Fenway and Hattie (9 page)

Whoa, I'm the one who lost the game.
Why is Hattie upset?

She holds me up at arm's length. She gazes at me intently, her eyebrows narrowed. “FEN-way!” she yells, louder and madder than ever. She keeps on yelling and yelling. She does not even sound like Hattie. She sounds like somebody I don't know.

And she looks like somebody I don't know, too. Her shoulders are tense and her hands are trembling. Her face is puffed and furious. Her eyes are pooling with wetness.

“Bad, bad dog!” she cries, her breath becoming uneven. Her voice is a horrible mixture of fury and grief.
Tears start spilling down her cheeks. “Bad, bad dog!” she wails between sobs.

My ears are sagging, my eyes wincing. It hurts too much to look at her face. Even my fur is drooping with sadness. I try to shrink. I try to recoil. But she's holding me tight, and there's nowhere to hide.

“Bad, bad dog!” she cries over and over, like she's the one who's in pain.

Why is this happening? Why is Hattie angry at me? We were playing chase, her favorite game. We were having fun. I even let her win.

Hattie turns my face back toward hers so I can't look away. She keeps saying those terrible words, “Bad, bad dog,” right into my eyes. Like somehow I'm going to understand.

“I can't bear to watch,” Goldie mutters.

“Or listen,” says Patches.

And I was beginning to think things couldn't get worse. The ladies were right. Hattie's changed. And now on top of this horrible agony, I have to suffer humiliation, too.

All I want to do is run away. I try to wriggle out of Hattie's grip, but she only clutches me tighter. It's by definition the Most Awful Day Ever. I hang my head and whimper. When will it end?

And just like that, Hattie sets me down. She flies up the porch steps, charges into the house, and slams the door.

Angel gives a little cry of surprise, then bolts after her.

I curl up in the grass, covering my eyes. If I could get any smaller, I'd actually disappear.

“My heart is aching for him,” Goldie murmurs.

“I wish there were something we could do,” Patches says.

A bee buzzes overhead, happy as can be, like all that matters is the next flower. “Please go away,” I yelp.

I must have been lying in the grass for a Very Long Time because the sun is dropping lower in the sky. Food Lady opens the door. “Fenn-waay,” she calls like it's any ordinary supper time.

Hey, maybe it is an ordinary supper time? Maybe whatever happened is over now. I trot inside and poke my head into the Eating Place.

My supper dish is filled with food all right. But it's in the same spot as usual—on the Wicked Floor. And that's not the only bad news. Fetch Man's at the table, but where's Hattie? Is she gone?

I must find her! I blast around the corner and fly up the stairs. When I get to Hattie's room, I'm wildly out of breath. And wildly relieved.

Good news—she's in there! I want to dance around in celebration, but something horribly suspicious is going on.

Hattie is opening drawers and packing things into a bag. I go to inspect them, but she grabs my collar. “Stop it,” she scolds, pulling me away. She grabs a rolled-up blanket from the closet. I chomp one end for tug-of-war, but Hattie sneers. “Stop it!” she yells again.

I slink back. Hattie's upset. And she's packing things. It can only mean one thing—she's leaving!

She must be stopped. Food Lady and Fetch Man are either unaware or not up to the task. As usual, the job falls to me. If only I knew what to do.

Hattie grabs her cap and goes to toss it into the bag with her other stuff. But then she stops. She scowls and tosses it on the dresser instead.

She looks around the room as if searching for other things to pack. I follow her gaze to the bed. Aha! The used-to-be bear! That's how to stop her!

I bound up and snatch it. I hop off and run around the room. Ha! Hattie can't leave now.

Hattie hurls the bulging bag over her shoulder. She hugs the rolled-up blanket.

I prance in front of her, waggling the used-to-be bear. I prepare to take off the moment she goes in for the chase.

But she barely notices. She heads for the door and races down the hall.

Whoa, how did that not work? I drop the used-to-be bear and race out of the room. It's all I can do to keep up with her.

She dashes into the Eating Place, where Fetch Man and Food Lady greet her with concerned faces and lots of chatter. Fetch Man's voice is soothing. Food Lady's sounds more like pleading.

Hattie clutches the blanket roll to her chest. Her body is tense and trembling like her hackles are raised. She shouts angry words for a long time, tears sliding down her face. Finally, she stomps her foot. She glares at them, waiting for them to respond.

But they are quiet. Fetch Man hangs his head, then looks up at Food Lady with sad eyes. She gazes back at him, her hand on her forehead. Fetch Man opens his mouth to say something, but doesn't. Food Lady's eyes get watery.

What's wrong with them? Can't they see that Hattie's running away? They're not even saying anything. Why aren't they trying to stop her?

Food Lady shrugs her shoulders like she has no choice
but to give up. Fetch Man sighs loudly and puts his arm around her. “Let-ter-go,” he says.

I have no idea what he just said, but they're not doing a thing. They're just letting her go. Hattie can't leave. I must find a way to stop her!

Fetch Man speaks to Hattie in a warning voice. He goes to a cabinet and takes out a small light. Food Lady opens another cabinet and pulls out a bottle that I recognize right away. It makes an awful hissing sound and sprays a smelly, choky mist. I back off, even though there's no way she can reach me.

Hattie marches to the sliding door. Fetch Man and Food Lady follow with the small light and choky spray. Are they actually helping her leave?

I have to do something. I can't let my short human run away!

I'm running in circles, desperate for an idea, when I spot Hattie's rolled-up blanket. And her bulging bag.

Right in the middle of the Wicked Floor.

How long before she realizes she's forgotten them and heads back? I could steal that blanket. The bag, too! I could hide them where she'd never look!

She wouldn't be able to leave.

It's the Greatest Idea Ever!

But I have to hurry. She could be back any second.

I'm about to race into the Eating Place when the flaw in my plan hits me like a door in my face.

Her things are on the Wicked Floor.

I've faced this situation before. And I did not win.

But the stakes have never been higher. There must be a way!

I dart back and forth in the hallway. How can I force the Wicked Floor to surrender Hattie's things?

I'm exhausting myself from racing and pacing. But I'm a professional. It's my life's work to protect my humans from danger. I can't let a Wicked Floor keep me from doing my job.

I swipe a paw across its evil surface. It's smooth and slick as ever, but a dog's gotta do what a dog's gotta do.

I plant both paws onto the floor's gleaming wickedness. Instantly, my brown paw slides away. The white one buckles awkwardly under my chest. I crumple—
splat!
—across the doorway. “Ouch!” I yelp. “Eee-yowww! Eee-yowww!”

My hind claws dig into the carpeting. I ease myself back out into the safety of the hall. I try to lick the soreness out of my paw. Too bad I can't lick away what's really hurting. Hattie is running away without me. I stop mid-lick to growl at the Wicked Floor. “I'll get you,” I bark. “Somehow.”

Hattie bursts back into the Eating Place as determined as ever. Although judging by the nauseating smell, she lost a battle with the choky spray. She rushes over and collects her bag and rolled-up blanket. She turns and heads out. I hear the back door slide open. She does not say good-bye. She does not even look back.

I race around the corner to the door and peer through the screen.

Hattie climbs up the giant tree. And then . . . she is gone.

Without Hattie, nothing matters. Nothing
will ever matter again. I slink down, gazing helplessly out the door. When Food Lady and Fetch Man come back inside, they practically trip over my lifeless body. My muscles wouldn't move if I bribed them.

Which is apparently what my humans are trying to do. “Fenn-waay,” Food Lady coos, sweet as cream. She strides into the Eating Place, gesturing at my supper dish. Like I could've possibly forgotten it's there.

Fetch Man waves a piece of kibble under my nose. I cannot even bear to sniff it. He presses his hand against my side. As I let out a deep sigh, he smells relieved.

They head into the Lounging Place. I hear the familiar
click!
and sounds from the Flashing Screen.

Later, Fetch Man comes back and opens the sliding door. “Fenway,” he says, more authoritatively this time. When I don't bother getting up, he carries me outside and waits until I water one of the bushes.

Through the darkness, we both steal glances at the giant tree. But there's no sign of her. Just a nasty squirrel skittering along the side fence.

Fetch Man shrugs and brings me back inside. When he closes the door, I press my nose into the screen. As if I'll suddenly see her climbing down the tree and running back to me. I can't suppress a whimper.

“Fenway,” Fetch Man says with a sigh. He pulls me away from the door and deposits me in the hallway. Out comes The Gate. The lights go dark. And I am alone.

I'm lying in the hallway for a Very Long Time. Eventually, my eyelids get heavy. I close them for just a second. And then . . .

I'm out in the Dog Park. With the biggest hot dog I've ever seen. It's the size of our car. And it's glistening with hot-dog-y goodness. Just waiting for me to race over and take a bite.

Wowee! How did I get so lucky? I can't wait to sink my teeth into it.

I go to chomp one end, but suddenly, the whole hot dog disappears. Hey, where did it go? It's completely vanished.

I'm searching for it everywhere when over at the fence I see a flicker of pure horror.

Squirrels! Lined up on the fence. More squirrels than I've ever seen. They're enormous. Gigantic. It's the Scariest Sight Ever!

One very fat, very nasty squirrel leads the pack. His belly is huge and bulging. His teeth are long and fanglike, dripping with squirrely saliva. I can't look at him without shuddering. He is the definition of evil.

“Chipper, chatter, squawk!”
the Evil Squirrel screeches. He scurries down into the Dog Park, and the rest of the pack follows. They're invading!

A Dog Park is for dogs. I open my mouth to frighten them away, but no sound comes out. What happened to my bark? I'm speechless!

Pretty soon, the Dog Park is completely packed with gigantic squirrels. But they're not teasing or taunting or daring me to chase them. They don't even notice me. What's up with that?

Clearly, they have a plan. The Evil Squirrel scampers over to the giant tree. The others race after him. They shoot up the trunk and into the leafy leaves. They're headed for the squirrel house.

A shiver runs from my snout to my tail. Hattie is up
there. The Evil Squirrel bares his fangs. The others raise their claws. They are about to enter the house. Hattie's in danger!

A squirrel-y face pops out of the little window, her eyes wide with fear. I know those eyes. It's Hattie!

She's turned into a squirrel!

I wince in horror, every hair on my coat shuddering with disgust. My sweet, lovely Hattie, my favorite short human of all, has become one of my mortal enemies!

I gaze out across the Dog Park. Hattie's eyes are full of terror. She's trapped. She's afraid. She needs me.

Squirrel or no squirrel, she's still Hattie. I'll never stop loving her.

Especially now that she's in trouble. Those gigantic squirrels have her surrounded. There's only one thing to do—I have to save her!

There must be a way. If only I could bark! At least I can run. Or can I? My legs won't move. Come on, paws. Let's go!

They will not budge. They must be attached to the ground. It's worse than being trapped. I'm officially useless.

I can't just stand here. Time is running out. The pack of gigantic squirrels is perched on the branch. Which is bending and bending and bending.

I hear a loud rushing, whooshing sound. And then . . .

. . . CRRRRR-ACK!

Or is it
click
?

Whatever it is, it's followed by a pounding, splattering sound, like sheets of rain. And
BOOM-KABOOM!

I shiver. It's all so terrifying. I can hardly stand to listen. But then I hear different sounds . . .
tip, tap, tap
.

My eyes pop open, but . . . suddenly everything is dark. I can't bark, I can't move, and now I can't see!

And hey—the grass feels exactly like cushy carpeting.

It
is
cushy carpeting! I'm no longer out in the Dog Park. I'm back in the house. In the hallway outside the Eating Place.

Is this real? Or is it a dream?

In any case, there's no time for questions. The
tip, tap, tapping
is getting closer. It's inside the sliding door.

And it's moving. Into the Eating Place.

Good thing there's nothing wrong with my hearing.

Rain pelts against the window. A light flashes outside. For an instant, I can almost make out a large lumpy, bumpy creature.

Inside the Eating Place.

It smells like damp tree bark. And wet leaves.

This can only mean one thing—it's that Evil Squirrel!

He's come inside to stop me from saving Hattie. Like he actually could! Short human or squirrel, she's still my beloved Hattie. And nothing can stop me from saving her!

BOOM-KABOOM!

I leap up. Hey, I can move! “Out of my way, Squirrel!” I bark. “I have a job to do.” Hey, I can bark!

But the Evil Squirrel is not intimidated. His shadowy shape keeps slinking through the Eating Place, determined to stop me.

Not if I stop him first. I'll charge right in and show him who's boss. But when my paws cross the threshold, I realize there's another Very Big Problem.