The One and Only Bob (The One and Only Ivan #2)
Katherine Applegate
Dedication
for my family:
human, feline,
and—of course—canine
Epigraph
For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love.
—Carl Sagan
To err is human; to forgive, canine.
—Unknown
canine glossary
bed boogie: circular “dance” performed by dogs before settling into bed, probably a primitive nesting behavior copilot: dog riding in car, often with head poking out of an open window (see also: drool flag) crazy mutt: exuberant greeting ritual
drool flag: visible tongue protrusion, frequently displayed during copiloting or meal preparation FRAP: frenetic random activity period (synonym: zoomies)
full wag: the happiest tail position, a relaxed circular swish, sometimes including hip wiggles fur on alert: raised hair on a dog’s neck and back, an involuntary reaction often caused by fright or aggression head tilt: quizzical look employed to charm gullible humans
LEAVE IT: the world’s worst command, especially when applied to food
me-ball: dried excrement thrown at observers (origin: Gorilla, informal)
playbow: body position with elbows down and rear up, signaling an invitation to have fun
rhymes-with-pet-threat: vet, an otherwise kind human armed with thermometers and needles
tailspin: (1) chase involving the flexible appendage attached to the rear of most canines; (2) (informal) an embarrassing or quixotic effort toe-twitcher: dream (often squirrel-focused) resulting in foot movement tug-of-war string: a long (though never long enough) piece of fabric or leather used to lead humans during walks UFO: (1) unidentified food object, often found under kitchen tables or couch cushions; (2) unidentified floor object, hopefully edible; (3) unidentified flying object, ideally a stick, flying disk, or slobber-covered tennis ball water bowl of power: (1) jumbo-sized ceramic dish; (2) uncomfortable human chair, generally found in bathrooms zoomies: sudden bursts of energy, usually involving chaotic dashes through the house (informal; see also: FRAP)
One
confession
Look, nobody’s ever accused me of being a good dog.
I bark at empty air. I eat cat litter. I roll in garbage to enhance my aroma.
I harass innocent squirrels. I hog the couch. I lick myself in the presence of company.
I’m no saint, okay?
and while i’m at it . . .
I may or may not have eaten a pepperoni pizza with anchovies when nobody was looking.
Also, I may or may not have eaten a coconut vanilla birthday cake when nobody was looking.
Also, I may or may not have eaten a Thanksgiving turkey (except for the stuffing—way too much rosemary) when nobody was looking.
Nobody looking. That seems to be the common thread.
As they say on the crime shows: motive and opportunity.
robert
Name’s Bob.
I’m a mutt of uncertain heritage. Definitely some Chihuahua, with a smidgen of papillon on my father’s side.
You’re probably thinking I’m some wimpy lap dog. The kind you see poking out of an old lady’s purse like a hairy key chain. But size ain’t everything.
It’s swagger. Attitude. You gotta have the moves.
Probably I shoulda been named Bruiser or Bamm-Bamm or Bandit, but Bob’s what I got and Bob’ll do me just fine.
Julia named me. Long time ago. She’s my girl. She calls me “Robert” when I get on her nerves.
Happens pretty often, to be honest.
numero uno
There’s an old saying about us dogs, goes like this: It’s no coincidence that man’s best friend can’t talk.
Lemme tell you something. If we could talk to people, they’d get an earful.
You ever hear anyone mention man being dog’s best friend?
Nope?
Didn’t think so.
Way I’ve always figured it, end of the day, you gotta be your own best friend. Look out for numero uno.
Learned that one the hard way.
That’s not to say I don’t have a best pal. I do.
Gorilla, name of Ivan. Big guy and I go way, way back.
Gorilla and dog. Yep, I know. You don’t see that every day. Long story.
I love that big ol’ ape. Ditto our little elephant friend, Ruby.
They’re the best.
how we met
The first time I met Ivan, I was a homeless puppy. Desperate, starving, all alone.
It was the middle of the night, and I’d slipped into the mall where Ivan lived in a cage. I wandered a bit, grateful for the warmth, confused by the weird assortment of sleeping animals I found there, checking every trash can for anything edible.
There was a small hole in a corner of Ivan’s enclosure. He was fast asleep, cuddled up with a worn stuffed animal that looked like a weary gorilla.
He was snoring, and man, that guy snored like a pro.
In his open palm was a chunk of banana, and—I still get shivers when I think about this—I ate it right out of his hand.
Guy coulda squeezed his fingers shut and I woulda popped like a puppy balloon. But he just kept on sleeping.