Squeak Twice for Yes

The night I discovered Sherlock could talk was just a regular night. Mom was trying to figure out dinner.

“Brian,” Mom cried. “Would you please call your dog? He’s driving me crazy with his squeaky toy!”

Sherlock stood in front of her, squeaking his big brown monkey over and over.

“Come here, Sherlock,” I said. Sherlock bounded over, wagging his tail. He looked at me with his big purple eyes. They seemed to say, “Listen up!”

“What is it, Sherlock?” I asked. 

Squeak, squeak—squeeeeeeeak!

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

Squeak! Squeak!

“Hey, Mom,” I said. “I think Sherlock is trying to talk to us through Mr. Squeaks.”

“He’s trying to tell you he wants his dinner,” Mom called from the kitchen.

Sherlock yipped when he heard his favorite word: dinner.

“Is that what you want, Sherlock?” I asked. “Squeak twice for yes if you want dinner.”

Sherlock picked up the monkey and squeaked it twice. I decided to try something else. “Do you want to go to the vet, Sherlock? Squeak twice for yes and once for no.”

Sherlock bit down once on Mr. Squeaks. Hard.

“Whoa! Mom! Did you see that?”

She was too busy ordering pizza to notice.

The night I discovered Sherlock could talk was just a regular night.

Mom was rushing around the kitchen, trying to figure out what to do with the pork chops Dad had forgotten to take out of the freezer.

“Brian,” Mom cried. “Would you please call your dog? He’s driving me crazy with his squeaky toy!”

Sherlock stood in front of her, squeaking his stuffed monkey over and over.

“Come here, Sherlock,” I said. Sherlock bounded over, wagging his tail. He looked up at me with those big brown eyes. Most of the time his eyes were happy. This time his eyes said, “Listen up!”

“What is it, Sherlock?” I asked.

Squeak, squeak—squeeeeeeeak!

“Are you trying to tell me something?”

Squeak! Squeak!

“Hey, Dad,” I said. “I think Sherlock is trying to talk to us through Mr. Squeaks.”  Sherlock squeaked the monkey twice.

“He’s trying to tell you he wants his dinner,” Mom called from the kitchen.

Sherlock yipped at the sound of his favorite word: dinner.

“Is that what you want, Sherlock?” I asked.  “Squeak twice for yes if you want dinner.”

Sherlock picked up the slobbery monkey and squeaked it twice.

 “Mom! Did you see that?”

Dad watched Mom poke at the frozen pork chops.

“Brian, just feed that poor dog. And honey, call Speedy’s Pizza,” Mom said as she slumped down on the couch.

I filled Sherlock’s dish with food.

“You want your dinner, boy?” I asked. Squeak! Squeak!

I decided to try something else. “Do you want to go to the vet, Sherlock? Squeak twice for yes and once for no.”

Sherlock bit down once on Mr. Squeaks. Hard.

“Whoa! Mom! Dad! Did you see that?”

They were too busy arguing over pizza toppings to notice.

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

The next day at school, I saw my science fair partner, Ophelia. She’s a total genius. With her brains, we actually had a chance of winning first prize. The winners would get tickets to Six Flags amusement park. I wanted to go more than anything.

“Hey, Phee,” I said. “Can’t wait to win the science fair!” I held my hand up for a high five. Ophelia rolled her eyes—she does not do high fives.
Later that day, we sat on my bedroom floor, going over our presentation.

“First, you’ll say that Morse code is a way to communicate. Samuel Morse invented it in 1836. You’ll explain that Morse code uses dots and dashes to represent letters and numbers.”

“And the dots and dashes spell out a message,” I jumped in. “I know. It’s too boring, though.”

“It’s a perfectly good presentation,” she sniffed in disagreement.

Suddenly, Sherlock ran into my room holding Mr. Squeaks in his mouth.

“Watch this. Sherlock, squeak twice for a cookie.”

Squeak! Squeak!

“My dog can talk!” I said excitedly.

The next day at school, I found Ophelia in the library. She was easy to spot because she wears the same clothes every day—jeans, a T-shirt that says “It’s All Relative,” and a purple cap with “Doctor Who Rules” stitched on it. The kids in fifth grade think she’s weird. I happen to know she’s a genius. That’s why I was lucky to get her as my science fair partner. With her brains, I actually had a chance of going to the Missouri State Championship in St. Louis. The winners would get tickets to Six Flags amusement park, which had just opened the Super Anti-Gravity Coaster. I wanted to ride it more than anything.

“Hey, Phee,” I said. “You’re coming over today to work on our project, aren’t you?”

She glared at me over the rim of her glasses. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who can call her Phee without getting socked in the stomach. “Of course,” she said. “Our presentation is in five days.”

 “Cool!” I held my hand up for an automatic high five. Ophelia rolled her eyes. Ophelia does not do high fives.

Later that day, we sat cross-legged on my bedroom floor, going over our presentation on Morse code. Ophelia studied her checklist as she tapped her pencil on the side of her glasses.

“First, you’ll tell them how Samuel Morse and some others invented this method of communicating in 1836. Then, using this Morse code alphabet chart I made, you’ll explain how each letter and number is represented by a unique sequence of dots and dashes or clicks. And don’t forget—”

“It’s boring, Phee,” I groaned.

“It’s a perfectly good presentation,” she sniffed.

“But it’s not going to win,” I said.

Sherlock trotted into my room holding Mr. Squeaks in his mouth.

“Watch this, Phee. Sherlock, squeak twice for a dog cookie.”

Squeak! Squeak!

“See,” I said. “He can talk.”

“Coincidence,” Ophelia said.

“No, really,” I said. “Watch this.”

Ophelia was not convinced. We ran through our yes-for-dinner and no- for-the-vet routine. “Coincidence,” she said. Sherlock kept going. Squeak, squeak-squeak, squeeee, squeak!

“He’s using Morse code,” I said, half joking and half not.

Ophelia sighed. “Right. How would a dog learn Morse code?”

“Well, he’s been in the room with us while we’ve been working on this project. It makes total sense!” I said.

I grabbed Sherlock by his furry front paws and danced him around the room. “We can definitely win with Sherlock!”

“The only way we’ll win is with hard work, not a dog! I did the research. I just need you to give the presentation,” she said patiently.

“Why can’t you do it with me?” She looked down at her cowboy boots and started to shake. “I. Can’t. Talk. In. Front. Of. People.”

“Don’t worry, I have it covered,” I said, patting her back.

After Phee left, I studied the Morse code chart she had made. Sherlock picked up Mr. Squeaks. Squeak, squeak- squeak, squeeee, squeak! I wrote down the pattern, then looked up at the chart.

“You said ‘One smart boy,’ didn’t you?” Sherlock squeaked his monkey twice.

I laughed and rolled on the floor with my dog. “Six Flags, here I come!”

We ran through our yes-for-dinner and no-for-the-vet routine. “Interesting but irrelevant,” Ophelia said.

Sherlock put his front paws on Ophelia’s knees. Squeak, squeak-squeak, squeeee, squeak!

“See, he’s using Morse code,” I said, half joking and half not.

Ophelia rolled her eyes. “Right. How would a dog learn Morse code?”

“Why not?” I said. “On Animal Planet they said chimpanzees, dolphins, and even dogs have been taught to ‘read’ symbols for words.” Picking up steam, I said, “He’s been in the room with us while we’ve been working on this project. It makes total sense!”

Ophelia shook her head.

I paced around my bedroom. “Phee, do you know what this means?” I grabbed Sherlock by his furry front paws and danced him around the room. “There’s no way we can lose now with Sherlock.”

Ophelia stuffed her notepad into her Albert Einstein backpack. “The only way we’ll win is by hard work, not with a trick dog!”

“But Phee—”

“No buts, Brian. I’ve worked hard on the research and graphs and posters. All I need you to do is give the oral presentation.”

“Why can’t you do it along with me?”

She looked down at her cowboy boots. “I. Can’t. Talk. In. Front. Of. People.”

I touched her trembling arm. “Don’t worry. I have it covered.”

After she left, I studied the Morse code alphabet chart. “Maybe Ophelia’s right,” I said. “Maybe you weren’t really using Morse code.”

Sherlock picked up Mr. Squeaks. Squeak, squeak-squeak, squeeee, squeak!

I wrote down the pattern of his squeaks then looked up at the chart.

“I’ve got it!” I crowed. “You said, ‘One smart boy,’ didn’t you?” Sherlock squeaked his monkey twice.

I laughed and rolled on the floor with my dog. “Six Flags, here I come!”