Little Dog, Lost

by Bauer, Marion Dane; Bell, Jennifer A.

• ISBN13: 9781442434240
• ISBN10: 1442434244
• Edition: Reprint
• Format: Paperback
• Copyright: 2013-05-07
• Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers

Summary

A “wholly satisfying” (Kirkus Reviews, starred review) novel in verse starring a boy, a lost dog, and a lonely old man, from Newbery Honoree Marion Dane Bauer

Mark is a boy who needs a dog. But he can’t get his mom on board with his plan.

Buddy is a dog who needs a boy. Buddy has an owner already, but not one who understands what a dog really needs.

Mr. LaRue is a neighbor who needs a community. He’s alone all the time in his huge old house—and everyone needs more than that.

Over the course of a summer thunderstorm and one chaotic town council meeting, these three characters cross paths and come together in a timeless tale ripe with emotions. They’ll realize they all need the same things: love, understanding, and a sense of belonging—plus a place to play a game of fetch!

Author Biography

Marion Dane Bauer is the author of many books for young readers, including the Newbery Honor book On My Honor and the New York Times bestseller My Mother Is Mine. Her other titles include A Mama for Owen, If You Were Born a Kitten, Grandmother’s Song, and Thank You for Me!. She has retired from the faculty of the Vermont College of Fine Arts MFA program in Writing for Children and Young Adults where she was the first Faculty Chair. She lives in Eden Prairie, Minnesota, and can be reached at MarionDaneBauer.com.

Jennifer A. Bell is an illustrator whose work can be found on greeting cards, in magazines, and in over a dozen children’s books. She lives with her husband, son, and cranky cat in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Excerpts

Little dog,

lost.

Little black dog with brown paws

and a brown mask

and a sweet ruffle of brown fur on her bum

just beneath her black whip of a tail.

Satiny coat.

Ears like airplane wings

that drop

just at the tips.

She used to be called Buddy

until no one called her anything at all.

“Hey, you!” maybe.

Or “Shoo!”

Names to run from.

Buddy wasn’t always lost.

Once she owned a boy.

It was the boy who named her.

(“I know she’s a girl,” he’d say,

“but she’s my buddy anyway.”)

Her boy threw a ball

again

and again

and again

until Buddy flopped

onto her belly

in the tickling grass

and dropped

the ball

between her paws,

her tongue as limp

as

a

dishrag

Come and get it,her grin always said,

and then I’ll chase some more.

The boy used to take Buddy’s pointy face

between his hands

and kiss her on the lips,

just like that.

When Buddy was quick,

she could get in a lick

at the exact moment

of the kiss.

The boy would say, “Arghhh!”

and wipe his mouth

with the back of his hand.

Then he’d kiss Buddy

on the lips

again.

In short,

Buddy and her boy

were perfectly matched

and perfectly happy

together.

But nothing,

not even the sweetest love,

can be certain

of lasting

forever.