Fenway and Hattie in the Wild Page 10

  June keeps her gaze on the book while Hattie keeps talking, then looks up, her face surprised.

  Hattie hangs her head. “Sorry.”

  June looks serious. “It’s okay,” she says.

  What’s that about?

  “Fenn-waay,” Food Lady sings, gesturing toward my dish. As if my roaring belly could let me forget about supper!

  I race back to my bowl of delicious kibble. It smells savory and meaty like always. I’m so hungry! I’m about to plunge my snout in and devour it—

  But right then, I get an idea. The Best Idea Ever!

  I stick my snout inside the bowl and root around. The kibble rattles against the sides, same as always. Mmmmm! It sounds as yummy as it tastes!

  After devouring half the kibble, I sneak a peek at my humans. Food Lady’s at the table, pouring a drink from the big thermos. Fetch Man is at the next campsite over, chatting with Hot Dog Man beside the garbage bin. Swirly-Arm Lady wipes the table. Coco is nowhere to be seen. I’d bet my best bone she’s in the tent, curled up on her squishy bed.

  I sniff the smoky remnants of that barbecued chicken in the air. My tummy rumbles. My tongue drips. But I can’t keep eating or my plan won’t work.

  I spy Hattie across the clearing under the pine tree with June. Her notebook open, she’s pointing at the pages. June stares, eyebrows arched like she’s watching her dog do a trick. The two short humans are clearly occupied. No way are they noticing me.

  Nobody is.

  Hammock Man and Waddling Lady are sitting across from Tool Man and Muffin Lady at their table. They are drinking from metal cups and chattering away. The ladies, their bowls probably empty and licked, are lounging at their tall humans’ feet. Lucky’s in the middle of the clearing chasing his tail.

  The sun is so low in the sky, I can’t see it over the treetops. Stripe-y shadows line the ground at the edge of the woods. A single cricket is chirping.

  My tummy still hungry, I turn my head from my dish. I remind myself why I’m doing this—I have to show that thief who he’s up against. And make sure he knows he can never come back here. Ever.

  And I have to move fast.

  I hustle over to the next campsite, past Goldie and Patches’s car, past their tent. They’re still sprawled out beside the wooden table where their tall humans are chatting with Hammock Man and Waddling Lady. “Ladies!” I holler.

  “Not now, Fenway,” Goldie says without moving.

  Patches looks up. “Don’t mind her,” she says. “What is it?”

  I give myself a shake. This might be tougher than I thought. “Um, so I hate to interrupt your important after-supper lounging,” I start. “But I need you. Like right now.”

  Patches pushes onto her paws, her tail wagging. “We’re always ready to help a friend, aren’t we, Goldie?”

  Goldie rolls onto her side. “Well, that’s not exactly what I would say. But it’d better be good because I just found the perfect position.”

  “Oh, this will be worth it.” I sure hope so, anyway. “And there’s no time to lose, so we’ve got to hurry.”

  Patches noses Goldie in the bum. “You heard Fenway,” she says. “Let’s get going.”

  I lead the ladies over to my supper dish. Another minute or so, and Food Lady will be back to take my bowl. After one more check to make sure there isn’t anybody watching, I chomp the edge of the dish. Calm as can be, I walk alongside the bench toward the cool, empty Fire Space until I’m mere pawsteps from the woods.

  The ladies follow me past the big oak tree by the path that leads to the Dog Park. We creep along the edge of the woods toward the back of my humans’ campsite. A slightly musky odor lingers nearby. Yikes!

  The forest is already getting dark, but it’s clearly not sleepy. Leaves flutter, branches creak. Insects trill, cheep, and beat. It’s practically alive.

  Sniff . . . sniff . . .

  Pine. Oak. Decaying leaves.

  Soil. Moss. Fungus of all kinds.

  Birds. Rodents. Wild animals I can’t identify.

  Shivering with courage, I set the bowl on the ground. One swipe and it’s on its side, kibble spilling onto the ground. Before I can talk myself out of it, I kick pine needles over the yummy food.

  “Fenway!” the ladies mutter at once.

  After shushing them, I ask them to keep an eye on that spot until I get back.

  I race back to the table with my dish and heave a sigh of relief. Food Lady is rummaging through a bag. She probably didn’t even miss me.

  I wait until Food Lady comes for the empty bowl before setting the rest of the plan into motion. No point in making her suspicious.

  “Good boy, Fenway,” she says, patting my head as usual.

  “Good supper, Food Lady,” I bark, licking her hand as usual. Her fingers taste like barbecue sauce.

  I keep my eyes on her as she puts the dish away and heads over to Swirly-Arm Lady. When I’m sure her attention is elsewhere, I get back to work.

  As casual as can be, I follow Food Lady. I trot past the garbage bin, past Fetch Man and Hot Dog Man, past the wooden table where Food Lady sits down.

  Every hair on my back bristling, I push on to the boxy tent. As I get closer, I notice the zipper’s not zipped all the way. I poke my snout, then my whole head inside. “Coco! Oh, Co-co!” I call. “It’s me, Fenway!”

  Her fluffy ears rise up from the puffy dog bed. “What do you want, Fenway?”

  “Not much,” I say, steadying my voice. “Just taking a stroll.”

  “And you decided to stop by and say hello?” she growls. “What gave you the idea that I’d care?”

  I try to shake off her nastiness. “Um, you probably have better things to do, Coco. But I wanted you to know that there’s, uh, something you’re going to want to see behind our Fire Space.”

  She snorts. “Something I can’t resist? Unless it’s a T-bone steak, you’re wasting your time.”

  Aha! “Whoa, that’s actually what it is—a T-bone steak!”

  “Do you expect me to believe there’s a T-bone steak up for grabs and you’re letting me have it?” Coco says with a snarl. “I saw you scarf down that hot dog the first night we were here.”

  “I know I haven’t been respectful of your leadership in the past, Coco,” I say, bowing my head. “But I’m trying to make peace.”

  “Hmmph!” I hear her say. And then, “Not that I believe you, but where did you say this T-bone steak was again?”

  I keep my gaze down. “By my human’s Fire Space. On the edge of the woods. Anyway, I have to get back to my stroll. See you around.”

  She growls. “Don’t count on it.”

  That dog is totally on the hook! I back out and sprint in the direction of our campsite. I’m halfway there when Lucky bounds up beside me. “Oh, hey, Fenway!” he says. “What’s going on?” His muzzle is filthy, like he’s been playing in dirt.

  My tail shoots up. “Nothing as exciting as digging a hole!” I cry. “You probably want to get back to that. Bye!”

  Lucky’s eyes widen. “I’d rather hang out with you,” he says, his tongue hanging low and spraying slobber. “Ohmygosh, I found an old tennis ball! We could play keep-away!!!”

  I dart in front of him. “Maybe later, Lucky! I gotta go!” I zip around the far side of our tent and sprint toward the Fire Space, where the ladies are waiting.

  I sure hope I’m not too late for the festivities.

  When I reach them, they exchange looks but don’t say anything. The woods are darker than they were even a few minutes ago. Insects are whirring. Leaves are rustling. Twigs are crunching and snapping. Is it my imagination, or are there more noises tonight?

  I lead the ladies behind the tent. “Just wait,” I say in a low voice.

  “What are we doing?” Goldie mutters.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Pat
ches murmurs. “We’re helping a friend.”

  Good old Patches. I’d thank her, but hopefully there will be time for that later. Because through the trees, through the brush, I spy little pricks of light glowing. Moving. Like eyes!

  Yowza! Are they headed this way?

  Yikes! My tail droops, my fur rises, and all I want to do is get out of here! But I have to stay and finish the job. There’s too much at stake!

  Quietly, cautiously, me and the ladies peer around the side of our tent. Toward the Fire Space.

  Through the dim light, I spy Coco coming around the far side of our car. And somebody else is bolting around the other side—Lucky!

  “What’re they doing here?” Goldie mutters.

  I want to say they’re supposed to be my witnesses, but they’re too early. Instead I just nudge Goldie silent.

  Snout to the ground, Coco is so focused on sniffing the pine needles, she doesn’t seem to notice Lucky until the last second.

  “Hey, Coco!” he cries, bowing low on his front legs. “What’s going on?”

  My fur stands on end. I want to race over there and tell him to be quiet, but the rustling, snapping sounds in the woods are growing louder. And closer. I try to convince myself not to look, but I can’t help it.

  I turn toward the thick, dark woods, my paws trembling and shaking. Because up ahead, two pricks of light come shooting out from the brush! Double yikes! Those eyes can’t possibly see us behind the tent, can they?

  I lean into Goldie, cowering and shivering. “What the—?” she mutters.

  “Look!” Patches murmurs.

  Eyes are glowing through a black mask. On a furry face with pointy ears. Attached to a fat body with four thin legs and a bushy tail. And a mouth with scary, sharp fangs!

  Chit-chit-cheeeeet! He sounds almost like a bird. But this guy is definitely not a bird! He smells strong and musky.

  I huddle against Goldie, watching in horror as a second wild animal, exactly the same, follows the first one out of the woods. Triple yikes! It’s an invasion! I was ready for one, not two!

  They’re each about my height but way wider around. They’re prowling like cats. Big, chubby cats! With horrifying, fiery eyes!

  The animals toddle toward our Fire Space, zeroing in on the bait like they’ve done this a hundred times. One sweeps the pine needles while the other rolls the kibble on the ground with his tiny paw. The first one stretches up on his haunches, stuffing his mouth. The second one does, too.

  I want to charge right out and stop them, but it’s not time. Coco’s so distracted with Lucky, she hasn’t even noticed them yet. Also, my shaking paws probably wouldn’t listen!

  “Well, would you look at that,” Patches murmurs. “Real, live raccoons!”

  “I’ve heard raccoons are ugly, but these guys are worse than I imagined,” Goldie says.

  I’m about to say they smell worse, too, when a couple of yelps—one tiny and one big—draw my attention to a spot near the car.

  Coco and Lucky are frozen in place, ears sunk, tails wilted. Two more raccoons are right behind them! They must’ve just come out from behind the car and into the thick of the action. Those dogs are cornered! This was not part of the plan.

  The first two raccoons swivel toward Coco and Lucky. Rearing up on their hind legs, their front paws stretch out. Talk about menacing!

  “Hiiiiiisssss! Hiiiiiisssss! Hiiiiiisssss!” they spit.

  Yikes for the fourth time!

  “Hiiiiiisssss! Hiiiiiisssss! Hiiiiiisssss!” the raccoons spit again. The claws on their front paws are the very definition of threatening.

  Coco looks like she’s half her usual size. Lucky slinks back, whimpering. They’re surrounded by angry raccoons. And clearly terrified.

  They’re not the only ones! I’m supposed to do something, except my legs refuse to move. If you don’t count shaking. This plan is going worse than I could have imagined.

  I want to run and hide. But right then, I hear a familiar voice calling. “Fenway? Fenway?”

  Hattie?! What’s she doing here? She’s supposed to be under the pine tree on the other side of the clearing.

  I turn in time to see her rushing past the wooden table, her face worried. Oh no! She’s headed straight for those horrible raccoons! My beloved short human!

  Before I realize what I’m doing, I blast out from behind the tent. My hackles are raised. My teeth are bared. “Beat it, you crooks!” I bark, snarling my fiercest snarl. “Stay away from My Hattie!”

  The first two raccoons whip around, their mouths open, their fangs glistening in the dim light. “Screeeeech! Screeeeech!”

  I lunge at them but stop mere steps away. I can smell their disgusting breath. “You heard me!” I bark. “Scram! Before it’s too late!”

  The raccoons behind Coco and Lucky whip around and take off into the woods. Their stripe-y, bushy tails are the last things I see as they disappear into the brush.

  I focus back on the two raccoons in front of me, growling and baring my teeth. “Go ahead, get out of here!” I bark. “I mean business!”

  “Hiiiissssss-hiiiissssss! Screeeeech!” The crooks keep up the fight, their eyes glaring and determined. As if they have a chance!

  “Fenway!” Hattie arrives, out of breath, wielding a flashlight. Suddenly, a swath of bright light shines on the raccoons.

  Whoa! Those raccoons look even scarier all lit up! But I can’t give up now. “Don’t come near her!” I bark. “Or else!”

  And just like that, with a series of squeaks and squeals, they turn tail. Next thing I know, they’re dashing off to the woods to join the others.

  “Fenway!” Hattie cries, swooping me into her arms. She snuggles me tight. I can feel her chest thumping.

  Patches races over to Coco and Lucky. Goldie’s right behind her. “What a fright!” Patches cries. “Are you two okay?”

  Goldie licks Lucky’s ear. “If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t believe it!”

  Coco is silent as Patches checks her out. “You don’t seem hurt,” Patches says. “Physically, anyway.” Then she turns around. “Fenway, you’re a hero!”

  Hattie sets me down and showers my neck with kisses. What can I say? My short human appreciates me. As soon as she straightens, we hear sharp snaps and scuffling sounds in the woods, followed by loud shrieks. Human shrieks.

  We all turn. Somebody’s in those woods. With the scary raccoons!

  “Oh my!” Patches cries. “Was that our precious Angel?”

  Goldie looks horrified. “Maybe it was your imagination?”

  I cock my head and listen. It does sound like Angel’s voice among those shrieks.

  Hattie must hear her, too. Because she hurries to the edge of the woods. Where it’s totally not safe. “Angel?! Angel?!” she yells, her arms flailing frantically.

  Oh no! Just when I thought we were out of danger. “Hold on, Hattie!” I bark, charging up to her side. “I’ve got this!”

  “Fenway, are you sure you—” Patches’s voice trails off as I plunge through the trees.

  I scamper through prickly brush, over a fallen branch, and around a rotting tree trunk. The shrieks are louder. Nearer.

  The woods are dark and thick. The strong, musky odors are terrifying. I see specks of glowing light in the distance. Eyes? Or something else?

  I hear more rustling and snapping sounds. “Help! Help!” somebody screams. The voice sounds familiar. It’s coming closer. Whoever it is smells like grape jelly. And dirt.

  I dive under a downed branch, shoot through thorny bushes, and leap over a rock. “I’m warning you for the last time, raccoons! Stay away!”

  “Hiiiissssss-hiiiissssss! Screeeeech!”

  Crash! Crackle! Snap! Leaves crunch. Brush sways. Those terrified raccoons are bolting out of here as fast as they can!

  “Fenway?” Angel�
��s voice calls.

  I turn as she comes rushing toward me, her face overjoyed, her arms outstretched. She squats down, and I leap at her knee. “Hooray!” I bark, licking her cheek. She tastes like burnt marshmallows. She’s clearly grateful that I saved her from the vicious raccoons.

  Marcus comes racing up with a flashlight. His eyes are huge. His cheeks are huffing and puffing. He’s obviously scared. Other short humans come trudging after him. They’re all shouting in panicked voices.

  “Whoa!” one of them shrieks.

  “Didya see them?” shouts another.

  Marcus and the others follow me and Angel out of the woods. We reach the edge of the campsite and nearly run smack into Hattie and Fetch Man.

  “Fenway!” Hattie cries.

  The ladies race up to us. “Oh, thank goodness our precious Angel is saved!” Patches shouts as Angel sets me down. Hattie squats beside me, patting my back.

  Goldie nuzzles Angel’s face and gets her ears scratched in return.

  Out of nowhere, June comes rushing up to Lucky, who’s still lying on the ground, whimpering. “Aw, poor Lucky,” she soothes, rubbing his head. He noses her cheek.

  Marcus bends over, his hands on his knees. He’s obviously tired. And relieved. A group of other short humans gathers at his side. When one pats Marcus on the shoulder, his head snaps up, startled.

  Hattie lays her head on mine, but her eyes are looking at Marcus. “Good boy, Fenway,” she says in a much louder tone than necessary.

  Marcus and the other short humans turn to me. “Fenway?” one of them cries. “Puppy?” another says in a surprised voice. It’s obviously dawned on them who scared off those villains and saved the day.

  Next thing I know, I’m surrounded. Hands are petting me and rubbing my neck and stroking my ears. “Aw, shucks, everybody,” I bark. “I was just doing my job.”

  As Marcus and the short humans go off in all directions, the ladies come up to me. Goldie cocks her head. “Like I said, when it comes to Hattie, you do tend to go a little overboard.”

  “Not only did you scare away those raccoons,” Patches says, “but you showed everyone who stole the humans’ food!”