Карлсон, который живет на крыше

           Eric’smusclesallwenttenseandhegrippedthepillowhard…No!hereallymuststopimaginingthings.

           Butoncemoreheheardthelittleyappingsound.Ericbolteduprightinbed.

           "Isitadog?"hesaid."Isitarealdog?"

           "Yes,it’syourdog,"saidDaddy.

           ThenBobbyrushedoutintothehall,andasecondlaterhereturned,andinhisarmshewascarrying—oh,itcouldn’tbetrue!Inhisarmshewascarryingasmall,wire-haireddachshundpuppy.

           "Isitmyrealdog?"whisperedEric.

           ThereweretearsstillinhiseyeswhenhestretchedouthisarmsforBimbo.Helookedasifhethoughtthepuppywouldatanymomentgoupinsmokeanddisappear.

           ButBimbodidnotdisappear.Bimbowasinhisarms,andBimbolickedhisfaceandwhinedandbarkedandsnappedatEric’sears.Bimbowasreallyreal.

           "Areyouhappynow,Eric?"askedDaddy.

           Ericsighed.HowcouldDaddyasksuchaquestion?Hewassohappythatithurt—somewhereinhissoul,orinhistummy,orwhereveritdoeshurtwhenyouareperfectlyhappy.

           "Yousee,Eric,thatvelvetdogwasmeanttobeatoyforBimbo,"saidBetty."Wedidn’tmeantobehorrid…notvery,anyway,"sheadded.

           Ericforgaveeveryone.Besides,hewashardlylistening.HewastalkingtoBimbo.

           "Bimbo,littleBimbo,you’remydog!"

           ThenhesaidtoMommy,"IthinkBimboiscuterthanNicholson.Becausewire-haireddachshundsarethecutest,Ithink."

           ThenherememberedthatBridgetandChristopherwouldarriveanyminute.