Dave Casler
PO Box 98
Ridgway, Colorado 81432
Young Adult Novels by Dave Casler...
I've been told by publisher after publisher that there's no market for Young Adult novels. I think they're wrong! So I'm putting my novels on-line for you. Forget the publisher! Read to your heart's content--it's free! And, I'd like to hear from you, too! Contact Page.
You're reading About Phillip. Be sure to check out About Dan here.
Phillip is a computer nerd who suddenly discovers a liking for track. Everything would be fine except for his father.
About Series Home
About the About Series
Index to All Chapters
Here are all the chapters, disguised as asterisks. Hover your mouse over an asterisk to see the title of the chapter. Click on the asterisk to go straight to that chapter.
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(About Phillip Home) (Last) (Next)
The Boulder Valley Pet Store
Twenty-Eighth Street is a busy four-lane boulevard in Boulder, hosting a jumbled collection of strip malls, restaurants and stores full of electronics and furniture. Dizzyingly complex signals make every intersection a mess, each with combinations of left turn, right turn, pedestrian and other lights. Each adds up to more frustration for drivers in a hurry. These traffic lights made the last quarter mile take seven minutes for Dan, Peter and a frantic Phillip. Phillip was clawing at the door when Dan pulled into the parking lot. With a hurried "thanks," Phillip jumped out of the car, grabbed his backpack and ran.
His nose taking in the familiar pet store stench, he rushed through the store, ducked through the "Employees Only" door at the back, threw down his backpack and put on his green apron. The store emblem emblazoned on the apron consisted of a rabbit and a guinea pig surrounded by a circled logo proclaiming "Boulder Valley Pet Store—the Place Animals Love." "Phillip" was embroidered over his heart. There was a little space between the "Phil" and the "lip" and the latter was at a slight angle. Mrs. Hardesty, the oversized store owner—in girth, not height, even Phillip was taller—had done the name embroidery herself on her sewing machine at home and proudly presented "Phil" with his apron the day after she hired him, just a few months before. But he pointed out that he was Phillip, not Phil. She’d smiled, not understanding the difference. She agreed to add the "lip."
Boulder Valley Pet Store was what Mrs. Hardesty called "well established." In practice, this meant it had long outgrown its leased space. Customers edged sideways down crowded aisles; huge bags of dog food, cat food, rabbit food, guinea pig food and you-name-it food competed for space with leashes, chains, cages, litter boxes, books, and, of course, the animals. Birds sang, cats meowed, puppies barked, guinea pigs squeaked. Only the rabbits were silent. And there were mice, rats, snakes, lizards, ferrets and even an occasional tarantula, the latter purchased by people Phillip didn't like.
Most of Mrs. Hardesty’s employees were students at the nearby University of Colorado, called CU for short simply because UC sounds too much like the University of California. Mrs. Hardesty had a knack for sizing up young people. Phillip heard her interviewing potential new employees all the time. "Show me how you’d clean that cage, hon," she’d say. There would always be a rabbit or a cat or a dog in the cage to be removed first. She’d watch carefully, not looking at the cage cleaning but rather at how the poor applicant would handle the animal and, just as importantly, how the animal reacted to the applicant.
When Phillip applied for a job his cage had a rabbit in it. He’d carefully let the rabbit see him and then smell his hand. He was gentle with his touch and picked up the animal confidently, one hand under its belly, cooing to it all the while. He’d allowed himself to pet the animal for several seconds to calm it before putting it into another cage with a guinea pig. He watched for a moment to make sure the rabbit and the guinea pig got along. Satisfied, he’d proceeded to clean the cage. He was convinced he’d botched it. He got droppings all over the floor and, at one point, mis-aimed the water bottle and had to stop to clean his glasses. But Mrs. Hardesty beamed and hired him on the spot. Cage cleaning he could learn. Dealing with animals was a gift.
She liked to hire high schoolers to cover the hours right after school and for Tuesday and Friday nights, the two nights she was open until 8 o’clock, an hour later than normal. She knew high schoolers had more rigid schedules than college students and she liked young people that age. Her two children were grown and long gone. Phillip heard her talk about them often. He thought there might be a grandchild or two or maybe on the way; he wasn’t sure.
Phillip tied his apron strings behind him and reentered the pet store. There were at least fifteen customers, almost enough to make more racket than the birds. Phillip thought birds made more noise per pound than anything else Mother Nature offered.
He smiled as a tiny puppy barked playfully at a young couple holding a small child. His mother held the boy’s arm and chattered softly in his ear. "Don’t hit him! Now there, gentle, just stroke him, don’t be afraid. Do you like him?"