“Get away from my yard,” the high voice snarled from the far side of the tall fence.

Red moved around in front of me and started digging from a different angle. I put my front paws down and stopped him.

“I’m warning you!” Poky yapped. “I’m big and tough and mean and . . .”

Red moved again. He tried to wiggle himself between me and the fence so he could dig. I pushed against him and kept him from getting through. Instantly he scooted behind me and tried to dig there. He shoved, trying to make an opening between me and the fence. I pushed harder against the fence to block him.

There was a loud crunch-crack!

Something snapped. Something gave way. I felt myself falling. Paws and legs sprawling, I tumbled backwards. I landed on my head with a thud.

Suddenly I was no longer in my yard. I blinked and looked around. The fence was on the wrong side. I was on the wrong side! I was upside down!

From the corner of my eye I saw a white, black, and brown streak. It shot across the yard and disappeared into a small doghouse under a pecan tree.

Paws churning, I rolled from my back and struggled to my feet. Frantic, I looked all around.

“Where am I? What happened? Where’s my yard and my food bowl?”

“Good job, pup!” Red’s head appeared through an opening in the fence. Then his shoulders, chest, and rear. Finally his tail slipped through and he wagged it. “Wish I was big enough to snap boards like that. It would sure save a lot of time and effort digging under.”

“What happened?” I repeated.

Red turned back to the fence. With his nose, he shoved on one of the boards. It swung from a loose nail at the top. As it moved, I could see the fresh wood at the bottom where it was cracked. The two boards next to it were broken as well, although I could barely see the crack. They were also held by one loose nail at the top of the fence.

“You snapped those three boards, pup. Just busted right through ’em. Those loose boards make a neat gate. The way they swing from those top nails—as soon as we go through, they just slip back in place. Our masters won’t even know about it.”

“But how do I get home?” One ear arched.

“Just stick your nose through the crack,” Red explained. “Once you squeeze through, the fence boards just swing back in place. I couldn’t have done it better myself.”

I stuck my nose in the crack. Sure enough the board moved over. I was so big that two boards moved when I thrust my whole head through. My yard was still there. So was my food bowl.

Just then someone nipped my tail. It was a gentle nip, more of a tug. I backed out of the opening and looked around.

Red tugged my tail again.

“Come on. Let’s go check out the beagle.”

I hesitated. The beagle, Poky, was big and mean and scary. I really didn’t know whether we should try to find him or not.

Red trotted across the yard toward the little doghouse under the pecan tree. I waited a moment, then cautiously followed him.

• • •

“Why did you lie to me?” I asked.

The little dog cowered against the back wall of the tiny doghouse. He covered one eye with a big floppy ear. Poky was tiny. Well, I guess he was the normal size for a beagle, but compared to me he was tiny. He was mostly white with big black and brown spots on his fur. It would have taken five of him to make one of me, and he wasn’t mean at all.

“Why did you lie?” I repeated. “You told me you were big and fierce and mean.”

The floppy ear wiggled just a bit. I could see part of a soft brown eye.

“I could tell you were huge,” Poky said sheepishly. “I was afraid if you knew how small I was, you’d eat me. So . . . well, I figured if you thought I was big and mean and tough, you’d stay on your own side of the fence. I really am tough, though. I’m a lot stronger and meaner than I look.” Again, he hid his eye under his ear. “Please don’t eat me.”

Red plopped down on his bottom. He had to lean over to see inside the low doghouse. “Nobody’s gonna eat you. We just want to be friends. Come on out.”

Red and I talked to Poky for a long, long, long time before we finally got him out of his house. When he did come out, he tried to look mean. His curved tail stood straight up in the air. The hair rose along his back in a sharp ridge, and his little short legs were as stiff as the boards in the fence.

We all took turns sniffing and inspecting each other. Poky kept growling and telling us how ferocious he was. But he finally relaxed.

“I guess you guys are okay,” he admitted. “You’re just so darned big, though.”

“I’m a Great Dane,” I told him. “Great Danes are supposed to be big. We can’t help it.”

“I’m not all that big,” Red confessed. “I’m really kind of skinny—mostly long red hair. Besides, like I told you through the fence, I’m too old to fight. And the pup here is nothing but a big ol’ pussycat.”

“I’m not a pussycat,” I said. “I’m a dog. And I’m not a pup, either. I’m three and a half years old, so I’m an adult dog.”

Red wiggled his nose from side to side. “Well, compared to me, you’re a pup. I’m twelve. Besides, you act like a pup—won’t even bite a burglar.”

“A burglar!” Poky snarled. “Is that what all the commotion was last night? Man, if I ever get ahold of a burglar, I’ll chew his leg off.”

While we explored Poky’s yard and peed on his shrubs, Red told him all about the burglar and why I didn’t bite him because I made a mistake once and bit some old lady on the bottom. When the three of us squeezed through the boards to show Poky my yard and pee on my bushes, Red told him about how my brothers and sisters called me a bully and about how I was afraid to dig in the dirt because of this guy named Scotty who got sent to the pound.

We were just getting ready to crawl through the hole so we could explore Red’s yard when Poky stopped. His floppy ears perked up and his tail stopped wagging.

“That’s my master’s car. It’s almost evening, and he’s home from work.” His tail made a circle. “My master will be out to feed me any minute now.”

Red glanced at the orange sliver of sun that rested on the back fence. “We’d better get home before our masters find out we’ve been gone,” he said. “First thing after they leave for work in the morning, we’ll get together and see if we can straighten this pussycat—excuse me, Great Dane—we’ll see if we can straighten him out.”

Poky slipped through the opening on his side of the yard. As soon as his tail disappeared, the boards fell back into place as if they weren’t even broken. Red made a grunting sound as he squeezed through the hole on his side of the yard.

“I figure you’re safe,” he called from the other side. “If your master was going to take you to the pound, he would have already done it, so quit worrying. See you in the morning, pup.”

“My name’s not pup,” I told the fence. “It’s Sweetie.”

From the other side of the boards, I could hear Red chuckling.