It was as if a million peanut butter bacon biscuits exploded in King’s head. He couldn’t believe it!

“OH MY DOG, OH MY DOG!!! HER BIRTHDAY?!? WHY DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME? I LOVE BIRTHDAYS!!! IS THAT HER PRESENT? WOW WOW WOW! ERIN LOVES COLORFUL BOXES! JIN IS SO THOUGHTFUL!”

Cleo rolled her eyes. “No. The present is what’s inside the box.”

“So, you’re telling me she gets a box, a ribbon, AND whatever’s inside the box?! Wow! Best birthday ever! I wonder which one she’s gonna eat first!”

“You have so much to learn, King.”

“CAN I GIVE HER A PRESENT?! WOULD SHE LIKE A BIG BONE, DO YOU THINK?! I WOULD!!!”

King jumped all over the couch, wagging his tail maniacally. Then he darted around the room.

“Whoa there, King. If you want to give her a present, you can start by not freaking out so much. Calm down.”

“How do I do that?” asked King, his body moving uncontrollably every which way. When he tried to stop his tail from wagging, the rest of his body wiggled wildly. And when he tried to stop the rest of his body from moving, his tail went berserk.

“I don’t know,” replied Cleo, calm as ever. “When I get too jazzed, I just ask myself, ‘What would a cat do?’”

But King was no cat. When Erin opened her gift, and King caught a glimpse of what was inside—a beautiful, colorful scarf!—he started yelping.

“I LOVE IT!” cried King, his tail speed ticking up to roughly three hundred wags per minute. “THAT IS THE BEST SCARF! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! WOWOWOWOW!”

King whined with excitement, jumping up on Erin’s legs.

“I love it!” Erin beamed. “Thank you so much, babe! I’m going to put it on right now. It’s too cute to wait!” Erin gave Jin a hug, then bent down to pet King in his favorite place: UNDER THE CHIN. And that’s when it happened.

“Whoa, did you seriously just do that?” Cleo asked, disappointed.

King looked down and noticed that he’d had a little accident on the tile floor. Whoopsie. He’d just gotten so excited! Who hasn’t gotten a little too excited and peed on their owner’s floor?

Erin and Jin both started laughing. “That’s okay, King! You’re still a good boy,” Erin said while Jin cleaned up the mess.

But Cleo gave him a stern look. “Rein it in.”

After the commotion died down, Jin left for work and, one by one, the other dogs started arriving. Erin was the owner and sole employee of Good Dogs, a doggy day care run out of her house. King and Cleo loved getting to hang out with so many other dogs every day—and they definitely took pride in being the teacher’s actual pets.

The first dog to arrive was Petunia, a six-month-old pit bull with a lot of energy. She was small but super strong and loved to play.

“Hello, Petunia.”

“Hello, King.”

“Wrestle?”

“You got it.”

And so it began: another day, another playful wrestle with Petunia. They went at it in the grass of Erin’s front yard, and by the time they were tired out, several other dogs had arrived, including King’s good friends Lulu and Hugo.

King walked over to say hi. They were listening to Patches tell one of his long, complicated stories. Patches was a wise old sheepdog who had really seen it all.

“And then he threw me the stick, and I went and got it and brought it back to him. And then he threw the stick again, and I went and got it again. And then you won’t believe what happened next. He threw the—”

“Hi, everybody!” King exclaimed. He had trouble focusing on most of Patches’s stories.

King told Lulu and Hugo he was excited to see them as they all sniffed one another’s butts hello.

“I didn’t know you were coming today!”

“Neither did we,” said Lulu, sounding a little disappointed.

“Our people were just really busy today,” said Hugo. “But it’s okay. We’ll have fun.”

Lulu huffed.

“Okay, everybody, time to go!” Erin called out. On cue, all the dogs lined up perfectly in front of her.

“Sit,” she commanded, and they did, without hesitation. All six of them were very good dogs, and they knew it.

Erin leashed everybody up, and they started walking to King’s favorite place: the dog run at the park! Despite their excitement, all the good dogs walked patiently and perfectly. Nobody pulled too hard on the leash or wandered away from the sidewalk.

At the dog run, Erin let everybody off their leashes. King knew what that meant.

Time for me to run around in a circle twenty times in a row!

When he was done with that, he joined Lulu and Hugo in the shade of an oak tree. They were talking to Nuts the squirrel.

“I know I buried them yesterday. I just don’t remember where.” Nuts was nervously pacing.

“Looking for your nuts again?” King chimed in.

“Yes! Have you seen them? Please, I’m desperate.”

“They’re under the elm tree,” Lulu said nonchalantly. “They’re always under the elm tree.”

King knew Lulu was right. Every day, the squirrel would forget where he’d put his nuts the night before. It’s why they all called him Nuts, even though his real name was Squirrel P. Nutsington.

“I don’t know. Why would I bury them under the elm tree?” Nuts asked.

“Because you always do,” said Hugo.

“I don’t think so, but I’ll check. Just to humor you.”

Nuts scurried over to the elm tree while Lulu, Hugo, and King walked back toward the other dogs. In the background they heard Nuts exclaim, “Wow! You were right!”

King watched as a labradoodle entered the park with its person. The labradoodle walked over to a bichon frise and said hello.

“Sorry I’m late. I was eating my owner’s homework,” King overheard the labradoodle say.

The labradoodle and bichon frise both laughed, and then the labradoodle turned his head as his owner took out . . . a BALL.

WOW! thought King as he inched closer. Just moments ago, there was no ball. Now there’s a ball!

SQUEAK! The labradoodle’s owner squeezed the toy.

And not just any ball, thought King. A squeaky ball!

“Bouncy balls are great,” King said, turning to Hugo. “And I love squishy ones. But squeaky balls are the best kind! They make a noise when you chew them! How cool is that?”

Hugo gave him a look. “What about toys that are bouncy, squishy, and squeaky?”

“Are there such things?” asked King.

“You’re such a puppy,” said Lulu. “There are so many different types of toys, you wouldn’t even believe. I know, because I’ve been sent so many to try.”

King watched as the labradoodle and his owner played fetch with the squeaky ball. It would be so easy to go over there and take it. But then he remembered what Erin always said . . .

“Good dogs don’t steal balls,” said Cleo, right on cue. She always seemed to know when he was thinking of doing something a little bit bad.

“I know,” said King. “I wasn’t going to! I was just getting closer to listen to that sweet, sweet squeak.”

Just then, the gate clanked open again, and a teenaged boy King had never seen before walked in, dragging a French bulldog behind him. The dog had black fur, a white patch on his chest, and a rebellious look in his eye. The teenager was busy staring at his phone, not paying attention as he unclipped the leash and set the dog free, so he barely noticed when . . .

The bulldog went totally wild!

He jumped up onto benches, climbed onto laps, and knocked people over! He started licking the faces of humans he didn’t even know! The good dogs stared in shock as this aggressive stranger ran around barking at everyone and everything.

His owner didn’t seem to notice or care; he was still staring at his phone.

Meanwhile, the French bulldog chased the labradoodle around the dog run. The labradoodle got scared (King could understand why) and dropped the squeaky ball. And what happened next shocked all the good dogs in the park: The strange new dog STOLE the squeaky ball, ran away to the far corner of the dog run, and started to rip into it with his teeth!

“Who is that?” Lulu asked.

Hugo looked unimpressed. “I’ve never seen him before.”

The labradoodle’s owner looked on helplessly, trying to console his pet. Erin stood up, looking upset, and got the teenager’s attention, but he just sort of shrugged and kept sitting there. So she took matters into her own hands and marched over to the French bulldog herself.

Erin reached for what was left of the squeaky ball.

“Drop it,” she demanded. King had heard that voice before, and knew she meant business.

The bulldog ignored her. Erin wasn’t used to being ignored by dogs. All her dogs were good! She tried again, but louder. “Drop it!”

The bulldog growled at her. Lulu gasped. Nobody growled at Erin like that.

“Well, he is a French bulldog,” offered Petunia. “Maybe he only speaks French?”

But King could tell the bulldog understood English and was being naughty on purpose. Looking Erin right in the eye, he tore apart the ball, then chewed and spit out all the shreds and scraps!

Erin was speechless. The good dogs were barkless. The French bulldog let out a proud, stubborn bark, and King could have sworn he heard a squeak in there somewhere.

Before Erin could decide what to do next, the French bulldog suddenly lunged at her and grabbed the end of her brand-new scarf in his teeth. He pulled on it, and it became untied. That’s when King started to feel upset.

“Don’t you dare!” yelled King. “Not her birthday scarf!”

“Who does this dog think he is?” called Cleo.

“No! Give that back!” cried out Erin, but the French bulldog held on to the scarf and ran away toward a picnic table.

“Stop!” King shouted, lunging after the bad dog.

“Yeah!” said Hugo, following after him. “You can’t treat Erin like that!”

Lulu cleared her throat and then yelled, “BAD DOG! VERY BAD DOG!” Lulu had learned all about bad dogs from the Bad Dogs of Instagram hashtag. As she’d told King and Hugo, she devoured their adventures like T-R-E-A-T-S, but she certainly was not about that kind of life.

Lulu’s “stern” voice was just as soft and high-pitched as her normal one, but King had never heard her this angry. Now all three of them were running after the French bulldog, but Erin restrained them.

“Shush,” she said. “Good dogs don’t attack other dogs.”

Well, good dogs don’t steal your birthday scarf, either, thought King.

Erin turned to the bulldog’s owner again. “Young man! Your dog just took my—”

But before she could get the teenager’s help, the French bulldog climbed on top of the picnic table, scarf in mouth, and launched himself over the chain-link fence of the dog run. Just like that, he was gone!

King couldn’t believe his eyes. He turned to Lulu and Hugo, and they all stared at one another in shock for a moment before running over to the fence to see what would happen next. Where was the bulldog going? What was he going to do with the scarf? Would his owner even try to stop him? But most important . . .

Who was this dog?