The Dog That Stole Football Plays by Matt Christopher, Daniel Vasconcellos, Bill Ogden

T he dog was in the window of Pete’s Pet Shop. He was an Airedale, with gray fur and white whiskers.
    I’ M H ARRY , said the sign that hung from his neck.
    “Hi, Harry,” said Mike.
    “Well, hi, kid! It’s about time.”
    Mike stared. Had he really heard what he thought he had? The dog opened its mouth and licked its chops.
    “Did — did you say that?” said Mike.
    “I sure did,” said Harry the dog. “I’ve been trying to tune in to some kid’s mind ever since I’ve been cooped up in here.”
    “You — you mean that you can read my mind?”
    Harry barked. “Wuff! And send my thoughts into your head, too. It’s just a gift I’ve got. Hey, we seem to be a team. How about buying me? I’m only twenty bucks. You can raise twenty bucks, can’t you?”

    Mike didn’t know what to think. He couldn’t believe he had met a dog who could read his mind. And to think that the dog could
     send him mental signals, too. It was — well, it was crazy.
    But super!
    There was only one trouble. He didn’t have much money.
    “Gee, Harry,” said Mike. “I’d sure like to buy you. But I haven’t got twenty bucks.”
    “Tell your father you’ve found a dog that can do handstands, roll over, and wiggle his ears,” said Harry. “That gets ’em every
     time. Tell him you’ve got to own me. But don’t tell him we can read each other’s minds. That’s a secret just between you and me.”

    “OK,” said Mike.
    He started to leave, then thought of something.
    “No,” said Harry, reading his mind again. “I can’t talk with any other human. Most dogs, yes. And a few cats, but you’re the
     only kid I’ve been able to tune my mind in on.”
    “Do you have any brothers and sisters like you?” asked Mike.
    “No. I’m the only one.”
    “I’ll be back,” Mike promised. “That is, I hope I will.”
    “Good luck,” said Harry. “Hey! What’s your name?”
    “Mike,” said Mike.
    He ran all the way home and told his mother and father about Harry. He said he’d like to buy him, but Harry cost twenty dollars.

    They seemed undecided, so he said Harry could do handstands, roll over and wiggle his ears, and that twenty bucks was dirt
     cheap for a dog like him.
    His mother thought about it for a minute. “It’s OK with me if it’s OK with your father,” she said.

    “It’s OK with me if you promise you’ll clean up after him,” his father said.
    “I promise, Dad!” said Mike happily.

    The days after Mike bought Harry were very busy. Mike began school, and every day he went to football practice.
    Then one evening Mike heard Harry say, “Hey, Mike, when are you going to take me to a practice or a game?”

    “Harry, you’d just be in the way,” Mike said. “And somebody might run out of bounds and step on you.”
    “No one will step on me,” Harry answered. “And besides, I get tired of hanging around the house all by myself every afternoon.
     Even talking dogs like to play a bit. And you’ll be surprised to find out how much I can help you.”
    Mike didn’t think Harry would be any help at all, but he didn’t want him to be lonely, so he brought him to the first game
     of the year.
    Mike’s team was the Jets, and they were playing the Rams, who had won the championship last year. Mike hoped his team would
     do well.
    When the teams took the field, Harry stayed on the sidelines. Soon he managed to seat himself near the Rams’ bench. He cocked
     his ears and began to listen very hard.

    He soon discovered that the Rams’ coach sent instructions to the team on every important play.
    “Jones, take the ball, and go over left tackle,” he heard the coach say.

    “Mike, watch for Jones going over left tackle,” Harry thought.
    On the field, Mike could scarcely believe what his dog had told him, but he ran up from his linebacker’s slot and made the
     tackle. The Rams didn’t gain a yard.

    “Yeah, Mike!” the fans cheered.
    The game went on, and thanks to Harry, the Rams hardly