Horace & Bunwinkle

by PJ Gardner

  Eight always won. She was the Cleaned Up world champion.

  She wiggled her bottom in excitement. Bub narrowed his eyes at her. “On second thought, let’s try something different.”

  He went into the barn and came out with a metal tub, just the right size to fit a piglet. “You’re getting a bath.”

  Baths were awesome! As long as she kept her snout out of the water. She’d learned the hard way that water up the nose holes really burned.

  After her bath, Bub put her into a new pig harness. It was black with little pink hearts, and it matched her nose perfectly. She couldn’t wait for her new family to see how adorable she was.

  Eight parked herself next to the door of the barn and stared up the road. She waited and watched, then watched and waited. It was very boring.

  She flopped down on the ground. Where were they? Something to chew on, that’s what Eight needed right now. She rooted around in the hay and found a treat. It crunched like wood but it didn’t taste like wood. It tasted like . . . Eleven’s ears. Yuck.

  Just then a big car pulled into the driveway. A woman got out, and a little pig hopped out behind her. Her family!

  Eight dropped her treat and raced over.

  “Hey! Hey!”

  As she got closer, Eight got a better look at her new sister pig. Only it wasn’t a sister and it wasn’t a pig. It was a boy dog with a squashed face and a frown as big as the barn.

  “You’re not a pig!”

  “You’re not a dog!” they said at once.

  Boy Dog sniffed. Then he curled his nose up. “Of course I’m not a pig. I’m a Boston Terrier, the noblest breed of dog in America.”

  “What’s a breed?”

  “It’s what makes you different from others of your kind. You see how I’m black and white and I have a distinguished profile? I’m essentially the perfect example of my breed.”

  Eight nodded. That made sense.

  “So I must be a heart-snout pig. Because that’s what makes me different.”

  “That’s not at all what I meant,” Boy Dog said. “Actually, I don’t have time to chat—we’re here to adopt someone.”

  “Hey, I’m getting ’dopted today too!”

  Suddenly Bub plucked Eight off the ground and held her close to his body.

  Eight wiggled and squirmed. She hated being picked up. It freaked her out being so far away from the ground. Pigs were land creatures.

  “Well, here she is.” Bub rubbed the top of her head as he spoke.

  “Oh, you’re precious, aren’t you? And you’ve got that little heart on your nose.” The woman gently ran a finger over Eight’s birthmark.

  Eight stopped moving. The lady’s touch was so soft, it tickled. It tickled a lot.

  “Aaachoo!”

  Nice Lady laughed and wiped her hand on her pants. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset your snout.”

  “Like I told you on the phone, she’s had all her shots and she’s been spayed, so you won’t have to worry about that. She was the runt of the litter, so I don’t reckon she’ll get very big. But she will get bigger. And heavier.”

  “I figured as much. Piglets don’t stay piglets forever. Right, sweet girl?” The woman ran her hand down Eight’s back, then started rubbing one of her ears.

  Ooo, that felt good. No one had ever done that before. Eight tilted her head to the side to enjoy it better.

  Bub nodded. “You’ll have to regulate her food. Pigs don’t know when to stop.”

  Not true. Eight knew when to stop. She just didn’t want to.

  The nice lady leaned in until they were nearly snout to nose. She smelled delicious, and that trick with the ear was awesome. Something in the woman’s big brown eyes made Eight feel all soft and warm inside too.

  “What do you think, sweetness? Would you like to come home with us?”

  There was a gasp from Boy Dog’s direction.

  Eight sighed loudly.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Nice Lady said, holding out her arms.

  Bub handed Eight over.

  “I figured you two would hit it off. I’ll go print up the paperwork. Now what should I put down for the name?”

  Nice Lady lifted Eight and looked her in the eyes. Eight didn’t mind being so far off the ground when her new human held her up. A moment later a big grin spread across the lady’s face.

  “I think it has to be Bunwinkle.”

  Boy Dog snorted. But the piglet formerly known as Eight grinned. She had a name. A real name.

  Things went fast after that. Bub put Bunwinkle into the back seat of Nice Lady’s car and rubbed his hand under her chin.

  “You’re going to a good home, little one, so behave.”

  Poor Bub. He was totally going to miss her. He had a big smile on his face, but Bunwinkle could tell he was sad. He was probably going to cry after they left. She nibbled on his hand to let him know it would be all right.

  “That’s enough of that,” he said, pulling his hand away.

  As he closed the door next to her, the other door opened. Nice Lady plopped Boy Dog on the seat.

  “Why don’t you ride back here, Horace. I want you to watch out for your sister pig. She’s going to need your help settling in when we get home.” She grinned at them. “I swear, you two could be twins.”

  Bunwinkle looked over at Boy Dog. “We’re not twins.”

  He slumped down on the seat. “I know.”

  “’Cause you’re a dog and I’m a pig.”

  “Correct,” he said. Then he muttered under his breath, “What was Eleanor thinking? Adopting a pig.”

  “Hey, what’s wrong with adopting a pig?” Bunwinkle asked.

  “Well, you see, pigs are not pets. They’re barn animals, plain and simple. Which means I am going to have another animal to watch over and no one to help me protect my human.”

  “I can be a protector.”

  “I don’t think so. You’re far too little.”

  Bunwinkle hopped up on her feet and glared at Boy Dog. “I am not!”

  He looked down his muzzle at her. “Really? You really think you can follow the Guardian Creed? ‘Ask not what your human can do for you—ask what you can do for your human.’”

  “You made that up.”

  “I’ll have you know John F. Kennedy said that.”

  “Who’s that?” She glared at him. “Some dog you hang out with?”

  Horace huffed. “He was not a dog. He was president of the United States. He came from New England, just like I do. However, if he had been a dog, he definitely would have been a Boston Terrier.”

  She tilted her head to the side and pretended to be asleep.

  “Oh, never mind,” he said, settling into the seat. He pawed at it, turned around three times, then plopped down with his back to Bunwinkle. As soon as they were on the road, he started licking his legs.

  She watched him for a while. Long licks, over and over.

  Bunwinkle shook her head. “You’ve got the lick-a-lots real bad.”

  “I most certainly do not. I’m merely cleaning myself.” He gave her a snooty look.

  “Whatever.”

  Too bad Nice Lady hadn’t brought one of the other pigs with her instead of him. That reminded her. “So are the kids and the other pigs at home?”

  Boy Dog stopped licking his legs and stared at her. “There are no children or creatures such as yourself at the Homestead.”

  “It’s just you and me?” Bunwinkle’s shoulders dropped.

  “Not exactly.”

  “How’s it going back there?” Nice Lady called from the front seat. “Horace, you’d better not be licking your legs.”

  He jumped up and put on an innocent face. Bunwinkle giggled. Boy Dog wasn’t a very good liar.

  “Wait, is that your name? Horace?”

  “Actually, I’m a Higgins, like Eleanor. My full name is Horace Homer Higgins III.”

  “Horse Hoser Hiccups a Bird?” Bunwinkle frowned. “Are you sure that’s a real na
me? It sounds kinda goofy.”

  Horace sat up straight and looked down his nose at her. “It’s Horace Homer Higgins III, and I assure you it’s a real name. Much better than yours, I must say.”

  “What are you talking about? Bunwinkle is a great name. It’s the best. It’s just long. That’s all. I need a nickname. Like . . . maybe . . . Winkie. Yeah, call me Winkie.”

  “Completely ridiculous.” He sniffed. “Your name is Bunwinkle, and that is what I will call you. Just as I call Eleanor by her proper name and not Ellie or some other nonsense.”

  Winkie’s ears perked up. “Is that Nice Lady’s name? Ellie? I like it!”

  Horace shook his head and turned away from her. “Hopeless.”

  Winkie ignored him. She put her hooves on the door handle and looked out the window. Whoa, everything was super blurry. Even blurrier than usual. She leaned her snout against the window and watched the blur until she got dizzy. Awesome!

  “Want some fresh air, Bunwinkle?”

  Suddenly, the window rolled down. Magic! It stopped about halfway from the bottom.

  “Awww.” Winkie frowned. “I wanted it to go all the way down.”

  She tapped the window with her snout and caught the scent of something. A bunch of somethings, actually. So she stuck her snout out the window. New smells shot up her nose holes, one right after another. She tried to count them, but there were too many.

  “Wow! I can smell the whole world!”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  Winkie turned to see Horace staring at her with a horrified look on his face.

  “You’ll be sick,” he said.

  “Nuh-uh, I feel great.”

  That wasn’t totally true. Her stomach did feel weird. Grumbly and rumbly. Like she needed to throw up.

  And that’s exactly what she did.

  Winkie kept her head down while Ellie wiped off the back seat. What a mess! She’d promised Bub she’d be a good girl, but she’d already goofed up. What if Horace was right? What if she wasn’t meant to be a pet?

  “It’s okay, baby girl.” Ellie bent down and rubbed her nose across Winkie’s snout. “Horace used to get carsick all the time. Didn’t you, Horace?”

  Horace couldn’t hear her, though. As soon as Winkie had thrown up, he’d jumped into the front seat and buried his face in Ellie’s jacket.

  Soon enough, they were back on the road. The windows were still open in the back, but only a little bit. Horace shoved his nose deep into the fabric, grumbling about having a sensitive sniffer. Winkie didn’t know what to do, so she copied him. She stuck her snout into the car seat and found an old french fry.

  “Look, Horace!”

  He looked up with a frown. His expression changed when he saw what she had.

  “I don’t think you should eat that. Might upset your stomach. Perhaps I should hold it for you.” He smacked his lips.

  Winkie leaned over to give him the fry, then stopped. “You’re just saying that because you want to eat it.”

  Horace made a hmph noise. “Don’t blame me if you get sick again.”

  “I won’t,” she said, taking a bite of fry. Normally, she would have gobbled it up, but Horace was right. She didn’t want to risk throwing up again.

  “Okay, gang, we’re home,” Ellie announced as she pulled into the driveway of a small farm.

  A warm, bubbly feeling spread through Winkie’s chest. Home. She had a real home now. And she wanted to see all of it. As soon as Ellie set her down, she raced toward the barn. She knew that’s what it was because it was so big.

  “Wait!” Ellie called. “You’re not going to stay in there, baby girl. You’re in the house with Horace and me.”

  Winkie turned around, a huge smile on her face. Ellie really wasn’t mad at her about the thing in the car! She still wanted her to be a part of the family.

  “Come on.” Ellie waved at her. “Come see your new home.”

  The house was awesome! Everything was made of wood, which meant she’d have stuff to chew on forever. And there was this scratchy material that felt great when she rubbed her head on it.

  “Here’s your bed.” Ellie pointed to a fluffy purple thing on the floor. “Right across from Horace’s.”

  Horace harrumphed again.

  Then Ellie led them into the kitchen. “And this is your food dish.”

  Food!

  Winkie rushed to the bowl, ready to dig in, but it was empty.

  Her stomach twisted and grumbled. Bummer. After getting sick in the car, she was kinda hungry, and that french fry hadn’t been enough. There was another rumble from her body, but this time it was further down. Uh-oh.

  “Horace! Horace! Where do I go?” Something told her pets didn’t relieve themselves in the house.

  He frowned at her. “Where do you . . .” Suddenly his eyes got big. “Whatever you do, don’t do it in here. Follow me.”

  He ran over to a small flap in the door and disappeared through it. Winkie did the same thing. At least she tried to. She ran at the door like Horace did, but her feet got caught on the bottom and she tripped, tearing the metal frame of the doggie door clean off. Her body rolled out of control until she crashed into a flowerpot. Before Winkie could get to her feet, she had an accident of a different kind right there on the porch.

  Oh no. Ellie would definitely be mad now. Super mad. Mad enough to decide piglets belong in barns, not houses. Or worse, send her back to Bub.

  Winkie’s whole body burned with embarrassment. Tears sprang up. She closed her eyes to stop them, but they spilled out anyway.

  Something gently touched her head. It was probably Ellie getting ready to take her to take her to the barn. Winkie opened her eyes, to find Horace patting her with his paw.

  “There, there. It’s just a little . . . mishap.” He cleared his throat. “Eleanor will get you cleaned up in no time.”

  Horace knew Cleaned Up?

  A moment later Ellie rushed over with a roll of paper towels. “Oh, baby girl, you’ve had a rough day.”

  Winkie sniffled. Ellie wasn’t mad. Neither was Horace. Maybe everything would be okay after all.

  3

  Pet-Tectives

  Horace didn’t care for weeping. It was so . . . undignified. He would have turned away, but Eleanor had asked him to watch over the piglet, and watch over her he would. However, the more Bunwinkle cried, the more he wanted to lick the tears away. Of course, that wasn’t an option, as Bunwinkle was covered in potting soil and other unmentionable things.

  Fortunately, her tears dried quickly. Except for the hiccups shaking her body every few seconds, the little pig seemed to be back to her normal self.

  Well, not quite her normal self. She hadn’t said a word since the incident, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes either.

  “I’m sorry I broke your door thingy. I’ll be carefuler next time.” She sniffed. “If Ellie even lets me stay in the house.”

  His chest felt tight all of a sudden. “Of course she will. Pets always stay in the house.”

  Bunwinkle hopped up, a huge smile on her face. “You really think so? You’re so nice, Horace! I’m glad you’re my brother.”

  He cleared his throat. “Let’s not get carried away.”

  She wasn’t terrible. Not really. She was simply young and inexperienced. He watched her bounce down the stairs, nearly missing the last one and crashing again. Perhaps with training she could become a decent pet, perhaps even a guard pig. She simply needed a wise and dignified individual, who knew the importance of proper grooming and decorum, to guide her.

  Eleanor took the paper towels and such to the trash and returned with the hose.

  “Okay, time to get you cleaned up.”

  “Come on, Horace, we’re going to play Cleaned Up!” Bunwinkle bounced up and down, squealing, until Eleanor turned the hose on her. She giggled as she repeatedly fell to the ground.

  Horace watched the little pig with wonder. A moment ago she’d been sobbing, and now she was as happy as co
uld be.

  “You know, a pet would never get so dirt—”

  “What’s the matter, baby boy, feeling left out?” Eleanor laughed and aimed the hose at him.

  Horace scrambled to the far end of the porch. Rolling around in the mud was a dreadful idea. His sniffer would get clogged and then he’d be unable to detect any predators. Completely unsafe. Besides, Boston Terriers were not mudders. They did not enjoy filth.

  “Oh, don’t be so stuffy,” Eleanor called after him.

  He was not stuffy. He was on guard.

  Eleanor aimed the hose at him again, leaving him no choice but to return to the house. Training would have to wait until Eleanor and the piglet were through being silly, and they would just have to protect themselves.

  He snuggled into the blankets of his napping spot on the couch and inspected his legs for mud. He didn’t find any, but it would probably be wise to clean his legs anyway. He was on lick number eighty-seven when a cold, wet snout touched his forehead.

  “Found you!” Bunwinkle giggled and then scrambled onto the couch. She pressed her damp body against his. “Ooo, you’re warm.”

  Here was a teaching moment. “You know, Bunwinkle, it’s impolite for a pet to—”

  “Look at you two, all cuddled up together.” Eleanor grinned and pulled out her phone. “I have to get a picture of this.”

  Horace scowled. At this rate he would never be able to train Bunwinkle.

  The photo shoot was interrupted by a loud crash from outside. Horace’s ears shot up, and Bunwinkle hopped to her feet.

  The smile fell from Eleanor’s face. “That didn’t sound good.” She grabbed her jacket. “You two stay put. I don’t want to have you underfoot while I’m dealing with whatever this is. Here.” She picked up the television remote. “Why don’t you watch something?”

  With a troubled heart, Horace watched her walk out the back door. He should be protecting her. But if he followed, so would the piglet, and she’d definitely get in Eleanor’s way.

  Suddenly Bunwinkle gasped, “Food!” She jumped down from the couch and raced toward the entertainment center. She stood on her hind legs and pressed her snout against the television.