The Case of the Mixed-Up Mutts (4 page)

“FOR RENT?” Mouse says. “WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?”

“It means his humans aren’t coming back,” says Cat with No Name. “Ever!” Then he disappears into the night.

My tail droops. Is Cat with No Name right? Are Kayla and her dad never coming back?

What about Mom?

What about all the things inside the house? My toys. The living room couch. All the food Kayla, Mom, and Dad kept hidden behind doors? Are those things still there?

I lumber up the front steps and peer inside the window next to the door. It’s just as dark inside the house as it is outside. Lucky for me my eyes work pretty well in the dark.

All I see is a wall with empty hooks. It’s the same thing I saw the last time I looked inside my house.

“IF WE’RE GOING TO GET MUFFIN TONIGHT, WE’D BETTER GET GOING,”
Mouse says. He knows I’d rather go inside my house and look for clues. His quiet voice tells me he will let me be the alpha dog. If I want to go inside my house, we’ll try to find a way in. If I would rather go and get Muffin, we’ll go and get Muffin.

“We need to stick with the plan,” I tell Mouse. “We need to bring Muffin to Kathy, and then we need to bring Jazzy to Connor and his mom. Once I’ve done all that,
then
I can worry about what happened to my family.”

Mouse and I head down the street toward the school. It isn’t far. We cross the street at the fire hydrant ... turn left at the big rock ... turn right at the sidewalk with the fence next to it and follow the sidewalk to the school.

“Hey! Who’s there? What do you want? Do you want trouble?” some little dogs call to us from inside a house across the street. They look like toy poodles. I count one ... two of them. I’m pretty sure that’s right. I know “one” and “two.” It’s all the numbers that come after two that are hard.

“We don’t want any trouble,” I tell the toy poodles as we walk across the schoolyard.

“WE’RE JUST HERE TO PICK SOMEBODY UP AND THEN WE’RE GOING TO LEAVE,” Mouse says.

The little dogs quiet down right away when they hear Mouse’s voice. That happens a lot when he’s around.

“Jazzy’s house must be right around here,” I tell Mouse. “She says it has tomatoes, onions, green beans, and squash growing in the backyard. She also said to watch out for the squash.”

“WHY? WHAT’S SQUASH?” Mouse asks.

“I’m not sure. Jazzy says it’s a big smelly plant with flowers so big they could suck your whole head inside them.”

“WOW!” Mouse’s eyes get big.

But I’m not too worried. If that squash tries anything, Mouse will attack it.

We walk around to the back of the school, our noses twitching in the night air. The schoolyard goes right to a bunch of backyards.

“I SMELL TOMATOES,” Mouse says.

I smell them, too. But I don’t smell any of the other stuff yet. Wait, now I do. Tomatoes ... onions ... green beans ... and LOOK AT THE FLOWERS ON THE PLANT IN THAT YARD OVER THERE. That must be the squash!

I turn to Mouse. “I think we’re here.”

The squash does look a little scary at night, but it’s just a plant. It’s not going to bother us. Mouse and I walk right past it all the way into Jazzy’s backyard.

“Jazzy said one of the basement windows has a hole in it,” I tell Mouse. We move closer to the house. “We might have to make the hole a little bigger, but we should be able to get into the house through that window.”

There is a window on each side of the back steps. Mouse sniffs at one. I sniff at the other.

“Here it is,” I say as my nose pokes through a hole.

It’s a good thing no one has clipped my nails recently. I lift my paw and tear the screen all the way across.

There’s an inside window, too, but it’s not closed all the way. I use my nose to push it open. Now we can get inside the house.

I don’t know how far it is to the ground. I hope it isn’t very far because HERE ... I ... GO!

Oomph!

I land on something soft. A bed. Good thing there isn’t a human in it.

I turn around. “Come on in,” I tell Mouse. “It’s a soft landing.”

Mouse slowly pushes his head through the torn screen. His head and shoulders take up the entire window.

“I DON’T KNOW ... ”
Mouse backs away.
“I DON’T THINK I’LL FIT THROUGH THERE.”

I’m not sure he will, either, now that I look at him.

“Okay. You wait here,” I say. “I’ll go get Muffin and come right back.”

I blink my eyes to adjust to the darkness, then I jump down from the bed and hurry into the next room. There’s a big comfy couch and TV in here and stairs across the room. I don’t want to wake the humans, so I tiptoe up the stairs.

I’m a little surprised Muffin hasn’t smelled or heard Mouse and me. I’m surprised she hasn’t come running to see who we are and what we want.

But this isn’t her house. And she’s probably so upset about being away from Kathy that she may not care if there are intruders here.

When I reach the kitchen at the top of the stairs, I can see how badly Muffin misses her human. She has not cleaned up the dried applesauce on the floor in Jazzy’s house. I LOVE applesauce. It’s my favorite food!

And look! There are cracker crumbs and raisins under that chair. I LOVE cracker crumbs and raisins. They’re my favorite foods!

Better check the rest of the kitchen. If Muffin isn’t going to clean things up around here, I will.

Sniff ... sniff ... hey, there’s dog food inside this bin. It smells different from mine. I try pushing ... I try biting ... I can’t get the lid off the bin to sample it.

Maybe Muffin left some in Jazzy’s bowl?

I look around. That’s strange ... there are no bowls on the floor for food or water.

Well, maybe these humans don’t feed Jazzy (or Muffin) in the kitchen.

I finish cleaning up the kitchen, then I look around for Muffin. I sniff the living room ... the bathroom ... and while I’m in the bathroom, I pause to take a drink out of the nice big white bowl. Then I continue on to the bedrooms.

I check the first one. No Muffin.

No humans, either. Just a small bed that hasn’t been slept in. And a desk with a computer on it.

I check another bedroom. This must be Owen’s room. It’s got a lot of the same things that Connor has in his room: bed, dresser, soccer ball, kite, pieces for building things. But no human and no dog.

One of the dresser drawers is hanging open. I check it out. It’s empty.

I have a bad feeling about this.

I go to the last bedroom. This one smells like a mom and dad’s room. Still no humans.

There are no humans or dogs anywhere in this house.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE ARE NO HUMANS OR DOGS ANYWHERE IN THE HOUSE?” Mouse asks when I return to the window. “DID YOU CHECK THE WHOLE HOUSE?”

“Yes.” I climb out of the window and shake myself off. “There’s nobody here.”

“BUT IT’S NIGHTTIME,” Mouse says. “HUMANS ARE ALWAYS IN THEIR BEDS AT NIGHTTIME.”

“Not if they’ve gone away.”
Like my humans
.

“IF THEY WENT AWAY, WHERE’S MUFFIN?” Mouse asks.

That’s a good question. “I think our problem has just become a mystery,” I say.

Mouse plops down on the grass. “SO WHAT DO WE DO NOW? HOW DO WE SOLVE A MYSTERY?”

I’ve only solved one mystery by myself: the Mystery of the Lost Boy. But I solved it the same way Kayla and I solved mysteries together. I made lists of what I knew, what I didn’t know, and what I was going to do to find out what I didn’t know.

Here is what I know about this case:

Muffin is not here.

Jazzy’s humans are not here, either.

I don’t know very much.

Here is what I don’t know:

Where did Jazzy’s humans go?

Did they take Muffin with them?

Where is Muffin?