Fenway and Hattie Read online

  G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS

  an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014

  Text copyright © 2016 by Victoria J. Coe.

  Illustrations copyright © 2016 by Kristine Lombardi.

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  G. P. Putnam’s Sons is a registered trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  eBook ISBN 978-0-698-18236-3

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Coe, Victoria J.

  Fenway and Hattie / Victoria J. Coe.

  pages cm

  Summary: “An excitable Jack Russell terrier named Fenway and his Favorite Short Human, Hattie, move to the suburbs and must adjust to the changes that come with their new home”—Provided by publisher.

  [1. Jack Russell terrier—Fiction. 2. Dogs—Fiction. 3. Human-animal relationships—Fiction. 4. Moving, Household—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.1.C635Fe 2016

  [Fic]—dc23

  2015009117

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Jacket credit: Cover photo © 2016 by David Kreutz

  Jacket design by Ryan Thomann

  Version_1

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  To Philip, James, and Ralph,

  for sharing the joys, humor, and challenges of loving a dog,

  and to Kipper,

  for the endless inspiration

  As soon as we get off the elevator, I know something is wrong. Our apartment has no mat in front. The muddy boots and fake flowers are gone. The doorway looks empty. Abandoned. Like nobody lives here.

  Who took our stuff? Intruders? Strangers?

  Squirrels?!

  Fetch Man opens the door, and I race inside. Nose to the floor, I sniff for clues. But all I smell are Food Lady, Fetch Man, and Hattie—my own family.

  I rush into the Eating Place. Apparently, Food Lady is not aware that things are missing. She gives me a quick pat, then sighs, like she has a big job to do. She’s completely focused on a pile of boxes.

  Packages!

  My tail goes nuts. I stick my snout in the closest box and begin rooting around. But it smells boring like old teacups, not new and exciting like a package.

  “FEN-way,” Food Lady scolds. That’s Human for “You’re in trouble!”

  My ears droop, and I back away. I was only doing my job. Packages must be inspected. What if they’re hiding something dangerous? Or delicious?

  Fetch Man smiles and kisses Food Lady’s cheek. He speaks quickly and gestures a lot. Like he’s the happiest human in the world. What’s he so excited about? Isn’t he worried that our stuff’s been stolen? Good thing my humans have a Jack Russell Terrier on patrol. We’re obviously in terrible danger. There’s so much to do!

  I keep sniffing around, but I do not find one single clue. And no tasty crumbs or yummy drips, either. Food Lady wraps noisy paper around the dishes and tucks them into a big box. She grabs crinkly bags of chips and pretzels and cookies. Cans and jars, too. Pretty soon, the cabinets are cleared out. Hey, wait a minute! What are we supposed to eat?

  I must warn my short human. I race to her room, barking the whole way. “Bad news, Hattie! We’re going to starve!”

  But when I get there, she’s surrounded by boxes, too. And she looks miserable. Probably because she couldn’t come to the Dog Park. Hattie loves playing ball and chase as much as I do.

  Even though I have terrible news, she forgets how sad she is when she sees me. “Fenn-waay,” she sings in her sweet voice. That means “Here’s a treat.”

  “Hooray! Hooray!” I bark, blasting through the door. That’s My Hattie, always thinking of me. I scamper over a box and hurl myself at her legs. “I can hardly wait!”

  “Awww,” she says with a giggle, reaching into her pocket. The treat sails into my mouth.

  Chomp! Wowee, that hits the spot.

  Hattie pats my head and gazes into my eyes, her face back to being sad. Like that was the very last treat.

  “That’s what I was saying, Hattie. We’ve been wiped out,” I bark. “Probably by squirrels!”

  Her shoulders sink with the horrible realization.

  I nuzzle her ankle. “Don’t worry. Your protector is here.”

  She must be feeling worse than I thought, because her dark eyes go right to the way-up-high shelf. She climbs onto the bed and reaches for the fuzzy toy that used to be a bear but is now only the upper half. With one arm.

  Uh-oh! That means something scary is happening. Like a stormy night with rain and boom-kabooms.

  Hattie pulls the used-to-be bear off the high shelf. She clutches it to her chest. She is scared.

  Good thing I’m here to cheer her up! As she’s stepping down, I snatch the used-to-be bear from her arms. I zip around the bed and fly over a box.

  Hattie’s on my tail, laughing. “Hey!” she says, reaching out her arms.

  I’m just beyond her grasp. I’m hopping through a pile of shoes when I stumble over something hard. Ouch! My bedtime hairbrush. What’s it doing on the floor?

  Sensing opportunity, Hattie lunges. “Drop it!” she shouts in a voice that sounds anything but angry.

  She’s fast, but I’m faster. I spring onto the bed. I bury my nose in the rumpled blankets. They smell like mint and vanilla, just like she does.

  Hattie flops down beside me, smiling. She takes the used-to-be bear and grabs me tight. “Best buddies,” she coos. She kisses my brown paw, then my white paw. She showers my neck with kisses. Our favorite snuggle game!

  I slobber her cheek as she giggles. She’s the best short human ever.

  Food Lady appears in the doorway. One hand’s on her hip. The other’s pointing at the boxes. “Hattie,” she scolds.

  Hattie’s smile disappears. As she bolts up, I hop off her chest. She smells worried. I know how she feels.

  I wait for Food Lady to start yelling in a bossy voice. But instead, the words I hear are Hattie’s. She sounds anxious. She picks up the long jump rope that she brings to the place where short humans with backpacks go. She shows Food Lady a card. I catch a whiff of hardened frosting from the time a pack of short humans invaded and I warned Hattie that her treats were on fire.

  As Hattie goes on, Food Lady’s angry face gets softer and soft
er. Until it’s turned to sad. “Oh, bay-bee,” she says in a soothing tone. She sits next to us on the bed.

  Hattie leans into her arm. Food Lady strokes Hattie’s bushy hair.

  I nuzzle in under Food Lady’s hand. “I could use a few strokes, too, you know,” I whimper. “Right behind this ear.”

  Food Lady rocks us gently the way she did when Hattie’s knee was hurt. She gives us both a pat and gets up. “Okay?” she asks.

  Hattie nods and sniffles a few times. “Okay,” she says. But I know she’s still worried. Hattie’s sad and scared and packing things. It reminds me of something. But what? If only I could think of it.

  When Food Lady’s gone, Hattie tosses the jump rope into a box. Then clothes—whoosh. And shoes—clunk. She picks up the used-to-be bear and squeezes it tight.

  And then I remember what this reminds me of! It was right before Hattie disappeared for two whole nights. And something terrible must’ve happened to her. Because when she finally came back, her clothes smelled horrible. Like burnt marshmallows and squirrels.

  Oh no! Could it be happening again? I knew something was wrong!

  Hattie is leaving! Hattie is leaving!

  I spring up and run in circles. She can’t go, at least not without her loyal dog. Hey! If I stick by her side, she’ll have to take me with her. Wowee, it’s the Best Idea Ever!

  As Hattie turns from box to box, I’m on her like fur. When she closes the last one, she heads for the door. I beat her to it.

  She leaps over me, and I chase her to the Eating Place. Food Lady’s standing at the counter, licking her fingers. She looks up and holds out a white bag that smells like doughnuts. “Breck-fest,” she calls.

  “Yippee!” I bark, racing to Food Lady’s feet. Hattie squeals, then grabs the bag and crinkles it open.

  I leap on her legs and lick my chops.

  Hattie bites into a squishy doughnut. A lovely glob of goo drips right into my mouth. Mmmmm. Vanilla. I swallow quickly. “More, please,” I bark, jumping on her legs again.

  Hattie giggles. But when Food Lady crosses her arms, she stops.

  Right then, a rattling sounds at the front door. Intruders? I charge into the Lounging Place as the door swings open. I’m ready to pounce.

  It’s Fetch Man! He was gone? I spring up and paw his knees. “I missed you so much,” I bark. “Is it playtime?”

  But he’s all business. And he’s not alone.

  A group of Large Strangers follows him in. One after another, they come through the door, reeking of coffee and sweat. A suspicious combination! And Fetch Man is not making one move to stop them.

  “Hey! Who are you? Why are you here?” I bark, lunging toward them but stopping a safe distance from the first stranger. He is a lot bigger than Fetch Man.

  “Shhhh,” Fetch Man says. He grabs me by the collar and pulls me to the far side of the room.

  “Watch out!” I bark. “These guys are probably dangerous!”

  As if to prove my point, the Very Large Strangers begin lifting the boxes. One of them takes the Flashing Screen right off the wall.

  “Can’t you see they’re stealing our stuff?” I bark, wiggling and kicking. “Let me go! I must be free to do my job!”

  But my warnings aren’t doing one bit of good. Fetch Man and Food Lady just stand there, watching these Evil Humans loot everything.

  “Let me at ’em! Seriously, I can take these guys!” I pull. I twist. I’m desperate to get loose. I’m about to choke myself when Fetch Man deposits me into the Eating Place. “Can’t you see what’s happening?” I bark. “If you ever needed a dog to protect you, it’s now!”

  Unfazed, Fetch Man snaps The Gate across the doorway. I’m trapped! “What are you doing?” I bark. “Are you nuts?” I jump my highest, but I’m no match for The Gate.

  I can’t keep this up for long. My legs are getting tired and my bark is wearing out. Danger is happening right here in our home and all I can do is watch.

  And worst of all, I got separated from Hattie when I was supposed to be sticking by her side. There goes the plan!

  It’s going to be a lot of hard work, but I will not rest until I’m reunited with Hattie. I spin around and around. I stretch and leap up again and again. I race back and forth from one end of the Eating Place to the other, stopping only once to lick a tasty drip on the floor.

  Mmmmm. Vanilla!

  At last, there’s only one thing left to do. I whine in my most pitiful voice. “Hey, everybody! Remember me? I’m all alone and I’m trapped.”

  Finally, my efforts pay off. Hattie rushes over, her backpack strapped to her back. Her face is weary and happy at the same time. “Ready?” she asks.

  “I’m so ready! I’m so ready!” I bark, my tail going wild. Hattie removes The Gate, and I sprint into the Lounging Place.

  I’m too late! The Evil Humans are gone. And so is the rest of our stuff. But the good news is I’m back with Hattie. If she’s leaving, I’m leaving, too.

  My chest heaves with excitement as Hattie clips the leash to my collar. Fetch Man and Food Lady head for the door, lugging suitcases. I pull Hattie after them, down the hall and into the elevator. Where we go all . . . the way . . . down to the bottom. Ding!

  When we get to the car, Hattie opens the door. I shoot inside before anybody can stop me. I lick Hattie’s cheek. It’s wet and salty. “It’s all right. I’m here to protect you,” I bark. “Nothing can go wrong now.”

  We zoom along for a Long, Long Time. I climb higher on Hattie’s chest and poke my head out the window. We’re on a road that’s slower and bumpier. With trees that are leafier, smells that are flowerier, and air that is breezier.

  We pull into a grassy park and stop. As the car goes quiet, Fetch Man smiles and squeezes Food Lady’s hand.

  My paws are all over the window. “Somebody let me out!”

  Hattie grabs my leash, and we burst out of the car. I bury my nose in the cool, refreshing grass. It smells of wild animals. Like squirrels, chipmunks, mysterious birds . . . and not one single pigeon.

  I raise my head, my ears perked and listening. But I don’t hear any traffic rumbling or honking or snorting. Or music drifting from cars or stores. All I hear are birds chirping and squirrels chattering. A motor buzzes in the distance. Short humans squeal somewhere down the street. What is this place?

  Fetch Man and Food Lady hurry up a walkway that leads to a house. They’re acting awfully excited, like it’s the most wonderful house they’ve ever seen.

  Hattie yanks me out of the grass mid-pee, and we follow along up the front steps. She must be eager to check out the house, too.

  Oh boy! Whatever’s inside must be really amazing. Like a pile of bones! Or a slab of meat!

  Fetch Man opens the door and we all race in, full of anticipation. Hooray! Hooray! I can hardly wait!

  I run a few circles around Hattie’s legs as she unclips the leash. “Hurry, Hattie!” I bark. I have to find out what’s so special.

  I search around, but all I see is a big empty space. And it smells totally boring, like stale air and fresh paint and new carpeting. It must get better, right?

  I start out trotting with my nose to the ground. Pretty soon, I’m sprinting down the hall on a Perfect Running Surface that I wish would go on forever. But then I make a sharp turn and cruise into a bright and gleaming place where the floor feels different. Smoother. And slipperier.

  Suddenly, the floor gives way. My paws lose their grip and—whoa!—I’m skidding and skidding, my legs scrambling out of control. And then—smack! I’m crumpled up against a tall and shiny box that’s humming. Ouch! What happened?

  Hattie appears. “Fenway!” she cries, her voice sounding worried. She stoops next to me. She rubs my head and coos softly in my ear.

  Food Lady rushes in and crouches next to us. She lifts my paws one by one, inspecting them
like she’s looking for fleas.

  I glance down and growl at the Wicked Floor. Talk about a sneak attack. I never saw it coming.

  My defeat is so embarrassing. I can’t even look at Hattie or Food Lady. Instead, I gaze around the room. It reminds me of our Eating Place at home. Only much, much bigger. And emptier. And worst of all, it does not smell anything like an Eating Place should. It smells really bad. Like soap.

  Which can only mean one thing—no food.

  Food Lady gives me a quick rub, then abruptly goes to the counter. She starts opening drawers. She must be searching for nothing. Because that’s what she’s finding, and she’s acting rather happy about it.

  Hattie continues stroking my back and kissing my neck. At least my short human understands how serious the problem is. She wraps her arms around me and rests her head on my back.

  Fetch Man comes striding in like he owns the place. Hey! How are the humans moving around so easily? Does the Wicked Floor only terrorize dogs? Fetch Man sidles up next to Food Lady and wraps his arms around her waist. She tells him something, and he steps away, looking concerned.

  He turns to me, his face full of surprise. Like he just realized the pathetic heap in the corner is actually a dog. He comes over and gives me a pat. “Okay, fella?”

  He swoops Hattie into his arms and lifts her up into the air. She explodes into a fit of giggles.

  How can they have fun at a time like this?

  Well, I know one thing—I’m not about to sit around waiting for the Wicked Floor to strike again. But how to get away? I need an idea, but it’s hard to think when my tail is sagging and my ears are drooping. I gaze back at my humans, who are clearly busy with other things. Fetch Man is hugging Hattie like crazy, and Food Lady is at the stove turning the knobs, even though there’s no food to cook.

  With no brilliant ideas and no help on the horizon, I try moving and barely manage to stand up. I clench my claws and take one step. Whoa! My legs slip out from under me again.

  I get back up, panting like a coward. I tense my whole body and try again . . . then—ooof! I’m splat back down on that glossy, sinister surface.