Benji is Back!

Follow the adventures of Benji and his wacky sidekick, Lizard Tongue, in this exciting novel based on the new movie!

This brand-new story was written by Benji's creator especially for the new Benji after the huggable mutt was rescued from an animal shelter in Mississippi.

The famous pup now finds himself lost and alone on the streets of a small southern town. He struggles to save his mom from a backyard puppy mill, while trying to avoid a pair of bungling dogcatchers and a goofy stray mutt who manages to demolish everything he touches. Add a caring teenage boy and a dog-sitting bird and this Benji story is hilarious, heartwarming, and full of tingling suspense.

Benji

Off the Leash!By Camp, Joe

Harperkidsentertainment

ISBN: 0060730846

Chapter One

The heat was thick and wet all around him but Colby pressed on, peddling his bike through the narrow oak-lined streets of the little Mississippi town. A boy on a mission. Strapped to the front carrier was a worn canvas backpack -- army green and past its prime.

Colby was late, and it worried him. Getting out of the house had taken way too much time. It seemed like his dad would never leave.

His dad.

Funny, he thought. In all his fourteen years he had never called him "Dad." Never even referred to him as Dad. Hatchett is what everybody in town called him. Just his last name. But Colby rarely called him anything. He often wondered how nature could get so screwed up as to create a father and son so different.

He slowed to a stop at Main Street, making a point of checking traffic both ways, not so much for safety, because there were very few cars on the street. It was mainly for the sake of Deputy Ozzie whose squad car he had pulled up beside. The deputy was talking on his cell phone and nodded at Colby without missing a word. Colby stretched to look beyond the car... and there it was, coming straight at him. His dad's green pickup.

He scooted back quickly and hunched low, putting Ozzie's car between himself and the pickup. It seemed to work. The truck passed without incident. Hatchett didn't see him. Ozzie eyed him curiously, and Colby moved on before the deputy could ask any questions.

He turned left and peddled up Main, through the park, and then turned left again onto Burton Street. Gulfport was a beautiful little town with a long history and no intention of giving in to the pace of today. Colby liked that. He wasn't a fan of all the rattle of the twenty-first century. Colby didn't watch television. Ever. He read constantly, losing himself in adventure tales like Moby-Dick and The Golden Compass.

He paused on the sidewalk before a withered and crumbling old two-story home, once an impressive mansion but now up to its porches in weeds. Bushes and shrubs, allowed to grow out of control for years, seemed to shroud the home in shadows. Windowpanes were missing, and a shutter hung broken from a bottom hinge. It was the kind of place that caused local kids to cross to the other side of the street. But not Colby. He glanced at an upstairs window, then checked behind him, down the street.Drat!

It was the doofus brothers turning the corner in their weird orange van. They were actually not brothers, and doofus wasn't their name. That was what the kids called them. Because, well, because they were doofus-y. Always making mountains out of molehills. Taking themselves way too seriously. You'd think they were federal agents or something. But they weren't. They were dogcatchers. And now they were headed down the street straight toward him.

Colby peddled off the curb and pretended to meander down the street.

Livingston and Sheldon?their real names?slowed the van as they passed Colby, eyeing him suspiciously. They eyed everything suspiciously. Colby nodded, and they drove on.

When the van had turned the corner, Colby whipped around and peddled hard back to the old house. He dropped his bike behind a stand of bushes in the front yard, unsnapped his backpack, and raced inside.

Cobwebs and grayed sheets covered the sparse furnishings, but through thick layers of dust the exposed Victorian pieces reflected a splendor the house once knew. It had been a long time since anyone lived here. Colby took the stairs two at a time to the second floor and dashed into a tiny room overlooking the front yard. He jolted to a stop, and smiled warmly.

There, nestled on the hearth of a small, tiled fireplace was Daisy, a black Tibetan Terrier, and her five newborn puppies, squirming, squealing, and fighting for room to nurse. Four of the puppies were solid black, like their mother. But the fifth one wasn't black at all. Not even close. His coat was a weave of golds and reds and tan. The only black on this puppy was on the tips of his ears. Colby lifted the pup into the air and touched him nose-to-nose. "I'm different too," he said. "Don't worry about it. You're the cutest."

He returned the puppy to Daisy, then scratched the big black dog on her head."How's it going, girl?" he said. "I brought you the good stuff this time. The canned stuff."

Colby withdrew a can from his backpack along with a glass bottle of water. He wrenched off the lid and gave the can a sniff. "Ugh." He groaned and rolled his eyes. "You're gonna love this."

Somewhere in the distance, the squeal of tires around a corner caught Daisy's attention. These were familiar tires. She struggled to get up but Colby, not realizing what was wrong, eased her back to the floor.

He should have listened to Daisy.

Outside, a green pickup truck passed the house slowly, obviously cruising, searching. Suddenly, it jolted to a stop and backed up. Hatchett got out and stomped toward the stand of bushes in the front yard. Colby's bicycle had caught his eye. He gawked at it for a moment, then marched toward the front door.

Colby had emptied the can of dog food into a plastic bowl and was pouring fresh water into another. He twisted the lid back onto the glass bottle. "Okay, take care now. Stay inside. No wandering about." Suddenly Hatchett stepped into the doorway behind him and bellowed. "What's this?!"

He was a huge man, towering over Colby like a giant.

Colby spun around and the glass water bottle slipped from his hand, skidding across the floor toward the looming figure of his father. Hatchett slammed his foot into the bottle and sent it sailing across the room and smashing into pieces against an old radiator. Glass and water flew everywhere.Colby stood up, his face ashen.

Continues...

Excerpted from Benjiby Camp, Joe Excerpted by permission.
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