Harry dirty dog book

Harry the Dirty Dog

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Harry was a white dog with black spots who liked everything, except ... getting a bath. So one day when he heard the water running in the tub, he took the scrubbing brush... and buried it in the backyard. Then he ran away from home. He played where they were fixing the street and got very dirty. He played at the railroad and got even dirtier. He played tag with other dogs and became dirtier still. He slid down a coal chute and got the dirtiest of all. In fact, he changed from a white dog with black spots to a black dog with white spots. Although there were many other things to do, Harry began to wonder if his family thought that he had really run away. He felt tired and hungry too, so without stopping on the way he ran back home. When Harry got to his house, he crawled through the fence and sat looking at the back door. One of the family looked out and said, “There’s a strange dog in the backyard. ..by the way, has anyone seen Harry?” When Harry heard this, he tried very hard to show them he was Harry. He started to do all his old, clever tricks. He flip-flopped and he flop-flipped. He rolled over and played dead. He danced and he sang. He did these tricks over and over again, but everyone shook his head and said, “Oh, no, it couldn’t be Harry.” Harry gave up and walked slowly toward the gate, but suddenly he stopped. He ran to a corner of the garden and started to dig furiously. Soon he jumped away from the hole barking short, happy barks. He’d found the scrubbing brush! And carrying it in his mouth, he ran into the house. Up the stairs he dashed, with the family following close behind. He jumped into the bathtub and sat up begging, with the scrubbing brush in his mouth, a trick he certainly had never done before. “This little doggie wants a bath!” cried the little girl, and her father said, “Why don’t you and your brother give him one?” Harry’s bath was the soapiest one he’d ever had. It worked like magic. As soon as the children started to scrub, they began shouting, “Mummy! Daddy! Look, look! Come quick!” “It’s Harry!” “It’s Harry!” “It’s Harry!” they cried. Harry wagged his tail and was very, very happy. His family combed and brushed him lovingly, and he became once again a white dog with black spots. It was wonderful to be home. After dinner, Harry fell asleep in his favorite place, happily dreaming of how much fun it had been getting dirty. He slept so soundly, he didn’t even feel the scrubbing brush he’d hidden under his pillow.

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Harry the Dirty Dog - Book Share Time

2. Books
3. Harry the Dirty Dog

Written by Gene Zion

For ages 3 to 8

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This book is best for:

• action verbs
• comparatives & superlatives
• narrative retell
• sequencing
• past tense verbs

Review

Harry is a white dog with black spots, who detests having baths. So one day, he steals the bath brush, buries it in the yard and runs away from home. By the time he returns home, he is so dirty that he looks like a black dog with spots - and his family don’t even recognise him!

In print since 1956, Harry the Dirty Dog is a timeless story with a loveable main character and a humour story plot. This book has a true narrative structure with a traditional opening (“one day”), character description, multiple settings changes, clear problem, plans to overcome the problem and a happy resolution. This makes Harry the Dirty Dog an ideal choice for children working on their narrative retell skills. For younger children, it can also be used for a simple sequencing activity. I also like using this story for teaching comparatives and superlatives due to the lovely visual and verbal build-up of Harry becoming dirtier and dirtier until he’s at his dirtiest.

For further speech and language targets in Harry the Dirty Dog, see the list below.

Book Details

Narrative Structure: Complete Episode ; True Narrative

Story Plot: Journey Tale

Themes:

• animals - pets, dogs
• bath
• bathtime
• places - home, garden

Speech and Language Targets

Speech Sounds:

• /h/ - Harry, home, hungry, house

Grammar:

• adverbials (slowly, furiously, happily, lovingly, soundly)
• comparative (dirtier)
• superlative (dirtiest)
• regular past tense
• irregular past tense verbs (heard, took, ran, slid, sat, sang, shook, slept)
• action verbs (e. g. dig, slide, play, crawl, roll, dance, sing, run, jump)
• mental verbs (wonder, thought)

Semantics:

• explaining means to a goal (e.g. what could Harry do to convince his family that it's him? How could Harry get clean again?)
• figurative language - simile ("it worked like magic")

Concepts:

• descriptive concepts (dirty, clean)

Social-Emotional:

• problem solving

Narrative:

• traditional opening
• character description
• time
• setting
• sequencing
• initiating event
• problem
• plans
• feelings
• resolution
• direct character speech

Book Info

Published by HarperCollins Publishers Inc in 2001 (ISBN: 9780064430098)

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Read "Harry and Potter - Christmas adventures" - Postnikov Valentin Yurievich - Page 1 Christmas adventures

Chapter 1 Harry receives a letter from Potter

In the very center of the ancient city of Immingham, next to the Cathedral of St. Mark, there was an unremarkable school where the most ordinary children studied. December this year was not as cold as usual, and the children spent all their free time on the street, on a hill or on a skating rink.

Today was the last day of school. Christmas was already on the nose, and the children had been looking forward to the holiday, gifts and the long-awaited vacation for many days now.

- The Queen of England is coming to visit us! - suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, there was a cry from the director of the school.

- How is the Queen? exclaimed the math teacher.

– Real Queen? The math teacher was even more surprised.

- Yes, the real Queen! shouted the breathless director. She will be passing through the city and wants to see our school. The queen will arrive in about half an hour, along with the mayor of the city and members of the royal court.

- We need to give the Queen our famous roses from the school greenhouse! - bouncing from excitement on the spot, suggested the history teacher. – After all, there are no such amazing flowers anywhere else in the world!

- Yes! The gardener nodded authoritatively. The queen will be pleased. And we need to find some smart boy or girl so that they can give our famous flowers to the queen.

“That’s right,” the director agreed, looking around thoughtfully. "Boy, what's your name?" he asked a passing student.

"Harry," the boy replied politely.

- What grade are you in? the director asked.

- Finished third grade, sir.

– Can you give flowers to our queen? Are you not afraid? – worried, asked the director of the school. - Isn't that a big responsibility?

– I can, sir! Harry nodded.

Exactly half an hour later, several long white cars stopped in front of the school entrance. These were not ordinary cars. Each of these cars was decorated with a special royal coat of arms made of pure gold, on which one could see a huge laurel wreath, braiding the symbol of royal power - the crown. The symbol of royal power sparkled in the sun so brightly and dazzlingly that it immediately became clear to everyone who was nearby that they were none other than the real royalty.

The door of one car slowly opened, and a tall, stout middle-aged man was the first to get out of the car, panting heavily. He was wearing a luxurious red camisole embroidered with gold. It was the Queen's personal secretary and bodyguard. He opened the back door and helped the royal out of the car. Following her, a small dog jumped out of the car with a deafening screech and rushed after her mistress.

“Welcome, Your Royal Highness,” the headmaster bowed deeply.

The queen nodded regally and solemnly, as befits a person of her rank, walked ahead of her royal retinue. The director ran beside him, showing the way.

The boy Harry was standing at the door of the old gray building. In his hands he held a luxurious bouquet of bright yellow roses. These roses were famous throughout the city, and this variety was brought out by students of this particular school. True, it was a very long time ago, a hundred years ago, and maybe more.

“Thank you,” smiled the Queen, accepting a bouquet of flowers from Harry.

Harry noticed that a small white poodle was running next to the Queen of England. The dog stopped for a second, looked at the boy and... winked at him.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Where have you seen dogs wink?

– Harry! the dog suddenly whispered. “You were asked to deliver a letter,” he held a small pink envelope in his teeth.

– P-letter? Harry was taken aback. - From whom?

“From your friend Potter, from the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” the poodle whispered softly and skipped to catch up with his mistress.

The boy Harry tore open the envelope and, taking out a sheet folded in four, read:

"Harry, come visit us in the Rainforest, the School of Wizardry, I miss you very much."

Your friend Potter.

Chapter 2 Six months ago

The boy Harry was already nine years old, and miracles had never happened to him in his life. It was even somehow unfair, especially since, unlike other children, Harry sincerely believed in magic. Therefore, he was very offended that it was with him that no miracles were happening. The boy studied at the most ordinary school, the one that was across the street from his house.

That hot summer day Harry sat in his room reading a book as usual. The parents were at work. And then the thing that Harry had been waiting for so long happened - magic burst into his life. And it all started with the most ordinary doorbell.

The boy ran down the stairs, but there was no one on the threshold. Well, or almost no one: there was a big dog. White, with black spots. The little leathery ears hung down comically, and the tail stood erect.

- Good afternoon! - the dog said cheerfully.

Harry thought he was dreaming. He even went out onto the porch to make sure no one else was there.

- Who are you? Harry was surprised.

- May I enter the house? the dog asked politely.

– Are you talking to me? – stammering, the boy said in surprise. He could not believe his ears and eyes that a dog was talking to him, and even right on the threshold of his own house.

“Yes,” the dog nodded.

- Can dogs speak humanly? the boy immediately asked, scratching his nose.

“I don’t know about the others, but I can,” the dog answered politely. “My grandmother taught me. She also knew how to talk like people do. Grandmother always said that it could be useful to me in life. That's what came in handy.

“My name is Harry,” the boy introduced himself. - What is your name?

“I’m Potter,” the dog replied.

- What a strange name! Never heard of such a thing.

- The fact is that I am a Pointer dog, - the dog explained, - and when I was a very small puppy and did not know how to talk well, getting acquainted, I usually said: "Hello, I am a Potter dog." Since then, everyone has called me Potter!

"Please come inside the house," said Harry.

After all, he was a well-mannered boy and knew that it was not supposed to keep guests at the door. Even such unusual guests as Potter.

- Are you hungry? Harry asked. - I can offer you a cutlet.

- Cutlet? Potter's eyes lit up. “To be honest, I traveled so long that I got very hungry on the way.

The boy and the dog went to the kitchen, where they continued their acquaintance.

"If you have nowhere to live, then you can stay with me," Harry offered hopefully. “I have always dreamed of a dog.

"I'd love to," Potter agreed as he ate the cutlet. - It gets quite cold outside at night.

– So you will stay? Harry rejoiced.

– What about your parents? Potter asked wagging his tail.

"They are good," Harry waved his hand. - I'll persuade them.

Harry's parents didn't mind having a dog in the house.

"Just don't tell anyone I'm a speaker," Potter warned. It's better if they don't know about it. This will be our secret.

– A secret? Harry rejoiced.

"Yes, a mystery," Potter nodded.

...Finally, Harry has a real friend. A friend who listened to him and played with him tirelessly. And Harry already thought that this would always be the case. But on Tuesday, after dinner, when the parents were not at home again, the doorbell rang. This time there was no talking dog outside the door. But on the rug lay a beautiful blue envelope with a very strange triangular seal. A rabbit was sitting near the envelope. A small fluffy peach-colored rabbit.

Henry nepf ★ Dog-Open and Kordovsk Academy Read a book online free

1234567 ... 119

Henry nepf

Dog and Koldovskiy Academy

My family, Friends and students

Gratitude

I am very grateful to my family, friends and students who inspired me to create and encouraged me in difficult times. I especially want to mention those who commented on the manuscript and illustrations, namely John Neff, Victoria Neff, Matt Markovich, Chris Kasgar, Jackie Duncan, Josh Richards, and Gerald Zimmerman. For wisdom and humor, I express my deep gratitude to the editors, Nick Eliopoulos and Tim Thomas, as well as agents Tracy and Josh Adams. For a great sense of style, I would like to thank the designer Joanna Yates Russell, and for the beautiful cover art, Corey Godby.

There are many wonderful stories about Cuchulainn and his exploits, but I am especially indebted to Thomas Kinsella, whose translation of The Bull of Kualnge captivated me and formed the basis of my story.

And finally, I can't help but thank my mother, Terry Neff Zimmerman. Without her constant support and valuable comments, Max would hardly ever have left my head on the pages of the book.

~ 1 ~

Boy, train and tapestry

Max McDaniels pressed his forehead against the window and watched the storm clouds move across the yellowish sky. Soon, raindrops drummed on the car window; the sky darkened behind the streams of water, like a bruise the day before yesterday. Max breathed on the glass and saw his own murky reflection. The reflection stared at him: a dark-eyed boy with a shock of black wavy hair and sharply defined cheekbones, like a mother's.

Father boomed something nearby. Max turned to him.

- Which is better? repeated the father, smiling triumphantly. He was clutching two glossy advertisements in his thick fingers.

Max fixed his eyes on a very pleased and elegantly dressed woman at the kitchen sink.

“Not this one,” said Max. - Too dumb.

Mr. McDaniels' plump face grew sad. (Max's father was a blue-eyed fat man, heavy as a bear. )

— Not stupid! - he was indignant, smoothed the thinning chestnut bangs and peered at the picture. - What's so stupid?

- Dishes are not washed with such a happy face. Max nodded at the woman, who enthusiastically plunged her hands into the foam up to her elbows. - And in such a beautiful dress ...

- So, that's the whole point! interrupted his father and waved the leaf. “Ambrosia” is the first ultra-premium detergent! It caresses the skin like a bubble bath, but copes with any...

Max blushed.

- Dad...

Mr. McDaniels noticed the curious looks of the other passengers and fell silent. Sniffing, he tucked the pictures into his coat pocket. The train slowed down: we drove into the suburbs.

“It's not that bad,” Max consoled his father. “Maybe she should just grin less.

Mr. McDaniels chuckled and moved closer to his son to hug him. Max elbowed his father.

A whole crowd of passengers got on the train: they folded their umbrellas, shook water from their hair… The car rocked with a roll of thunder, and the train started off.

It suddenly became completely dark. Someone squealed, someone laughed. Max grabbed his father's hand. The yellow lamps on the ceiling flickered and came to life. Meanwhile, the rain turned into a real downpour.

Chicago was already looming against the sky, a mass of steel and brick. Max smiled - and suddenly saw ... him.

He was sitting one seat across the aisle, pale and dirty. Her short black hair is still wet from the rain. Hunched over and blinking wearily, he looked out the window and whispered something soundlessly.

Max looked away, but then decided to look again. And froze.

The stranger was looking straight at him!

Two different eyes stared at Max: one green, the other white, moist and shiny, like a peeled egg. White seemed to the boy blind, dead, as happens in nightmares. And yet Max was sure that the eye was not dead. He evaluates it, examines it - as a mother used to examine a glass of wine or an old photograph. The stranger stepped forward.

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