01x20 - Dennis and the Dog

[bunniefuu]

-Dennis, where are you
going with all that stuff?

-Me and Tommy are going
to play filling station.

We're going to wash dad's car.

-Oh, Dennis, your father just
washed the car yesterday.

-Not on the inside, he didn't.

-Dennis, you come back here.

[theme music]

-Hey, mom, do you know where
my ball is, my tennis ball?

-No.

It's probably right
where you left it.

-Gee whiz, lost again.

Me and Tommy and Charlie
waned to play ball.

-You and Tommy and who?

Charlie?

-Sure, Charlie Cooper.

I guess you don't
know Charlie yet.

Hey Charlie, come in and
meet my good old mom.

-Is that Charlie?

-That's him.

You know Charlie,
don't you, dad?

He's Mr. Cooper's.

-Well, yes.

But I didn't know
his name was Charlie.

I've only heard him referred
to as that stupid mutt.

-They just don't
know how smart he is.

Gee, he sure likes you, mom.

Look how he smiles
at mom, Tommy.

-Yeah.

-He sure likes
you, Mrs. Mitchell.

-Lucky me.

Dennis, you'd better
get him out of here now.

-Wait until you see
how smart he is.

Watch now.

Watch, dad.

Speak, speak, Charlie.

Go on, Charlie.

Bark, boy, bark.

-Yes, he certainly is smart.

-He knows better than
to bark in the house.

It's not polite to bark in
the house, is it, Charlie?

[barking]

-He's just a wonderful dog.

And he loves kids.

And you know what?

-No.

What?

-Mr. Cooper is going away today.

And he says maybe I
could keep Charlie

until he gets back Sunday.

[interposing voices]

-Oh, Dennis.

-I'll take care of him, and
feed him, and play with him,

and keep him out of
your way all the time.

-Oh, I don't know, Dennis.

Caring for a dog is a big job.

-Tommy will help me,
won't you, Tommy?

-Sure.

We'll teach him lots of tricks.

-He's even got a leash
so I can lead him.

And I'll play with him, and
keep him from getting lonesome.

And he can even
sleep with me, so you

won't have to make the
bed in the guest room.

-Oh no, Dennis.

That dog is not going to
sleep in the same bed wit

you, no sir.

-Then he can sleep on
the back porch, huh?

OK, mom?

-Wait a minute.

We'll talk about it.

What do you think, Henry?

-Honey, it's only
for a couple of days.

It might be good for him, teach
him a sense of responsibility,

maybe.

-Oh, I don't know about that.

But it might help him work
off some of that steam.

All right, Dennis.

We'll give it a try.

-Yippee!

-Hurray!

-You better go over and
tell Mr. Cooper right away.

When's he leaving?
-About three hours ago.

See, I told you you
could stay, Charlie.

He won't be a bit
of trouble, mom.

You'll love good old Charlie.

Come on, Charlie.

Let's go out on the patio.

-Good old Charlie.

You'll just love him.

-Yes, he won't be
a bit of trouble.

-Oh, this is a good one, George.

It's that tree in
our front yard.

-Uh huh.
Don't touch it, dear.

I, I put it out there to dry.

-You're doing
wonderfully, George.

I'll bet you'll beat them all,
including Ballard Fillmore.

-Oh, well, frankly
I expect to, Martha.

I expect to turn out a
picture this week that

will win the best of the
show, the blue ribbon.

[chuckling] Fillmore.
[chortling]

-It's wonderful to see
you so enthusiastic.

-Well, it's a great day to
be an artist-- beautiful day,

clear, peaceful, quiet.

Makes a man feel good
just to be alive.

-I'll go get dinner started.

-All right, dear.

-Hey, there's good
old Mr. Wilson

wearing his butcher
coat gain, Tommy.

Hello Mr. Wilson!

-Oh no.

Oh!

-Dennis, get this stupid
dog out of my face.

Now look!

-What a mess.

-Yeah.

-I'm sure glad you didn't
knock that stuff over, Charlie.

-Me too.

-You'd have been awfully
mad at me and Charlie

if we'd have done
that, huh, Mr. Wilson?

-Well, what are you doing
with that stupid dog, anyway?

I thought Cooper was putting
him into the kennel this week.

-Oh, we talked Mr.
Cooper out of that.

Charlie is going to
stay over at my house.

-Well, keep him over
at your house, then.

-Well, you sure do look swell in
that butcher coat, Mr. Wilson.

-Yeah, swell.

-It is not a butcher coat, boys.

It's a smock.

We artists all wear smocks.

-Sure looks like a butcher
coat to me, don't it, Dennis?

-It's a butcher coat, all right.

Our butcher's got one just
like it, only cleaner.

But he don't look as good
as good old Mr. Wilson.

-Oh!

Dennis, I have work to do.

And I can not do it with that
stupid dog under my feet.

-Jeepers, Mr. Wilson.

Charlie's not stupid.

He's a very smart dog,
aren't you, Charlie?

Hey, look at that, Tommy.

Look at that good old tree.

-Yep, that's a tree, all right.

-Boy, you sure can
paint plain, Mr. Wilson.

-Well, I'm glad you like it.

-That's the swellest
tree picture

I ever saw in my whole life.

Here's the trunk.

And see how the limbs go way
out to-- hey, Mr. Wilson,

this is wet paint.

Did you know that?

You ought to have a sign
that says, wet paint.

-All right, boys.

I'm all through
painting for the day.

The fun is over.

Besides, it's getting
close to dinner time.

So--

-We have to go home to
dinner now, Mr. Wilson.

Mom doesn't like me and
Charlie to be late for Dinner.

-I have to go home,
too, Mr. Wilson.

-Good., good.

Where is that
stupid dog, anyway?

Did he leave?

-Oh, he's around someplace.

Here, Charlie.

-Well, Dennis find him.

If that stupid mutt's
digging up my flower beds--

-Here, Charlie.
Here, Charlie.

[barking]

-Hey, there he is, Tommy.

Good old, Charlie.

He's painting.

[barking]

-Hey, he's painting a
picture with his tail.

-Wow, look at him paint.

-Oh, go on, Charlie, get back.

Oh, look at this.

It's ruined.

Oh.

Now, listen to me, boys.

The art exhibit
is Saturday night.

-Yeah, Mom told me all about it.

-It's at the art school.

-Mom says Mr. Fillmore
wins a prize every year.

-Oh, Ballard Fillmore's
an old windbag.

Why, that pompous,
untalented-- never mind.

-I'll bet you're going
to beat him this year.

-Well, I hope to.

I hope to beat
everybody, Dennis.

I hope to win first prize.

But I can only do it
if you will help me.

-I sure will, Mr. Wilson.

I'll go home and get my paint.

-No!

No, Dennis.

I mean, well, the best
way you can help me

is to keep that dog away here,
and you stay away yourself,

all day tomorrow.

-Tomorrow?

Well, gee, I, uh--

-I'll make a deal with you boys.

If you'll stay away
tomorrow, all day,

I'll give you a quarter--
a quarter a pie.

-You mean two quarters, one
for me and one for Tommy?

-That's right.

-Mr. Wilson, that's a deal.

-Good.

Best deal I ever made.

-I couldn't come
tomorrow anyway.

Because I have to stay at
Tommy's all day tomorrow.

Because my mom said so.

-Oh, fine.

Spending my money for nothing.

-Well, we'll see
you, Mr. Wilson.

-Bye Mr. Wilson.

-Here he comes, mom.

Dad's got him again.

-Where did you
find him this time?

-In Dennis' bed again.

-He sure wants to sleep with me.

-Well he's not going to.

Right, now, Charlie stay there.

-I bet he's going
to be lonesome.

And I bet you he's not
going to like it, either.

-Well, he can just
learn to like it.

He's not going to
sleep with you.

-Well, why can't he sleep in my
room, mom, just on the floor.

He won't make a single sound.

And he won't even snore,
will you, Charlie?

[whimpering]

--[inaudible] he just
loves it out here.

-Yes.

Now you hustle on upstairs,
and get some sleep.

It's after , and
we're all tired.

[whimpering, barking, howling]

-Henry.

Henry, did you hear that?

-Oh, he'll stop it
in a minute, honey.

Go back to sleep.

[howling]

-Confound that howling monster.

How does Henry Mitchell
expect me to get any sleep?

-Lie down, dear.

They'll quiet him.

Now don't get upset.

[howling]

-Henry.

Henry, you've got to go
downstairs and do something

about that dog!

-All right.

[howling]

[phone ringing]

[howling]

-Hello?

Oh, Mr. Wilson, yeah,
excuse me just a minute.

I'm going to get my robe.

It's cold.

-It's in the closet.

-Hi, Mr. Wilson.

It's me, Dennis.

-Oh no.

-Sure is nice of you to call.

How's Mrs. Wilson?

Can I talk to her?

-Dennis wants to--
Of course you can't

talk to Mrs. Wilson, Dennis.

She's trying to sleep.

Do you realize what time it is?

It's two o'clock in the morning.

-Hey, Mr. Wilson, have you
got your striped sleepers on?

-Now look, Dennis.

I want to speak to your father.

How does he expect
me to get any sleep

with that stupid dog howling?

-He's lonesome Mr. Wilson.

I bet if you were
only three years old,

and you'd have to sleep on the
back porch, you'd howl, too.

Anyhow, he's not howling now.

-Oh, for the-- oh, Martha,
where's my nerve medicine?

Oh, never mind.

I'll get it.

[sighing]

-Hello, Mr. Wilson.

Sorry to keep you waiting.

-He'll be right back, dad.

He's getting his nerve medicine.

-Dennis?

What are you doing over there?

-Oh, no.

-He's having a little
talk with Mr. Wilson.

Wilson will be right back.

He went to get his
nerve medicine.

-Dennis, what do you mean
bothering Mr. and Mrs.

Wilson in the middle
of the night like this?

How did you-- never mind.

Let me talk to Mrs. Wilson.

I don't think she
feels like talking.

She's trying to sleep.

-All right, Dennis.

Don't say anything else.

Now just be quiet.

-Boy.

-Hello?

Oh, hello.

Hello, Alice.

Now look, I don't
like to complain.

But I need my sleep.

-Of course you do.

And we're terribly
sorry about this.

Henry's on his way
now to get him.

And believe me, it
will not happen again.

Good night.

-Hey mom, do you
know where dad went?

He went out.
-Dennis?

How did--
[howling]

-Uh oh.

There goes good
old Charlie again.

[howling]

-And Dennis was downstairs on
the extension the whole time.

-What a mess.

Both Mr. and Mrs. Wilson
answered the door.

And I kept asking for Dennis.

Mr. Wilson looked at me
like I was out of my mind.

-I guess it wasn't Dennis's
fault at that, not entirely

anyway.
-Well, where's he now?

In bed, I hope?

-Sound asleep.

And I finally got that dog to
sleep, too, thank goodness.

He won't bother us anymore.

-If you can guarantee
that, you're a genius.

How did you do it?

-It was no trick at all
once I got desperate enough.

-We should have done
that in the first place.

-Hi mom.

-Hello.

-Already?

But it's only one o'clock.

I thought you were going to
play at Tommy's until : .

-My mom's got a sick headache.

-His mom gets a lot
of sick headaches.

Ever time I go over
to Tommy's house

his mom gets a sick headache.

-Dennis, you and Tommy
go outside and play.

And take Charlie with you.

-You know what
we're going to do?

We're going to train
Charlie to carry papers.

-Oh, that's a fine idea.

-When me and Dennis grow up,
we're going to be paperboys.

-Yeah.

And Charlie's going
to be our paper dog.

Come on, Charlie.

I got a swell way to teach you
how to bring in the papers.

-You know, Martha,
I've been wanting

to paint that climbing
rose for a long time now.

-It's a beautiful climber.

-Well, it was a beautiful
day-- Dennis free and dog free.

Oh, and look at that.

I'm half finished already.

-It's a lovely picture.

-You've got it upside down.

-Well, it's lovely either way.

-And notice the detail, huh.

You see, I'm working very
close with my subject.

Now every blossom
goes into the picture,

just as it is on the rosebush.

-I'm sure you're going to
win a first prize with it.

Can you finish it
by Saturday night?

-Well, I can finish it
tomorrow, if I'm lucky.

If I can just keep Dennis
out of my hair for one

more day, I'll have the
most true to life still

life of that rose
trellis you ever saw.

-Boy, Mr. Wilson sure
will be surprised

when he sees who's bringing
him in his evening paper.

-And he says Charlie's dumb.

[knocking]

-Don't drop it, boy.

Hang on to it.

Mr. Wilson might give
you a quarter, too.

Hi, Mr. Wilson.

-Hi

-Look who brought in
your tonight's paper

out of the front yard, Charlie.

-Isn't that cute, George?

-Yes, if you like
wet newspapers.

All right, dog.

Let's have it.

What's that?

-That's a bone, Mr. Wilson.

-I can see it's a bone.

-But that's how we got
Charlie to carry in the paper.

-We rolled the bone up in it.

He sure is smart, isn't he?

So now can we have our quarters
for staying away all day?

-Yes, you can have your quarter.

Oh, do you have
any change, Martha?

-I'll have to run upstairs.

Come on in, boys.

I think there's some
candy in the candy jar.

-Ah, just a minute.

You boys may come
in, but not him.

You take him out there,
and tie him up somewhere.

-Come on, Charlie.
Come on.

You wait here, Charlie.

I'll bring you some candy, too.

-Shall I give him his bone?

-No, Tommy.

He might bury it.

I'll keep it for him.

-Dennis, don't leave that
dirty bone on the coffee table.

Ugh.

-I'm not going to leave it here.

I'm just saving it
for good old Charlie.

He loves that bone.

-Well, we'll just save
it out in the backyard.

You can pick it up
on your way home.

-OK, just so you
don't throw it away.

-Don't worry about our
quarters now, Mr. Wilson.

We can get them tomorrow night.

We have to hurry
home for dinner.

-I told the Wilsons
we'd meet them

at the art school
at eight o'clock.

Where's Dennis?
-He's out in the car.

He's been waiting there
for about minutes.

-Good.

Mr. Wilson told me he spent
the entire day yesterday

at Lake Bailey
painting what he claims

is, my finest work, a
fairly modest claim.

-Yes.

Oh, I do hope he wins something.

He's so deadly serious about it.

-I gather if he can knock
off Ballard Fillmore,

he'll be happy.

That Fillmore is
such a pompous man.

-Hey, mom.

You better come on.

Dad, we'll be late.

Charlie's waiting in the car.

Let's go.

-Charlie?

Now wait a minute, Dennis.

You can't take that dog
with you to the art show.

-Well, gee, mom.

We can't leave him here alone.

He'll be lonesome.

-Well, he'll just have
to get used to it.

-He'll cry, and howl, and
bother all the neighbors.

And you know how
lonesome Charlie gets.

And nobody gets lonesome
louder than Charlie.

-All right.
We'll take him along, Dennis.

But he has to stay in the
car when we get there.

-And it's one of the finest
pictures I've ever painted,

Mitchell.

I showed it to our
instructor last night.

And she thinks it's excellent.

-Well, we're very
anxious to see it.

We've been looking
forward to tonight.

-Yes.

-And I'm sure you'll like it.

-Look at Fillmore over
there, telling everyone

what a great artist
he is, no doubt.

-I certainly hope
you win tonight.

-Well, thank you, Alice.

I think Fillmore is
due for a surprise.

[laughter]

-Well, I hope you have something
good this year, Wilson.

I hear your work has
improved a little.

-We can all stand
improvement, Fillmore.

I'm happy with my entry.

-Good, good.

I'm always glad to have
a little competition.

-Oh, are you Mr. Fillmore?

Boy, I sure would like to
see you paint some time.

-Well, anytime, young fellow.

I'll be glad to have you.

-Do you have a backyard full, or
do you have to go to the dump?

-To the dump?

-To paint.

Mr. Wilson says you
paint nothing but junk.

-Dennis.

--[nervous laughter] Don't
misunderstand Fillmore,

what he meant--
what I really said--

what I really said was Fillmore
paints nothing but junk.

And I mean it.

I told him, huh, Martha?

-Good, George.

Good for you.

-Dennis decided he had to go
down the hall for a minute.

He'll be right back.

-Just so we know where he is.

I guess they should be
letting us in pretty soon now.

-And this picture is
really exciting, isn't it?

Such borders.

-It's quite stimulating, really.

-Such daring, such verve.

-Yes, very stimulating, very.

-Dashing blend in color.

Fantastic technique.

It's really very exciting.

Be sure that it's covered well.

I'll go and throw
open the portals.

[chuckling]

-And so our judges, Mrs.
Elkings and Mr. Timberlake

have come to their
final decision.

Third prize goes to a man
whom we all know and admire,

Mr. Ballard Fillmore.

[applause]

-Mr. Fillmore, congratulations.

[applause]

-Second prize goes to a man
whom we all admire, also,

a man whose work this year has
shown tremendous improvement--

Mr. George Wilson.

[applause]

-Mr. Wilson, congratulations.
-Well.

[applause]

-But the biggest
news is the discovery

of a new and as yet
unidentified artist.

-(WHISPERING) Psst.
Lady.

-Shh.

This painting was found at our
door this morning, unsigned.

It's simply terrific--
strong colors,

and extraordinary brushwork.

-(WHISPERING) Hey, lady.

-What is it, little boy?

-(WHISPERING) I know
who painted it, lady.

Charlie Cooper.

-You know who the artist is?

-(WHISPERING) Yes, ma'am.

-Just a moment, everybody.

We're about to find
out who the artist is.

-I'll bring him in, lady.

I've got him tied right
here to the radiator.

-The artist is here with us now.

He's tied to the-- radiator?

-This is the artist, lady.

-A dog?
-Dennis.

-And Charlie.

-He painted it with his
tail, didn't he, Mr. Wilson?

I got it out of your trash
box, and brought it over here.

-But a dog, we can't have a--

-You won, Charlie.

I bet Mr. Wilson isn't going
to call you that dumb dog now.

-The, uh, judges feel
that, uh, regardless

of the species of the
painter, art is still art.

And since the
winning picture was

done by both Mr.
Wilson and the dog,

the first prize goes
to them jointly.

The second prize, of course,
goes to Mr. Wilson by himself.

-Well, then.

You can give the third
prize to Mr. Wilson, too.

I'm certainly not going
to enter my painting

in any art competition
with a dog.

-But you already
did enter, Fillmore.

The dog and I beat
you, remember.

-Oh!

[laughter]

-Good old Charlie.

You're the only artist
in the whole world that

painted a picture with
his tail, and won a prize.