Crisis in Crittertown (6 page)

“I love the post office! The clerk gives me biscuits.” Then Buttercup asked, “What're you doing here?”

“Looking for a new home.” Nilla also sensed Buttercup could be trusted.

The dog scratched his ear. “What's wrong with the post office? Did you shed too much, scratch the furniture, or make someone sneeze?”

“The Crittertown office is scheduled to close soon,” Grayson reported sadly.

“No more post office? No more biscuits?” Buttercup half-spoke and half-howled.

The dog stepped aside to show us his house. “You're welcome to stay here. It isn't nearly as nice as cuddling on the couch with Jill and Bill, but it's not too cold. And the kids visit often.”

Grayson bowed. “Thank you for the kind offer. However, our colony couldn't impose on you. We're just three scouts. The colony has many members.”

“More than I can count,” Nilla said. “Of course, I'm just learning about numbers, geography, and all kinds of other things.”

“I know what you mean,” Buttercup began. “It's strange, isn't it? I used to only understand words like ‘walk' and ‘bacon.' Then, not long ago, tons of words suddenly made sense!”

“We call it The Change,” Grayson said. “It's happening to animals all over. We don't know why yet.”

“Nonfiction has a theory,” Nilla added. “He's the leader of the library colony.”

Buttercup walked into his doghouse, turned around three times, then settled on the bed. “Not enough room for you at the library, either?”

“And they have a cat.” Nilla shuddered.

Buttercup laughed. “I've seen Dot. Just a few bites to me, but I suppose she'd be a terror to you.” Then he added, “No offense.”

“None taken,” I said.

Buttercup yawned. “Well, you're welcome to sleep here tonight.” He patted the bed beside him. “Just squeak real loud if I roll over on you.”

Grayson sat on the edge of the bed. Nilla and I perched on either side of him. The thought of Buttercup's bulk rolling onto us was as scary as Dot! But we didn't want to be rude. Besides, the post office seemed far away, especially in those dark hours owned by owls and other night stalkers.

Buttercup added, “Jill and Bill bring breakfast in the morning. I can spare the little you three need.”

“That's very decent of you!” I exclaimed. The thought of a guaranteed breakfast was comforting. Then I said, “We met some students at the library today. Are your ‘Jill and Bill' in third grade?”

Buttercup shrugged. “They go to school up the road. It's a nice walk, but I'm not allowed.” Then he smiled. “Maybe you could go!”

Grayson leaped up so fast, Nilla and I tumbled backward off Buttercup's cushion. “Sorry,” Grayson muttered, before he exclaimed, “Maybe the colony can move to Crittertown Elementary School!”

Barely pausing for breath, Grayson went on. “Think of it, Cheddar. You already like children, and you've seen the way they eat. Crumbs everywhere! Lots of pizza and cheese.” He turned to Buttercup. “What do you know about the school? Does it have a colony already? Is it near woods, fields, or gardens?”

“Any cats?” Nilla asked.

Buttercup shook his head. “No pets. Yes, there are woods, fields, and gardens. One of Jill's friends lives just up the street.”

I listed the names of the other girls in the class. “Is it Tanya, Hannah, Jane, April…?”

Grayson and Nilla stared at me. Grayson said, “You know their names?”

I recited, “The boys are Andy, from the market; Ian, whose father is in a band; Jill's twin, Bill; Wyatt, whose father works for the Lakeville post office; and the artist, Javier.” I added, “I like them. Of course I want to know their names.”

Buttercup began, “Jill has lots of friends. Jane smells like rabbit, because she has a pet bunny. I think April lives near the school.”

I smiled. “Sweet, shy April.”

Nilla squeaked, “You've spent too much time at the post office. You're turning human!”

“Humans aren't so bad,” I muttered.

Nilla said, “Traps, poison, pet cats…”

“I know,” I interrupted, and then had to add, “Cheese, bacon, music, toys, newspapers, and so much more!”

Grayson stamped. “Enough arguing. We could be on the brink of saving the colony!” He started pacing. “Buttercup, you said the school isn't far. How long would it take us to get there?”

Buttercup half-closed his eyes. “You move fast, but your legs are so tiny…”

Grayson asked, “Is it longer than the walk between here and the post office?”

“Much longer,” Buttercup answered.

Grayson paced in the opposite direction. “That could be quite a hike.”

“Or you could go with Bill and Jill,” Buttercup suggested. “They walk to school right after my breakfast.”

Grayson stopped pacing. “How can we go with the children?”

Buttercup said, “They carry backpacks. Jill's has a broken zipper, so it doesn't close all the way. Maybe you can climb inside.”

Nilla exclaimed, “Buttercup, you're a genius!”

The dog looked puzzled. “I'm a Labrador Retriever. What's a ‘genius'?”

“Someone who's very smart,” I replied.

Buttercup laughed. “I can barely remember the difference between ‘rollover' and ‘beg.'”

“Why would you want to?” Grayson wondered.

Buttercup explained. “Dogs like to have someone pat us on the head and say ‘good dog.' Sometimes I wag my tail so hard my butt wags, too.”

This struck us all as so funny that we laughed for a long time. Then Buttercup yawned and suggested, “How about getting some sleep?”

Chapter 7  
Our First Day at School

We woke up early. Something had been puzzling me, so I asked Buttercup, “Since The Change happened, we understand human language and can speak it to each other. Can humans understand animals?”

Buttercup sighed. “Not mine. I was so disappointed! That first day I barked myself hoarse. But they just asked me what was wrong or told me to shut up!”

“What about Jill and Bill?” Even if adults insisted that animals can't talk, I hoped children could hear us.

Buttercup said, “I tried barking, whimpering, growling. Finally, Jill said, ‘If you don't shut up, Mom's going to muzzle you and take you to the vet!'”

“What's a ‘muzzle' and a ‘vet'?” Nilla asked.

Buttercup looked embarrassed. “A muzzle is a cage for a dog's mouth, to keep him from biting. Collars can be annoying, but they mean, ‘someone cares for me; I belong.' Muzzles mean ‘people think I'm dangerous.'”

Nilla whispered, “It's okay. You had to try.”

Buttercup went on. “A vet is a doctor who treats animals.” Then he added, “That's not as nice as it sounds. The vet always pokes me with sharp things and snoops inside my ears.”

Nilla said, “That sounds awful!”

We heard noises in the big house. Grayson asked, “Where should we hide?”

Buttercup chuckled. “You're so small, anywhere will do—maybe outside, behind one of my toys. The children usually leave their backpacks on the grass.”

The B&B's door banged open. Grayson dashed out of the doghouse, squeaking, “Follow me!”

We raced to a thick rope knotted at both ends. It stank of dog slobber. But as long as the children didn't play tug-of-war with Buttercup, we'd be safely hidden.

Sunshine sparkled on the dewy grass. Bill carried a dish of dog food. Jill carried one of water. They set down the dishes. Then, as Buttercup predicted, the children dropped their backpacks.

Buttercup rushed out of his house. His tail wagged so hard that his butt wiggled. Nilla slapped a paw over her mouth to keep from giggling.

Buttercup stuck his face in Bill's dish and gulped down half the food. He licked the children's faces. Then he stuck his face back in the bowl.

Bill chuckled. “Settle down.”

Jill laughed, too. “It's just breakfast.”

Grayson crept away from the rope toy and through the gap in Jill's backpack. Nilla and I ran across the cold grass to join him. The smell of cheese greeted me like an old friend. I saw a brown paper bag and figured Jill's lunch must contain the delicious substance.

The pink cloth tinted everything inside with a rosy glow. If all went well, we'd soon be in a place full of children, toys, and crumbs! If not…I took a deep breath and felt comforted by the cheesy aroma.

Buttercup soon finished eating. The children must've hugged him, because I heard Buttercup whine, “I'll miss you, too. I love you more than meat!”

Then suddenly our rosy world rocketed upward! Even Grayson looked seasick. The backpack tipped from side to side as Jill slipped the straps over her shoulders. “One last hug,” she said.

Everything bounced horribly as Jill kneeled to hug Buttercup again. He whined, “Good luck, little friends!” We couldn't risk replying.

With a sickening lurch, Jill stood. Then she said, “Race you to the corner!”

While we bounced up and down, we pressed against the sides of the backpack. Jill's math book nearly mashed us flat! At the corner, the twins abruptly stopped. They argued briefly before declaring the race “a tie.” Luckily for us, they went on at a more peaceful pace.

My stomach growled. Grayson whispered, “Too bad about breakfast.”

Buttercup's plan didn't account for the children being with him while he ate. Besides, at the rate that Buttercup gobbled, he might've swallowed us whole!

I leaned against the brown bag and inhaled its appealing aroma. Before I knew it, I'd unrolled the top and crawled inside.

The plastic bag holding Jill's sandwich wasn't sealed, just folded over. In seconds, my teeth sank into the soft bread and tangy cheese. CHEESE!

Several bites were down my throat when Grayson appeared and asked, “What're you doing?”

My mouth was too full to answer. Actually, my full mouth was my answer.

Grayson sighed, “I guess the damage is done.” He took a bite.

Nilla did, too, before exclaiming, “Yum!”

After a few more nibbles Nilla said, “We better stop.”

I was still hungry but saw the sense in her words. Even as I savored the cheesy aftertaste, I cringed with regret. What would Jill think when she saw the nibbled sandwich? Would my greedy gut spoil our chances of living at the school? What could I do?

When Jill stopped short at the next corner, the answer fell on top of me! I opened Jill's assignment pad and pushed the small pencil free of the wire coils. I turned past last night's homework and started writing.

Grayson whispered, “What're you doing?”

“Apologizing,” I replied. Nilla looked puzzled. So I added, “To Jill, for nibbling her lunch.”

Nilla rolled her eyes. I knew what she was thinking, that I was “turning human.” And maybe I had spent “too much time at the post office,” because eating someone else's sandwich seemed wrong.

When customers gave Mike too much money, he gave it back. People were grateful. I wanted to be like that, true blue, like the clerk's sweaters or the starry part of the American flag.

Writing in a moving backpack with a pencil as big as my body wasn't easy. But I finally finished the message, tore off the page, and tucked it in Jill's lunch bag. The delicious smell teased me. But I refused to yield. You can't say you're sorry, then just do the same thing.

Grayson whispered, “Happy now?”

“Yes,” I replied. I
did
feel better, even though my paws were sore from pushing the pencil.