“Differently? How do you mean?”
“You know,” Goldie says. “Not playing with you, not appreciating you, and worst of all, paying attention to him?”
I cock my head, trying to remember. She didn’t yell when that noisy mess happened in the Washing Room. That was different. But then the image of Hattie comforting the bunny floats into my head, and I shudder.
Goldie stares at me, a horrible look of self-satisfaction on her face.
“So what?” I say, not meeting her gaze. “He’s our prisoner! Hattie has to pay attention to him. We can’t let him escape!”
Patches nudges her way between us. “Think about it, Fenway. Is she guarding Thumper? Or taking care of him?”
I drop down for a quick scratch. And a think. Patches doesn’t know what she’s talking about. There’s no way Hattie would—gulp—care for that bunny. And what’s the threat Goldie said was worse than a Gang of Evil Bunnies?
I’m listening to Hattie’s giggles floating down from the leafy branches when I hear another sound. F-f-f-f-t—bang! And Hattie gasps.
Food Lady stands on the porch, her arms crossed. We all focus on her. “Hattie?” Food Lady calls in an angry tone.
Hattie climbs down the giant tree like it’s a race. Angel’s right behind her. “Sah-ree,” Hattie says, her voice drooping with sadness. And hope.
Food Lady scowls at Hattie’s things piled in the corner. She glances at the broom lying on the floor. She sucks in a breath, then says three words that I know: “No,” “Fenway,” and “park.”
Hattie gulps. “No! Please-please-please!” she cries, her eyes getting glassy as she marches to the porch. She sounds desperate.
Food Lady shakes her head. Apparently, she doesn’t want to listen. She hands Hattie the broom and heads back inside.
Hattie holds the broom with one hand and wipes her eyes with the other. Between sniffles, she mumbles to Angel, “Sah-ree.”
Angel looks as miserable as Hattie sounds. Angel heads toward the Friend Gate, motioning for the ladies to follow.
“See you later, Fenway,” Patches says, trotting after Angel.
Goldie isn’t far behind.
“Wait!” I say to Goldie. “You haven’t told me what the threat is.”
“Later,” Goldie says under her breath.
I plop down in the grass and watch our friends disappear through the gate.
There’s no question about it—Hattie is upset. Clearly, she needs a fun game of fetch. Or chase. But keeping her safe is a higher priority right now.
I charge up to the fence. Through the slats, I spot Goldie rolling around in the grass. Patches is at the other end of their Dog Park, chewing on a stick. Angel is nowhere to be seen. “Tell me, Goldie,” I say.
She flips onto her side, her snout pointed at the fence. “Are you sure you really want to know?” she says.
I meet her gaze. “Of course.”
“Okay.” Goldie pushes herself upright and steps closer. “Prepare yourself, little guy. You’re not gonna like it.”
My bumpy collar itches, but I ignore it. “Spit it out, Goldie. What threat could be bigger than a Gang of Evil Bunnies?”
Goldie takes a hesitating breath. “The one in the cage.”
“Thumper?!” My fur bristles. “I knew it! He’s infiltrated the house as part of a diabolical plot, hasn’t he? Those bunnies are pure evil! They—”
“No, Fenway,” Goldie interrupts. “That’s not it.”
I pace wildly along the fence. “It all makes sense. Now that he’s on the inside, he’s in the perfect position to launch the attack. He’s probably got a secret way of signaling to the gang. Thanks to you, I can figure it out and stop them before it’s too late!”
“Whoa, Fenway,” Goldie says. “Slow down. You’ve got it all wrong.”
“Wrong?” I press my nose into the gap between the slats. “What are you talking about?”
“That bunny isn’t in the house to attack,” she says. “Your short human wants him there.”
“Obviously,” I say. “Hattie’s keeping him prisoner.”
Goldie cocks her head. “Believe me, Fenway. He’s not a prisoner.”
“Well, if he’s not a prisoner, why would Hattie capture him and bring him home?”
Goldie sneaks a look over at Patches, who’s still chewing on her stick. “Because he’s little and cute and cuddly. She wants to pet him and play with him and snuggle him.”
My hackles shoot up. “That’s impossible! She does those things with me. She loves only me. She doesn’t want anybody else, especially not an Evil Bunny!”
“Fenway, I don’t blame you for being in denial.” Goldie sighs. “It’s hard to accept that your short human could love somebody else.”
“Hattie would never do that. She has me! She doesn’t need him or anyone!”
Goldie’s quiet for a moment, then gazes into the distance like she’s remembering something. “You think that now,” she mutters.
“I’ll think that forever,” I say with a growl. I turn away and sink down in the grass. Goldie doesn’t know anything. Hattie could never care about a—a—a bunny.
Later, Food Lady shoos Hattie upstairs with a stack of clean-smelling clothes. I follow along. She still looks glum, but it’s my job to change that. “I’ve got a great idea, Hattie,” I bark, racing to her room. “Let’s play tug-of-war!”
“Fenway!” Hattie rushes after me. Yippee! I knew she’d be up for it.
I dash through the door, my tail swishing with glee. I zip over a sneaker, hop around a tower of books, and chomp down on one end of a damp towel. Ha! I tear across the room, the towel whipping along behind me. It smacks against the dresser, the chair, the desk.
Hattie can hardly control her excitement. She grabs the other end of the towel as it snakes through a storm of flying clothes, over a stack of scattering books, and behind the tipping trash can. She pulls with all her might. “Fenway!” she growls.
I go to leap onto the bed but—oof!—I fall back to the floor; the towel drops out of my mouth.
“Ha!” Hattie cries, her eyes glowing in triumph. She grabs the towel before I can recover.
“Hey, I let you win,” I bark. And judging by how satisfied Hattie looks, this was exactly the right strategy.
But Hattie’s victory is short-lived. She gazes at the floor, sighing at the mess. Her face is full of frustration.
Clearly, I have more work to do. I spring onto the bed. “I have another great idea, Hattie,” I bark. “Let’s snuggle.”
Apparently, she’s got other things on her mind. With a loud huff, she grabs some clothes off the floor and starts refolding them. Right then, a gleeful Woot! drifts in through the window screen. My ears perk.
I climb onto the ledge to check it out. Hattie squeezes in beside me. Down below, our Dog Park is empty. But the Dog Park next door is not.
Patches is snoozing near the back fence. Goldie is curled up on the porch. Both ladies look bored and unhappy, not romping or tumbling the way they usually do.
And that isn’t the only difference.
Angel, wearing her cap and glove, is gently tossing a ball . . . not with Hattie but—Zahra? I almost didn’t recognize her in that cap. But I’d know her white dress and sparkly bracelets anywhere.
Zahra’s silky black hair hangs in a long tail behind her head. She slips into a jacket—Angel’s jacket!—and wields a fat glove, just like Angel’s. She moves awkwardly toward the ball and catches it. To her apparent surprise.
“Woot!” Angel cries, pumping her fist.
As I crane my neck for a better view, Hattie draws in a breath.
Zahra holds her glove in the air. She spins around, her white dress poofing out under Angel’s jacket like an umbrella.
Hattie goes to call out to them but abruptly changes her mind wh
en Angel reaches into her pocket. Angel pulls out two strips and offers them to Zahra like treats.
Hattie gasps. Her hands clamp onto her cheeks. “My-tick-it,” she murmurs. “Fenway, park.” She smells horrified. And miserable.
It makes no sense. Taking me to the park is fun. Why isn’t Hattie happy?
Well, it’s my job to fix that. I chomp the used-to-be bear and spring off the bed. Keep-away is Hattie’s favorite game.
I romp into the middle of the room, scamper through the clean clothes, and leap over book after book after book. I waggle the used-to-be bear. She won’t be able to resist!
But somehow she does. Hattie paces back and forth, her shoulders heaving, her nose sniffling.
I have to step up my efforts! I jump onto an open book, and r-r-rip! A couple of pages tear.
“Fenway!” Hattie scolds, her cheeks wet and puffy.
She’s clearly upset, but I can’t give up now.
Before I can make another move, she yells, “Stop it, Fenway!” She flies from the room, shutting the door behind her.
“Hattie, you forgot me!” I bark.
But she doesn’t answer. She doesn’t come.
I’m pawing the door to get her attention when I notice it’s not latched. It takes a lot of hard work, but I manage to nose it open.
I race downstairs, searching for her. But the entryway, the Lounging Place, and the hallway are all empty.
And when I burst into the Eating Place, I freeze in my tracks.
Hattie is standing over the cage. But the Evil Bunny isn’t inside.
He’s snuggled under her chin. “Thumper, Thumper,” she whispers, sobbing. She rocks him from side to side, nuzzling her nose into his fur. Cuddling him.
My heart roars in pain.
I collapse onto the floor. Goldie was right! I knew that bunny was trouble! But I never thought he’d come between me and my beloved short human. It’s the Worst News Ever.
He is nestled in Hattie’s arms. He’s stolen my job of making Hattie happy. Or so he thinks. It’s beyond revolting. Does he actually expect me to roll over and play dead?
Not on his Evil Bunny life! I jump up, hackles raised. I leap on Hattie’s legs. “This short human is mine!” I bark. “And I’ll never let you have her. Not without a fight!”
“FEN-way!” Hattie yells, pushing me away. “No! No! No!” She shakes a scolding finger at me while that villain snuggles in closer, his nose twitching in victory.
My ears sag. She’s taking his side. My heart rips out all over again.
Right then, the car vrooms up the driveway. Hattie’s eyebrows arch. She shoves the Evil Bunny back inside the cage mere moments before Fetch Man’s voice calls from the garage. Hattie rushes to the back door.
“Fenway, come,” she orders.
Yippee! We’re going outside. Without him. Take that, Evil Bunny! She’s loving me again. He may have burrowed his way into Hattie’s heart, but no bunny can compete with the fun of a frolicking dog. “Enjoy that lonely cage while we go play!” I taunt.
I romp after Hattie into the Dog Park and over to the side gate. Fetch Man is pushing a shiny metal box with wheels on the bottom. Its front has knobs like the stove, and doors like the cabinets. My tail goes wild with curiosity! So does my nose!
Fetch Man’s face is beaming with pride as he wheels the box through the grass. It looks like the barbecue that Whisker Face has across the street. Except its scent is new and boring and not wonderful like smoky hot dogs. Or barbecued chicken. Sadly, all I smell is metal.
Hattie shuts the gate. She runs to Fetch Man as he parks the barbecue. He lifts up the lid, revealing an empty grill. He pats Hattie on the back, his eyes glowing with excitement, even though there isn’t any delicious food inside. Hattie forces a smile.
F-f-f-f-t! The door slides open. Food Lady steps out, one arm wrapped around a lumpy paper bag and the other carrying a big plastic bowl. She eyes the grill happily, like it was exactly what she was hoping to see.
Fetch Man chatters eagerly while Food Lady studies the shiny barbecue from top to bottom. They’re both very excited. Don’t they realize there’s no tasty meat sizzling on it?
Food Lady passes the bag and bowl to Hattie, then disappears into the house. As Fetch Man heads back to the side gate, Hattie plops onto the porch steps and reaches into the crinkly bag.
Wowee! What if crunchy, munchy treats are inside? I rush over to investigate, my nose sniffing like crazy. I paw the paper till the bag tips and topples over, leafy logs rolling out. They smell grassy like husks and sweet like corn.
I’ve barely plunged in when Hattie grabs my collar and yanks me out. “FEN-way, no!” she scolds.
“Bad news, Hattie,” I bark. “There’s nothing in here except ears of corn.”
Which apparently is not the only bad news. Hattie shakes her finger at me, her forehead scrunched. She sneaks a nervous glance at the side gate where Fetch Man disappeared.
I trot out into the grass and drop onto my forepaws. “Here’s a great idea, Hattie!” I bark, my tail swishing. “Let’s play chase!”
But Hattie isn’t paying attention. She’s focused on that bag of corn.
The side gate clicks open again, and Fetch Man returns, his arms cradling a chubby metal tank. He shoves it under the barbecue and hooks it up to a rubber hose.
“Come on, Hattie!” I gallop back to her and paw her knees. “You know you want to!”
After a quick glance at Fetch Man, Hattie gives me a stern look. “Shhh,” she murmurs, pointing a corncob at me.
Talk about irresistible! I love tug-of-war! I chomp one end and dig my hind paws into the ground.
“FEN-way!” Hattie shrieks, her eyes darting from a disapproving Fetch Man, then back to me. “Drop it!”
I unclench my jaw, my heart crushing again. Hattie doesn’t want to play with me.
Because she loves that Evil Bunny.
He probably doesn’t even care about her. I’ll bet he’s only in it for the carrots.
I have to battle him. I have to win. There’s nothing I won’t do to defeat my nemesis. But that’s next to impossible when he’s inside and I’m not.
I’m about to curl up and lick my wounds when my nose gets wind of a familiar and horrifying bunny stench. Is it drifting in from the Dog Park next door? Hey, the Friend Gate is not closed all the way.
What if the Evil Bunny Gang noticed the open gate, too? They could be on the other side of the fence at this very moment. My tail shoots up.
I stick my snout through the crack. Sniff . . . sniff . . . so many scents . . . the gang could definitely be in there. I knew they’d be back! Have they come to free their leader?
Free their leader? Ha! That’s it! All this time, I’ve been trying to prevent a bunny invasion. But it could be exactly what I’ve been looking for—the gang can do my dirty work! They’ll help the Evil Bunny escape. He’ll be gone, and I’ll have Hattie all to myself again. Whoopee! It’s the Best Idea Ever!
I glance back at the porch. Fetch Man’s on his knees fiddling with the chubby tank under the grill. Hattie’s telling him something in a sad voice. “My-tick-it,” she says as she brutally tears silky hairs off the corn. She and Fetch Man are clearly distracted. Which can only mean one thing—opportunity.
It’s hard work, but I manage to nose my way through the Friend Gate. Sniffing feverishly, I zig and zag across the ladies’ Dog Park. That horrible scent is all over the place. Those Evil Bunnies are here somewhere. And when I find them, I’m going to lead them right to the prisoner!
I also detect strong odors of Goldie, Patches, Angel, and even me and Hattie. I pick up slight whiffs of Tool Man, Muffin Lady, and the occasional squirrel, too. And something else—recent scents of Angel’s ball and another short human . . . Zahra.
I pause for a moment and sniff the air. Aha! I get back to work, r
ooting through the grass. That bunny stench is buried in the mixture of all the other smells, but it’s here. And it’s getting stronger.
Nose to the ground, I’m headed toward a cluster of vines near the house when suddenly I stop short. My hind leg is snagged on something, or rather in something. I squirm furiously, whipping my head back for a look.
Angel’s jacket is dangling from the side of a lawn chair. With my paw caught in the pocket.
Talk about an obstacle. But no jacket can keep me from finding the Evil Bunny Gang! I pull. I tug. I must get loose!
I keep on yanking, but it’s no use. All that happens is the jacket’s arm swings and slaps me in the face. “Cut it out!” I bark.
Creeeeaaaaak! The Friend Gate swings open. Somebody’s coming!
There’s no time to lose. I bare my razor-sharp teeth. Chomp! I pull and pull until—r-r-r-rip!
The jacket falls to the grass and I scamper out of it. Whew! I knew my hard work would pay off.
“Fenway!” Hattie’s voice calls. She sounds frantic, yet hushed at the same time. Her footsteps come up behind me.
I’m so close! I can’t let her distract me! With the scent leading the way, I zoom toward the porch and dive into the tangly vines. Somewhere in this sweet, leafy aroma is the smell of Evil Bunnies. I’ve practically found them!
I’ve never been closer! I just need more time to nose around these vines. And then Hattie’s hands close around me and pull me out.
“Hey!” I bark, squirming wildly. “I was in the middle of an important job!”
Hattie steals a worried glance around the ladies’ Dog Park. Is she afraid the Evil Bunny Gang will hear us?
She examines the rip in Angel’s jacket, her eyes huge. “Oh no!” she mutters. She hastily hangs it back on the lawn chair as I thrash in her arms. I must get loose. I was so close to finding those bunnies!
Hattie clutches me to her chest. She smells angry. What’s up with that? If anyone should be angry, it’s me! I’m sure I would’ve found the gang if she hadn’t stopped me! “Put me down!” I bark.
“Shhh,” she murmurs again. We sneak across the grass and slip through the Friend Gate. Which Hattie shuts with a soft click.
Fenway and Hattie and the Evil Bunny Gang Page 6
