Henry and Ribsy

  Beverly Cleary

  Henry and Ribsy

  Illustrated by

  Tracy Dockray

  Contents

  1. Ribsy and The Lube Job

  2. Henry and The Garbage

  3. Henry Gets a Haircut

  4. Henry’s Canine Teeth

  5. Ramona and The P.T.A.

  6. Ribsy Goes Fishing

  7. Henry’s Adventure

  About the Author

  Other Books by Beverly Cleary

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  1

  Ribsy and The Lube Job

  One warm Saturday morning in August, Henry Huggins and his mother and father were eating breakfast in their square white house on Klickitat Street. Henry’s dog Ribsy sat close to Henry’s chair, hoping for a handout. While Mr. and Mrs. Huggins listened to the nine o’clock news on the radio, Henry tried to think of something interesting he could do that day. Of course he could play ball with Scooter or ride his bicycle over to Robert’s house and work on the model railroad, but those were things he could do every day. Today he wanted to do something different, something he had never done before.

  Before Henry thought of anything interesting to do, the radio announcer finished the news and four men began to sing. Henry, who heard this program every Saturday, sang with them.

  “Woofies Dog Food is the best,

  Contains more meat than all the rest.

  So buy your dog a can today

  And watch it chase his blues away.

  Woof, woof, woof, Woofies!”

  Then the sound of a dog barking came out of the radio.

  “R-r-r-wuf!” said Ribsy, looking at the radio.

  The announcer’s voice cut in. “Is your dog a member of the family?” he asked.

  “He sure is!” exclaimed Henry to the radio. “He’s the best dog there is.”

  “Henry, for goodness’ sake, turn that down,” said Mrs. Huggins, as she poured herself a cup of coffee. “And by the way, Henry, speaking of good dogs reminds me that Mrs. Green said Ribsy ran across the new lawn she just planted. She said he left deep paw prints all the way across.”

  “Aw, he didn’t mean to hurt her old lawn. He was just…” Henry remembered that Ribsy had run across the lawn because he was chasing the Grumbies’ cat. “He was just in a hurry,” he finished lamely. “You’re a good dog, aren’t you, Ribsy?”

  Thump, thump, thump went Ribsy’s tail on the rug.

  “We think he’s a good dog, but the neighbors won’t if he runs across new lawns and chases cats,” said Mr. Huggins.

  Henry looked sharply at his father and wondered how he knew about Ribsy’s chasing the Grumbies’ cat. At the same time he couldn’t see why Ribsy was to blame about the lawn. The cat ran across it first, didn’t she? “Well, anyway, Ribsy doesn’t keep everybody awake barking at night, like that collie in the next block,” said Henry.

  “Just the same, you better keep an eye on him. We don’t want him to be a nuisance to the neighbors.” Mr. Huggins laid his napkin beside his plate. “Well, I guess I’ll take the car down to the service station for a lube job.”

  That gave Henry an idea. Here was his chance to do something he had never done before, something he had always wanted to do when his father had the car greased.

  “Oh, boy, I…” Henry paused because it occurred to him that his mother might not like his idea. He had better wait and ask his father when they got to the service station. “Can I go?” he asked eagerly.

  “Sure,” answered Mr. Huggins. “Come along.”

  “Woofies Dog Food is the best,” sang Henry, as he and Ribsy climbed into the front seat of the car. Henry sat in the middle beside his father, because Ribsy liked to lean out the window and sniff all the interesting smells. Henry was happy to be going someplace, even just to the service station, with his father. He always had a grown-up, man-to-man feeling when they were alone together. He wished his father had time to take him places more often.

  As they drove toward the service station they passed the Rose City Sporting Goods Shop, where Henry noticed the windows filled with tennis rackets, golf clubs, and fishing tackle. Fishing tackle—that gave Henry a second idea. “Say, Dad,” he said, “I was wondering if you plan to go fishing pretty soon.”

  “I expect I will.” Mr. Huggins stopped at a red light. “Hector Grumbie and I thought we’d go salmon fishing sometime in September. Why?”

  “How about taking me along this year?” Henry tried to sound grown-up and casual.

  Mr. Huggins drove past the supermarket and turned into Al’s Thrifty Service Station. “We’ll see,” he said.

  Boy, oh, boy, thought Henry, as he and Ribsy got out of the car near the grease rack. When his father said, “We’ll see,” he meant, “Yes, unless something unusual happens.” If he had said, “Ask your mother,” it would mean he didn’t care whether Henry went fishing or not. But—“We’ll see!” Henry could see himself sitting in a boat reeling in a salmon—a chinook salmon. He could see himself having his picture taken beside his fish and could hear people saying, “Yes, this is Henry Huggins, the boy who caught the enormous chinook salmon.”

  When Mr. Huggins had arranged with Al, the owner of the station, to have the car lubricated, he turned to Henry and said, “I have to go to the bank and do a few errands. Are you coming with me or do you want to wait here?”

  Henry had been so busy thinking about fishing that he had almost forgotten why he came to the filling station in the first place. He looked at the car beside the grease rack and hesitated. Maybe it was a silly idea. Still, it was something he had always wanted to do. “Say…uh, Dad, do you suppose I could stay in the car and ride up on the grease rack?”

  Mr. Huggins and Al both laughed. “You know, I always wanted to do the same thing when I was a kid,” said Mr. Huggins. “It’s all right with me, but maybe Al won’t think it’s such a good idea.”

  “It’s OK with me,” said Al, “but once you get up there you’ll have to stay till I finish the job. It may take a while because I have to wait on customers.”

  “Sure, I’ll stay,” agreed Henry.

  “And you’re not to open the car door while you’re up there,” cautioned Henry’s father.

  “I won’t,” promised Henry, and got back into the car. Al drove it onto the rack and then got out to fix the axle supports that held the car to the rack. He turned a handle and Henry felt the car begin to rise.

  “So long, Dad,” Henry called, as he and the car rose slowly into the air. He felt as if he were riding in an elevator that didn’t have a building around it. Too bad some of the boys and girls were not around to see him now.

  The car stopped and Henry could hear the pish-tush, pish-tush of the grease gun as Al worked beneath him. How different things looked from up in the air. And wouldn’t it be fun if cars could take off and drive along just this high!

  “Wuf!” said Ribsy, looking anxiously up at Henry as if he could not understand what the Huggins car was doing up in the air.

  “It’s all right, Ribsy,” said Henry. “I won’t go any higher.”

  Thump, thump, thump went Ribsy’s tail on the cement.

  Al left the grease rack to sell some gasoline and check someone’s oil. Ribsy, seeing that the car was not going to leave without him, wandered around the service station sniffing the gasoline pumps and the Coke machine. Henry sat behind the steering wheel and pretended he was driving the car around in the air. He wished some of his friends would come along.

  Then Scooter McCarthy rode into the service station on his bicycle. He stopped by the air hose and started to unscrew the valve cap on his front tire.

  “Hi, Scooter,” Henry called.

  S
tartled, Scooter looked around but did not see Henry. He looked puzzled as he bent over to put air into his bicycle tire.

  I bet I can have some fun with old Scooter, thought Henry. Then he said in a hollow voice, “I am the ghost of Henry Huggins.” Quickly he ducked down in the seat of the car.

  The air stopped hissing into Scooter’s tire.

  Henry peeked out to see Scooter looking worried. “I have come to haunt you,” said Henry in his hollow voice, and let out a groan.

  “You all right up there, sonny?” asked Al, who had returned from the gasoline pump.

  Henry had to answer. “Sure, I’m all right,” he said, feeling foolish.

  “Aw, I knew you were up there all the time,” said Scooter, unscrewing the valve cap on his back tire.

  “You did not,” answered Henry. “You just wish you’d thought of riding up on the grease rack.”

  “Ha,” scoffed Scooter, as the air hissed into his tire.

  “You know what?” said Henry. “My dad’s going to take me salmon fishing this year.” That ought to impress Scooter.

  “Haven’t you ever been fishing?” said Scooter.

  “Sure I’ve been fishing, but not salmon fishing,” said Henry. Well, he had been fishing. Once he and his mother and father had picnicked beside the Sandy River when the smelt were running. The river was so thick with the little fish that people dipped them out of the water with nets. Henry did not have a net, but he used an old stocking cap to scoop up some fish. His mother had cooked them for dinner so it really counted as fishing, even though he didn’t intend to let Scooter know exactly how he had caught the fish.

  “My dad took me salmon fishing last year,” boasted Scooter.

  Henry might have known Scooter had already gone salmon fishing. He was two years older and always got to do things first. “Catch anything?” Henry asked.

  “A silverside,” answered Scooter proudly, as he screwed the valve cap back on his wheel.

  “Aw, that’s just a little salmon,” said Henry.

  “I don’t call fifteen pounds so little,” said Scooter.

  “I bet I catch a chinook,” boasted Henry.

  “Ha, I’d like to see you,” sneered Scooter. “Why, they weigh twenty or thirty pounds. You couldn’t land a chinook even if you did get one to bite.”

  “I could too land one,” said Henry.

  “No, you couldn’t. I know. I’ve been salmon fishing and you haven’t,” Scooter said. Then he called, “So long,” and pedaled away.

  “You just wait. I will too catch a salmon,” yelled Henry.

  That old Scooter, he thought. He needn’t think he’s so smart just because he got to go fishing first.

  Al gave the car a few more pish-tushes with the grease gun and hurried off to sell some more gas. Ribsy looked up at Henry as if he wished he would come down.

  “Pretty soon, fellow,” said Henry, wishing something would happen. Sitting up on the grease rack wasn’t as much fun as he had thought it would be.

  While Henry was wishing something would happen, a police car stopped in front of the supermarket next door to the service station. The officer got out and hurried into the market.

  Boy, oh, boy, thought Henry. Now something is happening. Maybe somebody’s holding up the supermarket. If he comes out shooting, I better duck.

  “Three M eighty-five, stand by,” blared the radio in the police car.

  Jeepers, thought Henry, I bet that means headquarters is going to send help. If the burglars get out and try to escape, I’m in a good place to watch where they go. Yes, sir, it’s a good thing I’m up here. I’ll be a lookout and keep my eagle eye on the door just in case any suspicious-looking people come out.

  Henry slid down in the seat and peered over the edge of the car door with his eagle eye. He saw a lady with a baby in a Taylor-tot come out of the supermarket. She was followed by a man on crutches. They didn’t look the least bit suspicious. Wait a minute, thought Henry. That man on crutches. Maybe the crutches are a disguise. Maybe when he gets around the corner he’ll throw them away and begin to run. I better watch him.

  Pish-tush went the grease gun.

  “Thirteen L ten meet thirteen A nine,” blared the radio in the police car. Here comes help, thought Henry.

  Just at that moment Ribsy pointed his nose into the air and sniffed. Then he trotted purposefully toward the police car. Now what’s Ribsy up to, wondered Henry, forgetting to keep his eagle eye on the man on crutches. The officer had not slammed the door of the police car shut when he got out. Henry was horrified to see Ribsy push it wider open with his nose and jump into the front seat.

  “Here, Ribsy,” Henry called. “You get out of there!”

  The radio suddenly blared forth. “Three M eighty-five, Second and Broadway.”

  Frightened, Ribsy scrambled out of the car. The radio was silent.

  “You stay away from that police car,” ordered Henry from the grease rack.

  Cautiously Ribsy approached the open door of the car.

  “You get away from there,” yelled Henry.

  Ribsy jumped into the police car again.

  “Ribsy!” Henry called desperately.

  Ribsy jumped out of the police car. In his mouth was a brown paper bag.

  Henry groaned. A dog that robs police cars! Now he really was in trouble. “Ribsy, you drop that!” he ordered.

  Obediently Ribsy dropped the bag. He looked at Henry, wagged his tail, and tore open the bag with his paws and teeth.

  Henry looked down at the pavement. It was too far to jump. Anyway, he had promised his father he wouldn’t open the car door. There must be some way he could attract attention. “Say, mister,” he called to Al, who was working under the car.

  Pish-tush went the grease gun. Pish-tush, pish-tush.

  “Ribsy!” yelled Henry. The dog looked up and wagged his tail. He had a sandwich in his mouth.

  “Drop that!” ordered Henry. Ribsy swallowed the sandwich in two gulps and poked his nose into the paper bag again.

  Henry hoped the policeman would stay in the supermarket a long time. He didn’t want him to see the thief who had stolen his lunch. Thinking it must be nearly time for his father to return, Henry looked anxiously up and down the street.

  Two cars drove into the station, and Al hurried away to sell some more gasoline. Ribsy rolled what looked like a deviled egg out on the sidewalk. He sniffed it and then gobbled it up.

  How do you like that, thought Henry. At home he doesn’t like the eggs he’s supposed to eat to make his coat glossy. Ribsy poked his nose into the bag once more. Henry wondered what happened to dogs that stole lunches, especially policemen’s lunches.

  At that moment the policeman came out of the supermarket with a bag in his hand. He looked at the open door of his car. Then he saw Ribsy. “Here, you!” he shouted.

  What’s he going to do to Ribsy? Henry wondered in alarm.

  Looking guilty, Ribsy picked up the paper bag and ran between the gasoline pumps. The policeman ran after him. “Come back here,” he yelled, and tripped on the hose from the pump. Ribsy ran under the car that was getting gas. “Come out from under there,” ordered the policeman.

  Al hung the hose on the pump, and the driver of the car started the motor. The sound frightened Ribsy into running out.

  I sure wish I could get out of here, thought Henry. Why doesn’t Dad hurry up and come back?

  “I’ll head him off,” Al called to the officer.

  Ribsy, followed by Al and the policeman, ran around behind the station, where Henry could not see him. He listened to two pairs of feet running back and forth on the cement and wondered desperately what would happen next. Ribsy appeared from behind the station and raced around to the air and water hoses, where he dropped the bag and looked at the policeman. Henry did not know whether to yell or just slide down in the car and hide.

  When the policeman was within a few feet of him, Ribsy picked up the bag, dashed past its owner, and ran under the grease ra
ck. As the policeman ran after him, Henry was horrified to see him put his hand on the gun on his hip.

  “Don’t shoot,” begged Henry. “Please don’t shoot my dog!”

  Surprised, the policeman stopped alongside of the grease rack and looked all around to see where the voice was coming from.

  “I’m up here,” said Henry in a small voice. “Please don’t shoot my dog. I know he shouldn’t have stolen your lunch, but please don’t shoot him.”

  The policeman looked startled to see Henry peering out of the car above his head. “I’m not going to shoot your dog,” he said kindly. “I’m just trying to get my lunch back if there’s anything left of it.”

  “I saw you put your hand on your gun and I thought…” Henry began.

  “I was just trying to keep it from flopping against me when I ran,” explained the officer.

  Just the same, Henry could not help feeling Ribsy had had a narrow escape. “I’m afraid there isn’t much left of your lunch, sir,” said Henry politely.

  Then, to Henry’s relief, Mr. Huggins returned. “What’s the trouble?” he wanted to know, when he saw the policeman talking to Henry.

  “I just stepped into the market to buy a pint of milk to drink with my lunch,” began the officer, and went on to explain what had happened.

  A pint of milk! There hadn’t been a holdup at all. Henry was disappointed to learn that the policeman had been on such an uninteresting errand—an old pint of milk. Well, he supposed policemen had to drink milk like anyone else.

  Mr. Huggins snapped his fingers at Ribsy, who came out from under the grease rack. Looking guilty, he dropped the tattered bag at Mr. Huggins’s feet. Part of a cupcake rolled out onto the cement.

  “Not much left, is there?” said Mr. Huggins. Then he looked at Ribsy. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

  Ribsy’s tail and ears drooped. Henry could see his dog really was ashamed. He hoped the policeman noticed how sorry he looked. “What happens to dogs that rob police cars?” Henry asked. “Do they get arrested or get a ticket or something?”