighted discovery of rhyme and had asked a few cordial questions, but Wispy was hardly a scholar. And of my two brothers, Tug, the elder and braver, was ... well, all right, I'll say it—not at all bright. Tussle, the playful one, had an endearing love of a

in it, certainly; my own, though still young and incomplete, was beginning to show signs of developing into a particularly magnificent tail, fringed and straight. But awareness of its minute-to-minute placement was difficult to achieve without actually turning around to look and assess. "Here they are!" It was the voice of Pete. "Looky there. I thought she was eating a lot." The thin black man was speaking. His voice was not at all cruel, just concerned. I did not dare to peek. They were quite

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