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www.ScholaStic.com/Scope OCTOBER 22, 2012 25
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The expression
Heinz 57 comes
from an old
advertising slogan.
In the 1890s, the
Heinz company
(famous for
ketchup!) ran
ads for Heinz
57 Varieties,
telling consumers
about their many
products. What do
you think it means
to call someone
or something a
Heinz 57 today?
This is a
real place.
BBOO
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BY BOBBIE PYRON
St. Augustine




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he rst time we saw
him, my little sister
thought he was a ghost.
In some ways she was right,
though theres not really a word for what he was.
Wed parked in the Ponce De Len Travel Park outside St. Augustine, Florida. Stop ve
in the longest family vacation ever. My family is okay, but after two weeks, being stuck
in a rented RV with my parents and little sister was getting old. Dad said we needed this
vacation, especially Mom, after everything that had happened. Maybe so, but I didnt see
how driving from Maryland to Florida would make things right, the way they used to be.
I sat on the picnic table watching what Dad called swamp fog creep from the forest
on the other side of the park. I wondered what my friends were doing back home. And then
thinking about home made me think about who wasnt there anymore. My throat tightened.
Nathan, look! Maggie said, her eyes wide. On the other side of the park, something
had wandered out of the misty shadows of the forest.
Maggie grabbed my hand. Its a ghost!
I squinted into the fog and pulled Maggie a little closer. Its just a dog.
The dog stopped about 15 feet from us and wagged his tail. He was mostly black, with
white on his feet and chest. He looked like a mix of everything. A real Heinz 57, as Grandpa
would have said.
The dog trotted over and looked at us with smiling eyes.
Who do we have here? Dad asked as he brought out plates of burgers and chips.
I dont know, I shrugged, scratching the small white star on the dogs chest. He just
wandered up.
Must belong to another camper, Mom said. She stood beside me and squeezed
my shoulder.
But there were no other campers in sight. Wed stumbled across this place when
What does this story say
about life and death?
AS YOU READ,
THINK ABOUT:

26 ScholaStic Scope OCTOBER 22, 2012

According to one
legend, Spanish
moss comes from
a young American
Indian princess.
When she died, her
husband buried her
beneath an oak
tree. He hung her
long braids from a
limb to mark the
grave. Over time,
the braids turned
gray and floated
from tree to
tree, creating
Spanish moss, as
its known today.
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Dad had taken yet another wrong turn. It wasnt even on our RV camp map.
Maggie wrapped her arms around the dogs neck. Hes mine, she said. Im naming
him Boo. Boo was Maggies nickname for Grandpa Lou.
Suddenly, I felt like a thunderstorm was brewing in my stomach. I ran into the RV.
Sorry! Maggie called out.
Its okay, I heard Dad say. He just needs some time alone.
W
hen I came out that evening, Boo was still there. He followed close
as we wandered around the campground. It was strangely desolate. A gust of wind
blew the rusty playground swings back and forth, making a creaking sound.
Its creepy here, I said to Dad.
Must be the off-season, he said with a shrug. Besides, he added, grinning, isnt it
nice having the place to ourselves?
When it was time to go to bed, Maggie insisted Boo stay, but Dad said we had to let
him go because he belonged to someone else. But when I opened the RV door to let Boo
out, he just looked up at me and whined, like he didnt want to go out by himself.
Go on, I said softly. He hopped out reluctantly, and I watched him wander across
the park and into the forest.
T
he next morning, Dad and Maggie packed up for a day at the
amusement park.
Nate, you coming? Dad asked.
I think Ill pass, I said. Somehow, going to an amusement park seemed like the wrong
thing to do.
Mom smiled. Ill pass too. I want to update our vacation blog and hang out with Nate.
After they left, Mom perched next to me on the picnic table. Want to go for a walk,
maybe talk a bit?
I hopped off the table and jammed my hands into my pockets. Maybe later, I said,
not looking at her. I want to check out the forest, see if I can nd where Boo lives.
Mom sighed. I knew what she wanted to say: Being mad at the world wont bring him
back. You have to talk about it sometime. Things shed already said. Instead she called out,
Be careful. Theres no telling whats out there!
I trotted across the park to the edge of the woods. The vines were so dense, I couldnt
see more than ve feet in front of me. Spanish moss hung in long silver tendrils from the
trees. I glanced back at our RV. Maybe this wasnt such a good idea.
Just then, something rustled in the leaves. Boo pushed through a thick bunch of
palmettos and wagged his tail.
Hey, you, I said, patting his head. You going to show me where you live?
Woof! Boo pushed through the wall of vegetation and disappeared.
I plunged in after him, stumbling over tree roots. Vines clawed at my shirt and grabbed
at my legs and feet, scratching my skin, but I kept going. I dropped to my hands and knees
to crawl under a branch, and my foot hit something sharp. The ground was wet. Swamp
water seeped between my ngers. I scraped a spiderweb off my face and peered into the
How does Bobbies
description of the
resort compare with
the description of
the campground?
What does this
detail tell you about
Dr. Brewster?
www.ScholaStic.com/Scope OCTOBER 22, 2012 27
woods for Boo. There was no way I wanted to get lost in this jungle.
Woof! Boo stood in a small patch of sunlight on a barely discernible trail.
And then he was gone again.
I looked down at my feet, which were covered in cuts. There was a deep gash on my
heel. My ip-ops were covered in blood. Behind me, I couldnt see anything but foliage. It
was as if the park and the RV and Mom never existed.
There was no turning back now. I took a deep breath and forged ahead.
Finally, we came to a clearing. There, in the shadows, stood an old, boarded-up building
surrounded by a weedy parking lot. A crumbling fountain sat in front. I could tell it had
been beautiful once; now the fountain brimmed with stagnant water and bugs. A large,
faded sign on top of the building declared, Eternal Springs Resort.
Boo leaned against me. One of his back legs trembled.
You okay? I asked. In reply, he limped behind the building and along an overgrown
path. Not another bushwhack in the swamp, I groaned.
I found Boo in a beautiful, sunlit clearing on the banks of a stream, drinking. Gingerly,
he eased himself into the water and started swimming.
Great idea, I said, kicking off my ip-ops. I put my feet in the cold water, wiggling my
toes and watching the blood wash away. It felt awesome. Closing my eyes, I listened. Wind
rustling leaves. Birds singing. The gurgle of the stream. A magical oasis in the swamp.
Grandpa would have loved this, I whispered.
Grandpa, so full of life, so invincible.
Woof! I looked up and saw Boo prancing toward me with a stick in his mouth, like
a puppy. Whatever had been wrong with his back leg was ne. His limp was completely
gone. I chased him along the stream for a while, wrestling the stick from him and playing
fetch until we were exhausted. Finally, I
opped on the ground and Boo curled up
beside me, panting. I buried my face in wet
dog fur and felt a knot in me loosen.
Lets go, I nally told Boo. And thats
when I noticed it: The skin on my feet was
completely healednew as a babys skin.
How could that be possible? I shivered.
S
ince there was no sign of Boos
family, Mom and Dad said we
could adopt him. But before we took him
home with us to Maryland, Mom wanted to
have him checked out. We found a vet down
the roadDr. Brewster. She wasnt much
taller than I was, but she looked like she could
wrestle an alligator.
Seems healthy, she said, after
checking Boos eyes and ears.
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Not only is Bobbie Pyron (below) the fabulous
author of this story, she is also a fascinating lady! Her
great-great-great aunt was Harriet Beecher Stowe,
who wrote the famous novel Uncle Toms Cabin, the
book Abraham Lincoln
said started the Civil
War. Bobbie also loves
dogsshe has three.
In fact, the dog in this
story is named after one
of them. Bobbie rescued
the real Boowho is
part coyote!from
the street.
MEET THE AUTHOR
The
real
Boo!
28 ScholaStic Scope OCTOBER 22, 2012
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INFORMATIONAL TEXT
If you could stay the age you are right
now for all eternity, would you? Imagine
it: You would never get older, never get
wrinkles, never die.
For thousands of years humans have
been looking for ways to stay young.
Nearly every culture has a folktale or
legend about special waters that reverse
aging, heal the body, and put off death.
One of the most famous stories involves
the Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de Len
and his quest for the Fountain of Youth.
The idea of the Fountain of Youth might
sound far-fetched now, but in the 1500s,
it didnt. Europeans were exploring the
Americas for the first time. The strange
lands of the New World held such
promise that the existence of a Fountain of
Youth seemed quite plausible.
In 1513, Ponce de Len arrived on the
shores of what is now Florida. According to
legend, he believed he was close to finding
the Fountain. For the past 10 years, hed
been living in the Caribbean, where the
native peoples had supposedly told him
that the magical spring was up north.
Sadly, Ponce de Lens quest ended
in failure. In 1521, a tribe of American
Indians shot him with an arrow. He was
fatally wounded and died having never
found the magical spring.
Today, the supposed site of Ponce de
Lens spring is a tourist attraction in
St. Augustine, Florida. There have been
no reports of spontaneous rejuvenation,
though; it seems the waters powers have
dried up. Or perhaps the real Fountain of
Youth has yet to be discovered.
Kathy Satterfield
Ponce
de Len
The Fountain
of Youth:
Fact or Fiction?
How old do you think he is? I asked.
Could be 5 or 6. She took off Boos collar. These tags look old. Ill run a check on the
number and see if I come up with something.
A few moments later, Dr. Brewster came back, shaking her head. According to these
tags, this dog is 50 years old. The tags were registered to a dog named Roscoe in 1947.
Dad frowned. Well, the records must be wrong.
My granddaddy was the vet then. He kept excellent records, Dr. Brewster said. Its
more likely that Roscoes tags ended up on Boo somehow.
Or maybe hes found the Fountain of Youth, Mom said, with a chuckle.
Everyone laughedexcept me. A strange feeling came over me as I thought about what
happened at the stream, the way Boos limp disappeared and the way my feet healed.
www.ScholaStic.com/Scope OCTOBER 22, 2012 29
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Write About Theme What does Following Boo say about life and death? Do you
agree? In your answer, explain why Nate decides to keep Boo. Be sure to support your ideas
with text evidence. Send your response to FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH CONTEST. Five winners
will each get a copy of Bobbie Pyrons incredible new book, The Dogs of Winter. See
page 2 for details.
CONTEST
GET THIS
ACTIVITY
ONLINE
Why does Nate
decide to take
Boo home?
The theme of
this story reminds
us of a novel we
love called Tuck
Everlasting. Have
you read it?
W
hen we got back to the campground, I told Dad that we couldnt
keep Boo.
Im pretty sure I know where his family is, I lied. It would be wrong to take him away.
Are you sure? Dad asked, surprised.
I was sure. Somehow that stream was keeping Boo alive. Taking him home with us
meant that he would die one day. We have to leave him here, I said rmly.
But you said . . . Maggie sobbed.
Get out of here! I yelled at Boo.
Boo looked at me, confused.
Go home! I shouted, shooing him away.
Boo slunk into the woods, his head low, his tail down, whimpering.
Mom reached out and touched my arm. Nate . . .
I jerked away and ran into the RV, feeling horrible and nauseous and hating this
vacation more than anything.
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hat night, I couldnt sleep. Maggie had cried and cried. You said Boo was
ours, she wailed.
Nathans right, honey, Mom said. Boo belongs here with his family.
But were his family, Maggie said. We love him.
Suddenly I remembered my last day with Grandpa. I had been sitting next to him in
the hospital room when he had opened his eyes, his face twisted with pain, and taken my
hand. Dont look so sad, Nate, he had said. Its my time. Im ready.
I had wanted to shout at him, No! You cant leave me! But I hadnt said anything.
Ive had a long life, Grandpa had whispered, gripping my hand harder. A life lled
with love and family. What more could I ask for?
I sat up in bed.
Maggie was right. Boo belonged with us. I knew exactly what I had to do.
I slipped out of bed, tiptoed to the door, and stepped outside. A wall of swamp fog had
crept in from the forest, enveloping everything. I couldnt even see the playground. The
thought of looking for Boo at night lled me with dread.
But before I had taken one step, I heard a familiar sound.
Woof!
Boo pranced out of the fog, eyes shining, tail wagging. I knelt beside him and buried
my face in his wet fur.
Lets go home, I whispered.