“Fenway?”

Is that Hattie’s groggy voice? My eyes blink open. Warm sunlight streams into the room.

I’m sprawled on the floor, flanked by a toppled chair and Hattie’s empty drinking cup. Half of my body is soaking wet.

A haunting reminder of the evil I’ve endured!

I get up and shake. Drops of water spray all around.

“FEN-way,” Hattie snaps. She lifts off the covers, groaning, and climbs out of bed. She straightens the chair and returns the drinking cup to her bedside table. Wagging a finger at me, she says, “Bad boy!”

Talk about a mix-up! She’s the one who did something wrong! My ears and tail drooping, I back into the corner. What a way to start the day.

Sighing, Hattie glances around the room. She grabs the shirt she was wearing yesterday and rubs it on the rug, scowling at the wet spot like it’s done something terrible to her.

I watch closely as she hangs the damp shirt on the back of the chair and pulls on her clothes. When she opens the door, she heads out, but I hold up. I could stay right where I am and be safe. But not for long.

She’d return eventually, and I’d be a sitting duck.

I need to do something. That last hiding place didn’t work out so well. But I have to keep trying.

I hobble down the stairs and limp into the Lounging Place, my nose sniffing, my head swiveling. The only good hiding place in here is under the couch. And that spot has failed me before. I have to continue searching!

Food Lady and Fetch Man are already in the Eating Place, gulping steaming cups of coffee. Their eyes are saggy and tired. Fetch Man tries to stifle a yawn. Food Lady, too.

Hattie pours a glass of juice, her face just as grumpy and exhausted as theirs.

After Fetch Man swigs the last of his coffee, he ducks into the garage. He reappears with a light bulb and heads upstairs.

Food Lady chatters at Hattie, her voice harried and anxious. She says a word that I know. “Ready?”

Usually this word is followed by smiles and bouncing. Maybe even cries of excitement. From both of us. But this time, Hattie looks worried. Like she’s not ready at all.

I know just how she feels.

And I can’t waste my time trying to figure out what Hattie’s not ready for. I’ve got my own job to do.

I could hide under the table, but how obvious is that? Same with the chairs. Too bad the low cabinets are closed. Plus they are filled with nasty things like cleaners.

Clearly, there are no good hiding spots in the Eating Place. Which is too bad, because there are a bunch of perks in here. Like food.

I briefly consider the boring room down the hall. But Fetch Man and Food Lady guard that place like it’s filled with steaks. Even though there’s nothing inside but a couple of desks and chairs with wheels on the bottom.

No, the best option for a good hiding place is the Dog Park. I limp to the door. “Let me out!” I whine. “I have to go sooooo bad!”

“FEN-way,” Hattie scolds, like she’s not falling for it. But she must change her mind, because she hurries over and slides the door open. F-f-f-f-t!

At least I can count on her for something. As I hobble outside, I hear the door close behind me. Aaaaah! I’m finally alone!

Right away I know something is wrong. I turn my snout into the breeze, gathering clues. The air smells strongly of rodent. And peanuts. My hackles shoot up. That thieving chipmunk was here! No doubt robbing us blind!

My head hangs. My ears flop. This can only mean one thing.

I didn’t do my job. Drat that Cone of Doom! Drat my sore paw! Drat everything!

It’s all my fault that that chipmunk roamed wherever he wanted, free to do his dirty work. All that’s left to do now is survey the damage.

Nose to the floor, I sniff that horrible rodent-y scent. It smells like the chipmunk was all over the place. But the odor is weak, like he’s already taken off.

I sniff my way past Hattie’s old sneakers, under a couple of chairs, toward the Nana-box. And that’s when I freeze.

The Nana-box is open. The cape, the tall hat, the abracadabra stick, and the other Nana-toys are strewn all over the porch. Hattie always stuffs them back inside the box when she’s done playing. Why are they on the floor?

And if that’s not strange enough, everything reeks of that thieving chipmunk. I shiver.

I limp over to investigate, but I’m not even halfway to the abracadabra stick when I stop. My eyes bulge.

That stick has been chewed.

Little teeth marks run up and down the stick. Tiny chunks are missing at one end.

I hobble up to the rumpled cape. I nose through the folds, my fur standing up in horror. The fabric is torn! It’s been chewed just like the abracadabra stick!

And if that’s not bad enough, everything’s covered with bits of stinky dark rice—no, not rice! Chipmunk droppings! They’re everywhere!

I search through the rest of the Nana-toys. The brim of the tall hat is gnawed and frayed. The wooden ball has tiny teeth marks and gashes in it. The clear plastic box has a crack in it. And the fake flowers are in tatters.

And there’s more! The peanut bag is ripped, shreds littered around. Peanut shells are all over. And slimy bits of chewed peanuts speckle the porch like pebbles.

It’s clear what’s happened here—that villain didn’t only rob us, he had a chipmunk party!

I shudder at the images of thieving chipmunks romping and munching right under my nose. Partying on the porch, like they own the place!

It’s too scary to even picture. It’s scarier than the Nana-box—Hey, wait a minute!

The Nana-box is the Best Hiding Place Ever.

I’ve told Hattie a million times how I feel about that box. She’d never look for me in there.

Gulp. Before I can talk myself out of it, I spring onto the chair. I peer down into the Nana-box. It’s empty all right.

And with the lid up, it might not be so scary inside. Probably not anyway.

Trembling with courage, I drop down and land splat! inside the Nana-box.

And just in time.