Chapter 10

Lake Washituba

Stick Dog and his friends ran across Picasso Park and through another patch of woods. They stopped when they reached the edge of those woods and saw Lake Washituba. The lake was surrounded by trees and a few cabins.

And something else.

Something that Stick Dog was about to discover.

“It’s beautiful here,” Stripes said as they stared out across the lake. It was darker now and the moon was bright. The moonlight reflected on the water.

But there was more than moonlight reflecting off the surface of Lake Washituba.

There was another light—colorful and bright.

Stick Dog followed it with his eyes to the edge of the lake—and then to a building. There was a neon sign on top of that building:

It had more than words. There were two fish and something else.

“Look!” Stick Dog said, pointing at the restaurant. “There it is!”

Karen, Stripes, Mutt, and Poo-Poo all turned to look where Stick Dog pointed.

“There’s what?” asked Stripes.

“The sushi restaurant,” Stick Dog answered, and pointed toward the building again. “The one on that paper package for the sticks.

This must be the place where they came from.”

“I don’t know, Stick Dog,” Stripes said doubtfully. “It seems like we’re missing some real, hard evidence. I mean, this place could be anything.”

“Yeah,” Poo-Poo agreed. “Where’s the proof?”

“Umm,” Stick Dog replied slowly. “The sign is the proof. It says ‘Sushi.’ It’s all there.”

“Maybe the sign is a disguise of some sort,” Stripes suggested. “Maybe it’s something else pretending to be a sushi restaurant. Did you ever think of that?”

“Umm, no.”

“Maybe it’s an airport,” Poo-Poo chimed in. This made his other friends come up with their own ideas.

Mutt said, “Or a skyscraper.”

“Or a football stadium,” Stripes said.

“Maybe it’s one of those places with all the airplanes and helicopters,” Karen added. “You know, with the runways and the supersonic jet thingamajigs that take off and land.”

“You mean an airport?” Stick Dog asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Karen said, and smiled. She seemed happy that Stick Dog knew what she was talking about. “One of those.”

Stick Dog inhaled deeply and turned his head to look out across the water. He watched as a breeze skimmed across the surface, creating hundreds of moonlit ripples. That wind made the water move just enough to create sound. He heard a canoe rock, slosh, and bump rhythmically against a dock near one of those cabins. He listened as the water brushed against the sand and rocks at the lake’s edge.

Stick Dog listened as the water moved in and out.

He breathed in and out.

The water moved in and out.

He breathed in and out.

After that brief meditation, Stick Dog looked back at his friends.

“Of course, you might all be right,” he said to his companions. “It most certainly could be an airport, a skyscraper or a football stadium.”

“Or one of those places with the planes, like I mentioned,” Karen said.

“Umm, right,” Stick Dog said, and shook his head just a little. “I tell you what. I’m going to get a closer look. You guys find a good place to hide around here and I’ll be right back.”

They agreed to do this, and Stick Dog stalked his way closer and closer toward the restaurant.

At first, he stayed near the edge of the forest. But about halfway there, he needed to dart around a couple of the cabins near the lake—and close to the docks in the lake. Ultimately, he made it to a back corner of the building, where he saw several cars parked. He saw that a road ran along the lake—and dead-ended at the restaurant.

Stick Dog moved to the side of the building—and found an unusual window.

It had a small awning over it—and there was a metal shelf outside of it. The area was lit by a large light attached to the brick wall. And there was a big female human standing right behind the window inside. She had a cloth wrapped around her forehead. And that cloth had a fish on it.

Hiding by a parked pickup truck, Stick Dog watched that window—and that human—trying to understand what it was all about.

It didn’t take long.

That’s because in less than a minute, a car pulled up to that window. Stick Dog was in a perfect position to watch—and hear—what happened.

The human behind the window slid it open. She smiled at the human inside the car who had rolled his window down.

“Hello, Mr. Dalton,” she said. “I thought I’d see you tonight. Thanks for calling your order in.”

“Hi, Akira,” the male human replied. “It’s Tuesday. That’s sushi night at our house.”

“Everything’s ready to go,” she replied, and nodded. She turned, reached for a bag, and handed it out the window. “Maguro, inari, and tobiko sushi. And four maki rolls—two veggie, one salmon, one tuna.”

“Perfect,” the human in the car said, taking the bag. “Chopsticks?”

“In the bag.”

“Awesome.”

“‘Chopsticks?’” Stick Dog whispered to himself. He wondered if this new word could refer to the tasty sticks that started tonight’s quest. He didn’t know why or how they were used, but he felt confident that could be their name.

After the two humans exchanged money and the car drove away, Stick Dog sought additional information. He stalked a slow, quiet arc to a front corner of the restaurant. Staying low, he peeked above the bottom edge of a window there.

Immediately, he could see why—and how—the chopsticks were used.

“To pick up food?” Stick Dog asked himself in a whisper. He’d never seen that before. He had only seen humans pick up food with their hands—or forks and spoons. He watched, fascinated, as humans held two chopsticks in one hand, pinched them together, and picked up pieces of food from their plates. Then they took that piece of food, dipped it in a little dish of brown liquid—and put it in their mouths.

“They use them to pick up food,” Stick Dog confirmed to himself. “Go figure.”

Now that he had figured out the chopsticks, Stick Dog focused more intently on the food itself.

He saw brightly colored rolls cut up into equally sized pieces. He saw small slices of something—he suspected it was fish—on tiny beds of rice. Each human had a little dish of brown dipping sauce. He even found that green color they had tasted on those chopsticks back in his pipe. There were tiny clumps of green stuff that the humans sometimes stirred into their dipping sauces.

Stick Dog ducked down and away from the window.

He had gathered so much information.

He knew what sushi was.

He knew what chopsticks were.

He knew humans were eating sushi inside the restaurant—but he also knew humans came and picked up their sushi at that strange window.

Stick Dog moved more quickly now. He stayed hidden in the darkness, but he hurried back to share all this information with Mutt, Poo-Poo, Karen, and Stripes. He was starting to think that maybe—just maybe—they might get their paws on some of that sushi tonight.

He sprinted the last several yards to where he had left his friends.

He knew they were hiding. So, he called quietly to them.

“You guys?” he said. “I’m back.”

“We’re over here,” Stripes answered.

Stick Dog turned his head toward where Stripes had called from—toward the lake.

He didn’t see them right away.

“Stick Dog?” Poo-Poo called.

“Yes?” he answered, squinting his eyes and trying to pinpoint exactly where his friends were in the darkness.

“Umm,” Poo-Poo said. “We have a bit of a situation here.”

Finally, Stick Dog saw where they were.

They did have a bit of situation.

A bad situation.