Way after the kibble’s eaten and the sky goes dark, Hattie carries me inside our tent. We curl up together, zipped between a couple of padded blankets. She gives each of my paws a quick kiss, then nuzzles my neck. No notebook of comm-ix. No fur brushing. No singing “best buddies.”
Instead, she whispers at me for a Long, Long Time. She mutters that upsetting word, “new-kid,” again. Clearly, she is afraid of something—maybe the wild animals. They’re mere pawsteps away!
I snuggle against her cheek. She has to know that I’m always here to protect her.
“Aw, Fenway,” she replies with a yawn.
My mouth opens for my own big yawn, even though I’m not the least bit sleepy. I give my head a vigorous shake and try to settle down. Crickets are chirping. Owls are hooting. And rustling sounds drift in from the forest. My fur prickles. Wild animals are outside, roaming free. I have to stay on guard.
A moment later, Hattie’s asleep, her breathing calm and peaceful. Good thing she feels safe and protected with her ferocious dog at her side. But there’s only so much I can do from inside this tent. My ears and nose will have to work overtime!
My jaws stretch open for another yawn. I’ve never been more alert. Nothing can distract me from protecting Hattie. Not even my droopy eyelids. Not even my heavy, heavy eyelids.
I let them flutter shut—just for a second. I hear Food Lady and Fetch Man crawling in and settling down on the other side of the tent.
I feel my body relax. And suddenly, I’m not in the tent with my humans anymore. I’m tramping through the dark, noisy forest, my body tingling with bravery. I have a job to do. I have to keep Hattie safe.
But it’s so dark, I can’t see anything. Good thing I can smell. And hear. Though I almost wish I couldn’t.
Because the smells are alarming, like smoke and creatures I can’t identify. Lots and lots of them. Some smell like birds. Some smell like rodents. But others smell strange, mysterious. Like grape jelly. And dirt.
Way up high, branches rustle and crack. Peeps and squeals echo through the woods. Throaty hooting, too: The-crew! The-crew!
Yikes! That voice sounds awfully menacing. “Go away!” I whimper, my tail wilting. I crawl under the pine needles, which feel strangely like Hattie’s pillow. And smell oddly like mint and vanilla.
“Fenway?” Hattie’s soft voice mumbles.
“Hattie?” I bark, turning toward her sleepy face. “What are you doing here in the scary woods?”
Instead of answering, she runs her hand through her short hair. She reaches for her backpack, pulling out shirts and shorts and socks and jackets, one after another after another. She strokes each one like it’s a treasured friend, even though they smell brand-new and never worn before. Why is she interested in clothes at a time like this?
“Hattie,” I bark. “This forest is full of danger. We have to scram. Like, RIGHT NOW!”
But she doesn’t understand the huge problem. Now she’s focused on a group of short humans. Where did they come from?
I recognize Angel and that loud boy Marcus. “The-crew! The-crew!” they chant. Other short humans—boys and girls of different sizes—swoop in and join the chanting.
Hattie laughs. “The-crew! The-crew!” She slaps their palms.
The short humans zip around a tree, hop over a rock, and—
Oh no! Hattie’s rushing straight toward an open mouth with giant fangs ready to chomp!
I shake with courage. There’s no time to lose! It’s up to me to save her. I have to make her listen. “Hattie, stop! Please!” I bark. “Or this will end in disaster!”
Hattie keeps going. She must not hear me. I race as fast as I can, trying to head her off, before she—
THUD! Crash!
My eyes pop open. Dim morning light seeps into the tent. I climb out from the zipped-up blanket and give myself a good stretch.
“Fenway,” Hattie murmurs, patting my head.
“I’m so happy to see you!” I bark, romping up to her pillow. I lick Hattie’s sleepy face. I’m almost surprised that she tastes the same as always. For some reason, I can’t shake a strange feeling that something horrible almost happened . . .
Vwoop! Hattie unzips the blankets and takes forever pulling on her clothes. She grabs a small paddle and gazes into it, grimacing and raking her fingers through her short hair like it’s annoyed her. Clearly, she’s perfectly safe, even if she’s not happy at the moment.
But that’s about to change. Because my nose detects the most wondrous aroma! And I hear the sounds of breakfast sizzling. “Great news, Hattie!” I bark, leaping and spinning. “I smell bacon!”
She clips on my leash, and we burst outside to the songs of cheerful birds. I spy Food Lady at the table pouring steaming coffee. Fetch Man stands by the Fire Space where the smoky bacon smell is coming from. After I water the big oak tree, we pause near the path, and I pick up an odor I can’t identify—something sinister. My fur prickles.
As we get going again, I gaze around the clearing. On the other side of the tree, Muffin Lady and Tool Man are sipping from mugs while the ladies slurp from water dishes. Angel lopes toward us, munching an apple.
Across the clearing, Lucky is gobbling what sounds like crunchy kibble. Hammock Man stands over the wooden table stirring something in a large bowl. Beside him, Waddling Lady is painting June’s cheek with a thin stick.
By the time I’m finished with my morning business, that horrible feeling of danger is long gone . . .
Until we hear a shriek from across the dirt road near the garbage bin. “Oh no!”
Everybody turns. Swirly-Arm Lady and Marcus are looking down at the ground, their faces shocked. Hot Dog Man appears behind them. “What the—?” he cries.
Clearly, something is wrong! Me and Hattie follow Food Lady as she rushes over. But before we even cross the road, I see the problem.
Their Food Box is on its side, food strewn on the ground. Everything’s ripped apart or partially chewed—a torn bag of rolls, a ripped box of crumbly crackers, oozy smashed eggshells.
Angel and the ladies join us. “Looks like their food’s been ransacked,” Goldie mutters.
“Horrors!” Patches exclaims.
More humans rush over to the Food Box, gasping like they’ve never seen a mess before. Even Fetch Man and Food Lady, who’ve definitely seen plenty.
I have to find out who did this! But Hattie won’t let me get closer. Stretching the full length of the leash, my nose begins sniffing. I’ve barely gotten started when a furious growl nearly freaks me out of my fur.