DedicationForSandy and Jack FloydMark and Karin Leuthy BenjaminLouise EnglandRob Leuthyall of whomlove love love their dogsWith special thanks toWalter Dean Myersand to all the poetsand Mr.-and-Ms. Stretchberryswho inspire students every day ContentsDedicationSeptember 13September 21September 27October 4October 10October 17October 24October 31November 6November 9November 15November 22November 29December 4December 13January 10January 17January 24January 31February 7February 15February 21February 26March 1 March 7March 14March 22March 27April 4April 9April 12April 17April 20April 24April 26May 2May 7May 8May 14May 15May 17May 21May 28May 29June 1June 6Love That DogExcerpt from Hate That CatSeptember 12September 13September 14September 19 September 21September 26October 3About the AuthorBooks by Sharon CreechCreditsCopyrightAbout the Publisher JACKROOM 105—MISS STRETCHBERRYSEPTEMBER 13I don’t want tobecause boysdon’t write poetry.Girls do. SEPTEMBER 21I tried.Can’t do it.Brain’s empty. SEPTEMBER 27I don’t understandthe poem aboutthe red wheelbarrowand the white chickensand why so muchdepends uponthem.If that is a poemabout the red wheelbarrowand the white chickensthen any wordscan be a poem.You’ve just got tomakeshortlines. OCTOBER 4Do you promisenot to read itout loud?Do you promisenot to put iton the board?Okay, here it is,but I don’t like it.So much dependsupona blue carsplattered with mudspeeding down the road. OCTOBER 10What do you mean—Why does so much dependupona blue car?You didn’t say beforethat I had to tell why.The wheelbarrow guydidn’t tell why. OCTOBER 17What was up withthe snowy woods poemyou read today?Why doesn’t the person justkeep going if he’s gotso many miles to gobefore he sleeps?And why do I have to tell moreabout the blue carsplattered with mudspeeding down the road? I don’t want towrite about that blue carthat had miles to gobefore it slept,so many miles to goin such a hurry. OCTOBER 24I am sorry to sayI did not really understandthe tiger tiger burning bright poembut at least it sounded goodin my ears.Here is the blue carwith tiger sounds:Blue car, blue car, shining brightin the darkness of the night:who could see you speeding bylike a comet in the sky?I could see you in the night,blue car, blue car, shining bright.I could see you speeding bylike a comet in the sky.Some of the tiger soundsare still in my earslike drumsbeat-beat-beating. OCTOBER 31Yesyou can putthe two blue-car poemson the boardbut only ifyou don’t putmy nameon them. NOVEMBER 6They look nicetyped up like thaton blue paperon a yellow board.(But still don’t tell anyonewho wrote them, okay?)(And what does anonymous mean?Is it good?) NOVEMBER 9I don’t have any petsso I can’t write about oneand especiallyI can’t writea POEMabout one. NOVEMBER 15Yes, I used to have a pet.I don’t want to write about it.You’re going to ask meWhy not?Right? NOVEMBER 22Pretend I still have that pet?Can’t I make up a pet—a different one?Like a tiger?Or a hamster?A goldfish?Turtle?Snail?Worm?Flea? NOVEMBER 29I liked thosesmall poemswe read today.When they’re smalllike thatyou can reada whole bunchin a short timeand then in your headare all the picturesof all the small thingsfrom all the small poems.I liked how the kitten leapedin the cat poemand how you could seethe long head of the horsein the horse poemand especially I liked the dogin the dog poembecause that’s just howmy yellow dogused to lie down,with his tongue all limpand his chinbetweenhis pawsand how he’d sometimeschomp at a flyand then sleepin his loose skin,just like that poet,Miss Valerie Worth, says,in her smalldog poem. DECEMBER 4Why do you wantto type up what I wroteabout readingthe small poems?It’s not a poem.Is it?I guess you canput it on the boardif you want tobut don’t putmy nameon itin caseother peoplethinkit’s not a poem. DECEMBER 13I guess it doeslook like a poemwhen you see ittyped uplike that.But I think maybeit would look betterif there was more spacebetween the lines.Like how I wrote itthe first time.And I liked the pictureof the yellow dogyou put beside it.But that’s not howmy yellow doglooked. JANUARY 10I really really reallydid NOT getthe pasture poemyou read today.I mean:somebody’s going outto the pastureto clean the springand to getthe little tottery calfwhile he’s out thereand he isn’t goingto be gone longand he wants YOU(who is YOU?)to come too.I mean REALLY.And you said thatMr. Robert Frostwho wroteabout the pasturewas also the onewho wrote aboutthose snowy woodsand the miles to gobefore he sleeps—well!I think Mr. Robert Frosthas a littletoo JANUARY 17Remember the wheelbarrow poemyou readthe first weekof school?Maybe the wheelbarrow poetwas justmaking a picturewith wordsandsomeone else—like maybe his teacher—typed it upand then people thoughtit was a poembecauseit looked like onetyped up like that.And maybethat’s the same thingthat happened withMr. Robert Frost.Maybe he was justmaking pictures with wordsabout the snowy woodsand the pasture—and his teachertyped them upand they looked like poemsso people thoughtthey were poems.Like how you did with the blue-car thingsand reading-the-small-poems thing.On the boardtyped upthey look likepoemsand the other kidsare looking at themand they thinkthey really arepoemsand theyare all sayingWho wrote that? JANUARY 24We were going for a driveand my father saidWe won’t be gone long—You come tooand so I wentand we drove and droveuntil we stopped at ared brick buildingwith a signin blue lettersANIMAL PROTECTION SHELTER.And inside we walkeddown a long cement pathpast cageswith all kinds ofdogsbig and smallfat and skinnysome of themhiding in the cornerbut most of thembark-bark-barking andjumping upagainst the wire cageas we walked pastas if they were sayingMe! Me! Choose me!I’m the best one!And that’s where we sawthe yellow dogstanding against the cagewith his paws curled around the wireand his long red tonguehanging outand his big black eyeslooking a little sadand his long tailwag-wag-waggingas if he were sayingMe me me! Choose me!And we did.We chose him.And in the carhe put his headagainst my chestand wrapped his pawsaround my armas if he were sayingThank you thank you thank you.And the other dogsin the cagesget killed deadif nobody chooses them. JANUARY 31Yesyou can type upwhat I wroteabout my yellow dogbut leave off the partabout the other dogsgetting killed deadbecause that’s too sad.And don’t putmy nameon itplease.And maybeit would look goodon yellow paper.And maybethe titleshould beYOU COME TOO. FEBRUARY 7Yesit looks goodon yellow paperbut you forgot(again)to leave morespacebetween the lineslike I didwhen I wrote it.That’s okay though. FEBRUARY 15I like that poemwe read todayabout street musicin the city.My street is notin the middleof the cityso it doesn’t havethat LOUD musicof horns and trucksclashflashscreech.My street ison the edgeof a cityand it hasquiet musicmost of the timewhispmeowswish.My street is a onewith houses on both sidesand my house isthe white onewith the red door.There is not too much traffic on my street—not like in themiddleof a city.We play in the yardsand sometimesin the streetbut only ifa grown-upor the big kidsare out there, too,and they will shoutCar!if they see a carcoming down our street.At both endsof our streetare yellow signsthat sayCaution! Children at Play!but sometimesthe carspay no attentionand speed downthe roadas ifthey are in a BIG hurrywith many miles to gobefore they sleep. FEBRUARY 21That was so greatthose poems you showed uswhere the wordsmake the shapeof the thingthat the poemis about—like the one about an applethat was shaped like an appleand the one about the housethat was shaped like a house.My brain was pop-pop-poppingwhen I was looking at those poems.I never knew a poet personcould do that funnykind of thing. FEBRUARY 26I tried one of thosepoems that looks likewhat it’s about. MARCH 1Yesyou can type upthe yellow dog poemthat looks like a dogbut this timekeep the spacesexactlythe sameand maybeit would lookreally really goodon yellow paper.Maybe you couldput my name on it.But only if you want to.Only if you think itlooksgood enough.
