Fenway and Hattie (6 page)

Even though My Hattie bailed on our
awesome game of chase, I'm still making progress on getting her back. I know I am. But that's hard to think about now. Because I'm sitting all by myself in the hallway, looking inside the Eating Place. And drooling.

Seated around the table are Fetch Man, Food Lady, and Hattie. And that's not all—Angel came back. And they're eating lots of juicy, steamy hot dogs. I love hot dogs!

I'm supposed to be under the table curled around Hattie's feet, waiting for tasty bits to fall. But I'm not. Hattie must be as down about it as I am. She's not even eating her food.

Angel's focusing her attention on Fetch Man. She chatters a lot, tossing and catching an invisible ball.

Hattie nods a few times and smiles weakly. She stares into her plate. And pushes a few beans around.

Fetch Man's eyes are wide. He chatters back at Angel excitedly. He's practically on the edge of his seat.

Food Lady gets up and offers Angel another plump, juicy hot dog.
Mmmmm!
Its yummy aroma is intoxicating.

I slurp my chops.

Angel sneaks a peek at me, then turns and asks Hattie a question.

Hattie winces like she's embarrassed. She mumbles a reply, gesturing at the Wicked Floor. Obviously explaining its evils.

Angel looks confused. Is it that hard for a short human to understand?

When the humans are finished eating, Hattie and Angel clatter their dishes in the sink. Food Lady pulls out the crinkly bag of dog food.

I spring to my feet and dance around the carpet. Oh boy! Delicious food is rattling into my dish. My mouth is salivating. Yippee! It's finally supper time!

I can hardly wait to plow into that bowl of crunchy deliciousness. “Bring it on, Hattie!” I bark, my tail out of control.

But instead of carrying it over to me, Hattie exchanges
serious looks with Angel. She sets the dish right on the Wicked Floor. “Fenway, come!” she calls, as if nothing is wrong.

My heart sinks. My tail sags. This is not how it's supposed to be. My Hattie brings me food out here in the hallway. I thought My Hattie was back.

“Fenway, come!” she calls again, crouching down and slapping her knee. Angel pats Hattie's shoulder, like she's the one who needs support.

My tummy's aching. I must convince Hattie to bring me that food. “Please, Hattie,” I whine. “You can't let me starve.” I flop onto my back and kick my legs. I moan and moan and moan. I turn my head for a peek.

Hattie can't take her eyes off me. She looks like her heart is breaking. Angel pats Hattie's shoulder some more.

Hattie is clearly torn. She murmurs something to Angel, then grabs the dish and hurries into the hall.

Wowee! I knew she'd do it! I plunge right in like someone's about to stop me.
Mmmmm!
It's the Best Meal Ever. Sadly, it disappears all too soon.

“I knew I'd get My Hattie back,” I bark. I lick and lick her cheek. She smiles.

Angel plops next to us on the carpet, shaking her head. Her face looks disapproving.

I climb onto her knee and lick her anyway. She tastes like ketchup.

When everything's cleaned up, we all head to the front door and Hattie clips my leash. She goes for the jump rope, but when Angel frowns, she drops it. Hattie sighs and grabs the fat leathery glove instead.

Whatever she has planned, it's bound to be fun. When we get outside, Hattie leans down to hug me and somehow my leash gets tied around a slim tree. “Um, hey, Hattie . . .” I bark as she walks away. “Aren't you forgetting somebody?”

Hattie stops near a patch of dirt, where Food Lady is kneeling and digging and sprinkling water. Angel is near the driveway, fingering that white ball. Which can only mean one thing—another awesome game of fetch! Or chase! I struggle to get loose.

Fetch Man hovers next to Hattie, watching her intently. He has a hopeful look in his eye.

“Hey, everybody!” I bark. “In case you haven't noticed, I'm stuck here and I can't play.”

They act like they can't hear me. Angel winds up and hurls the ball toward Hattie and Fetch Man. Hattie stretches out to get it, but it bounces behind her and dribbles toward Food Lady and the dirt.

“I'm on it, you guys!” I bark, leaping out as far as I can. It's a whisker beyond my reach.

Hattie jogs right past me, looking annoyed. Or discouraged. She scoops up the ball and heads back.

“Unfair! Unfair!” I bark. I jump and twist, even though it's no use.

Fetch Man rests his hand on Hattie's back. He talks into her ear, then stands aside, moving his arm like he's tossing a ball.

Hattie nods. She strokes her cap a couple of times. She pulls her arm back and flings the ball at Angel.

Fetch Man starts clapping, but then stops as the ball sails over Angel's head. It lands on the driveway and begins rolling toward the street.

Hattie's shoulders slump. Fetch Man pats her back, his face encouraging.

Angel is about to head after the ball when strange sounds make us all stop in our tracks.

Tinky-tinky-tink-a-too.

Is it music, like fluty birds? It's moving toward us. It must be exciting because Hattie and Angel drop their fat gloves and squeal with glee. Do they know what this is?

Fetch Man does not appear the least bit curious. Food Lady does not even look up. She keeps on playing in the dirt like her sense of hearing is gone.

The
tinky-tinky-tink-a-too
is getting louder. And closer. Hattie skips up to Fetch Man, who digs into his
pocket. Smiling, he hands Hattie and Angel a couple of small flimsy papers.

Clutching them tightly, the short humans scamper to the edge of the grass. Their heads turn in the direction of the noisy music. Waiting.

Until . . . a truck turns the corner!

My hackles shoot up. Is the Big Brown Truck coming for us again?

No! It's smaller. And whiter. And it's playing the tinky-tinky music.

Hattie and Angel hop up and down, their arms waving.

“Hattie, stand back!” I bark, leaping and flailing. “This thing must be dangerous!”

But she is not listening to my very obvious warnings. The truck stops right next to the short humans, who are not moving out of the way. He's going to get them!

“Go away! We don't want you here!” I bark at the truck.

Like the Big Brown Truck, this one has a human inside. He leans out the window. Hattie, full of energy, talks to him. So does Angel.

“Run away!” I bark to the short humans. “Go inside, climb a tree, anything!”

Can they not hear me? Fetch Man or Food Lady,
either? Fetch Man is over at the dirt chatting with Food Lady like everything's fine.

Good thing I'm here to save the day. Except for the Very Big Problem of the leash. I pull and pull, but there's no way I can reach Truck Man. All I can do is bark. “You'd better scram, or else!”

Hattie gives him a flimsy paper. Angel does, too. And just like that, Truck Man disappears. Was he scared off by my dire warnings? Or the short humans' chattering?

Unfortunately, neither. Truck Man returns and shoves something at the girls. Angel bounces impatiently. She reaches her hand toward the window. Is she trying to push Truck Man back inside?

“I told you to leave!” I bark. Even though it's useless, I lunge with all my might and—
snap!
—the leash breaks off!

I rocket across the lawn. I'm heading right toward that truck at full speed.

Food Lady and Fetch Man spring up. They race over, too, like they suddenly realize the danger the short humans are in. “Fenway! Fenway!” they're calling, as if I'm not already on the job.

I arrive at the scene just as Angel has apparently figured out that she's no match for the musical truck. She turns to me, her eyes wide. Hattie starts shouting and waving her arms.

“FEN-way! Stop!” Food Lady and Fetch Man both scream.

“Go away! Leave these short humans alone!” I bark, baring my teeth. I'm leaping higher than I've ever leaped before. I must reach that window!

I leap extra, extra high, but I still can't reach it. As I fall back down, I collide with Angel, who lets out a shriek. Next thing I know, white creamy globs are all over her clothes.

Truck Man is yelling. Food Lady and Fetch Man are practically breathless. But somehow this does not prevent them from speaking very loudly.

Angel pulls at her delicious-smelling shirt like it's on fire. I taste a few drips as they fly off.
Mmmmm!
Sweet and frosty. I go in for a better lick.

Angel jumps back. Her face is angry. “Bad dog! Bad dog!” she yells.

Hattie squats down and grabs what's left of my leash. She shakes her finger at me. “FEN-way!” she says with a very mad “you're in trouble” voice.

What'd I do? No time to find out. My nose is detecting an irresistible blob of ice cream on the pavement. Talk about a distraction.
Mmmmm!
Vanilla!

The bright morning sun is shining through
the window. I go to nuzzle Hattie, but she's not there. And worse—this is not even her bed. Where am I?

A quick glance around confirms the shocking reality—I'm in an empty room. Trapped by The Gate!

Suddenly, I remember a horrifying dream. Hattie bossing me in here last night, brandishing The Gate. Wait a minute! Did that really happen?

No! Hattie doesn't boss. Hattie doesn't brandish The Gate. I begin tearing around the room. Pictures are flying into my head. Images too awful to be true.

Could I have actually spent the whole dark night alone in this strange room? Was I really curled up on this hard, wooden floor instead of in Hattie's comfy
bed that smells like mint and vanilla? With no Hattie brushing my fur and singing “best buddies” as I'm falling asleep? Did I even sleep?

I'm panting and shuddering. I can't stop racing in circles. It's worse than a nightmare. Finally, I get ahold of myself. There must be something I can do.

I rush over to The Gate. “Hello!” I bark. “I'm in a boring place, and I can't get out!”

I bark and bark, but nobody is coming. I pause and listen. Are those the sounds of my humans shuffling around downstairs?

I must keep at it. I bark and bark some more. When I stop to listen again, my tail starts going nuts. Footsteps are coming up the stairs. I knew my plan would work!

I leap up, trying to peer over The Gate. Those footsteps are getting closer, and then . . . Hattie appears. “Hooray! Hooray!” I bark, offering my head for the rub. But where is it?

I fall back down. Hattie has her arms folded, her face a terrible mixture of irritation and disappointment. Why is she glaring at me like that?

She definitely could use her adorable dog's help to get rid of that frown. I jump and jump, trying desperately to lick her hand. “I have a great idea, Hattie,” I bark, cocking my head in that cute way she likes. “Let's go to the Dog Park and have some fun!”

She leans away. “Stop it,” she says in a sharp voice.

I collapse in a heap of confusion. What is happening to My Hattie? My heart's so heavy, I might sink right through the floor.

Hattie talks in a serious and scolding voice. She does not sound anything like My Hattie. She sounds a little bit like Food Lady does when I climb on the couch.

Hattie speaks and speaks, using lots of Human words I don't know. They are pelting me like rocks. I can't even look at her. All I can do is cover my eyes and sulk.

When Hattie leaves, I'm alone for a Long, Long Time. But then, there's good news—Hattie is back! She removes The Gate and scoops me into her arms. Yippee! She's My Hattie again. I lick her chin and her neck and her ear.

But my hopes quickly crash when we get outside. She sets me down and strides right over to that giant tree. She must be hibernating in the squirrel house, because after I've sniffed every inch of the Dog Park and peed on every shrub, she's still up there.

Eventually, there's nothing to do but sprawl out in the grass and listen to the fluty, chirpy birds and buzzing bees. And wait for Hattie. It's the Loneliest Dog Park Ever.

I'm half snoozing when my ears perk in annoyance.

“Chipper, chatter, squawk!”

My fur prickles. It's one of those nasty squirrels. This one is even bigger than the two from last time!

He's scampering across the tippy-top of the fence, along the far side of the Dog Park. Doesn't he realize there's a ferocious dog guarding the place?

He's obviously not very smart. Because every time he reaches the end of the fence, he pivots and darts back the other way. But then again, who ever said squirrels were smart?

As he scurries along, his hissing grates in my ears. His twitching is almost too revolting to watch.

But I can't run away from my duty. I must defend my territory. I'm a professional.

I spring up and trot closer. But not too close. “Get out of here, you disgusting rodent!” I bark. “A Dog Park is no place for squirrels!”

He is not acting the least bit intimidated. He stops mid-scamper and bares his squirrel-ish fangs right at me.
“Chipper, chatter, squawk!”
he screeches. The sound is pure evil.

I'm a few paces away but still within striking distance. “I said, ‘Go away!'” I bark, with more urgency this time.

“Chipper, chatter, squawk!”
he screeches again, as if he even has a chance against me. Digging his vicious claws into the top of the fence, he thrusts his hideous face in my direction. He's going to fling himself right at me!

I back up a little, every hair on my neck trembling. “You're not welcome here, you cowardly beast,” I bark. “Now beat it before I destroy you once and for all!”

But my serious threats do not drive him away. Next thing I know, that little monster flies off the fence, right into the Dog Park! As soon as his feet hit the grass, he scampers toward the giant tree.

Ha! If that's how he wants to play, he picked the wrong opponent. “I've got you now, you nasty creature!” I bark, taking off after him.

His fat, fluffy tail swishes tauntingly as he runs. I can already taste that disgusting fur in my jaws. I'm about to snap when he flees up the trunk in an ominous racket of clickety-clacky-clacks. Uh-oh! Hattie's up there!

I paw the bark of the giant tree, snarling and growling furiously. “Leave Hattie alone, you menace!” I bark. “Or you'll have to answer to me!”

Fortunately, the rustling and swaying branches tell me he has enough sense to avoid the squirrel house. I drop down in the shade and curl up for a well-deserved rest.

Then my ears detect familiar sounds through the fence. The jingling of dogs. If only I could get excited.

“Is that you, Fenway?” Patches's lovely voice calls.

I slump a bit lower.

“He looks like he lost his best bone,” I hear Goldie mutter.

“Poor guy,” Patches says. “It reminds me of the first time our sweet Angel left the leashes on their hooks, forgetting all about them. You parked yourself at the door and sulked and stewed and didn't move. Not even at supper time.”

“Me?” Goldie huffs. “I believe you were the one who whimpered and carried on like a puppy when she went out without us that day. She practically shut the door on your nose, like you weren't even there.”

Patches sniffs. “She ran out without giving us so much as a pat.”

“Well, a dog can't keep living in the past,” Goldie says. “What's done is done.”

Patches sighs. “Still, I can't help but remember the good times.”

“What's the point?” Goldie says, then calls over to me. “Hey, Fenway. Do yourself a favor and move on without that short human. You're only making yourself miserable.”

“Have a little sympathy,” Patches says. “Can't you see the pain he's in?”

It's all too much to bear. “Leave me alone,” I cry.

“See?” Patches says.

“Hey, I'm only trying to help,” Goldie says. “Is it my fault if the little guy won't listen to my advice?”

“There's advice and then there's wise advice,” Patches says.

“And I suppose yours is wise?” Goldie grumbles.

“Fenway,” Patches says kindly, “we know from experience how hard it is to move on. But believe me, life without your short human isn't as bad as you think.”

“That's your wise advice?” Goldie says.

Patches ignores her. “Listen, Fenway, at first, we couldn't accept it. But as time went on, we got used to entertaining ourselves.”

“That's right,” Goldie says. “Instead of swimming in the pond, now we lie in puddles.”

“You mean we splash in the wading pool,” Patches corrects.

“Speak for yourself,” Goldie says with a growl. “I lie in puddles.”

“In any case,” Patches goes on, “we've found ways to adjust. And you will, too.”

I want to ignore them, but a sense of fury rises up
through my fur and consumes my entire body. In a flash, I'm charging over to the fence. “Maybe that's working for you,” I say. “But I could never live without My Hattie. I am going to get her back.”

“Now, Fenway, I know you're determined, but . . .” Patches says, her eyes sad and wincing. “Have you actually thought about what a gargantuan task that would be?”

“Hey, maybe he's some kind of super dog,” Goldie says with a sneer.

“I know you both think I can't do it,” I say. “But I can! I will! Maybe I just need more time. Or better ideas. Or something. But I'll do it. Just you wait.”

“Would you listen to him?” Goldie murmurs.

I jump up and scratch the fence. “And who knows?” I say, feeling a surge of power. “When I get My Hattie back, maybe I'll get your Angel back, too.”

Patches gasps, but then her face falls. “If only we could have our precious Angel back,” she says sadly. “It's all I wish for.”

“Too bad it's impossible,” Goldie says, then looks away suddenly. Like she doesn't want us to see her drooping ears.

I know I'll do it. I have to. All I need is a plan.