How to Steal a Dog

How to Steal a Dog

4.4 182
by Barbara O'Connor
     
 

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Georgina Hayes may be homeless, but she's not hopeless.

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Overview

Georgina Hayes may be homeless, but she's not hopeless.

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
“Will keep youngsters totally engaged. This novel’s gentle storytelling carries a theme of love and emphasizes what is really right in the world.”—School Library Journal, Starred Review

“This is truly Georgina’s story, and to O’Connor’s great credit, it’s Georgina herself who figures out what’s right and does it. The myriad effects of homelessness and the realistic picture of moral quandary will surely generate discussion.”—Booklist

“A suspenseful and achingly realistic story.”—Kirkus Reviews

“O’Connor knows how to spin a touching story, and reading this novel is its own reward.”—The Horn Book

“O’Connor once again smoothly balances challenging themes with her heroine’s strength and sense of humor.”—Publishers Weekly

“Will give a more privileged audience much to ponder.”—The Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books

“A must-have for a classroom library.”—IRA

Booklist

This is truly Georgina's story, and to O'Connor's great credit, it's Georgina herself who figures out what's right and does it. The myriad effects of homelessness and the realistic picture of moral quandary will surely generate discussion.
The Horn Book

O'Connor knows how to spin a touching story, and reading this novel is its own reward.
The Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books

Will give a more privileged audience much to ponder.
IRA

A must-have for a classroom library.
Publishers Weekly

O'Connor (Me and Rupert Goody) blends her usual poignancy and insight in another tale set in a small North Carolina town. "The day I decided to steal a dog was the same day my best friend, Luanne Godfrey, found out I lived in a car," begins plucky Georgina. After her father "just waltzed off and left us with nothing but three rolls of quarters and a mayonnaise jar full of wadded-up dollar bills," Georgina, her mother and younger brother, Toby, were evicted from their apartment. The three now sleep in their old Chevy. Since her mother works two jobs, saving up for a place to live, Georgina takes care of Toby after school, while carefree Luanne attends ballet class and Girl Scouts with her new best friend. A poster announcing a $500 reward for a missing dog gives the heroine an idea for helping to secure lodging. She diligently writes in her notebook rules for stealing a dog, but they turn out to be more complicated than she anticipates. The devastated woman whose pet Georgina purloins (and who is not wealthy enough to furnish a reward) and a wise and caring homeless man Georgina meets also affect her plan. Speaking with at times heartbreaking honesty, this likable young narrator convincingly articulates her frustration, resentment and confusion as she comes to her decisions. O'Connor once again smoothly balances challenging themes with her heroine's strength and sense of humor. Ages 8-12. (Apr.)

Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information
Children's Literature - Augusta Scattergood
Until her dad took off and the apartment rent came due, Georgina lived a pretty normal life. She had a friend with clean clothes and the right bracelets, a bothersome little brother, and a mom who loved her. So when she and her family are forced to stuff their possessions into plastic bags and move into their dented-up car, Georgina has to figure out a way to get them out of this bad fix. And that's how she ends up with the cutest dog in Darby, North Carolina, at the other end of a long piece of string. Stealing a dog for the reward money seems foolproof: find a dog, steal a dog, get the money. But no matter how many times Georgina tells herself things will work out, they don't. Although the book's ending is neither too pat nor too easy, Georgina learns a lesson and her mom even finds a place to live. O'Connor's latest novel isn't just about being homeless. This is a story that's fun to read while it touches your heart. Young readers may choose this book because of its tremendously appealing cover. They may pick it up to read about stealing a dog. But they will be rewarded by more than a cleverly told tale. They will learn about a family who, through no fault of its own, ends up living out of plastic crates and washing up at the Pancake House. And young readers will understand that sometimes real life can make a good person do bad things.
School Library Journal

Gr 3-7 - Georgina and her family have been living in their car since her father left and they were evicted from their apartment. Mama is working two jobs to earn rent money and trying hard to hold things together. Desperate to help out, Georgina decides to steal a dog for the reward money, laying out the details of her plan in a diary. However, the dog's owner can't afford to offer a reward, and Georgina ends up feeling sorry for the lonely woman. The girl also makes friends with another adult named Mookie, a kindhearted wanderer who is camped out at the abandoned house where she is keeping the dog. He shares his wisdom and offers help, whether she wants it or not. Georgina's narrative is honest and deeply touching, as she recounts how she and her brother try to survive their circumstances. Washing off in a gas station restroom and turning in grease-stained homework become fairly normal occurrences. Readers will identify with the agony and the embarrassment caused by being different, as well as Georgina's struggles with her conscience. The book's endearing humor smoothes out the more poignant moments, and the unfolding events will keep youngsters totally engaged. The gem in the story is Mookie, who manages to sparkle even when sadness threatens to devour the moment. Though set inside a heavy topic, this novel's gentle storytelling carries a theme of love and emphasizes what is really right in the world.-Robyn Gioia, Bolles School, Ponte Vedra, FL

Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information
Kirkus Reviews
Georgina and younger brother Toby begin a homeless life living in Mom's car, having been evicted when Dad leaves. Mom tries her best to work two minimum-wage jobs in order to make the security deposit for a new apartment while the kids struggle daily to maintain normalcy in and out of school. Desperate to help Mom gain some significant cash, Georgina concocts a grand scheme to steal a dog, dupe the owner into offering a $500 reward and then return the designated pooch for the cash. As crazy as this sounds, O'Connor weaves a suspenseful and achingly realistic story, fleshing out characters that live and breathe anxiety, fortitude and a right vs. wrong consciousness. Colorful, supporting roles of a wise, kind vagrant and a lonely, overweight dog owner round out this story of childhood helplessness, ingenuity and desolation. Georgina's reflections in a secretly kept "how-to" journal will have kids anticipating her misconceptions about the realities of theft and deception. A powerful portrayal from an innocently youthful perspective. (Fiction. 10-12)

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Product Details

ISBN-13:
9780312561123
Publisher:
Square Fish
Publication date:
04/27/2009
Edition description:
STRIPPABLE
Pages:
192
Sales rank:
44,303
Product dimensions:
7.66(w) x 5.20(h) x 0.51(d)
Lexile:
700L (what's this?)
Age Range:
8 - 12 Years

Meet the Author

Barbara O'Connor is the author of numerous acclaimed books for children, including Fame and Glory in Freedom, Georgia; Me and Rupert Goody; and Greetings from Nowhere. She has been awarded the Parents' Choice Gold and Silver Awards, the Massachusetts Book Award, and the Dolly Gray Award, among many honors. As a child, she loved dogs, salamanders, tap dancing, school, and even homework. Her favorite days were when the bookmobile came to town. She was born and raised in Greenville, South Carolina, and now lives in Duxbury, Massachusetts, a historic seaside village not far from Plymouth Rock.

Read an Excerpt

How to Steal a Dog


By Barbara O'Connor

Farrar, Straus and Giroux

Copyright © 2007 Barbara O'Connor
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-374-70679-1


CHAPTER 1

The day I decided to steal a dog was the same day my best friend, Luanne Godfrey, found out I lived in a car.

I had told Mama she would find out sooner or later, seeing as how she's so nosy and all. But Mama had rolled her eyes and said, "Just get on up there to the bus stop, Georgina, and quit your whining."

So that's what I did. I stood up there at the bus stop pretending like I still lived in Apartment 3B. I pretended like I didn't have mustard on my shirt from the day before. I pretended like I hadn't washed my hair in the bathroom of the Texaco gas station that very morning. And I pretended like my daddy hadn't just waltzed off and left us with nothing but three rolls of quarters and a mayonnaise jar full of wadded-up dollar bills.

I guess I'm pretty good at pretending.

My brother, Toby, however, is not so good at pretending. When Mama told him to get on up to the bus stop and quit his whining, he cried and carried on like the baby that he is.

"What's wrong with Toby?" Luanne asked me when we were standing at the bus stop.

"He has an earache," I said, trying as hard as anything to look like my life was just as normal as could be instead of all crazy like it really was.

When I saw Luanne's eyes narrow and her lips squeeze together, I knew her nosiness was about to irritate me.

Sure enough, she said, "Then how come your mama is making him go to school?" She kept looking at me with that squinty-eyed look of hers, but I didn't let on that I was irritated. I just shrugged and hoped she would hush up about Toby.

She did. But then she went and turned her nosy self loose on me.

"No offense, Georgina," she said. "But you're starting to look kind of unkempt."

Unkempt? That was her mama talking if I'd ever heard it. Luanne wouldn't never have said that word "unkempt" if she hadn't heard her mama say it first.

And what was I supposed to say to that anyways? Was I supposed to say, "Well, for your information, Luanne Godfrey, it's kinda hard to keep your clothes looking nice when you've been sleeping in the backseat of a Chevrolet for a week"?

Or maybe I was supposed to say, "I know it, Luanne. But my hairbrush got tossed out in that pile of stuff Mr. Deeter left on the sidewalk when he kicked us out of our apartment."

And then Luanne would say, "Why'd Mr. Deeter do that?"

And I would say, "'Cause three rolls of quarters and a mayonnaise jar full of wadded-up dollar bills doesn't pay the rent, Luanne."

But I didn't say anything. I acted like I hadn't heard that word "unkempt." I just climbed on the bus and sat in the sixth seat on the left side with Luanne, like I always did.

I knew Luanne wouldn't give up, though. I knew she'd keep on till she found out the truth.


"What if she wants to come over?" I said to Mama. "Or what if she looks in the window or something and finds out we don't live there anymore?"

But Mama just flapped her hand at me and closed her eyes to let me know how tired she was from working two jobs. So every day I imagined Luanne peeking in the kitchen window of Apartment 3B. When she did, of course, she wouldn't see me and Toby and Mama and Daddy eating our dinner and being happy. She'd see some other family. Some happy family that wasn't all broken up like mine.

And then one day, when we got off the school bus, Luanne went and did the nosiest thing I could imagine. She followed me. I was trying to catch up with Toby 'cause he had grabbed the car key and run on ahead of me, so I didn't even notice her sneaking along behind me. She followed me all the way past Apartment 3B, across the street, and clear on around the back of Eckerd Drugstore, where our car was parked with laundry hanging out the windows and Toby sitting on a milk crate waiting for me.

If there was ever a time when I wished the earth would open up and swallow me whole, it was when I turned around and saw Luanne looking at me and Toby and that car and all. I could see her thoughts just plain as day right there on her face.

I wanted to wave my hand and make that dented-up car disappear off the face of the earth. But more than anything, I wanted my daddy to come on home and change everything back to the way it was before.

I set a smile on my face and said, "It's just temporary," like Mama had said to me about a hundred times.

Luanne turned red and said, "Oh."

"When Mama gets paid, we're moving into our new apartment," I said.

"Oh."

And then we both just stood there, looking at our feet. I could feel the distance between us grow and grow until it seemed like Luanne Godfrey, who had been my friend forever, was standing clear on the other side of the universe from me.

Finally, she said, "I better go."

But she didn't. She just stood there and I squeezed my eyes shut and told myself not to look pitiful and, for heaven's sake, don't cry.

And then, of course, Toby had to go and make everything worse by saying, "Mama left a note that she's working late, so we're supposed to eat that macaroni that's in the cooler."

Luanne arched her eyebrows up and then she said, "I haven't seen your daddy in a long time."

That did it. I couldn't stop the tears from spilling out of my squeezed-up eyes. I sat down right there in the drugstore parking lot and told Luanne everything.

I felt her arm around me and I heard her saying something, but I was too lost in my misery to do anything but cry. When I was all cried out, I stood up and brushed the dirt off the seat of my pants, pushed the hair out of my eyes, and said, "Promise you won't tell?"

Luanne nodded. "I promise."

"I mean, not even your mama."

Luanne's eyes flickered for just a second, but then she said, "Okay."

I crooked my pinkie finger in the air and waited for her to give me the pinkie promise, but she hesitated.

I stamped my foot and jabbed my pinkie at her. Finally she crooked her pinkie around mine and we shook.

"I better go," she said.

I watched her hurry across the parking lot, then glance back at me before disappearing around the corner of the drugstore.

"I hate that macaroni," Toby said from his seat on the milk crate. It was just like him to not even give me one little minute to wallow in my misery.

I stomped around to the back of the car and kicked the cooler, sending it toppling over on its side. Ice and water and plastic containers spilled out onto the parking lot.

"Me too," I said.

Then I climbed into the backseat of the car and waited for Mama to come back.


It was way past dark when I heard Mama's shoes click-clacking on the asphalt as she made her way toward the car. I sat up and looked out the window. Even in the dim glow of the streetlights, I could see her tired, sad look. Part of me wanted to stay put and just go on back to sleep and leave her be, but another part of me wanted to get out and have my say, which is what I did.

Mama jumped when I opened the car door.

"What in the world are you doing awake, Georgina?" she said.

"I hate this," I said. "I don't want to do this anymore."

I pushed the car door shut softly so Toby wouldn't wake up; then I turned back to Mama and said, "You got to do something. You got to find us a place to live. A real place. Not a car."

Mama reached out like she was gonna touch me, so I jerked away. She dropped her hand to her side like it was heavy as cement. Then she let out a whoosh of breath that blew her hair up off her forehead.

"I'm trying," she said.

"How are you trying?"

She tossed her purse through the car window into the front seat. "I just am, okay, Georgina?"

"But how?"

"I'm working two jobs. What else do you want me to do?"

"Find us a place to live." I stomped away from her and then whirled back around. "This is all your fault."

She stormed over and grabbed me by the shoulders.

"It takes money to get a place." She gave me a little shake when she said the word "money."

"I'm trying to save up, okay?" she said.

She let go of me and leaned against the car.

"How much money do we need?" I said.

She looked up at the sky like the answer was written up there in the stars. Then she shook her head real slow and said, "I don't know, Georgina. A lot, okay?"

"Like how much?"

"More than we got."

We both just stood there in the dark and listened to the crickets from the vacant lot next door.

Mama draped her arm around my shoulder, and I laid my head against her and wanted to be a baby again—a baby that just cries and then gets taken care of and that's all there is to a day.

Finally I asked her the same question I'd asked her about a million times already.

"Why did Daddy leave?"

I felt her whole body go limp. "I wish I knew." She brushed my hair out of my eyes. "Just got tired of it all, I reckon," she said.

"Tired of what?"

The silence between us felt big and dark, like a wall. Then I asked her the question that had been burning a hole in my heart. "Tired of me?"

Mama took my chin in her hand and looked at me hard. "This is not your fault, okay?"

She peered inside the car at Toby, all curled up in a ball in the backseat.

"We got to go," she said.

"Where?"

"I don't know. Just somewhere else." The car door creaked when she opened it, sending an echo into the still night air. "We've been here two nights now," she said. "The cops are liable to run us off if we don't leave."

She shot me a look when she saw the overturned cooler, so I helped her gather things up before I climbed back in the car. As we drove out of the parking lot, I slouched down and stared glumly out the window. The empty shops we passed made Darby, North Carolina, seem like a ghost town, all locked up and dark.

Mama pulled the car into the alley beside Bill's Auto Parts. When she shut the engine off, we got swallowed up in quiet.

I draped a beach towel over the clothesline that Mama had strung along the middle of the car to make me a bedroom. I could picture Luanne, snuggled in her pink-and-white quilt with her stuffed animals lined up along the wall beside her and her gymnastics ribbons taped on her headboard, and I sure felt sorry for myself.

Then I curled up on the seat, turning every which way trying to get comfortable. Finally I settled on my back with my feet propped against the car door and stared out at the starry sky.

And then I saw it. A sign, tacked up there on a telephone pole right outside the car window. A faded old sign that said: REWARD. $500. And under that was a picture of a bug-eyed little dog with its tongue hanging out.

And then under that it said: HAVE YOU SEEN ME? MY NAME IS MITSY.

Five hundred dollars! Who in the world would pay five hundred dollars for that little ole dog?

"Mama?" I whispered through my beach towel wall.

Mama rustled some in the front seat.

"Would five hundred dollars be enough money to get us a place to live?" I said.

Mama sighed. "I suppose so, Georgina. Now go to sleep. You got school tomorrow."

I looked up at Mitsy and my mind started churning.

What if I could find that dog? I could get that money, and we could have a real place to live instead of this stinking old car.

But that dog could be anywhere. I wouldn't even know where to look. Besides, that sign was old. Somebody had probably already found Mitsy and got that five hundred dollars.

I stared out the window at the sign, thinking about Mitsy and wondering if there were other folks out there who would pay money for their lost dogs.

And that's when I got a thought that made me sit up so fast Toby mumbled in his sleep and Mama hissed, "Shhhh."

I folded my legs up and lay back down in my beach towel bedroom. The damp car seat smelled like greasy french fries and bug spray. I closed my eyes and smiled to myself. I had a plan.

I was gonna steal me a dog.

CHAPTER 2

I thought about my plan for a couple of days before I decided to tell Toby. "You got to keep this a secret," I told him.

I glanced out the back window of the car, then pulled the beach towel over our heads. Mama had left for work, and me and Toby were waiting till it was time to walk up to the bus stop.

Toby nodded in the darkness under the towel. "I will," he said.

I pushed my face up closer to his and said, "You can't tell anybody, okay?"

"Okay."

I knew it was risky telling Toby my plan, but I figured I had to. Mama said he had to stay with me after school, so there I was, stuck with him. I couldn't even go to Luanne's or anything. How was I gonna steal a dog without Toby finding out? Then he'd go and tell Mama, for sure. If I made him think he was part of my secret plan, maybe he wouldn't be the tattletale baby that he usually is.

"Here's my plan," I said.

I paused a minute to add some drama 'cause Toby likes drama. He stared at me with wide eyes. His breath smelled like tuna fish, and I was wishing I hadn't covered us up with the towel like that.

"We're gonna steal a dog," I said. "How about that?" I grinned and waited for him to say "Hot dang" like he does, but he just stared at me with his mouth hanging open. That tuna fish odor swirled around us inside our beach towel tent. I waved my hand in front of my nose and flipped the towel off of us.

"Jeez, Toby," I said. "Can't you brush your teeth?"

He glared at me. "How?" he hollered. "There ain't no sink in here." He waved his arms around the car.

"Use the water in the cooler," I said.

"No way. It's cruddy."

"Well, anyways," I said. "Don't you want to know why we're gonna steal a dog?"

He nodded, sending a clump of greasy hair flopping down over his eyes. He had Mama's straight, copper-colored hair, but I had to go and get Daddy's curly ole black hair that I hate. One more good reason to be mad at my daddy.

I smoothed the crumpled yellowing sign out on the seat between us. "Because of this," I said.

Toby looked at it. "What's it say?"

"For crying out loud, Toby, you're in third grade." I jabbed a finger at the sign. "Reward, it says. Five hundred dollars reward for this ugly ole dog. Can you believe that?"

"He's not ugly."

"She," I said. "Her name is Mitsy. See?" I jabbed at the sign again.

Toby squeezed his eyebrows together. "Why are we gonna steal that dog?"

"Not this dog, you idiot," I said. "We're gonna steal a different dog."

"What dog?"

"I don't know yet," I said. "That's why I need you to help me."

I looked out the window again. The alley beside the auto parts store was empty. I slouched down lower in the seat and motioned for Toby to come closer.

"Listen," I whispered. "We're gonna find us a dog that somebody loves so much, they'd pay a reward to get it back." I poked Toby with my elbow. "Get it?"

"Pay a reward to who?" Toby said.

I sighed and shook my head. "To us, you ninny."

"But why would they pay us if we steal their dog?"

I rolled my eyes and flopped back against the seat.

"I swear, Toby, sometimes I wonder about you." I sat back up and took him by the shoulders, looking him square in the eyes. "The person who loves the dog won't know it was us that stole it. The person will think we found the dog. Now do you get it?"

Toby grinned. "Okay," he said. "Where's the dog?"

"We've got to find the dog," I hollered.

I slapped my hand over my mouth and glanced quickly around us. The alley was still empty.

"We've got to find the dog," I repeated in a whisper. "Mama said five hundred dollars is enough to get a place to live. If we steal a dog, we can get five hundred dollars, see?"

Toby had a look on his face that made me think I'd made a mistake sharing my plan with him.

"Listen, Toby," I said. "It's the only way we're ever gonna have us a real place to live instead of this car, you hear?"

He nodded.

"Don't you want a real place to live?"

He nodded again.

"Then we got to steal us a dog and get the reward," I said. "And if you tell anyone, and I mean anyone, you might as well just say your prayers and kiss this earth goodbye, you hear me?"

"Okay," he said. "But how do we steal a dog?"

"Don't worry," I said. "I'm working on it."


After school that day, me and Toby raced back to the car. When I unlocked it, Toby climbed in the driver's seat and started spreading peanut butter on a saltine cracker with his finger. I climbed in the backseat and locked the doors. Mama had told us to stay put. If anybody asked us what we were doing, we were supposed to say we were waiting for our mama, who was in the bank next door.


(Continues...)

Excerpted from How to Steal a Dog by Barbara O'Connor. Copyright © 2007 Barbara O'Connor. Excerpted by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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