PeeWee and Plush

by Johanna Hurwitz

  Squiggles are what Lexi calls words. I’ve tried teaching him how to read, but he is far too restless to sit still long enough to master even a single letter of the alphabet. Plush, on the other hand, who quickly learned all of the uppercase letters, was eager to learn more.

  I went under a bush to study this new piece of literature. The information inside was not of much interest: mostly about cosmetics (that funny red coloring that human women put on their lips and the black that surrounds their eyes), and how to lose weight (why would an animal want to do that?). There were lots of terrible pictures in the magazine too. I saw page after page of women wearing long coats or jackets made out of animal pelts. I shuddered at the thought, even though I knew guinea pigs are so small that no human would ever attempt to take our skins to make a piece of clothing.

  But then something else in these pictures caught my attention. They were all well covered. There were woolen scarves, like the one that Plush and I had on the floor of our home, covering their throats. The people even had coverings on their hands and sturdy-looking shoes on their feet. But most significant of all, the people were standing on mounds of something white. There were piles of the white stuff all around them. It looked just like clouds, but whoever heard of clouds on the ground?

  Plush looked over my shoulder. She pointed to a letter P and identified it. Then she laughed. “What strange pictures,” she said.

  “Yes,” I agreed. “I wonder if Lexi ever saw anything like this before?”

  Later that morning when Lexi came by, I had a chance to ask. “What does this picture mean?” I inquired.

  Lexi jumped right into the middle of the magazine page. “Snow!” he announced. “Those pictures show you what winter looks like.”

  “You mean the clouds come onto the ground in winter?” I asked, puzzled.

  “Not clouds,” he said. “First, tiny white flakes come from the sky. Then more and more. They settle on the ground and pile up on top of one another. Before you know it there can be several inches or even more.”

  “It looks pretty,” observed Plush.

  “Pretty, yes,” agreed Lexi. “But also cold. Snow is very, very cold.”

  “That’s just like the poem,” exclaimed Plush. And then together we recited the words “The north wind doth blow, / And we shall have snow.”

  After a pause, I asked Lexi another question, although I was afraid I knew the answer. “When does winter begin. When does it snow?” I asked.

  “Here in the park, we begin to feel the pinch and pain of winter when it is the Beaver Moon. I believe humans call that time November.”

  It was just as I’d feared.

  “Winter sounds terrible,” said Plush. “Will it be here soon?”

  “It always comes sooner than we want it,” said Lexi. “But there are many moons until it arrives.”

  I moved over to Plush and rubbed against her. “Don’t worry about winter,” I said to her. “We’ll make a plan and the winter will not harm us.”

  “Yes, we’ll put our heads together and think of something,” she agreed.

  I worried that it would take more than our two small heads to come up with one good plan.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A Trip to the Zoo

  The weather was beautiful. The park was lush and green and filled with wonderful things to eat. Plush and I grew closer than ever. Every day was full of fun and yet, I was not completely happy. The poem by Thomas Hood and Lexi’s description of winter began to haunt me. I thought about that coming season when I lay in my hole in the dark of the night.

  No sun—no moon!

  No morn—no noon!

  How those words made me shiver. I thought of them whenever a cloud hid the sun during the day. I knew there was no way to prevent winter from coming. But I didn’t have a plan to protect Plush and me when the cold months arrived.

  I turned to Lexi for advice. He’d lived in the park his entire life and had already survived the snow. “What can we do to get through the winter?” I asked him.

  “That’s a good question.” He scratched himself thoughtfully. “All creatures have a winter plan, but what is the guinea pig’s plan? I don’t think you can play in the snow like us squirrels. And a deep snowfall could cover the entrance to your hole. You might not be able to dig your way out for days. Especially if the snow turns to ice.”

  “Ice?” I said, and a shiver went through my body. Why was it winter was filled with so many things I’d never known about? “What do other creatures do?” I asked.

  “Many birds fly south,” said Lexi. “That’s their plan. It’s a long way to go. I’m glad to stay right here.”

  I didn’t know where south was. “How far away is south?” I asked.

  “Farther than even I could get if I ran for days and days,” Lexi replied.

  Oh no, I thought to myself. What would take Lexi days of running would take Plush and me forever. “Is there anything else you can suggest?” I asked him.

  “You could always hibernate,” he said.

  “Hibernate? What’s that?”

  “Sleep,” said Lexi. “Some warm-blooded animals go into a long sleep during the cold weather. They live off the fat in their bodies until spring comes. You could always do that.”

  Sleep through all the moons of winter? It sounded very boring to me. I didn’t think I would like that at all. And I wasn’t sure Plush would want to do that either.

  “Oh, well, don’t worry about that now,” said Lexi. “Enjoy the summer moons while they’re here.”

  If only it was that easy. Plush seemed to think everything would work out because she began talking to me about raising a family here in the park. I knew this meant that she truly had grown to care for me and to trust me if she was willing to accept me as her mate. It showed she thought I’d be able to care for her and our babies. If only I could feel confident that this was true.

  It takes about seventy days for baby guinea pigs to grow inside the mother. Right now we were late in the period animals referred to as Thunder Moon, but humans called July. So we couldn’t expect to become parents until the Hunter’s Moon, which is mid-October. Well, we couldn’t just sit around thinking about it. So we kept busy to pass the time.

  I suggested to Plush that we go and visit the zoo. I thought of it first as a place where Plush had never been before. But then it occurred to me that while we were there, I might learn how other animals survive through the winter.

  I called up to Lexi and invited him to join us in our expedition.

  “Maybe I’ll meet you there later,” he called down to me from his perch.

  That made sense. He preferred to travel at his own speed. After all, he could make the trip to the zoo in a quarter of the time it would take Plush and me to get there.

  We started out at dawn the next day. The zoo is located in the southern end of the park, in the opposite direction from the Great Lawn. To get there we had to travel quite a distance. The entire park is a great lawn to creatures as small as Plush and me. Still, I had told her a lot about what to expect, and Plush was eager to make the trip.

  “I thought I saw all the animals in the world when I lived in the pet shop,” she told me.

  “You didn’t see any squirrels there,” I reminded her.

  “That’s true. But there were turtles and cats, dogs of all sizes, many birds, mice, gerbils, hamsters, fish,” she listed for me.

  “But you never saw a bear, did you? Or a sea lion?”

  “What are they like?” asked Plush.

  “Bigger than the biggest dog you ever saw; as big as the horses we saw last week that were trotting through the park,” I told her.

  “How could a cage be that big?” asked Plush. She was thinking of her cage home in the pet shop, which was very small.

  “Cages come in all sizes,” I informed her.

  The zoo opens every day at ten in the morning. It closes at five. One of the advantages of being a guinea pig was that we could enter and leave when we wish
ed. We weren’t limited to human hours. We didn’t have to wait in line or buy a ticket either!

  At the entrance to the zoo there is a big sign: Central Park Wildlife Center—Black Tie Optional. Underneath the words was a picture of an animal that I recognized from my previous visits to the zoo. It was a penguin.

  “What does that sign say?” Plush asked me after she tried unsuccessfully to read it for herself.

  I didn’t understand what the words Black Tie Optional meant, but since Plush couldn’t correct me, I guessed. “It says, ‘All are welcome.’ That’s why it’s so crowded here,” I explained.

  There were many groups of children accompanied by adults. They were all so busy looking at animals inside the cages that no one noticed a pair of small animals at their feet. Nevertheless, Plush and I took care to spend most of our time hidden behind bushes or in shady corners where we weren’t noticed.

  We arrived just before 11:30 A.M., which is when the zookeepers feed the three sea lions: Scooter, April, and Seaweed. They caught the small fish that were thrown to them and swallowed them whole. The children and adults applauded when one of the sea lions made a catch. But Plush and I agreed that we wouldn’t be so happy swallowing our food whole. In the first place, guinea pigs need to bite and chew to keep their teeth from getting too long. And what about taste? If you swallowed everything whole you’d never be able to taste anything at all!

  I kept busy reading all the signs aloud to Plush. I was proud to show off my talent. “Snow monkeys live in troops of ten to eight hundred” I read aloud, although I could only see three inside the cage. They were busy scratching themselves.

  “That’s just like Lexi and his squirrel relatives,” Plush pointed out. I’m not sure if she was referring to the scratching or the large family unit.

  We moved on. There was lots of shrubbery in the zoo, so we always felt protected. Plush was stunned by the size of the giant polar bears. “They are the largest land-based carnivores in the world,” I told her.

  “What are carnivores?” asked Plush.

  “Meat eaters.”

  “Are we meat?” she asked anxiously.

  “No,” I told her. “We’re guinea pigs, we’re rodents, we’re mammals, but we’re not meat.” It was a lie. Of course we’re meat, but what was the sense in alarming her? I read aloud the list of foods that polar bears eat: “. . . mice, lemmings, hares, waterfowl, seabirds and their eggs, mussels, fish, carrion. . . .”

  “Oh, you’re right. The list doesn’t say guinea pigs,” said Plush with relief, “though a nearsighted polar bear might mistake us for hairy mice.”

  “In nature, polar bears live in very cold climates where guinea pigs would never exist. Only in a large zoo like this one can you find such a range of diverse animals from different climates,” I pointed out. “Besides there are thick glass walls between us and the bears.”

  Plush kicked the glass wall in front of her with one of her front feet. Nothing happened. “You’re right,” she said. “We’re safe out here.”

  I heard parents pointing out to their children that there were blocks of ice in the polar bear enclosure. “They don’t like hot summer days like this,” a father said.

  It was only then that it occurred to me that none of the zoo animals had to worry about the coming of winter. If the zoo arranged to keep polar bears cool in warm weather, certainly the opposite would be done too. Animals that couldn’t survive in winter’s snow would have heated cages when the weather became cold. I stood looking at the polar bears and felt miserable. I’d been so hoping that I could learn something at the zoo that would help Plush and me.

  Plush was so busy looking at everything that she was unaware that my mood had changed. She ran from area to area and I followed close behind. She wanted to see everything. The section of the zoo that most interested Plush was the rain-forest exhibit. We waited until someone pushed the door open and scooted inside. The zookeepers had created an environment that was many degrees warmer than outside. There were colorful birds flying overhead and strange plants that I’d never seen before. Even the rich, earthy smells were new to us. We hid inside a hollow log. It was dark in the log, but I could see Plush’s eyes shining brightly.

  “PeeWee?” she asked. “Is the zoo open year-round?”

  “Yes, it is,” I told her. “We can come back whenever you want. You really seem to like it here.”

  “I do. I do. And I’ve had a wonderful thought,” she told me. “I remember what Lexi told us about the cold moons of winter that come every year. I also overheard some birds talking. They say snow and ice cover the ground and it’s hard to find food. They say some animals freeze in the cold. But if this area is open, we could come and hide in here. No one would know we were here except the animals and birds who live in this rain forest. I’m sure they wouldn’t object if we paid them an extended visit.”

  I looked at her with amazement. “Plush, you’re brilliant!” I exclaimed. She was absolutely right. This area could serve as our barn. It was a plan that could help us survive even the worst weather ahead.

  The zoo signs said that the rain-forest occupants came from many places like West Africa, New Guinea, Southeast Asia, and South America. And since once upon a time, all guinea pigs lived in South America, I realized that we’d feel right at home in here. Perhaps the red-crested cardinals and the bay-headed tanagers flying above us, who came from South America, could tell us something about the land of our ancestors.

  I think Plush was ready to move into the rain forest right then and there. But it was still summer outside, and so I urged her to follow me to the exit. “Lexi may be looking for us,” I reminded her.

  Outside, the bright sunlight blinded us briefly. We regained our normal vision just a moment too late for, suddenly, a small hand snatched Plush right off the ground.

  “Mommy, Mommy, look what I found,” a child’s voice called out.

  I didn’t know what to do. And before I could think of something, Lexi landed at my feet with a thud. Then he took another leap and jumped onto the shoes of the child who was holding Plush. Startled, the child dropped my companion and ran to her mother.

  “Quickly, hide!” I called to Plush. She ran with me into a bush.

  “A squirrel jumped on me,” we heard the child whining to her mother.

  “Don’t be silly, sweetie,” said the mother. “Squirrels are busy looking for nuts. Come, let’s buy some ice cream.”

  The mother took the child’s hand and using her other hand pushed a carriage with a smaller child inside.

  “Are you all right?” I asked Plush anxiously.

  “Yes, yes,” she said. “I was held by many children in the pet shop. But none of them ever dropped me before,” she said, licking her sore feet.

  Lexi crawled into the bush beside us. “Good timing?” he asked proudly.

  “Good timing,” I agreed. I hated to think what could have happened if Lexi had not arrived at the very moment that he did.

  “Wait here,” he told us. “I had my eye on a great treat before I was interrupted by that child.”

  Plush and I were not in a hurry to leave our safe spot, and so we waited. Two minutes later, Lexi returned dragging a paper bag still half filled with popcorn.

  “This will keep us busy,” he said.

  “You’re a great friend, Lexi,” I responded gratefully.

  Lexi didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. His mouth was filled with popcorn.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Summer Days

  And so our days passed. Most were calm, filled with birdsong and succulent meals. Occasionally there was a moment of panic, like when the child grabbed Plush or when I almost had my leg severed by a toddler on a tricycle who made an unexpected detour through the grass. But the longer we lived in the park, the more clever Plush and I were about keeping our whereabouts hidden from the humans.

  We attended La Traviata, which appealed to me no more than the first opera. Once again the singers insisted on singing in
Italian even though I’m certain most of the audience didn’t know a word of that language. But it was worth sitting through the entire opera just to make Plush so happy. And of course there was another sumptuous feast after the event was over.

  There were no more operas after that, but signs announced two concerts.

  “Music by Beethoven, Mozart, and Schubert. Do you like that?” I said to Plush, reading from a sign. So many unusual names, I thought.

  “I enjoy all classical music,” she told me.

  There were also a couple of performances of Shakespearean plays. I must confess that most of the plays went over my head. But as Lexi was quick to point out, when the plays were over, much went into my head—by way of my mouth. All of these special events in the park meant rich meals for the animal residents.

  Plush began to talk more about our future family. Guinea pigs are not much for dancing, but I always danced for joy when she discussed our unborn children.

  Lexi was less impressed. “Male squirrels don’t get so excited about their offspring,” he told me.

  “In some species of animals, the fathers are separated from the babies because they might cause them harm,” Plush told me. “I learned about that at the pet shop when they put the male gerbils and male rabbits in separate cages from their offspring.”

  “I would never hurt our children,” I promised Plush.

  “I know,” she said confidently.

  I glowed. It was hard to believe there was a time when she didn’t trust me.

  August is a wonderful month in the park. There was the lush growth of leaves everywhere providing us with an endless meal. And there were wild raspberries and delicious roots to eat as well. On some days it rained, but that was all right. We had the choice of reading in our cozy hole or playing outside even if it meant getting wet. The rain was warm, and it cleaned the dust and dirt from our hair. Afterward, back in the hole, we groomed each other.