They all lined up single file behind Stick Dog. There was a large gap in the costumed humans going door-to-door, and the dogs were able to catch up with the witches quickly.
Under the deepening darkness of the night, they ducked behind some bushes to watch the witches at their next stop. It was an older house, with a large metal gate that allowed entrance onto the small front porch. The witches pushed the gate open, took a few steps, and then climbed three stairs to stand before the door.
Stick Dog watched every move the witches made and listened to each word spoken. He noted every detail in the candy-fetching process.
After the witches got their candy and the door closed, Stick Dog ducked back into the bushes as far as he could. He didn’t want them to see him, but he did listen closely for more clues as they descended the steps and made their way to the next house.
“I love going to Grandma Smith’s house every year,” one witch said to the other as they passed. They were completely unaware of the dogs hiding in the bushes. “She makes the best caramel apples in the world!”
“I know,” said the other witch. “And she’s so nice—even though she can’t see or hear so well anymore. She thought I was my older sister.”
The other witch laughed. “She thought I was my younger brother!”
After the witches had gone a safe distance away, Stick Dog pushed his head out into the open air and looked left and right to ensure no other humans were approaching.
When he was certain it was safe, he came out of the bushes and motioned for Mutt, Poo-Poo, Stripes, and Karen to follow him. He nudged the gate forward a bit so they could all fit through. He moved slowly, reenacting what the witches had done a minute earlier in an attempt to learn something that might help them retrieve the delicious treats. As he did this, Stick Dog whispered the whole process to himself and the others.
Stripes, Poo-Poo, and Mutt all watched this closely. Karen took a few seconds to chase her tail. She didn’t catch it and quickly turned her attention to what Stick Dog was doing as well.
“Let’s see,” Stick Dog said as he took a few deliberate steps past four flowerpots and up the three front stairs to the porch. “They come up here. Then they press that button by the door.”
He lifted his head and looked off into the distance to refresh his memory. The sky had grown darker and the first blinking stars had emerged. He lowered his head and continued. “After a few seconds, the door opens and—”
But Stick Dog didn’t get a chance to say anything else.
Do you know why?
I’ll tell you.
It’s because Stripes had reached up with her front left paw and pressed the button by the door.
The doorbell button.
Stick Dog, who had his back to Stripes when she pressed the button, spun around when he heard the loud chime inside. To Stick Dog, it was a dangerous sound, like an alarm or a siren. He looked at Stripes, who had dropped down and now had all four paws on the cold, concrete front porch.
“What did you just do?!” asked Stick Dog urgently.
“I pressed the button,” said Stripes. She seemed a little surprised that he had asked her.
“Why’d you do that?!” Stick Dog asked. He snapped his head left and right. He didn’t know what the chime signaled. But he had an uneasy feeling about it. He and his friends stood exposed out there on that front porch.
“You told me to do it,” Stripes answered with a slight quiver in her speech. Her attitude wasn’t so casual as before. She sensed the concern coursing through Stick Dog’s motions and voice. She saw it on his face. And the others did too. They began to fidget nervously. Poo-Poo backed slowly away from that front door and down the steps.
“No, I didn’t,” Stick Dog said quickly. He was still snapping his head in all directions to look for oncoming trouble.
“Did too,” said Stripes in an attempt to defend herself. “I distinctly heard you say, and I quote, ‘Press that button by the door.’ Unquote.”
Stick Dog shook his head. “I wasn’t giving directions. I was just repeating what the small humans did when they—”
But Stick Dog didn’t get a chance to finish explaining. That’s because two things happened at exactly that moment.
Poo-Poo, still scared and backing down the steps and away from the porch, bumped into the metal gate. It swung effortlessly shut and latched loudly behind them.
It was immediately apparent to all five dogs that they were trapped on the porch now.
“We’re stuck!” Karen whispered.
“Uh-oh,” said Poo-Poo.
But the gate closing behind them was only the first thing that happened at that precise second.
Do you know what else happened?
The door to the house opened.