The Case of the Mixed-Up Mutts (5 page)

Here is what I’m going to do to find out what I don’t know:

? ? ?

“WERE THERE ANY CLUES INSIDE THE HOUSE?” Mouse asks.

I have to think about that. What did I smell? What did I hear? What did I see?

“There was dog food in the kitchen,” I tell Mouse. “But no food or water bowls.”

“THAT’S A GOOD CLUE,” Mouse says. “THAT MAKES ME THINK THEY TOOK MUFFIN WITH THEM. DID YOU FIND ANY OTHER CLUES?”

“There was an open dresser drawer in Owen’s room. It was empty. That might be another clue.”

“WHAT DO HUMANS PUT IN DRESSER DRAWERS?” Mouse asks. He is an outdoor dog so I’m not surprised that he doesn’t know this.

“Clothes,” I say.

“SO WHEREVER THEY WENT, THESE PEOPLE TOOK THEIR CLOTHES WITH THEM,” Mouse says. He licks his paw. “DID THEY TAKE ANYTHING ELSE?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I’ve never been inside their house before so I don’t know what else is missing. All I know is there’s a lot of stuff they
didn’t
take.”

“THEN THEY’RE PROBABLY COMING BACK,” Mouse says. “MAYBE THEY JUST WENT ON A TRIP.”

“When humans go on a trip, they sometimes take their dog with them,” I say. “But sometimes they don’t.”

Here is a list of places Muffin could be:

She could be with Jazzy’s humans ... wherever they are.

She could be with a neighbor, a friend, or another family member.

She could be at Barker Bob’s or another place like it. How many other places like Barker Bob’s are there in this town?

She could be at the P-O-U-N-D. I hope she’s not!

How do we find out where Muffin is? How do we find more clues?

I know what Kayla would do if she was here. She’d talk to people. Mouse and I can’t do that. Most people don’t speak Dog.

But
dogs
speak Dog. We can talk to other dogs and see if they know where Muffin could be.

Mouse and I go back to the house with the two toy poodles. We stand on the sidewalk in front of their house.

“Hello?” I call.

Both dogs come running. “Who’s there? What do you want? Are you looking for trouble?” they bark at us.

They have the same kind of window next to their front door as Kayla has. It is such a small window that they are pushing each other out of the way so they can both see outside.

“No, no. We don’t want any trouble,” I say. “We just want to know about the dog that lives in the house with the tomatoes, onions, green beans, and squash growing in the backyard. Do you know which house I’m talking about? Do you know the dog that lives there?”

“Sure. We know Jazzy,” says the bigger toy poodle.

“We haven’t seen Jazzy in a long time,” says the smaller toy poodle. “There was another dog there the other day. A dog that isn’t Jazzy.”

“We know,” I say. “That’s Muffin. She got mixed up with Jazzy at the dog park. We’re here to help Muffin get back home. But Muffin isn’t at Jazzy’s house.
No one
is there.”

“That’s because the family went on vacation,” the bigger toy poodle says.

“DID THEY TAKE MUFFIN WITH THEM?” Mouse asks.

The toy poodles back away from the window.

“Shh!” I tell Mouse. If his loud voice scares them away, we won’t get the information we need.

“Did they take Muffin with them?” I ask in a softer voice.

“No,” the smaller toy poodle says. “We saw Grandma come. I think she took Owen and the dog to her house.”

Grandma!
Kayla and her dad went to Grandma’s house, too. It’s probably not the same Grandma, though. It’s probably just another lady named Grandma.

“DO YOU KNOW WHERE THIS GRANDMA LIVES?” Mouse asks. “DOES SHE LIVE AROUND HERE?”

Before the toy poodles can answer, a light comes on inside their house. Then another light comes on above the porch.

“What are you two barking about?” grumbles a voice inside the house.

The front door opens, and a man who doesn’t have a lot of hair on his head looks out at us. “Ah,” he says. “
That’s
what you’re barking about.”

He steps onto the porch. Uh-oh. He’s carrying a baseball bat.

“RUN!” The toy poodles warn.

Mouse and I don’t need to be told twice. We turn tail and RUN.

“Grandma lives close to the river,” one of the toy poodles calls after us. “My human and I went there with Jazzy and her human once. If you can find the river, you’ll find Grandma. And, if you find Grandma, you should find Owen and that other dog, too.”

“THANKS!” Mouse calls back as we round the corner to the next block.

I glance over my shoulder. “It’s okay,” I tell Mouse. “The poodle’s human isn’t following us.”

“GOOD!” Mouse says as we slow to a walk. “I DON’T KNOW WHY HE HAD TO COME AFTER US WITH A BASEBALL BAT. WE WERE JUST TALKING TO THOSE DOGS. WE WEREN’T DOING ANYTHING WRONG.”

“Some humans don’t like it when dogs talk,” I say.

“HE STILL DIDN’T HAVE TO GET A BASEBALL BAT,” Mouse says.

“Well, if we don’t want another human to come after us with a baseball bat, we’d better be quiet,” I tell Mouse.

“SORRY,”
Mouse whispers. We look for cars, then cross the street.
“SO DO YOU KNOW WHERE THE RIVER IS? I’VE NEVER BEEN THERE.”

“Neither have I,” I say. “Maybe we can smell it.” A river should smell like fish. And boats. And I don’t know what else because I’ve never smelled one.

I don’t smell fish ... or boats ... or anything that might be a river right now.

“MAYBE WE SHOULD ASK FOR DIRECTIONS TO THE RIVER,” Mouse says.

“Is there anyone around here who could give us directions?” I ask.

We raise our noses in the air and sniff. We both smell a bunch of different dog smells. Lots of dogs have passed by here. But are any of those dogs still around?

My nose twitches. Yes, there’s one who is close. A girl dog. Mouse and I smell her at the exact same time. We both turn our heads. And there, in the window across the street, is not just a girl, but a
lady
. A lady golden retriever. She’s the prettiest golden retriever I’ve ever seen.

I swallow hard. “I wonder if she knows how to get to the river,” I ask Mouse.

“THERE’S ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT,” Mouse says.

We hurry across the street. “Let me do the talking,” I tell Mouse. “We don’t want your loud voice to scare her.”

“OKAY,”
Mouse whispers. He steps aside so I can get to the window first.

My heart is pounding fast, fast, fast. “Hi,” I say, just loud enough for the lady to hear me through the glass.

“My name is ... Buddy.” That actually isn’t such a bad name, now that I think about it.

“I’m Goldy,” says the golden retriever. I like the way Goldy slowly blinks her eyes.

I tell Goldy who we are and what we’re looking for.

“I haven’t been to the river in a long time,” Goldy says. “I’ve got a bad hip.”

“That’s too bad,” I say.

“But I know where the river is,” Goldy says. “Just keep going on this street until it ends, then turn toward the hamburger smell. Follow the hamburger smell until it turns into a river smell. You’ll know it when you smell it.”

“That sounds easy,” I say.

“I’ve heard there’s a strange dog hanging around the neighborhood next to the river,” Goldy says. “I don’t know the name. I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl. But maybe it’s your friend.”

“DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE DOG?” Mouse asks. “ANYTHING AT ALL?”

“All I know is he or she is short and stocky,” Goldy says. “And has a pushed-in face.”

Pushed-in face? Pugs have pushed-in faces.

“THAT SOUNDS LIKE MUFFIN!” Mouse exclaims.

“Shh!” I hiss.

Mouse says “sorry” with his eyes. He just can’t help talking so loud. Especially when he’s excited.

But I’m excited, too. Maybe the strange dog
is
Muffin.

“Thanks,” I say to Goldy. “Uh ... maybe I’ll run into you again sometime.”

“Maybe,” Goldy replies. Then she blinks again, and my whole insides get fluttery.

“YOU LIKE HER, DON’T YOU?” Mouse teases me when we are away from Goldy’s house.

“Sure, I like her,” I tell Mouse. I keep my eyes pointed straight ahead. “I like everyone.”

Mouse laughs. “YEAH, BUT YOU LIKE HER MORE THAN YOU LIKE MOST DOGS.”