“I think it’s even an Italian proverb,” Mea said between a yawn, stretching her vocal chords as her mouth opened to expose her pearly whites.  “We’re Italian Greyhounds and we’re living proof.  Plus, we always sleep next to each other.  It’s the way we know how to preserve body heat and keep warm.”

“So what are we going to do now?,” Gregio asked behind his sunglasses.  He had already gotten up and was doing his morning stretches.  “I feel like getting a coffee and kicking it a cafe.  Something.  We really need to do something today.”

“Why do you wear shades?,” Karma asked, stepping over Lexi who was still lounging.  “We’re sight dogs.”

“That probably explains why you’re always walking into things,” Stella snickered.

“I really want to do something today,” Zoey said hurriedly, giving a nod to Gregio.  “The sun’s out and we’re inside.  What’s wrong with this picture?”

“I remember when we used to do fun things,” Mea chimed back in.  “Remember all the adventures we used to go on?  Now it’s all about the Beefy Snack Club and Xanderleus.  Boring.”

“What do you mean?,” I asked incredulously.  “Is this mutiny?  I was doing it for us and giving us purpose.  What in the world would you want to do?”

Karma was flipping channels and the Kia Sorento commercial came on.  It was first broadcast during the Super Bowl but was really cool. Everyone gathered around to watch and bobbed their heads to the music.

“See what I mean?,” Mea said at its conclusion.  “Even a sock monkey is having fun.  Did you see how the robot had people dancing with him in Vegas?  I remember when we used to do that stuff.”

“Yeah, but we’re not sock monkeys and I’ve seen Gregio dance,” I fought back but Mea had a point.  I had been so consumed with figuring out our origin of consciousness that I got tunnel vision.  I didn’t want to lose my friends in this pursuit.  I had to come up with something fast.  I was always able to think on my paws.

Gregio began to do his three circles before lying down.  It was during his second turn that he began to mutter something under his breath.

“This is going to take forever,” he growled.  “Let’s just give into pop culture’s influences.”

Just then, a light came on.  Why don’t we just give into pop culture? What are dogs doing these days?  Weren’t we always the trendsetters anyway?

“Why don’t we just go to Vegas then,” Zoey suggested as she wagged her tail.  All the others howled their approval. “Vegas, baby.”

“Could we spare the clichés, though,” Abby said. “I don’t think I can take it.”

“How can you go to Vegas and not have clichés?,” Gregio asked. “I’m going to get my stuff.  Vegas, here we come!”

“Alright, let’s coordinate this thing,” I said while lifting my paw in an authoritative manner.  “I’ll drive, Gregio works the brake and Abby can work the gas.”

“But I want to work the gas,” Gregio whined.

“Yeah, but we want to get there alive,” Karma remarked. “I got shotgun and then I get to drive next.”

“Hey Mea,” I shouted. “We’re going on an adventure.  How you like me now?”

We all looked over at Abby who was scratching her ear with her back leg.  She stopped when she noticed everyone looking at her in horror.

“Okay, you’re never going to believe me but I was hanging out with these dogs the other day,” she began sheepishly. “I’m thinking a flea dip before the trip is a good idea.”

As the story goes, canines had gone from running in wild packs to eventually being domesticated. However, that wasn’t enough. Zues thought that canines could go one step further in evolution. After conferring with Aprodite, a dog lover through and through, it was decided that dogs could develop consciousness. A super breed!

Xanderleus, Aprodite’s favorite dog, was sent down to begin recruiting and develop a new generation of dogs. The legion he developed, our ancestors, began to develop a society, of which we are the beneficiaries.

“Louie!,” a bark rang out. “Get your nose out of that book and come and meet a new recruit.”

I had been so overwhelmed and consumed by reading this book that I didn’t notice the others that were filling the room. Mea was playfully biting a puppy’s ear and was calling for me.

“I found someone who wanted to join the Beefy Snack Club,” Mea began as she looked on approvingly at the puppy. “She’s got spunk and even came up for an idea to call our members. She thinks Ponce de Leon Scouts works, in honor of the Fountain of Youth or wherever you think our consciousness derives from. Meet Mischa!”

I have to admit, I was wary at first. Mischa seemed awful young to be part of our group. While playful and spry, would she fit in?

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Mischa meekly said. She held her paw to shake with me. “You’re reputation precedes you.”

I stared at it. And stared at it. And stared at it.

“Well, aren’t you going to shake paws, Louie?” Mischa asked incredulously. “How rude! What a snob!”

It was at that moment that I had an “Euraka!” moment. I had never learned to shake paws. I never learned how to lift it when beckoned or to shake unless forced. I wasn’t an elitist, I just had never learned. But that means….

“Mischa, you’re a genius!,” I shouted out. “You just provided the missing puzzle piece. Of course you can be a member! Heck, if this theory works out, I’ll make you an honorary member!”

Mea and Mischa stared at me with blank looks. Or they may have thought I was crazy.

“Don’t you get it?,” I asked excitedly. “Don’t you get it? Never learned how to shake! I never learned how to shake!”

“Yeah, so,” Mea answered boorishly.

“It all ties back to Xanderleus and our ability to have consciousness!,” I quickly answered. “All the other dogs out there, the ones who aren’t like us, just haven’t learned to be like us. Don’t you see? They’re waiting to learn, yearning to be awakened. “

“You’re crazy,” Mea replied coldly. “Mischa, are you sure you want to be a part of this? Louie has gone bonkers. Let’s go play and leave Louie to his psychosis.”

“Wait a minute,” Mischa interrupted pushing Mea away before getting dragged off. “So other dogs are just sleeping then, awaiting an awakening, an enlightenment?”

“Exactly, my dear,” I said, delighting in the fact that this little pup cracked it open. “Our goal, our mission will be realize Xanderleus’ dream to awaken and bring consciousness to others. To no longer let sleeping dogs lie.”

After saying this, I leaned over and licked Mischa’s furrowed brow.

“I still think you’re bonkers, Louie,” Mea said while trotting out the door. “Let’s get back to having fun and not being so serious. Next thing you know, you’ll be looking for a holy grail. Or maybe it’ll be a holy drinking bowl!”

“What’s on your mind, Louie?,” Lexi asked.  She was sitting next to Stella and Mea in the library and we were all studying for a mid-term final in Etiquette – our hardest class. “Looks like the cat has your tongue.”

“Ha ha,” I replied sarcastically over their giggles. “No, I was just thinking about the canine god, the one that gave us the ability to do what we do.  Remember, the mission and purpose behind the Beefy Snack Club?”

“Maybe he’s like Loki, the god of mischief,” Abbey piped in next to me.  “Why else would we be so different than others?”

“That makes sense,” Stella said after getting over her fit of giggles. “We dogs are known for our tricks and cunningness.  We even have secrets! One might say we even participate in chicanery.”

“Is that even a word?,” Abbey skeptically toned.

“Let’s go to our judges,” Stella replied.  “Judges?”

Lexi and Mea nodded in agreement.

“There!,” Stella looked on approvingly as Abbey covered her snout with her paws in embarrassment. “You just have to look at our defiance and then you’d understand.  Heck, we Italian Greyhounds are even known to throw a temper tantrum from time to time.”

Gregio came racing up the aisle.  Instead of using the library for studying, he wanted to use it for socializing and meeting girls.  Maybe that’s what libraries are for now since everybody is going to have an eReader like a Kindle, Nook or even the new Apple tablet.  Maybe libraries will become obsolete leftovers from the last century.

“What’s going on, slow down, slow down,” I yelped at Gregio.  “You’re running around like there’s a storm coming.  Is rain in the forecast?”

“Dude, you have to check this out,” Gregio said between pants.   “I was ducking in and out of the aisles, and I almost ran into Mrs. Longworth, the librarian.  You know, the Irish Setter?”

“Well, I accidentally ran into this bookcase and a few books came off the shelf, bonking me in the head,” he continued. “As I was putting them back, I found this panel behind them.  You really need to see this!”

We didn’t want to raise the ire of Mrs. Longworth so we followed Gregio quickly and quietly. His tail wagged in excitement as he led us to a darkened part of the library and to a bookcase sealed against the wall.

Gregio removed the books in question, saying he put them back because he didn’t want anyone else finding his “discovery.” We looked where he was talking and sure enough, there was a panel.  After a few minutes of jostling it, it creaked open.  A stale air escaped with a puff of dust and inside we found a book.

“Whoa, this is like before Wikipedia,” Gregio whispered.

“Open it up, Louie,” Mea said, her voice dripping with excitement.

With a huff, I blew the dust off the cover.  A barely legible title appeared: Xanderleus: The Canine God. Could this be what we’re looking for?  I flipped the cover over gently with a paw. The pages were weathered and yellowed.  It said that Xanderleus descended from Mt. Olympus with Zeus and Aphrodite and provided companionship to the Greek gods.

I think we found what we were looking for I told the others. Adventure is beckoning once again!

We got there a bit late. Abbey wanted to look perfect and we had to wait for her toenails to dry. Why dogs need nail polish, I’ll never know. Gregio was in his festive, party mood and decided to rebel by wearing a t-shirt under his coat jacket. We ran into Mea and some other friends at a near table.

“What’s the matter with Zoey?,” Abbey asked as we approached. Zoey was holding her head with her paws with her head tucked onto her chest. Deja had her paw over her and was rocking her back and forth.

“She went to go see the new Avatar movie,” Stella began. “Know how dogs can see colors? This 3D experience gave her sensory overload. It was an explosion of colors and she has a migraine.”

Ralphie, a Boston Terrier, finished his last song and came over to our table.

“Great set, Ralphie,” Deja said. “Do you take requests?”

“Of course, of course,” the Terrier chuckled. Luckily for him, he was already dressed in a tuxedo. His markings made it so.

“You’re short a Howler tonight, huh?,” I noted.

“Yeah, Chucky took the night off,” Ralphie sighed. “We’re without our soprano. You know how dogs can sense if a human is sick and won’t leave their side until they’re better? Well, that’s what happened to Chucky.”

“I know!,” Abbey said excitedly. “This woman that I was living with before I came here was going to have a baby and I guarded her until she had the baby boy.”

“It’s almost like humans are therapeutic for us,” Deja said without lifting her head from comforting Zoey. “It’s like we have an extra sense for helping them out.”

That got me thinking. If we have these additional senses to help humans, maybe we here at school have additional senses to talk, be rational and do the things we do. Those powers, if you will, could have only come from that canine god Gianluca was talking about.

“The band’s back from their break, I need to get back,” Ralphie said. “Who wants to hear Atomic Dog by George Clinton?”

We all scurried to the dance floor to get down with the P-Funk master. Abbey joined the group and asked me to dance. Afterwards, the band began to do Jingle Bell Rock.

“Merry Christmas, Louie, and goodwill towards dogs,” she said meekly. “Men and women too.”

“Sorry for the interruption but I have an exchange student that is joining the school,” Vice Principal Bluehorn said as he propped the door open for the St. Bernard.  “I know you’ll make him feel at home. Please welcome Gianluca from Switzerland.”

“Oh my, well please find a seat for now,” Mrs. Schnoot said hurriedly.  “Class is almost over but we’ll get you a permanent seat next time we meet.”

While any disruption to class is welcome and breaks the monotony, this St. Bernard was interesting because he was just so… different.  Gianluca had more fur on one leg than I had on my whole body!  Since there were a couple of empty desks near me, he lumbered over and slumped into a desk.  It’s important to show machismo when making an entrance.

“Psst, hey,” Gregio whispered, trying to be the first to talk to him. “Do you guys really take brandy to people?”

“Ha! What a myth!,” Gianluca haughtily snorted. “I wish we were seen more like Beethoven.  That movie rocked!”

It wasn’t too long before the bell rang and we were hustling to get out the door.  Before we left, I went over to Gianluca to inquire about a subject.

“Hey buddy, welcome to Milk Bone Pickens High,” I began after introducing myself. “I’m a big movie buff myself.  Hands down, The Dark Knight was a work of art. I can’t watch it enough.”

“Yeah that was the best,” Gianluca gruffed.  “Wait a minute.  You’re that Italian Greyhound Louie guy with that club, the Beefy Snack or something or other.  I’ve heard about you.”

“That’s cool,” I replied, a bit startled. “How did you hear about it so quickly?”

“Someone mentioned you guys were looking for the origin of canine consciousness,” Gianluca answered while we walked down the hall.  “Is that true? That’s pretty cool.”

“Are you saying you know?,” I said incredulously.  “You know where it all came from and how we can live these types of lives? We thought it might have come from a magic water dish.”

“I know something that will point you in the right direction,” Gianluca said.  “Have you ever noticed that dog is an anadrome and is different when spelled backwards?”

This stopped me in my tracks.  I started to put the letters together.

“G-o-d, it spells god,” I said excitedly.  “That means since we do the things that we do that we’re… gods?”

Gianluca stopped and looked at me quixotically.  His whole body began to shake with laughter.

“You crack me up, Louie,” he began to laugh.  “No, you’re not a god.  For a little dog, you sure do have a big ego.  What I’m trying to say is that we’ve been given these special abilities from A god.  A canine god.  Look into it.”

I had many more questions but he had ducked into his next class.  If this is true then we were onto something very big indeed. This was more intimidating than a big wind storm. I was standing in the hall, mulling the possibilities when Karma came up and playfully nipped me on the neck.  I was late for my next class!

I didn’t expect to see new faces but sure enough, word had spread.  There was the usual motley crew that followed me around but now there was a Whippet named Gonzo.  He was quite vocal.

“We’re here because we all like snacks,” Gonzo began.  “I like pig ears. They’re delicious!”

Some dogs squirmed in their seats with some covering their eyes in disbelief.

“What?,” Gonzo replied with incredulity. “It’s both high in protein and satisfying to the palette.”

“We’re here because we like snacks but I’d like the club to be about something else,” Karma said softly.  Everyone turned their head to where she was sitting.  Even Gregio and Stella stopped biting each other’s snout in that friendly way Italian Greyhounds do. “I think an issue we can all agree on is abstinence.”

“No way, no how,” Luke, the captain of the Dog Squad, barked. “That’s a slippery slope, for sure.  Next thing you know it, you won’t want to teach Darwinism and replace it with lectures on Intelligent Design.  Besides, I like to get it on with the ladies!”

He held up a paw and gave a high five to Gonzo.  The other males around him howled in support and started wrestling, momentarily forgetting that we were in the middle of a meeting.

“The reason I think we should support it…,” Karma strained to get herself heard over the ruckus. “The reason I support it because it would cut down on puppy mills and unwanted dogs.”

This caught everyone off guard and quieted the room.  I was at the front, leading the meeting from a lectern and gave Karma a wink.  It was a smart rebuttal from a smart dog.

“On that same subject, I wonder how we evolved?,” Delfina inquired.

“Hey, Delfina has a good point,” Deja pounced into the conversation. I had no idea what she saw in it.  Even Mea stopped giving herself a bath to listen.  “We aren’t human, we’re just dogs… canines.”

“Yeah, so what’s your point?,” Mea asked.

“Don’t you guys get it or wonder about it all?,” Deja said excitedly. “Where did we get our canine consciousness?  How are we able to have thoughts, emotions and form rational, logical ideas?  How in the world can we even speak let alone live these types of lives?”

I hadn’t even thought about that before.  How is it that we live in a constructed society and live a normal life?  It’s not normal and had to come from somewhere.  Not every dog is able to do what we can do.

“I think I know, I think I know!,” a voice said from the back.  It was Zoey and she was hidden behind the others.  “We all drank from a magic water dish.  Like the fountain of youth.”

This was followed by guffaws and chuckles with some shaking their heads at the idea.  But it was intriguing and even a bit mystical.  How did we get here and what was our origin?  How could we conduct ourselves and speak while others couldn’t? Plus, isn’t high school all about self discovery?

“I like the idea and the constitution of the Beefy Snack Club shall be founded on the origins of canine consciousness,” I said, raising the gavel above my head.  “All those in favor, bark once.  Opposed, bark twice!”

A deafening bark of approval filled the room and I pounded the gavel on the lectern.  The Beefy Snack Club was born.

“Louie, you look like you just caught the car you were chasing,” Mea said.  She was trotting beside me as we went down the high school hallway.  The lockers that lined the wall were a dull gray, reflecting my mood.  “Are you going to be okay?”

“I have something on my mind, that’s all,” I had to stop to itch my ear with my back paw.  It was true.  There have been some developments as of late and I didn’t know how to react.  “Remember when I said I was a member of the Beefy Snack Club?  It was just a ruse but now it’s become much more. Dogs, even puppies, are asking me to join.”

“How is that bad?,” Abby interjected, jealously eyeing Mea.  She still holds Mea at paw’s length, even after all this time. “Louie, you’re an inspiration, a leader, a pack leader!  It’s what we’ve always dreamed!  You can’t give this up now that it’s here!”

“But isn’t this how divisions are created?,” I groaned.  “Wouldn’t the Beefy Snack Club be seen as a clique, a bit of a secret society.  Kind of like the Skull and Bones?”

“Where’s the bone?,” Gregio yelped as he galloped up the hallway. “Who said bone? I want a bone.  I want it, want it, want it!”

By this time, a small crowd had formed and I was in the middle of it.  All my friends were looking at me and I kind of felt dizzy, like when I get excited and run in circles.  But it was more like the migraine when I pick up a scent and can’t find its origin.

“Alright, doggone it!,” I said reluctantly. “I’ll do it but we’re going to do this the right way or not at all!”

My friends all howled their approval.  By this time, the bell had rung and everyone scurried to class.  You could see which dogs hadn’t been maintaining their nails because they slipped across the marble as they ran to class.

After our Agility 101 class with Mrs. Schnoot, word had begun to spread quickly. Everyone was crowding around me to jockey for inclusion in the Club.  As I moved towards my next class, I noticed a large pack of dogs walking down the hall.  It was headed by none other than my nemesis, Max, the large Italian Greyhound.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Louie,” growled Max as he neared. The other pack dogs chuckled in unison. “Who gave you the right to form the Beefy Snack Club without my permission?”

I thought about it for a minute before replying.

“The Constitution of the United States of America?”

“A wise dog, huh?” Max huffed, stepping closer to me so our noses were almost touching.  “I run things around here and I say if you can form a club or not. I tell you what you can do!”

I have to admit, my enthusiasm for forming a club was waning a bit under the burden of its responsibilities. However, after being subjected to Max’s breath, this confrontation had spiked my interest.  The thinking and trappings of an idealist, I thought.

“What’s the matter, Max?,” I taunted. “Are you afraid of a little competition?”

“I ain’t afraid of nuthin’!,” he growled.  Max backed up on his back haunches, as if he was getting to lunge.  Before he leapt, Mr. Bluehorn, the Pomeranian Vice Principal, jumped in between us.

“That’ll be enough!,” he shouted. “Why am I not surprised to see you here, Louie? And Max, what have I told you about fighting in school?”

“Ah Mr. Bluehorn, I was just showing my pal Louie here some new wrestling moves,” Max sheepishly replied. “Why you got to be so serious all the time?”

“I don’t want to see this again, you understand?,” Mr. Bluehorn said as he shook a paw at us in warning.

Max and I mumbled our acquiescence.  Before we parted, Max snarled at me.

“We already got enough clubs here and we don’t need anymore,” he snorted. “Mark my words, keep your nose out of this!”

As I watched him trot away, I began to think that if forming a club could at least get under Max’s fur, who else would get rubbed the wrong way? Is this the beginning of unraveling the mysteries at Milk Bone Pickens High or am I just scratching the surface?

That reminds me.  I need to cut my nails.

“I’m innocent, I tell ya,” I groused to Petey, a muscular boxer that was seated next to me.  He got caught bringing a flea circus to class.  They got loose and everyone had to go to the nurse for a flea dip. “I’m innocent!”

“Shush Louie,” he whispered back. “Everyone here is innocent.  Everyone has a story.”

I was surrounded by an eclectic group in a stuffy library.  Of course there was Gregio listening to a Rolling Stone tune on his Nano contraband.  He flashed it at me and it was Can’t You Hear Me Knocking. Dog’s got taste, I thought. Lexi was sitting next to me and Mea was across at another table.

I looked around some more and saw Luke, the Dog Squad jock.  I think he got caught running someone’s collar up the flagpole or something. As I glanced around at the others, I started getting a weird John Hughes-déjà vu vibe.

“Have you ever seen ‘The Breakfast Club,’” I leaned over and whispered to Lexi. “You know, that 1980s flick?”

“Um no, because I was like born in this century,” she whispered back. “Stop talking to me.”

“We should form a club or something,” I shot back. “It should be about snacks.  We can all agree on that.”

“You want another week of detention, Louie!,” Vice Principal Bluehorn snapped, breaking the room’s silence. He was supervising us and sitting up at the front behind a big desk.  I swear that he was snorting steam which is pretty cool for a Pomeranian.  I smiled at the image before answering.

“No.”

“You’re on a short leash here, mister,” he barked.  “Don’t make me come over there and put the harness on you.”

This is lame, I thought. I’m two years old.  I can do what I want. Grown-ups just don’t get it and this Mr. Bluehorn is worst than a human.  I should put my energy into writing a letter. A manifesto!

The day lumbered on and there were yawns of boredom from time to time. There are just so many times you can twiddle your paws.  I was busy scribbling on a piece of paper and biting my tongue, deep in concentration.

The last bell of the day rang and everyone got up and stretched before heading to the door.  As I passed Mr. Bluehorn’s desk, I turned in my manifesto.  A masterpiece, I thought.  Not Pulitzer Prize stuff but decent at the same time.

He accepted it while glaring at me.  With a wink, I headed to the door to my friends who were waiting in the hallway.  I glanced over my shoulder and saw him studying it.  It read:

Dear Mr. Bluehorn:

I accept the fact that I had to sacrifice a whole day in detention for whatever it is that I did wrong. But I think you’re crazy to think of me as a dog whose bark is worse than his bite. Put simply, I walk on four paws like everyone else but you want to see me in even more simpler terms. I’m not one to get tangled in semantics and won’t hang my tail in shame for being who I am. Just accept it.

Sincerely yours,

The Beefy Snack Club, member

Gregio, Lexi, Mea and me were sitting in the waiting room outside of Vice Principal Bluehorn’s office.  It was a scary time for sure.  Luckily, the carpet was padded with newspapers as some of us – who will go unnamed – had a bit of an “accident” caused by fear.  They must go through a lot of newspapers here, I thought.

“Louie, get in my office!,” a voice behind the closed door growled.

“Mr. Bluehorn will see you now,” Ms. Jansen, the school’s Beagle secretary, said gently.  She must have coaxed many fearful dogs into that office.  It instilled a bit of confidence.  Or maybe it’s more like a beef chew wrapped around the pill that I take every day.  I hate taking pills.

“Take a seat, mister,” Mr. Bluehorn barked.  “You’re in a lot of trouble.  I don’t know who you think you are, coming to this hallowed institution, Milk Bone Pickens High, and causing all this mayhem.  The food fight in the cafeteria is not the type of behavior we instill into our students.”

“I want to know who started it and I want to know now,” he continued.  “I want names!”

“I don’t know where to start,” I began.  “I’d like to put it in perspective first.  This is a kind of ‘Wag the Dog’ scenario.”

“Is that some kind of joke?” Mr. Bluehorn grunted.

“Yes.”

“I like the context but this is not the time,” he replied. “Go on.”

“You’re looking at this all wrong,” I began to warm up.  “Where you saw a food fight, I saw generosity.  When was the last time you saw a dog share food with others?  Never! I submit to you, maybe you don’t approve of the method of sharing the food but Mr. Bluehorn, I beg of you, don’t punish these acts of kindness.”

Mr. Bluehorn stared at me.  And stared. And stared. He got out of his chair.  I looked around.  There’s no newspaper on these floors.

“So let me get this straight,” he snorted. “The food fight was just a distraction from what you were trying to accomplish which was to share food? A canine charity event?”

“Right!”

“You’re a pretty funny dog,” Mr. Bluehorn stated flatly.

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment,” he angrily replied.  “You can laugh yourself right into detention.  One week!”

With that Mr. Bluehorn reached over and hit a buzzer.

“Ms. Jansen, could you please bring in some newspapers.  Thanks.”

I wonder what’s on the menu today? We were standing in line, slowly shuffling our paws forward to where the meals were being doled out. The lunch lady looked grumpy; as if she wished she was somewhere else. If only she knew her power. An extra nugget of food meant all the world and she had total control.

But what was really the best part of lunch was dessert time. That’s when the lunch lady went around and put a dollop of peanut butter on our noses and we would all eagerly lick it off. Gregio was overzealous one day and chomped at her finger, causing the gooey delight to stick on the roof of his mouth. You should have heard him talk!

After getting my lunch (she was kind to me today- two extra nuggets!) I found a seat with Gregio and the girls. They were all chatting and the current gossip was on what clubs were the best and who, of course, were the cutest dogs in each.

“Have you seen Luke yet?,” Deja nudged Mea who was licking her chops to get that last kernel from her back teeth. Luke was captain of the Dog Squad and the most popular at school. “He’s a dreamboat! I’m definitely going out for cheerleading. Maybe he’ll notice me.”

“He’s like a senior,” Zoey interrupted. “There’s no way he would go for you. He’s way out of your league.”

“Deja and Luke, sitting in a tree,” Lexi teased. “First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a puppy with a puppy carriage. You’re in love with him. You want to have like 400 of his puppies.”

Deja began to blush. She covered her snout with her paws to hide her embarrassment.

“I can’t believe that I’ve gained another pound,” Lexi moaned, stretching and inspecting herself closely to spot where the mystery weight went. “I’m now at double digits. 10 pounds! So disgraceful!”

That’s not so bad, the other girls comforted her. It’s not so bad for an Italian Greyhound.

“Enough of this gobbley gook,” Gregio said suddenly. “I can’t take this anymore. Food fight!”

With that, he began to fling his nuggets across the table. The girls, taking the cue, hurled them back. Pretty soon, the mayhem spread to the other tables and the air began to fill with food and squeals of glee. Like in a hail storm, I ducked under the table but not before getting pegged with an oversized nugget.

“I’m hit!,” I yelled “I’m down, I need backup. Never leave a dog on the battlefield. May day! May day!”

All of a sudden, the food stopped flying and the lunchroom was in lockdown. The adults had streamed in and were desperately trying to re instill order. I peeked out from under the table and watched as they marched over to where Gregio and I had been sitting.

“Louie, Gregio, Lexi and Mea,” Mr. Bluehorn, the vice principal of the high school, yelped while staring at us each when he said our names. “Report to my office, NOW!”