After their escape, the dogs gathered in the dark behind a few mailboxes by the street. Overgrown bushes grew on both sides of the mailboxes and it served as a terrific hiding place.
“Did those caramel-covered apples fill you guys up?” Stick Dog asked.
“Pretty much,” Poo-Poo answered. “But not all the way. I wish we could have just a little bit more of something.”
Stripes, Karen, and Mutt nodded in agreement.
“Okay,” Stick Dog said. “We’ll be okay if we don’t get anything else. But we’d like a little more. Another piece of candy or something, right?”
Again, they all nodded toward Stick Dog.
He poked his head out from between two of the mailboxes and scanned the street as best he could. It was still very dark, but the streetlights and porch lights provided enough illumination for him to spot what he wanted to see.
He pulled himself back and whispered to his friends.
“The witches are three houses down,” Stick Dog said. “Let’s follow them to one more house and see if they drop something. We’ve had good luck following them so far. If we don’t get anything, we’ll just head back to my pipe. Those caramel apples were enough to satisfy our appetites until tomorrow.”
“Plus, we have the sticks in Mutt’s fur,” added Karen. “We can still lick those tonight.”
“That’s right. We do,” said Stick Dog. “Come on! Let’s see if we can get anything else!”
It took a couple of minutes for them to stalk their way closer to the two witches. They darted behind trees and parked cars. They pulled themselves on their bellies through the grass, careful to avoid the house lights and streetlights.
When they caught up to the witches, they found a perfect hiding place for observation. A huge bunch of fallen leaves was piled in the front yard of a small brick house. When the witches were all the way up the driveway, the dogs dove into the pile.
“Now, everybody, be very, very quiet and hold still. I’ll try to see what’s going on,” said Stick Dog as he poked his head out of the leaves to watch the witches at the front door.
“Stick Dog?” Stripes whispered.
“What?”
“There’s a leaf in my mouth. It tastes awful.”
“Spit it out.”
“Good idea.”
Stick Dog could hear Stripes spit the leaf out. He watched as the witches approached the front porch.
“Stick Dog?” It was Stripes again.
“Yes?”
“There’s another leaf in my mouth,” she said. “It tastes even worse than the last one.”
“Spit that one out too,” he whispered in response. “But this time, don’t open your mouth again after you spit it out. If your mouth is closed, no leaves can get in.”
Again, Stick Dog heard Stripes spit the leaf out.
“But how will I breathe?”
Stick Dog closed his eyes and shook his head. “Use your nose.”
“Good idea,” Stripes answered. “Thanks, Stick Dog.”
Stick Dog tried to see up to the front porch of the brick house. Leaves from the pile kept falling and rustling in front of his face, making it difficult to see. He tried to blow them quietly out of the way.
“Stick Dog?” called Poo-Poo from the middle of the huge pile.
“Shh!” he replied. “We’re trying to be quiet, remember? What is it?”
Poo-Poo whispered back, “I think we lost Karen.”
“Oh no!” Mutt and Stripes said in unison.
Stick Dog watched the witches on the front porch. They were not pressing the doorbell button or knocking on the door. Instead, they were bent over at the waist as if they were looking for something—or reaching for something. He couldn’t tell what they were doing, but he was certain the door to the house never opened.
“Stick Dog, what about Karen?”
“Try to find her,” Stick Dog said. “She has to be in there somewhere.”
As soon as he made this suggestion, there was a wild and rambunctious rustling of the leaves behind him. It was as if the enormous leaf pile had suddenly come to life. Sprays of leaves shot out in every direction. A loud and continuous crackling broke the quiet of the night.
“You guys!” Stick Dog said as loud as he thought he could without being heard by the witches on the front porch. “What are you doing?!”
“We’re looking for Karen,” Poo-Poo answered quickly. He—and Mutt and Stripes—had not stopped searching. “Just like you said.”
“Hold still! Please,” demanded Stick Dog.
They did as he asked.
“Don’t you want us to find Karen?” asked Mutt. He had remembered, at least, to speak in a whisper.
“Yeah, Stick Dog,” added Stripes. “We’re on a heroic mission to rescue Karen in this massive heap of bad-tasting leaves. And now you want us to stop?”
“Shh,” Stick Dog answered. “Calm down, all of you. Of course, I want you to find Karen. Just don’t go thrashing and smashing all over the place in this pile of dry, crunchy leaves. Every human out here is going to wonder what’s going on. We’ll get totally busted.”
“Then how are we supposed to find her?” Poo-Poo asked.
“Call to her,” Stick Dog suggested to his friends. “Quietly.”
“Why didn’t you say so before?” shrugged Poo-Poo. “That would have been a lot smarter.”
Stick Dog lifted his eyes and looked at the moon. It was a peaceful and calming shade of yellow. He inhaled and exhaled two times and then answered, “You’re right. It would have been smarter.”
Stripes yelled, “Karen!”
“Karen!” called Poo-Poo.
“Karen!” screamed Mutt.
“Shh! Stop yelling! Wait!” Stick Dog said as quickly as he could. “Hold still now for a minute. The witches are going to walk back past. Then we’ll find Karen, I promise.”
They all held perfectly still in the pile.
And the witches walked by.
“That was nice of them,” one witch said as they passed by.
“It was,” said the other witch. “Not everybody leaves stuff out like that.”
Stick Dog did not know what this snippet of conversation meant—and he spent no time at all trying to decipher it. As soon as the witches were out of earshot, he called, “Karen? Karen?”
A quiet voice escaped from beneath the far side of the enormous leaf pile. “Yes, Stick Dog?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” Karen answered. “How are you?”
Stick Dog smiled. “I’m fine. It’s nice of you to ask. You can come out of the pile now. We all can.”
With that, all five dogs emerged from the pile and situated themselves in the yard between the leaf pile and the front porch. With the moonlight and the porch light, they could see each other pretty well. And Stick Dog had scouted out their surroundings quickly. He felt confident that there were no other humans approaching. In fact, it looked to him like most of them were gone now. Perhaps, he thought, they were all going in for the night.
“Where were you?” Mutt asked Karen.
“We were worried about you,” Stripes added.
“Why didn’t you answer us?” Poo-Poo asked.
“Answer you?” asked Karen. “I never heard you calling me. Except for Stick Dog just now, I mean. I just heard a bunch of crazy rustling and stuff.”
“Didn’t you want to see what it was all about?” Poo-Poo asked. He was genuinely curious. “It was the start of our rescue mission to find you.”
“Find me? I wasn’t even lost.”
“Yes, you were,” Stripes, Mutt, and Poo-Poo said at once.
Karen looked at Stick Dog and then back at the others. “I was just being quiet and holding still like Stick Dog asked.”
Stick Dog smiled again. He said, “Let’s go up to the porch. I’m pretty sure there’s nobody home.”
They all followed him up the steps of the small brick house to the cement front porch. There, in the soft yellow glow of the porch light, was a huge plastic bucket full of brightly colored candy. There were lollipops, gummy bears, bubble gum, Sweet Tarts, and other candy. Sticking out of the bucket was a small handwritten sign taped to the top of a lollipop.
It read, “We’re not home. Please take one! Happy Halloween!”
Stick Dog reached in and grabbed a lollipop with his mouth.
He then turned to the others. “Okay, everybody. Take one,” he said. “We’re heading back to my pipe for this dessert. I’ll lead the way.”
It seemed like a shorter trip than usual. Maybe it was because the cool night air felt good when they breathed it into their lungs. Maybe it was the satisfaction of having those delicious caramel-covered apples in their stomachs. Maybe it was the anticipation of a delicious treat when they got back. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because they were all together—happy and safe.
Stick Dog climbed into his pipe first. Right behind him were Stripes, Karen, and Mutt.
Poo-Poo was not in sight.
Stick Dog leaned out of his pipe and cocked his head to listen. He could hear the padding of four paws coming closer and closer through the forest. It was Poo-Poo’s footfall pattern. Stick Dog would know it anywhere.
He and Stripes, Mutt and Karen began to tear the wrappings off their candy desserts.
“I wonder why Poo-Poo is so far behind?” Karen asked as she bit through the wrapper of a Sweet Tart candy.
“He probably found a tree to his liking,” Stripes offered as a reason.
This made perfectly good sense to the others, and they continued to gnaw, bite, and lick at their desserts. It was another couple of minutes before Poo-Poo entered through the big circular opening of Stick Dog’s pipe.
Clenched in his mouth was the humongous bucket of candy from the front porch of the last brick house.
“Poo-Poo!” Stick Dog exclaimed.
“What?” he asked, and put the bucket down on the floor of the pipe. He stretched his mouth open wide and shifted his jaw left and right. He was sore from clenching and carrying the heavy bucket all the way to the pipe.
“I said to only take one,” Stick Dog said, and shook his head. He had just gotten the wrapper completely removed from his lollipop.
“I did take one,” Poo-Poo answered after his mouth felt better. “I took one bucket. I’m going to share. Just like we always do.”
Stick Dog didn’t respond, but he did take the first lick of his yellow lollipop. It was the finest, sweetest thing he could ever remember tasting. It was lemon. He paused after that first lick and looked at the bucket sitting in front of Poo-Poo. It was completely, totally, absolutely full of candy. He could see plenty of lollipops—lots of them lemon—in that bucket.
“Well, that’s true. That is what I said,” Stick Dog replied, and smiled. “Good job, Poo-Poo. Everybody, chow down.”
And everybody did.
THE END.