What Do I Do With Dewey?

“So, what is it like to go to college hundreds of miles away and not know anybody?” asked my neighbor Dewey.

My pesky neighbor Dewey. My ten-year-old, can’t stop talking and can’t stop bugging me and can’t stop grinning Dewey. Flaming red hair, huge kelly green eyes, big as asteroids freckles and a laugh to match—just what do I do with Dewey?

What do I do with Dewey? He’s new to the neighborhood, and lucky, lucky me, he likes me more than anyone else in the whole wide world. Oh, joy!

How do I work all day all this summer to pay all my college bills, and come home dead tired every single night, and then get any sleep at all?

Maybe tonight it will happen. In the driveway I go. To the mailbox I go.

Up the front steps I almost go. Here I go again!

“Hi, Mr. College!”

If I hear that one more time, I will personally serve Dewey enough liver and onions to keep him away from me for life! And does he not know by now that my real name is not Mr. College?

“Hi, Dewey!” as I moan and groan to myself.

“Mr. College! Mr. College!”

Oh, my! Oh, my!

“Mr. College, you didn’t answer my question! What is it like to go to college hundreds of miles away and not know anybody?”

Did I mention to you my problem? Oh, yes, I did! What do I do with Dewey? Or should I say, what do I do with Dewey’s questions! One question, after another, after another!

My mom once told me that every problem—every single one—has a solution. So, in times like these, I just say the word “problem” to myself. And lo and behold, I find a solution!

My liver and onions solution!

“Dewey, how would you like me to treat you to the biggest liver and onions, all you can eat buffet, you have ever seen?”

“Oh, YUK, Mr. College! You mean not even all I can eat cake and ice cream for dessert?”

“No, Dewey, just liver and onions, and more liver and onions, and more…”

“Stop, Mr. College, stop!” I am not laughing, at least Dewey does not see me laughing.

“In fact, I am going to drive you and me over to Lucky Lenny’s Liver and Onions Buffet this very moment.”

Dewey is getting really worried.

“Mr. College—I have already had dinner, and I ate all my green beans, and besides, I don’t have my mom and dad’s permission to ride with strangers.”

“Well, that is good, Dewey. But you’re my very best friend,” Yeah, Right! “and I already made reservations for just us guys at Lucky Lenny’s. And, I have your Mom and Dad’s permission.”

Like I said, I am not laughing, at least Dewey does not see me laughing.

“Mr. College.” Dewey is getting serious now. This is new for Dewey. He is not even grinning!

“Mr. College, what would you do to cancel our reservation at Lucky Lenny’s?”

What would I do? What do I do with Dewey? That is a problem. But when I say the word “problem,” guess what that means? There is a solution!

“Dewey, my very best friend Dewey, what if Mr. College would tell you a college story? Could I cancel our reservations at Lucky Lenny’s, and then I could have dinner and go to bed?”

“Just as long as your Mom doesn’t serve you liver and onions, Mr. College!”

This might just work, and I might just have dinner and sleep tonight.

“So, what is your college story, Mr. College?”

And this is what I did with Dewey…

“It was a beautiful Saturday morning at college for Mr. College. Dewey, do you remember Mr. College’s college?”

“Did you call it mur-quet?”

“That’s close, Dewey, it’s pronounced Marquette…”

“And that’s in mil-wook-ee, right?”

“Mil-wau-kee, Dewey. Mil…wau...kee.”

“Sure, Mr. College. So, what is your college story?” Dewey does not like liver and onions at all!

“Well, it was a beautiful Saturday morning, and one day you will learn how much work college is for Mr. College. But this was one Saturday that I was not going to study all day. Did I tell you, Dewey, about the really big lake near Mr. College’s college?”

“The one that’s named for a state?”

“Yes, Dewey, very good! It’s called Lake Michigan, that’s right, you told me about your A in fifth grade geography. Well, this particular morning, I wanted to enjoy the weather and I had no varsity soccer practice, so off I went!

“Through the campus I went, down the long, long hill I walked and walked some more. Over the river bridge I traveled, as the sun was beaming down, and the streets and sidewalks were nearly empty. But then I trudged uphill for a while, and then I saw it before my very eyes.”

“The lake that’s named for a state?”

“Yes, Dewey, yes! And you would not believe how blue and big and wide that lake that’s named for a state is!”

“So, is that all of your story, Mr. College?” Dewey clearly wanted to make a quick exit before the Lucky Lenny’s trip!

“No, Dewey, there is so much more to Mr. College’s college story. Now Dewey, you’ve told me about your dog, haven’t you?”

“Sure have, Mr. College, he’s a Doberman named Duggie!”

A kid named Dewey has a Doberman named Duggie. Have I asked you yet, “What do I do with Dewey?” Oh yes, he is my problem. But for every problem, well, you know the rest by now! Here comes my Dewey solution.

“Well, Dewey, I was walking along the shore of the lake named for a state, with the warm sun on my back, and the sun was glistening on the waves of the water. Suddenly, a dog without a master was there trotting towards me.”

“Was it a Doberman like Duggie, Mr. College?”

“Not at all, Dewey. He was smaller and happy and very friendly. Now I know Duggie is a very nice dog, and you do very well with her, but she’s a very big dog. Has your mom and dad talked to you about how some dogs are pure-breed, and some are mixed-breed?”

“You mean like some dogs are mutts and some are not?”

“Dewey, you could say that. And I think that this dog at the lake was a mutt, as you would call it.

“So, Dewey: Have you learned in school how to get to know a dog safely?”

Dewey knew this answer right away. “First, you have to stay calm so that they will trust you without any fear. Then, you take your hand like this,” as his right hand lowered to his ankle as we sat on the steps, “And then you let the dog smell you. That’s how you soci-ize a dog.”

“Socialize, Dewey. Socialize. That is what I did with the dog on the shore of the lake…”

“That’s named for a state!”

“Yes, Dewey. And do you know I named this dog Dewey, just like you.”

“Just like me, Mr. College!” Dewey the boy was getting to like Dewey the dog!

“Just like you, Dewey! And it looked like Dewey—the dog Dewey—was enjoying the beautiful Saturday morning just like Mr. College. So, I knelt down and petted Dewey a lot. Dewey really liked that!

“But that is not the end of the college story, no, not at all. Dewey the dog and I walked along the lake shore, and in the sand shimmering in the sun was a long piece of driftwood. Mr. College came up with a really smart idea, which is why Mr. College is in college: To learn really smart ideas.

“Why, that driftwood over there is a great fetching stick for Dewey the dog! So, Mr. College started throwing the driftwood, and Dewey the dog started fetching the stick.”

“That’s just like Duggie, Mr. College, except my Dad tells me not to play fetch with Duggie when he’s not on a leash and away from the park.”

“Dewey the boy is very smart, like Dewey the dog! On and on it went that beautiful Saturday morning, Mr. College throwing the driftwood stick, and Dewey the dog fetching the stick. Throw and fetch, throw and fetch, all morning long.

“But Dewey,” as Dewey the boy became enthralled with Mr. College’s story, “My mom and dad do not send me to college just to play fetch with a dog by a lake named after a state. Many people want to be Mr. and Mrs. College, but very few can. And it costs money to go to college and be Mr. or Mrs. College. This is why I work hard every day this summer, to provide for that money to be Mr. College.”

“But what happened to Dewey, Mr. College? What did you do with Dewey?”

I did not expect that question. Oh, my! Oh, my!

“Well, Dewey,” I replied, “This story is far from over. It was getting late in the morning and I was Mr. College for a reason, so I started to walk back to college to be Mr. College again. And do you know what happened?”

“What, Mr. College?”

“Dewey started following me! Before I knew it, Dewey was right behind me as the lakefront apartments—really, really tall buildings—came into view. He kept following me as we passed all the office buildings and stores. Everybody thought Dewey was my dog, and Mr. College was Dewey’s master.

“It didn’t stop there! Dewey followed me down the hill to the river bridge, then across the river bridge, and then up the long, long hill. He followed me past the Pfister Hotel and followed me past the public library at the very top of that hill.

“And suddenly, Mr. College was back at his college, and so was Dewey! He followed me still, past our big church, past our movie theatre, past all the other students, and before you knew it, Mr. College and Dewey were at the front door where Mr. College lives in college!”

“Oh, yeah, Mr. College, you told my dad that you lived in a beer can.”

“DEWEY!” Mr. College or no Mr. College, that was not part of the story. “You are way too young to talk like that! And what I really told your dad was my college dormitory was tall and round and looked like a beer can!”

“Sorry, Mr. College,” replied Dewey the boy, although you could not tell he was sorry. Unlike Mr. College, Dewey was actually laughing, and I could see him laughing!

“Very funny, Mr. Dewey!” and on I went.

“So, there I was, right in front of Mr. College’s college home, and there was Dewey the dog, and I asked your question, Dewey: What do I do with Dewey?”

Dewey the boy was quite confused by now, and frankly, so was Mr. Dewey. For all I knew, Dewey the dog was totally confused!

“So, what did you do with Dewey, Mr. College?”

“Dewey, that was the problem! But did I ever tell you what my mother always told me?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Mr. College!” Dewey the boy had heard that one before, and he answered just to avoid the trip to Lucky Lennie’s. “Just say the word ‘problem’ to yourself and you’ll think of a solution.”

“And I did, Dewey, so I did!” I explained. “It just so happened that near the front door of where Mr. College lives was a stick of wood, not a driftwood stick from the lake named for a state, but it was still Dewey’s kind of stick. I grabbed the stick, and Dewey leaped for joy as I threw the stick in front of Mr. College’s home. But I do not know if Dewey fetched it.”

“Why not, Mr. College?”

My reply was slow and a little sad. “Because Dewey: What I did with Dewey was run into my college home and close the front door behind me. And I never saw Dewey again.”

“Really, Mr. College?”

“Really, Mr. Dewey. And that is the end of my story. So, can I eat dinner and go to bed now, or would you like a really big helping of liver and onions?”

“NO, MR COLLEGE, NO!!!” I’ve never heard Dewey the boy ever shout that loud before. My problem, indeed, had a solution.

Or maybe it didn’t quite that soon.

“Mr. College, wait, I think I know what happened to Dewey. I really do!”

“You do, huh?”

“Yeah, Mr. College. You broke that dog’s heart.”

“Oh really, Mr. Dewey. Did your Mrs. Doogie dog tell you what to do with Dewey?”

“NO, Mr. College, and that isn’t funny, either! Uh, Mr. College?”

“Yes, Mr. Dewey?”

“May I ask you a question?”

“Dewey, it’s been a long afternoon since lunch, and I’m very tired and very hungry! What is it, I told you my college story, didn’t I!” After all these weeks, all these late dinners, and all this lost sleep, my own question was not yet answered:

What do I do with Dewey? As in the boy Dewey. Still a friend is a friend, even if he is ten years younger than me. “Sure, Dewey, go right ahead.”

“Mr. College…” Dewey the boy thought long and hard. “Did you ever think that Dewey the dog was asking the same question about you?”

This was a lot like a Mr. College homework assignment I couldn’t finish for my college teacher. “What question are you talking about, Dewey?”

“It’s the same question you asked about the dog: What do I do with Dewey? Do, Mr. College, do!”

“My name isn’t Dewey, and it isn’t Mr. College, either!”

“Oh yes, it is Dewey to that dog! And when you met him near the lake named after the state, he was so impressed. How you met him. Petted him. Played with him.

“And when it was time for Mr. College to go back to college, what was Dewey to do? He named you Dewey since you were just like, well, Dewey! You were his new master, and he was your new friend, like you are my new friend.

“When you walked away to be Mr. College again, he just couldn’t let you down. And boy, was he excited about the future! Instead of sleeping near a lake named after a state, he was going to live way up in Dewey’s house.

“Don’t you see, Mr. College? When he thought, 'What do I do with Dewey?' he was thinking of all the plans he had for you and him! Playing fetch, meeting new friends, even going to college with Mr. College!

“But how do you think he felt that beautiful Saturday morning, all alone with that stick fetched just for you—and you were gone, Mr. College!”

Mr. College never really thought about that, and with another day of work soon to come, there were other things to think about besides a mutt with a stick in his mouth. But how this story ended surprised even the real Dewey.

“Mr. Dewey”

“Yes, Mr. College.” replied a very sleepy ten-year-old boy.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Mr. College, it’s been a long story and I still have to go to school tomorrow, you know. Oh, alright, go ahead.”

“What if I told you that Dewey was dejected as he stood there with my fetched stick? Surely, he thought to himself, ‘This is quite a problem I have!’

“’Problem! I know that word problem!

“’I remember my mother once told me when I was a itty, bitty puppy, ’Now Dewey, when life becomes really hard, and all you see is a problem, just say the word ‘problem,’ and it will remind you there is a solution somewhere. Problem—Solution. Problem—Solution.’

“So, Dewey thought long, and hard, and this is what happened.”

“What happened, Mr. College?”

“This happened, Mr. Dewey, and may you never forget this lesson! Dewey the dog found the problem: Mr. Dewey let me down. Problem-Solution. Problem-Solution. And Dewey the dog had the solution: Return to the lake named after the state.

“So off Dewey went, my dear friend! Past all the busy students, and down the long, long hill he trotted with his wagging tail, and still he trotted some more. Over the river bridge Dewey traveled, as the sun was much warmer and the streets and sidewalks were filled now with so many more people. Dewey trudged uphill for a while past the river bridge, and then he saw it again before his very eyes!”

“The lake named after a state!”

“That he did! And though the rest of the day came and went alone, and Dewey slept alone and so broken hearted on the shore of that lake, he never ever stopped thinking: Problem-Solution! Problem-Solution!

“Sunday came, and Dewey was hungry for breakfast. Do you know that Mr. and Mrs. College Grad saw him, and fed him, and yes, played fetch with him, and Mr. Grad said to Mrs. Grad, ‘Why, this is the very dog our kids were looking for, and there’s no tags on him at all. Why don’t we keep him and call him—call him what?’”

To which Dewey, of course, exclaimed, “They called him Dewey! And Mr. and Mrs. Grad couldn’t help but ask, ’What do we do with Dewey?'”

“Yes, they all did! And what do you think Mr. Dewey the Once Dejected Dog said to himself?”

“Oh, that’s so easy, Mr. College! ’What do I do with Mr. and Mrs. Dewey?”

“And wouldn’t it be something if this family’s last name was actually Dewey?”

“That would be something, Mr. College! What a great story from a great friend.” And with that, Dewey the boy ran away, with no memories of Lucky Lenny’s or liver and onions to see.

But not for me.

As sleep came easily and early that night, so did the lessons I also had to learn. Those lessons came through a dog I thought I knew, near a lake named after a state.

There I was on another weekend morning, much colder and greyer than before. He was surrounded this time by a father and mother, and two very young boys that were very much like a very special friend that just became less of a problem and more of a solution the day before.

The dog looked at me, and I did not want to look back. But this time Dewey talked to me.

And this is what he said:

If your name is Mr. College

And you think you’re so doggone smart,

Why did you leave me fetching your stick

And I ended up with a broken heart?

And so, I went to work once more, as I woke from a sleepless night and a very, very bad dream with this question:

What did I do to Dewey?