Tall Tales Audio Podcasts

Listen to Storytelling Tip No 5 or read it below:

Rex was a mellow dog – part collie, part black lab, with just enough terrier tossed in so that one ear always stood at attention while the other flopped over.

He was one of those reliable family dogs who listens for strange sounds in the night, sleeps on the front porch when the family is out and never nips the mailman.

But Rex also knew how to take care of himself – when little Claudia sometimes forgot to feed him, he would nibble off the corner of the kibble bag and feed himself.

Barry, the dog who lived down the street, was much fiercer looking. A large black boxer with a patch of white on his chest, Barry was named for a famous baseball player who hit lots of home runs – you know, one of those big stars lots of kids cheer for, but others can’t stand, because he’s so stuck-up.

Although Barry the Dog and Barry the baseball player had absolutely no connection except for their name, everyone took notice when the big Boxer strutted into the room. It would have been the same if Barry had been named President Bush or Kermit the Frog.

Fang, who lived in the house next to Barry’s, was a tiny fur ball who never stopped yapping. When strangers came up Fang’s front walk, she always ran right at them, as if she was planning to sharpen her teeth on their ankles.
Fang never really bit anyone – but as she danced about their legs, yapping and yapping, even the bravest visitors got weak knees until someone opened the door and told Fang to behave.

Now, you may think that despite their different personalities, Rex, Barry and Fang were all ordinary neighborhood dogs who lived in the suburbs, hated their once-a-week bath and looked forward to their daily run at the local pooch park where they could catch frisbees and score a treat from their proud owners.

But even though you would be right about all this, Rex, Barry and Fang were not the least bit ordinary`.
That’s because in addition to their normal lives, all three were members of the Bad Dogs Club – a secret society for dogs who had learned how to sneak out of their houses so they could meet in the nearby woods and do anything they wanted.

Barry always made his middle-of-the-night escape with the help of his big front teeth. After rearing up on his hind legs, the strong black boxer twisted the brass key that was always left sticking out of the backdoor lock when the family went to sleep.

It wasn’t hard. Barry just gave the key a half turn to the right before wrapping his whole mouth around the knob and yanking the door open. Hours later, when he snuck back in, Barry was plenty smart enough to pull the door closed before twisting the key back to the locked position.

Fang, who you’ll remember was about the size of an overgrown rat, had an even easier escape plan. After rolling herself back and forth on the floor a few times to flatten out her puffy grey fur, Fang rolled right out the cat door.
Rex, too, had his escape route wired. That’s because he knew that the latch on the basement window never quite snapped shut. When Rex stood on the workbench and nudged the glass with his shoulder, the window popped open.
You wonder why these well-cared-for dogs were so anxious to escape from their nice houses so they could run about the dark woods? And why did they call themselves the Bad Dogs Club?

The answer to both questions is the same. Like lots of animals – and even a few people – Rex, Fang and Barry got tired of being bossed around from morning until night.

“Fang, stop your yapping right now.”
“Barry, don’t lick yourself. It’s disgusting.”
“Rex, I can’t think how many times I’ve told you to keep your feet off that couch.”

But everything was different on Monday nights. When the three doggie friends made it to the woods, they were free to scratch, free to bark, free to chase smells, free to roll in the mud, and most important, free of being bossed around like lap dogs.

But late one Monday night, as Barry, Rex and Fang scampered down Maple Street towards the woods, they heard a polite little voice say, “Take me with you. I want to join the Bad Dogs Club.”

Crowding over to a tall iron fence surrounding a big yard, Rex, Barry and Fang spotted a fluffy pink poodle. You know, the type that fancy ladies hold on their laps and call Yummikins.

“C’mon, take me. It’s no fun staying here by myself,” the little dog insisted.
“Well, come on then. We always wanted to have a perfumed pink poodle in our club,” said big Barry, who sometimes liked to tease.

“Why, just knock down this iron fence or maybe jump over it. After all, it’s only ten feet high.”
“Don’t tease me, please. Just because they dyed my hair light pink and named me Lola doesn’t mean I don’t want to be a real dog and play in the wild woods. But how can I get out?”
“Tough,” said Fang. “If you can’t even get out of your yard, you’re not a bad dog and you can’t play in the woods with us.”

Over the next few weeks, Monday nights were always the same. Rex, Barry and Fang would escape and head to the woods right past Lola’s house.

And when the tiny pink poodle dashed back and forth begging to join the Bad Dogs Club, Barry would always say, “Lola, how can you be a bad dog if you can’t even get out of your own yard.”

But finally, one Monday night Lola barked, “I have an idea how to escape, but I need you three to help me.”

Then, before anyone could object, Lola explained that when her owners came home, an electric eye opened the gate so no one had to get out of the car.

“While the gate is open, they always watch me, so there is zero chance to escape,” Lola added.
“But since no one is looking at the gate, one of you could nose a small rock next to the gatepost. That way, when the gate rattles closed it will stop a few inches from the post, leaving just enough space for a tiny poodle like me to slip out.”
“I’m willing to help,” said Rex. “After all, Lola did think up her own escape idea.”

When Barry and Fang agreed, all three began looking for a rock of the proper size.

A few minutes later, when Lola’s owners’ drove through the open gate, Barry, Rex and Fang were ready.

And sure enough, —when the gate rattled closed it hit the rock. Finally Lola was able to slip out of her yard and run to the deep dark woods. Finally she was a member of the Bad Dogs Club.

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