by David Lubar
Greg was the only kid in Potterstown who really hated the Ulmeyer dogs. A lot of
the kids in town were afraid of the three huge, snarling mixed breeds that guarded
the lawn in front of Mr. and Mrs. Ulmeyer's house. Most of the kids didn't like the
dogs. But, as far as he knew, Greg was the only one who really hated the dogs.
He hated them because of what had happened the very first time he'd seen them.
The Ulmeyers had just moved into the neighborhood. The house was brand new.
There were a lot of houses being built in that part of town. Greg had been walking
down Perry Street, right past Ulmeyer's house, when the three dogs charged from
the back yard. They'd raced around the house like a hunting pack, bursting into the
front yard with an anger and fury that had made Greg jump. He'd actually leaped
into the air -- like some kind of scared little kid. Then he'd run. As he tore off, he
looked over his shoulder. The three dogs had started to chase him. But they'd
stopped at the edge of the yard. They wouldn't go into the street.
Greg's relief at his escape was quickly washed away by anger. The dogs had made
him jump. They'd startled him. For a moment, he'd been less than cool. He'd run.
Greg looked around. Nobody had seen him jump and run. But that didn't matter.
Greg knew what he'd done. And he knew he wanted to get even.