“A second discovery?” asked Karen.
“When you ran in here earlier, you said there were two super-important discoveries,” Stick Dog reminded her. “You must have seen or heard something on the way back here from Picasso Park.”
“Didn’t I come back with you guys?” asked Karen sincerely. Her forehead was wrinkled and she stared at the ceiling of Stick Dog’s pipe.
“We were all together for a while,” Stick Dog answered. “But about halfway back, you decided to go to Picasso Park by yourself. You wanted to check your favorite garbage can for food.”
“That’s right, I did,” Karen confirmed. She remembered now. “I love that garbage can! Sometimes I even find barbecue potato chips!”
“I know you do,” Stick Dog said politely. “Did you make it to your favorite garbage can?”
“No.”
“What happened before you got there?”
“A bunch of stuff happened.”
“Like what?”
“I saw a ladybug. That’s one thing.”
“That probably wasn’t the second discovery. We’ve seen ladybugs before.”
“No, probably not. But I do love ladybugs! Did you know they have black spots?”
“I did know that.”
“I thought maybe with your lack of smarts, you might not know that ladybugs have black spots.”
“I see,” Stick Dog said, and paused. Then he asked, “What happened after you saw the ladybug?”
“I took a nap under the slide for a few minutes.”
“That probably wasn’t the second discovery.”
“I don’t think so either,” Karen replied. “But it was nice and cool under there. Did you know it’s cooler in the shade than out in the bright, hot sunshine?”
“I know that too.”
“Good for you,” Karen said. “That’s real, real smart of you, Stick Dog.”
“Umm, thanks,” answered Stick Dog as genuinely as he could. “What did you do when you woke up under the slide? What happened next?”
Karen squeezed her eyes shut to help her think.
Her body began to shiver.
“That’s it,” she whispered. “I saw it with my own two eyes. It was terrible, Stick Dog. It might still be happening.”
Stick Dog kept his voice calm and steady. He asked, “What was it?”
Karen shook her head.
“You can tell me.”
She shook her head again.
“Maybe we can help.”
This was the nudge of encouragement Karen needed. She took one step closer to Stick Dog. Her body continued to tremble.
“It was after I left Picasso Park. I was on my way here and I took the shortcut by that house between the park and the woods,” Karen whispered, her eyes now wide open.
Stick Dog knew that house. He and his friends had often snuck past it to get to the woods. He nodded for her to continue.
“That’s where I saw it. In the backyard.”
She stopped then, squeezed her eyes shut again, and shook her head.
“What did you see?”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
Karen opened her eyes and stared directly into Stick Dog’s eyes. He held his stare steady on her.
“Go on,” encouraged Stick Dog. He could tell something was truly wrong. “It’s okay.”
Karen whispered, “In that backyard. Under a big oak tree. They were hitting a . . . a . . . a . . .”
“A what, Karen?” Stick Dog asked. “They were hitting a what?”
Karen closed her eyes again and answered. “A dog,” she said. “They were hitting a dog.”
The words took only two seconds to register with Stick Dog. And when they did, his face grew fierce. His shoulder muscles tensed. His lips quivered and a snarl began to take shape on his mouth.
He knew there was no time to waste.
He shouted one thing.
And one thing only.
“Wake up!”
Never in all their time together had Karen, Poo-Poo, Mutt, and Stripes ever heard such a shout from Stick Dog. He was loud—and he was angry.
Karen jumped back from the sheer volume and ferocity of the sound.
Stripes, Mutt, and Poo-Poo were instantly awake—and instantly up on their paws. They asked in unison, “What is it?!”
“Something terrible!” Stick Dog screamed as he sprinted toward the opening of his pipe. “Near the house at the edge of the woods! A dog’s in trouble! Karen saw it! We have to help! Follow me! Karen will explain the details on the way!”
Nobody responded as Stick Dog leaped out of his pipe.
But they did follow him as fast as they could.