Pickle Can't Sit Still

8 pages · 7 min · ages 5+

“Shh! Bean is sleeping!” whispered Mom Dog. Pickle stopped in the middle of a jump and froze, one paw up, like a statue. That was the only time Pickle ever stood still: when Bean was sleeping. Because tomorrow was Pickle's first day at Puppy School, and at the end of every day at Puppy School there was the Big Sit. You had to sit still while Miss Maple counted to ten. If you did it, you got the Good Puppy badge, a shiny gold bone to pin on your vest. Pickle had never sat still for ten of anything. Dad Dog lowered his newspaper and blinked slowly. “Interesting,” said Dad Dog.

Puppy School smelled of crayons and biscuits. Miss Maple was a calm old Labrador with a grey muzzle and a whistle on a ribbon. There were cushions in a row. Noodle the poodle sat on hers like a fluffy white cloud. Bruno the bulldog sat on his like a potato. Pickle sat on his for one second, then his tail began to wag, and the wag went all the way up to his ears. “Paws down, tail still!” Pickle told himself. His tail did not listen. By lunchtime, Pickle had been on his cushion, under his cushion, behind his cushion and on top of Bruno.

Pickle had an idea. If his tail was the problem, he would sit on his tail. He tucked it neatly underneath him and sat down on it, hard. “Paws down, tail still!” The tail stayed still. Pickle was so happy about it that his tail tried to wag. It could not wag, so it pushed instead. Boing! Pickle shot up in the air like a toy on a spring, did a somersault, and landed in the crayon box. Noodle's bow fell off. Bruno blinked. Miss Maple picked a green crayon out of Pickle's ear. “Very bouncy,” she said kindly.

At home, Pickle asked Dad Dog. “How do you sit so still?” Dad Dog was sitting still. He was always sitting still. He lowered his newspaper. He thought about it. “I think about toast,” said Dad Dog, and raised his newspaper again. So the next day, at the Big Sit, Pickle sat on his cushion and thought about toast. Warm toast. Buttery toast. Toast with honey on it. Toast with honey AND bananas. His mouth began to water. His tummy began to rumble. His tail began to wag. “Six, seven…” counted Miss Maple. “TOAST!” shouted Pickle, and ran to the snack cupboard.

On the third day, Pickle filled his vest pocket with pebbles. Heavy puppies stay put, he thought. Heavy puppies don't bounce. He waddled to the Big Sit, sat down on his cushion, and did not bounce at all. “One, two, three,” counted Miss Maple. “Four, five…” Pickle's tail gave one tiny wag. The pebbles went rattle. Pickle liked the rattle. His tail liked the rattle too. Rattle-rattle-rattle! Noodle started dancing. Bruno started nodding. Soon the whole class was doing the Pebble Shake, and the Big Sit was the Big Party instead. Miss Maple blew her whistle. It was the third day without a gold bone.

That evening, Pickle lay on the rug with his chin on his paws. Everybody in his class had a gold bone except him. Even Bruno, who once fell asleep during the Big Sit and got it anyway. “I can't sit still,” said Pickle. “I'm just not a sitting-still dog.” Then Mom Dog came in. “Shh,” she whispered. “Bean is sleeping.” And Pickle froze. Nose still. Ears still. Tail completely, perfectly still. He stayed frozen until Mom Dog tiptoed out again. Pickle looked at his tail. His tail looked back at him. It had not wagged once.

The next day, at the Big Sit, Pickle sat down on his cushion and shut his eyes. In his head, he made the living room. He made the rug, and the basket, and baby Bean in it, fast asleep with her one curl sticking up. “Shh,” Pickle whispered to himself. “Bean is sleeping.” “One,” counted Miss Maple. “Two. Three.” Pickle did not move a whisker. “Seven. Eight. Nine.” His tail lay on the cushion like a sleeping snake. “TEN!” Miss Maple pinned the shiny gold bone on Pickle's vest, and the whole class cheered so loudly that, somewhere far away, Bean probably woke up.

At home time, the parents came to collect their puppies. “And now,” said Miss Maple, with a twinkle, “the parents' Big Sit!” The parents sat down on the little cushions. Mom Dog sat very nicely. Dad Dog sat like a statue. He was very good at this. He had been practising his whole life. Then Pickle ran up and showed him the gold bone. Dad Dog looked at it. He did not say anything. But behind him, very slowly, something began to move. Thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump. It was Dad Dog's tail. “Interesting,” said Dad Dog.