Fenway and the Frisbee Trick Read online

  SNIFF OUT ALL THE

  MAKE WAY FOR FENWAY!

  CHAPTER BOOKS!

  Fenway and the Bone Thieves

  Fenway and the Frisbee Trick

  DIG UP THESE MIDDLE GRADE BOOKS ABOUT FENWAY, TOO!

  Fenway and Hattie

  Fenway and Hattie and the Evil Bunny Gang

  Fenway and Hattie Up to New Tricks

  Fenway and Hattie in the Wild

  G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York

  First published in the United States of America by G. P. Putnam’s Sons,

  an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2022

  Text copyright © 2022 by Victoria J. Coe

  Illustrations copyright © 2022 by Joanne Lew-Vriethoff

  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.

  Penguin Books & colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Books Limited.

  Visit us online at penguinrandomhouse.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN 9780593406946 (hardcover)

  ISBN 9780593406953 (paperback)

  ISBN 9780593406960 (ebook)

  Design by Marikka Tamura, adapted for ebook by Michelle Quintero

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  pid_prh_6.0_139875639_c0_r0

  To Teddy Graham,

  who showed us the trick. —V.J.C.

  To all the stray dogs in the world,

  I hope you will one day find shelter and love, because you deserve it. —J.L.V.

  CONTENTS

  1. The Big Park

  2. Carmen

  3. The Plastic Lid

  4. The Big Brown Truck

  5. Thwoop

  6. The Walk

  7. Too Much Waggle?

  8. The Mess

  9. The Tall Humming Box

  10. A Pretty Great Trick

  1

  THE BIG PARK

  Romping in the Dog Park behind our house is pretty awesome. But riding in the car with Hattie and Fetch Man is even better, because we’re going to the Big Park.

  The Big Park has picnic tables. The Big Park has a garbage can. But best of all, the Big Park has a huge grassy space to run and play in.

  I love everything about the Big Park—except the squirrels. Squirrels are sneaky.

  As soon as our car stops in the crunchy gravel, me and Hattie tumble out. Hattie loves going to the Big Park as much as I do. Fetch Man can hardly keep up with us.

  While we stop to water a small tree (me, not them), I glance around. It looks like we have the whole park to ourselves. The squirrels know better than to show their beady little faces when I’m around.

  Hattie unclips my leash, and Fetch Man grabs a stick.

  “Ready, Fenway?” he says.

  My tail goes nuts, and I rush past the garbage can. “I’m so ready! I’m so ready!” I bark.

  I watch Fetch Man’s arm whip back, then—FWOOSH! The stick flies through the air.

  I sprint after it. “I got it! I got it!” I bark. That stick is mine! TWAAP! It plops down, and I pounce.

  CHOMP!

  I prance back to Hattie, my tail high and proud.

  “Good boy, Fenway!” she sings. She pats my head, like she thinks I won’t notice Fetch Man’s hand reaching for the stick.

  I clench my teeth.

  “Gimme that stick. Gimme that stick.” Fetch Man growls, wearing a wide smile.

  After a few pulls and tugs, I let Fetch Man win. That’s part of the game.

  Fetch Man throws the stick again and again. Each time, I race after it and give it a chomp when it lands. I bring it back to Hattie for a “good boy” and some head pats. Then I let Fetch Man win at tug-of-war.

  Fetch is the Best Game Ever!

  I’ve just started racing the stick back to Hattie again when I notice something. A huge Rottweiler trots into the park. A tall human wearing a cap jogs behind her. I’ve never seen them before.

  Hattie rubs my head. “Good boy,” she says.

  Fetch Man goes for the stick. “Gimme!”

  While I’m tugging, I watch a Frisbee whiz through the air. The Rottweiler leaps up, her body twisting, and—wowee!—she snatches it in midair! What an amazing trick!

  Fetch Man pulls the stick from my mouth and hurls it.

  As I race after the stick, the Frisbee whizzes by a second time. It goes higher and higher. The Rottweiler springs up, flips head over tail, and—whoopee!—snatches it in midair again!

  It takes a moment or two before I remember my own stick, lying in the grass.

  2

  CARMEN

  Hattie claps. “WOW!” she cries.

  “Cool!” Fetch Man shouts.

  They sound impressed. I know how they feel. Those Frisbee tricks are awesome!

  The Rottweiler trots through the grass. She holds her tail high.

  When she reaches her tall human, she drops the Frisbee at his feet. He rubs her all over. “Attagirl, Carmen!” he says, laughing.

  “Thanks, Felipe!” she barks. “Let’s do it again!”

  He seems to understand. The moment Felipe reaches for the Frisbee, Carmen springs up like the grass is on fire. She takes off.

  “Hey, I want to do awesome tricks, too!” I yell, romping after her.

  She doesn’t break a stride. “If you can reach the Frisbee first!” she calls.

  WHIZZZZZ!

  The Frisbee sails high overhead. Carmen is already past the picnic tables. She’s in the middle of the Big Park.

  “No fair!” I call. “You had a head start!” I chase her as fast as I can. But she’s a lot faster. She pulls farther ahead with every step.

  Suddenly, Carmen turns and looks up. The Frisbee is almost directly above her. How did she even know that?

  I’m so far back, I don’t even stand a chance. All I can do is watch.

  Carmen leaps up. She spins completely around. And—CHOMP—she nabs the Frisbee in midair. Again.

  I hear Hattie and Fetch Man clapping.

  Carmen gallops past me, the Frisbee firmly in her jaws. I follow her back to Felipe. “That was amazing!” I tell her.

  She drops the Frisbee at her tall human’s feet, and he rubs her all over. “Attagirl! Attagirl!” he cries.

  Hattie and Fetch Man rush over. “Woot!” they say.

  Carmen drops into the grass for a belly rub. “Way to go, Carmen!” Felipe says.

  Everybody sounds impressed. Carmen is on her back, her legs sprawled out and kicking with happiness. She’s clearly enjoying all the attention.

  This is totally unfa
ir. There’s no way I can beat her to the Frisbee. But then I get another idea. While everybody is praising Carmen, I rush across the park to snatch my stick.

  I come back and leave it at Hattie’s feet. “Throw it again!” I bark, pawing her leg. “I bet I can do tricks like Carmen, too!”

  “Oh, Fenway,” she says. She does not sound interested, but she takes the stick anyway.

  I race out into the grass. “I’m ready! I’m so ready!” I bark.

  Hattie’s arm goes back. She hurls the stick.

  FWOOSH! It flies through the air. I charge after it. When I get past the picnic tables, I slow down. I turn. I leap. I twist. I’m going to nab it in midair!

  And then—TWAAP!

  I hear the stick land in the grass behind me.

  I whip around and stare. Carmen made it look so easy. What went wrong?

  Suddenly, I realize the problem. Carmen has a Frisbee. And I don’t.

  3

  THE PLASTIC LID

  On the ride home, I know what to do—convince Hattie that I need a Frisbee.

  If I had my own Frisbee, I wouldn’t have to beat out Carmen to get it first. Then I could leap up and snatch it in midair just like she does. Everyone would clap and cheer for my amazing tricks. All I have to do is get Hattie to understand how important it is.

  I follow her into the Eating Place. There must be a way to convince her.

  Then she opens a low cabinet and I see exactly what I need—a plastic lid! It’s shaped just like a Frisbee!

  As Hattie pulls out a bowl, I poke my snout into the cabinet. It smells horrible, like clean dishes. Before she can shoo me out—CHOMP—I grab the plastic lid.

  “Fenway!” she scolds.

  I race around the Eating Place, Hattie hot on my tail. It’s working!

  I lift my head. I shake the plastic lid from side to side like a toy. It’s not as big as a Frisbee, but Hattie is smart. She’ll get it.

  But she doesn’t. She keeps darting in front of me, waving her arms. “Fenway, stop!” she cries.

  I sprint in the other direction. Why isn’t this working?

  “Gimme!” Hattie shouts.

  And that’s when I realize I’m doing it wrong. I spin around and—PLOP!—I drop the plastic lid at Hattie’s feet.

  I gaze up at her. “Toss it!” I bark. “Please?”

  For a moment, I think she’s got it. Her frown turns into a smile. Then a laugh. She stoops down and picks up the plastic lid.

  “I’m ready!” I bark, leaping and spinning. “I’m so ready!”

  But instead of throwing it, she puts it in the sink.

  I rush up and paw her legs. “You were supposed to toss it!” I bark.

  Hattie leans over and pats my head. “Aw, Fenway,” she coos. Like everything is suddenly okay.

  But it’s not.

  * * *

  Later, I’m in the Dog Park behind our house. I finish chasing a squirrel up the giant tree when I hear dog tags jingling. It’s my friends Goldie and Patches next door!

  I trot over to the fence. “ ’Sup, ladies?” I say.

  I peer through the slats as they lumber toward me.

  After exchanging sniffs, I sink down in the grass. I tell them about Carmen and how everybody went nuts over her awesome tricks.

  “I want to do tricks like that,” I say. “I need my own Frisbee.”

  “But you don’t need a Frisbee to do tricks, Fenway,” says Patches. “You already do awesome things.”

  “Yeah,” Goldie says. “You’re a dog of many talents.”

  I look up. “You weren’t there. Carmen was amazing. Everybody was clapping and cheering.”

  “You’re amazing in your own way,” Patches says.

  Goldie scratches behind her ear. “You’re full of excitement.”

  “And energy,” Patches adds.

  “Any dog can be excited. Any dog can have energy,” I grumble. “I want to do tricks.”

  I cover my snout with my paws. Now my best friends don’t get it, either.

  4

  THE BIG BROWN TRUCK

  A few days later, I’m dozing on the rug in the Lounging Place. I dream about Frisbees.

  A bright new Frisbee flies over my head. I’m looking up . . . I’m chasing it . . . and—poof! Hey, it’s gone!

  Another Frisbee sails through the air. I’m running after it . . . I’m leaping up . . . and—poof! That one’s gone, too!

  Oh, but here’s another Frisbee! I’m going to get it! Nothing can stop me! I hear it rattling. I hear it roaring . . .

  My eyes pop open. And my ears perk up.

  A loud rattling and roaring sound is coming through the window. I spring onto the couch. “Danger!” I bark.

  Hattie doesn’t look up from her book.

  I know who it is even before it pulls into view—the Big Brown Truck! It doesn’t belong here. So why is it stopping in front of our driveway?

  “Warning!” I bark, baring my teeth. “A Jack Russell Terrier is on patrol!”

  The truck stays put, but a tall human climbs out. He’s carrying a box. He’s walking toward our house. Like he has permission to come right to the door.

  I zigzag across the top of the couch. “Hold on there, buddy!” I bark. “I won’t let you in without a fight.”

  DING-DONG!

  As soon as the sound chimes, Hattie springs out of her seat. She rushes to the door, and I’m right on her heels. “You can’t be thinking of letting this guy in?” I bark.

  When Hattie opens the door, I’m ready for trouble. But the tall human is already halfway down the driveway. He’s headed back to the Big Brown Truck. And the box he was carrying is on our porch.

  This can only mean one thing—my barking made him drop it!

  Next thing I know, the Big Brown Truck rattles away with a clang and a roar.

  Whew! My job is done. “And don’t ever come back!” I bark.

  Hattie’s clearly relieved the truck is gone. She grabs the box off the porch and whisks it inside.

  Food Lady hurries over. She must not realize the danger is gone. “What is it?” she says to Hattie.

  “Don’t worry,” I tell her. “I kept her safe as always.” And now we have a box to play with!

  Hattie says, “Fenway,” in her sweetest voice.

  We gather around the box. To my surprise, Hattie does not stop me from checking it out. I sink my teeth into the cardboard and rip away. Instead of scolding me, Food Lady laughs.

  Hattie grabs one side; I grab the other. After more tugs and tears, the box rips open, revealing . . . a Frisbee!

  5

  THWOOP

  I thrust my snout into the box. Whoopee! It smells like a Frisbee that no other dogs have played with. It must be my reward for scaring away that truck.

  Hattie reaches into the box and pulls it out. “Ready, Fenway?” she says.

  I back up. “I’m ready!” I bark. “I’m so ready!”

  Hattie’s elbow bends. She’s going to fling the Frisbee!

  I leap onto the couch, racing back and forth. Hooray! Hooray! I’m going to catch that Frisbee in midair!

  “Hattie!” Food Lady snaps. She hurries down the hall to the back door and slides it open.

  “Fenway, let’s go!” Hattie says. I chase her outside to the Dog Park.

  “Whoopee!” I bark, romping down the steps. “I’m finally going to do amazing tricks!” I head into the grass. I can hardly wait for Hattie to throw that Frisbee!

  I watch her arm go back. She flicks her wrist, and the Frisbee goes flying.

  WHIZZZZZ!

  I run ahead of it. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” I bark.

  The Frisbee is in the air for a long time. It’s way higher than I can jump. But it’s going to sink sometime, and when it does, I’ll grab i
t!

  My eyes are focusing on that Frisbee, but my ears are focusing on something else.

  CHIPPER-CHATTER-SQUAWK!

  I know that sound—a sneaky squirrel is coming into the Dog Park. I want to tell him to get out of here, but I’m busy watching the Frisbee. It’s sailing . . . it’s soaring . . .

  CLATTER-CLATTER-CLATTER!

  The squirrel is scampering along the top of the fence! I need to yell “Scram!” but the Frisbee is flying and flying—wait a minute! Is it starting to sink?

  I watch the Frisbee. I open my jaws. I spring up. I’m about to chomp it when—

  THWOOP.

  The Frisbee lands ever so softly in the grass ahead of me. Hey, that wasn’t supposed to happen!

  I fall back down. It’s that sneaky squirrel’s fault! I would’ve nabbed the Frisbee in midair like Carmen if that guy hadn’t shown up.

  I’ll get it next time. I chomp the hard plastic. While I’m bringing the Frisbee back to Hattie, I notice the middle is soft with swirly designs. But it’s a Frisbee, and it’s mine, and that’s all that matters.

  I drop it at Hattie’s feet.

  “Ready, Fenway?” She throws it again.

  “Ready!” I race into the grass. Nothing will get in my way this time!

  WHIZZZZZ! The Frisbee sails through the air.

  I’m watching . . . I’m watching . . . I sprint toward the back of the Dog Park. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” I bark.

  The Frisbee flies way up high. WHIZZZZZ!

  CHIPPER-CHATTER-SQUAWK!

  The Frisbee is spinning. It’s soaring higher . . . WHIZZZZZ!

  I want to bark. I want to look at the fence. But I have to get that Frisbee . . . I want it so bad . . .

  CHIPPER-CHATTER-SQUAWK!

  The Frisbee begins to drop. I leap as high as I can. My jaws are snapping, and—