Horace & Bunwinkle

by PJ Gardner

  “Wolf! Wolf!” they screamed. And then the smallest one, Gladys, noticed Bunwinkle. She skidded to a halt, tilted her head back, and hollered as loud as she could, “Rhinoceros!”

  There was a brief moment of silence before five other chicks shrieked, “Rhinoceros!” and made a mad dash for the safety of their hutch.

  “What is going on over here?” Eleanor’s voice startled them all.

  Horace had never been so grateful to see his human.

  4

  Dr. Schott

  Winkie didn’t know what to do. Horace was mad at her. Really mad. He wouldn’t talk to her or even look at her. He sat in his seat, a bandage wrapped around his middle, licking his legs. Ellie had taken one look at their injuries and called the vet. That’s where they were headed now.

  She couldn’t blame Horace for being upset. He’d gotten hurt because of her. And he’d gotten in trouble with Ellie. She’d been lecturing them since she started the car.

  Nothing had gone right today. Mean cats. No couch potatoes. Weirdo horses who hated her. Yeah, they’d solved the mystery of the missing keys, but they’d both gotten hurt, which took all the fun out of it.

  Pretty soon they pulled up to the vets’ office. The sign out front read SCHOTT, SCHWINK, & SCHWANK VETERINARY CLINIC.

  “Which one is our doctor?” Winkie leaned close to Horace and asked.

  He frowned and scooted away from her. Winkie didn’t think he was going to answer, but after a few seconds he said, “Dr. Schott.”

  “The vet’s name is Dr. Shot?”

  Horace nodded.

  “No way. Does he . . . does he . . . ?”

  “Give lots of shots?” Horace nodded again. “No one ever gets out of his exam room without at least one. Sometimes as many as four. And he gives them himself. Most vets let their assistants do it, but not Dr. Schott.” He shivered. “Dreadful man.”

  Winkie sank down into her seat. This day just kept getting worse and worse.

  Ellie put Winkie on her leash, but she carried Horace into the building.

  Horace seemed calmer now. He was doing that stiff-upper-lip thing he claimed was a part of his New England heritage. Winkie tried to match him, but it didn’t work. Maybe stiff lips weren’t in her heart-nosed piglet genes.

  The reception area made her feel a little better. There were chairs for the humans and a little play area with toys for the pets.

  “Oh my gosh! Look at these two cuties! They could be twins.” A pretty, young tech set down a box of cookies and rushed around the counter to kneel in front of Winkie. She practically squealed when she saw Winkie’s birthmark. “Look at that little heart.” Then she reached out and booped it.

  Another human who found her adorable. It was going to be difficult for the lady when she found out Winkie already had a home.

  Horace got the lovey-dovey treatment next. The nurse made kissy faces at him and asked, “What are you doing here today?”

  “Well, this one”—Ellie nodded at Horace—“may need stitches. And this one”—she pointed to Winkie—“may have a concussion.”

  “Horace, what’s a combustion?”

  He didn’t answer. He was too busy licking his legs again.

  “Oh, poor babies. We’ll get them in to see Dr. Schott as soon as we can.”

  They went and sat in the waiting area. Winkie wanted to play with the toys, but Ellie wouldn’t let her. “I need you to sit here and behave, little one, while I call the bank real quick.”

  Bummer. Winkie really could go for something to chew. She spotted a rubber ball under Ellie’s chair.

  Horace sat completely still, his eyes focused on a wall covered in flyers. He didn’t say anything when she talked to him. He must be so scared—he wasn’t even licking his legs now. Winkie’s tummy flip-flopped, and she chewed harder on the ball until it popped and Ellie snatched the pieces away from her. There was nothing left to do but stare at the wall of flyers like Horace.

  Hmm, maybe she should practice her reading. Horace said all pets had to know how to read so they wouldn’t get into stuff that was bad for them. She’d been watching a show that taught her letters and words. Now was the time to try it out.

  There were three ads for something called beehive school, two for pet haircuts, and . . . nine missing-animal posters. They were mostly house pets, like dogs and cats, but there was a lost chicken too.

  Nine missing animals seemed like a lot. Hmmm. Something tickled her memory.

  “Horace, do you remember what Smokey said? Wasn’t it about someone stealing animals?”

  No answer.

  “Blink one time for yes and two times for no.”

  Nothing.

  Maybe something was really wrong with Horace. Maybe he had a fever like Andie did in that one episode of Andie’s Adventures. Winkie tried to put her lips on Horace’s forehead, like Andie’s mother had done, but her snout got in the way.

  Oh man, Horace smelled really good—like a mix of cheese and the blankets on the couch at home.

  “Stop. That tickles,” he grumbled through tight lips.

  “Hey, Horace, I’m bored.”

  He harrumphed at her, then went back to staring at the wall. So she did too.

  Winkie had practically memorized the posters by the time Kissy Face Lady called their names. She led them into a room and placed Horace and Bunwinkle side by side on the exam table.

  “Okay, you two, be good,” she said as she left.

  The vet came in a few minutes later.

  He had flaming orange hair that never moved—like a helmet—and big eyes that were always wide open. His smile was super creepy. It spread across his entire face, showing every one of his teeth. The worst part, hooves down, was his voice. It was high-pitched and unnatural, and Winkie could tell he didn’t normally talk like that.

  “Hi there, guys,” he trilled. “What are we here for today?”

  Winkie winced and glanced over at Horace. His eyes were glued to the doctor, and his body was so still, he looked like a statue.

  Dr. Shot bent down and got nose to nose with Horace. “It’s okay, little fella, I’m going to take care of this boo-boo, and before you know it you’ll be out rustling cattle again.”

  Winkie rolled her eyes.

  As soon as Dr. Shot touched him, Horace sprang to life. He wiggled and squirmed and even growled under his breath. Winkie moved to the far end of the table so she didn’t get knocked off.

  “Eleanor, can you hold him still? I can’t check him out when he’s like this.”

  Even with Ellie’s help, it took forever to do the exam. And the longer it took, the more frustrated Dr. Shot got. He stopped using that little-girl voice, and the clown grin never came back.

  “He doesn’t need stitches.”

  Horace sighed with relief.

  “But I’m going to give him a shot of antibiotics just to be safe.”

  Horace tried to escape again, but it was no use. The vet gave him the shot anyway.

  “What a good boy,” Dr Shot said in his little-girl voice. “Yes, you are. Yes, you are.”

  “Why does he talk like that?” Winkie whispered to herself.

  Dr. Shot heard her squeak and seemed to think she was talking to him. He put his face right up to hers. “Oh my goodness, look at this cutie.”

  Winkie scooted back as far as she could without falling off the table. Normally she didn’t mind humans snuggling up to her, but this guy was too much.

  “We love little piggies here! Yes, we do. We even talked about making one our mascot. You’d be perfect, with your little heart.”

  He tapped her snout a little too hard, and she ducked her head before he could do it again.

  “So why is this one here today?” he asked Ellie in a totally normal voice.

  “I’m worried she might have a concussion. A sign fell on her head. It wasn’t very heavy, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

  The doctor nodded and in his human voice said, “Well, let’s take a look.”
He washed his hands with a gel that made Winkie’s nose wrinkle, then grabbed something off the wall. She twisted her head. What did he have? Was it a needle?

  No, it was a light. And he aimed it right into her eyes.

  Agh! Too bright! Winkie squeezed her eyes shut, but that didn’t stop Dr. Shot. He pried open her lids and shone the light again.

  “Be a good girl for Dr. Schott now, or . . .”

  Or what? If she fought him, would he give her a shot? Hmm, maybe it would be better to sit still. Which was exactly what she did while he went back and forth with the light.

  Right eye, left eye.

  Right eye, left eye.

  When he finished, she couldn’t see anything but a bright spot.

  “Good girl,” he chirped in her ear. “Now let’s check for any bumps.”

  He ran his hands over her head, pressing down until it hurt. The bright spot had faded by this point, and she could see his expression clearly. No more smiles. No shiny eyes. He pressed harder, and she yelped. He put his face in front of hers and said in that fake voice, “Sorry, sweetheart.”

  In his normal human voice he said, “She looks fine, Eleanor, but keep an eye on her. If she continues to behave oddly, bring her back in and we’ll do an X-ray.”

  Poor Horace. He had to get a shot, but she didn’t.

  “You know what?” Dr. Shot opened a drawer and pulled out a syringe full of clear liquid. “Why don’t we give Bunwinkle a B12 injection while you’re here. It’s good for overall health.”

  The next thing Winkie knew, she was pinned to the horrible vet’s side, getting a needle in the back of the neck. It didn’t hurt exactly, but it didn’t feel good either.

  When the doctor set her down again, Horace smirked. “I told you. No one gets out of here without a shot.”

  When they left, Winkie practically ran out of the building.

  “Stop it!” Horace griped at her. “I can’t keep up. What with my injured back and all.”

  She rolled her eyes but slowed down.

  They were almost to the car when two little girls ran over.

  “You’ve got a pig!” they giggled. “You’ve got a pig!”

  A woman came running up behind them. “Linn, Nea, you know better than to run away from me in a parking lot. You could’ve been hit by a car.”

  “But Mama, she has a little pig,” the freckled one answered.

  The one with braids giggled again and pointed at Winkie’s snout. “And she’s got a heart on her nose.” Without warning, the girl leaned down and rubbed her nose against Winkie’s heart. “It’s so soft.”

  The girl’s breath smelled delicious. Just like peanut butter cookies.

  Ellie opened the car door and lifted Horace to his seat. He stretched his neck out and whispered, “See if they have cheese.”

  Right. If they had any cheese, Winkie was going to eat it herself.

  “What are you doing here, Clary?” Ellie asked the other woman.

  “Oh, we’re here to get some treats for that old horse of ours. He’s been off his feed, and I’m hoping to find something that will get him to eat.”

  “Poor thing.”

  “Honestly, it’s been so busy at the farm this month. Lars and the boys installed a new misting system, and it took all six of them to get it working.” Then Clary whispered to Ellie, “And now that mountain lion must be back. It made off with a bunch of meat from our smokehouse. I don’t know how it got in. We keep it locked.”

  Suddenly Horace whimpered loudly and everyone turned to him. The girls jumped up and ran to him. “Oh, poor Horace, you look so sad and hurt. You need a treat.”

  The freckled girl pulled a couple of baby carrots from her pocket. Horace’s ears went up and he smacked his lips. The girls broke the carrots into smaller pieces.

  Yes! Winkie loved carrots!

  “Wait, girls, you have to ask if it’s okay first,” Clary said.

  The girl with the braids turned to Eleanor. “Can we, Ms. Higgins?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Yay!” the twins cheered as they held out their hands. “Here, Horace.”

  He ate the carrots up in one bite.

  Winkie’s nose holes flared in anger. Oh, he did that on purpose so she wouldn’t get any. How selfish!

  “Do you want some, piggy?” The one with the braids held out a handful.

  Winkie tapped her hooves.

  “Is it okay if they feed her some carrots?” their mother asked.

  “Sure.”

  The carrots were delicious. Warm and crunchy, just the way Winkie liked them.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Bunwinkle.”

  The girls giggled. “That’s a silly name.”

  From the car Winkie heard a loud snort.

  “Well, girls, we need to get going.” Clary pulled a little bottle of hand gel out of her purse. “Clean your hands.”

  “See you later, Horace. See you later, Bunwinkle.” The twins waved at them.

  “Hey, Horace, what’s a mountain lion?” Winkie asked as she scrambled into the car.

  “It’s a very large cat.” He paused and then added, “They feast on piglet sisters who get others in trouble with the vet.”

  Ellie would protect her, Winkie was sure of it, but it still made her shiver. Then she realized what Horace had said, and she got a big grin.

  “That’s the first time you called me your sister.”

  “Hmpf.”

  Horace was in a bad mood for a whole day after the visit to Dr. Shot. All he wanted to do was watch his favorite show, Dogton Abbey, or sleep.

  “Oh, come on, Horace, I apologized like a million times already,” Winkie said after an especially boring episode.

  He stood up, and she tapped her front hooves real fast.

  “You’re awake! Great.”

  Horace yawned, pawed at the blankets, then lay back down. He smacked his lips a couple of times, and Winkie waited. Maybe he was going to say something. He didn’t. He just went back to watching the TV.

  Winkie blocked his view with her body. “Pay attention to me!”

  “The way you paid attention to me when we were searching for the keys?” he snapped.

  Geez, was he going to stay mad forever?

  “You insisted that we be partners,” Horace continued, “but a partner would have listened. Any creature with manners would have listened, but not you. You had to charge ahead without thinking. It’s like John Adams said, ‘Everything in life should be done with reflection.’”

  “Wait, who’s John Adams?”

  Horace stared at her like she’d grown another ear. “John Adams was the second president of the United States and a very wise man from New England.”

  “What does he have to do with any of this?” Winkie snapped.

  “He said to think before you act.” Horace’s face turned red. “But you never think. That’s why I wound up getting a shot. That is also why I will not investigate with you anymore.”

  Oh, he made her so mad!

  “Hey, I got a shot too. And it was your own fault you got hurt. If you’d let me go through with my plan, nothing bad would’ve happened.”

  He glared at her. “I don’t know why I thought I could train you to be a proper guard pig. You’re nothing but a barnyard animal!”

  Winkie felt like she’d been hit by that big sign all over again. That was the worst thing he’d ever said to her. He didn’t think she was good enough to be a pet.

  “Well . . . I’d rather be a barnyard animal than a big jerk like you!” She made sure to mess up his blankets before jumping off the couch.

  She stopped at the kitchen door and shouted, “And your breath smells like old garbage. I didn’t say anything because I’m nice.”

  With that, she stomped out of the house, making as much noise as she could.

  She stomped across the back porch. She stomped down the stairs. She stomped until her snout hit the fence. She looked up into the deep brown eyes of the alpac
as, and everything came pouring out.

  “You guys wanna be pet-tectives with me? Horace is a butthead and I don’t want to work with him anymore.”

  The alpacas stared at her kindly.

  “He said I was a barnyard animal. And a bad partner. But he’s not so great! All he does is boss me around and watch stupid TV shows. Well, you know what? I don’t need him. I can solve mysteries all by myself. Mysteries like where all those missing animals from the flyers are going, or . . .” She looked around. “Like what’s in that big field across the road? Yeah.”

  They smiled and said something in their special language.

  Winkie smiled back. “Thanks, guys, you’ve really helped. Talk to you later.”

  She marched up the gravel driveway with her head up. She stopped at the road and looked around. No cars. That meant it was safe to cross. She scurried over the road and into the field of tall switchgrass before anyone saw her.

  Time to put her snout to work.

  Up and down the field she sniffed. Horse. Dog. Tractor fuel. Nothing special. Shoot, no clues. Well, that was okay; at least she knew the field was safe. Then she caught a whiff of something strange. Like cat fur, only stronger. And there was something else. Something sweet and . . . maybe the stuff Ellie put on her hands after she milked the goats.

  She heard things too. There was a rustling as someone or something moved through the grass near her. And whispers. Someone was out there, but the grass was so high, she couldn’t tell who it was. What if it was a petnapper? She didn’t want to end up on a flyer. Or . . . what if it was that mountain lion? It would eat her whole, just like Horace said.

  The hairs on her back stood up. This was bad. She was all alone, in a field, with a gigantic cat that wanted to devour her. Her knees shook and her tummy ached. If only she could get home, she’d never go off by herself again. But which way should she go? Everything looked the same from down there.

  She heard it again. Rustling, closer this time.

  Without thinking, she took off running. Where didn’t matter. She just had to get away from whoever was after her. And there was definitely someone there. She could hear them chasing her through the field.

  She should never have come out here by herself. She should’ve stayed on the couch with Horace, even if he was a big meanie.