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    Watchdog and the Coyotes
    Watchdog and the Coyotes
    Watchdog and the Coyotes
    Ebook91 pages1 hour

    Watchdog and the Coyotes

    By Bill Wallace

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Some dogs have a bark bigger than their bite. But Sweetie, The Great Dane, can't afford to bark -- or bite.
    After three little nips and three masters, the next stop is the pound. So when the burglar comes calling, he waves his tail. When coyotes come prowling, he tries to make peace -- as they howl in scorn. They promise they'll return -- to eat his food, his friends, Red the Irish Setter, Poky the Beagle, and Sweetie for dessert!
    If Sweetie can't protect them they'll all perish! How can he outfox twelve hungry coyotes?
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAladdin
    Release dateJul 15, 2014
    ISBN9781481431422
    Watchdog and the Coyotes
    Author

    Bill Wallace

    Bill Wallace grew up in Oklahoma. Along with riding their horses, he and his friends enjoyed campouts and fishing trips. Toasting marshmallows, telling ghost stories to scare one another, and catching fish was always fun. One of the most memorable trips took place on the far side of Lake Lawtonka, at the base of Mt. Scott. He and his best friend, Gary, spent the day shooting shad with bow and arrows, cutting bank poles, and getting ready to go when their dads got home from work. Although there was no "monster" in Lake Lawtonka, one night there was a "sneak attack" by a rather large catfish tail. Checking the bank poles was not nearly as fun or "free" after that point, but it was the inspiration for this story. Bill Wallace has won nineteen children's state awards and been awarded the Arrell Gibson Lifetime Achievement Award for Children's Literature from the Oklahoma Center for the Book.  

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    Reviews for Watchdog and the Coyotes

    3.5/5

    23 ratings2 reviews

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    • 3/5
      Sweetie is the "greatest Great Dane ever," but when a series of misunderstandings lands him with his third and final owner, he vows to never use his bite or bark again. The plan backfires when a pack of coyotes start bullying him and his smaller dog pals, Red and Poky, and Sweetie can't defend them. Red explains the differences between sneaky fear and normal fear, and at first, Sweetie attempts to befriend the coyotes. Eventually, however, Sweetie and pals resort to the coyotes' level of violence; an ending where the dogs outsmart the coyotes instead of beating them up would have been preferred. And although the fast pacing, short chapters, and goofy personalities of the dogs will keep readers interested, one fight scene in particular where Sweetie "screamed with pain" may be too graphic for the intended audience. However, these could be good starting points for discussions on bullying and violence. Recommended with thoughtfulness in regards to individual readers for grades 2-5.
    • 5/5
      Watchdog and The Coyotes is about a Great Dane named Sweetie. Sweetie has 2 friends, Poky (a Beagle) and Red (an Irish Setter). Sweetie had 2 previous owners and is now on his third. His 2 previous owners misinterpreted his attempts to protect their homes. As a result, Sweetie has become very paranoid, worrying that if he makes a mistake his owner will send him to the pound. Poky and Red try to comfort Sweetie. Then the coyotes arrive and harrass the 3 friends. The coyotes sleep in their dog houses, physically threaten them, and steal their food. Sweetie then decides to be the leader of the 3 in their fight against the coyotes. Sweetie then trains Poky amd Red to prepare them. This ultimately leads to their victory over the coyotes. I really enjoyed reading Watchdog and The Coyotes. The story is so funny and exciting that I couldn't stop reading it. The illustrations in the book add a visual representation of the text which makes the book easier to understand. The personalities of the 3 dogs are well represented in their actions and dialogue. The main theme of the book is the weak (Sweetie, Poky, and Red) defeating the powerful (the coyotes).

    Book preview

    Watchdog and the Coyotes - Bill Wallace

    Chapter 1

    The warm dry breeze that swept in from the desert felt good on my cold nose. It tingled the little hairs inside my ears and made them twitch and wiggle. My left paw dangled over the edge of my floor. I draped my right paw over it and rested my chin.

    I watched.

    The sun was nothing but a huge orange sliver above the wooden fence around the backyard. It was pretty, but I forced myself to quit thinking about it. I had to watch. That was my job—and I couldn’t afford to mess up again. This was my third chance—probably my last.

    In a moment the sun would disappear and the only thing left would be a bright glow. Higher in the sky were mixtures of yellow and gold. Streaks of clouds were darker. Low in the sky, they were blue. Above, the blue changed to a deep purple. I wished the fence wasn’t there. I wished—just once—I could see all of the sunset.

    Far off in the desert a coyote howled. It was a lonely sound. It made me feel lonely, too.

    I watched.

    But behind my eyes, visions came. Memories flooded my mind. I missed my mama. She had been so big and wise. I missed my little boy. He had been fun and full of laughter. I missed my big boy. He was rough-and-tumble, and I could play with him and not have to worry about him crying. How I longed to be with them.

    Not that I didn’t love my new master. He was nice. His laugh rolled and tumbled through the air like thunder rumbling before a storm. But he was just too old to play. His wife didn’t play with me, either. They fed me well. They petted me and scratched behind my ears. But there was no romp or play in either of them. That was what made me lonely, especially on nights like this, when they weren’t home.

    I watched.

    After a time, the deep purple color filled the sky. The smell of night came and all was quiet, and the quiet made me feel even more alone.

    Things could have been worse, I guess. That’s why it was so important for me to watch. That’s why I had to do a good job. I had to be careful.

    • • •

    Scotty had warned me. Scotty was a Scottie. He had lived in the yard next to mine back when I lived in California. There had been a chain-link fence between our houses, and not only could we visit but we could actually see each other. Scotty told me that he was a digger.

    It’s a bad habit, he’d explained. I just can’t quit digging. It’s kind of like some masters have a habit of smoking cigarettes, and no matter how hard they try, they just can’t break the habit. I’m like that, too. Only I don’t smoke, I dig.

    Scotty was on his third master when I met him. Two days after our last visit Scotty dug up the guy’s rosebushes, and sure enough—straight to the pound.

    That’s it, man. About three masters is all a guy gets, then off to the pound.

    • • •

    Despite the warm breeze from the desert, the memory of Scotty sent a chill up my back. The Shaffers were my third masters.

    A sound jerked me from my sad memories. I watched.

    For a time there was nothing. Then a black stocking cap appeared above the back fence. It hesitated there a moment, then rose. I watched.

    A man’s face was under the hat. Nervous eyes scanned my yard. A wisp of the fall breeze brought a scent to my nose. Something about it was almost familiar, but it was a smell I didn’t know, an odor that I couldn’t taste or understand. The man looked all around. Then there was another clunk as his shoe found the wood rail and he climbed over the fence.

    I watched.

    Wonder why he didn’t use the gate, I thought as he jumped from the top of the fence. When he landed, he looked all around again. He had on a black cap and a black shirt and black pants. The only part I could really see of him was his face. His eyes and forehead scrunched up when he looked toward my doghouse. The way he acted, the way he smelled—it brought a feeling from deep inside me. His actions made the hair bristle in a sharp ridge down my back. He inched forward. Watching him made my lip curl. My teeth felt dry. He stood very still for a moment, then edged toward the house.

    I watched.

    I guess he hadn’t seen me where I rested inside my house. When he got close he suddenly froze, dead in his tracks. He started to shake all over.

    Nice doggy. His voice quivered when he whispered to me. Nice puppy.

    The smell was much stronger now. I still couldn’t hear or see or understand it. I forced my lips closed so my teeth wouldn’t show. I made the hair relax on my back. My tail made a thumping sound against the wooden floor of my house. He seemed to relax. Then, never taking his eyes off me, he moved toward the Shaffers’ house.

    I watched.

    But when he disappeared around the side of my house, I climbed out. I peeked around the corner of the doghouse and saw him kneeling down at the back door. He

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