Henry and Ribsy (Henry Huggins #3)(7)

And then Henry realized he had another problem—the garbage. A whole week’s collection was still in the can in the backyard. What was worse, it was going to stay there for seven days until the garbageman came around again. What was he going to do with the garbage he had to take out until then?

That evening Henry put off telling his mother and father what had happened until they were washing dishes and he was cutting up horse meat for Ribsy.

They both looked serious. “I can’t understand it,” said Mrs. Huggins. “He’s always been such a good-natured animal. If he really is getting to be ferocious, maybe we should keep him tied up.”

“Oh, Mom, no,” protested Henry. “He hates to be tied up, and anyway he always chews through the rope.” Henry hoped his mother wouldn’t mention buying a chain. Why, he wouldn’t have any fun with Ribsy chained in the yard—not even riding his bike. It wouldn’t be the same without Ribsy riding in the box tied to the back fender or loping along beside him.

“There must be some reason for his not liking the garbageman,” said Mr. Huggins. “I wonder if the garbageman ever kicked him.”

“Gee, Dad, do you think so?” Henry asked eagerly.

“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t do that,” said Mrs. Huggins.

Henry was anxious to change the subject before anything more was said about tying Ribsy in the backyard. He lifted the container out of the step-on garbage can and started to go out. Then, with a groan, he remembered that the can outside was already full. “Jeepers, Mom, what’ll I do with the garbage?” he asked.

“You’ll just have to manage the best you can. Push it down in the can somehow.” Mrs. Huggins wiped a cup and sighed. “Henry, I don’t know how you get mixed up in things the way you do.”

Henry emptied the container on top of the garbage in the big can and tried to put the lid on again. He pushed it down as hard as he could, but it would not close. The can was extra full because Mr. Huggins had mowed the lawn again and emptied the grass clippings into it. “You old dog, you,” Henry said crossly to Ribsy, who was sniffing the can. “It’ll be all your fault if I don’t get to go fishing.”

Ribsy sat down and scratched a flea while Henry stared gloomily at the garbage can. There was one thing he was sure of. When he grew up and had a boy of his own, he would never ask him to take out the garbage.

Unfortunately, that week turned out to be unusually warm. Tuesday evening when Henry and his mother and father were eating dinner, a breeze moved the curtains at the dining-room window. “Pee-yew,” said Henry, catching a whiff of overripe garbage from the can below.

“Never mind the sound effects,” said Mr. Huggins, as he got up from the table to close the window. This made it very warm in the dining room.

It was even warmer in the kitchen when Henry’s mother and father were washing and wiping dishes. Mrs. Huggins had to put down the dish towel several times to swat flies.

Henry fed Ribsy in silence. He dreaded the trip to the garbage can. When he could put it off no longer, he picked up the container and started out, followed closely by Ribsy. This time he arranged the day’s refuse a handful at a time around the pile. Then he balanced the lid on top. The whole thing looked and smelled terrible.

On Wednesday, when Henry walked reluctantly down the back steps with the garbage, he saw Mr. Grumbie standing on his back porch.

As Henry took the lid off the can, Mr. Grumbie looked across the driveway. “So that’s where the smell is coming from,” he said.



“I’m afraid it is, Mr. Grumbie,” answered Henry.

“I heard about Ribsy tearing the seat out of the garbageman’s overalls,” said Mr. Grumbie.

Jeepers, thought Henry miserably, the story’s not only going around the neighborhood, it’s getting worse than it really was. Next thing, people would be saying Ribsy bit the garbageman. He explained what had really happened, and then Mr. Grumbie went in and closed all the windows that faced the Hugginses’ house.

Henry grew more and more discouraged. On Thursday, after he had piled the garbage on top of the can and replaced the lid as well as he could, he got an apple box out of the garage, climbed up on it, and stepped carefully onto the lid. He stamped his feet a few times to work the garbage down into the can and then jumped up and down. It helped some but not much.

On Friday Henry suggested to his mother that they buy a second garbage can, but she did not think this was a good idea. Then Henry decided to take the garbage out before dinner when the container was not so full. He distributed the milk cartons and carrot tops as well as he could on the heap and was jumping up and down on the lid when Robert and Scooter came up the driveway looking for him.

“What are you doing up there?” Robert demanded, with one eye on Ribsy. “Look at it, Scooter! Did you ever see so much garbage?”

“Pee-yew,” said Scooter, staying on the driveway well away from Ribsy, who was rolling on the grass to scratch his back.

“Never mind the sound effects.” Henry jumped to the ground. It was all right for him to criticize his own garbage, but he didn’t want anyone else to do it. “Come on, let’s go out in front.”

“Yes, let’s,” agreed Scooter. “Pee-yew.”

Henry was about to suggest they all go over to the park. Then he decided he had better not take a chance on Ribsy’s behavior toward strangers. “Come on, let’s see who can walk farthest on his hands,” he said, to keep Scooter and Robert from talking about his troubles.