From One Dog and His Boy That night, lying on the floor with Fleck curled up beside him, Hal was thinking. Often and often when you wanted something and then got it, it was a disappointment. But having a dog was completely different. He'd wanted it and wanted it and when it happened, it was even better than he'd thought it would be. He'd imagined some of it-the companionship and the warmth-but he didn't realize a dog would make you laugh so much, or that he would help you to make so many friends. It was extraordinary too how much a dog made you see. The hollows in the oak tree... and the way the acorns sat so neatly in their cups . . . how the earth clagged together, so dark after rain... Hal hadn't even noticed that it had rained. And how much he made you think. Fleck had found an iron grating over a drain when they went out in the afternoon. The drain had interested him so much that he'd lain down on his stomach, just looking and smelling and investigating, and Hal realized that he'd never before thought about what might live down there, in the black and evil-looking water. Hal reached up to turn on his night-light, but Fleck was lying across his feet and Hal didn't want to disturb him. Anyway, he didn't need a night-light now; he had a protector and a friend. Excerpted from One Dog and His Boy by Eva Ibbotson All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
