He thought about it long and hard, hoping to create something terribly clever. Then a cricket chirping in the grass distracted him, and he forgot what he was thinking about. He tried a second time to come up with a plan before swiveling his head to better hear the musical call of a tiny peeper toad in a tree. He lost his train of thought again. Finally, he concentrated very hard, and this time, not interrupted by anything, he came up with a brilliant idea.
Paco hopped onto all fours, pranced up and down for a moment, shook himself to make his dog tags jingle, and with a light heart, headed for the house. The corners of his mouth curled into a wide smile. Happiness made him bounce. He had taken the first step toward fulfilling his dream. And he knew, with absolute certainty and not a glimmer of doubt, that his plan would work.
An hour or two later, Olivia called out, “Paco, come see what Mommy and I got you at the mall!”
Olivia’s cheeks glowed a pretty pink and her brown eyes shone with excitement. In one hand she held up a plastic shopping bag that she shook loudly like a baby’s rattle.
From his place on the seat of the recliner, Paco sleepily open his eyes. Instead of leaping to the floor and running over to see what she had bought (and he wanted to know what was in the bag, he really did), he lazily turned over on his back, put all four legs in the air, and squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could.
Olivia stared in amazement at the unmoving dog. Paco loved presents. She had never seen him act this way before. She turned to her mother. “Do you think Paco’s sick?”
Unnoticed by Olivia, Paco’s forehead furrowed into a frown. Oh no! I can’t let her think I’m sick. She might take me to the vet! He must to do something quickly. He did. He snored. The snore made his whiskers vibrate. He snored again, louder. His cheeks flapped, showing his gums.
“That’s no sick dog.” Mommy’s voice was brisk and no-nonsense. “That’s a dog enjoying a good sleep. He wore himself out at Sandy’s pool today, that’s all.”
“I guess so…” Olivia wasn’t convinced. She couldn’t remember Paco swimming in the pool or running around like B-Boy. She did recall him barking a lot with the other dogs. But could barking wear a dog out?
Finally she shrugged. She thought about how Paco was only a little dog. A very little dog. He must be delicate and easily tired. Pity squeezed her heart. Poor, dear, fragile Paco. Barking was all the exercise he could handle.
“It’s already eight o’clock. Let him get a good night’s rest. He’ll be his old self again in the morning.” Mommy steered Olivia out the door and snapped off the light behind them. The sound of them talking in the hallway reached Paco, who still pretended to be asleep and snored as much as he could.
“And you know what, Livy?”
“What, Mommy?”
“I’m pretty tired too. Let me run a bubble bath, get you into your pajamas, and we’ll read a good book together before we go to bed. Would you like that?”
“Can we read the book about Mole and Ratty and Toad of Toad Hall?”
“Definitely. I never get tired of reading that one.”
Paco heard them move away and start climbing the stairs. Olivia’s fading voice drifted downward.
“Animals can’t really talk, can they, Mommy?”
Mommy laughed. “Only in books, Livy. Only in books.”
As soon as they left, Paco jumped up. He wasn’t the slightest bit sleepy. Excitement hummed through him like a vibrating guitar string. He wanted to howl with happiness. He listened to Olivia and Mommy climb the stairs to the second floor. He heard the bath water running into the tub.
He leaped into action. He ran over to the couch and grabbed a throw pillow in his teeth. He carried it over to the recliner and put it where he slept. Then he ran back to the couch and retrieved the small afghan throw Grammie had knitted. Taking it back to the recliner, he covered the pillow, so that if anyone should glance into the dark room—and he didn’t think anyone would—the bump on the chair cushion would look like a sleeping dog.
Paco felt pleased with himself. So far, so good.
Next, he walked quietly through the kitchen, making sure his nails didn’t go click, click, click on the tiles. He squirmed out the doggy door, taking care that the flap closed gently, without a sound. He went down the steps, stopped for just a brief moment, then marched determinedly toward the far end of the yard where Pewmount had rambled away a few hours before.
Paco knew about the dirt path that zigzagged through the area where the grass was never cut.
All of a sudden, a rabbit scooted out of it, raced across the grass, and disappeared into the high, dense weeds. Paco tensed. Was something else in there?
He gathered his courage and entered the path. Darkness closed in around him. Taking careful steps, he followed the twisting path to a place hidden behind some raspberry bushes. Here, the stone wall around the backyard had crumbled. It made an escape route that led from the safety of home into the wide world beyond.
Paco stopped. All he needed to do now was follow his plan. He could go through this secret exit to the next block, where Coco lived, without going toward the front of the house, where someone might see him. It was a great plan.
But when he had thought it up, Paco had seen only the adventure and the fun. Now, as the small Chihuahua stood alone in the dark night, his heart thumped hard in his chest. He felt nervous. His feet didn’t want to move.
Then Paco squared his shoulders and told himself that Pewmount, who was a very old skunk, often traveled this way. Timid bunnies and worried mice did too.
But Paco never traveled this way, and that made all the difference.
In fact, he had never left the yard before without being in Olivia’s arms or dancing at the end of his leash. Suddenly the world felt very big and he felt…he felt…well, he felt very small.
Yet he would not give up. He reminded himself he had the heart of a lion. Coco had said so, hadn’t she? He pushed past the raspberry brambles. He climbed up and over the tumbled-down stones of the old wall. He told himself it wasn’t hard at all. He looked around.
A narrow, brick-paved alley led between the houses to Elm Street. Paco lifted his chin, took a deep breath, and wagged his tail. He’d be at Coco’s house in no time. There was no reason to be scared.
At that very moment, a movement to his right made him turn quickly. A dark shape came up over the wall behind him. Ay ay ay! Run! his brain commanded.
But it was too late. A heavy weight landed on his back and pushed him flat to the ground.
Paco yelped in terror. His heart fluttered like a trapped butterfly.
Who had grabbed him in the dark?
“Gotcha!” a familiar voice yelled. A very familiar voice.
“Get off me, Norma-Jean!” Paco cried out with a muffled sound—muffled because a gray furry body sat on his head.
“Make me!” the cat laughed.
So Paco did. He nipped at whatever was closest and caught Norma-Jean’s tail with his teeth.
“Ow! That hurts!” the cat complained and jumped off.
Paco scrambled to his feet and saw Little Annie picking her way down the stones to join her sister.
“Where do you think you’re going?” the black cat asked.
“We saw you sneak out of the house,” the gray cat added.
Not wanting to answer, Paco asked a question of his own. “What are you doing out here?”
Norma-Jean rubbed her face with a dainty gray paw. “We always go out at night. It’s when cats prowl. We can see in the dark, you know.”
“But dogs can’t,” Little Annie chimed in. “So what’s the story, half-pint? We know you’re up to something.”
“No, I’m not!”
The two cats exchanged a look that said they didn’t believe Paco, not even a little bit. Then they spoke in perfect unison. “Yes, you are!”
; Little Annie continued, “If you won’t tell us, we’ll just follow you and find out for ourselves.”
“You wouldn’t!” Paco’s voice became very high and tight.
“Oh yes, we would,” Norma-Jean nodded.
“Try us,” Little Annie chimed in.
Paco didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t think up a lie to tell them, not one they’d believe, anyway. He hung his head. He might as well tell the truth. “I’m going to find a werewolf so I can drink rainwater from its footprint and turn into one myself.”
Little Annie rolled her eyes. “That is soooo pathetic. You can’t even tell a convincing story.”
Norma-Jean stared at Paco intently, understanding dropping on her like a hard rain. “I know exactly where you’re going.”
“You do?”
“You’re sneaking out to see your girlfriend.”
“I am?” Paco’s voice became a squeak.
“Why didn’t you just tell us? We’d be glad to help you.”
“You bet we would,” Little Annie agreed.
“Por qué? You’re not even nice to me.”
“Of course we’re not nice to you. What fun would there be in that? But that doesn’t mean we don’t like you.”
“You like me?”
“Well, sure. You’re—you’re—What am I trying to say?” Norma-Jean looked at Little Annie for help.
“You’re family,” Little Annie said.
Paco didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if he could trust these two. He guessed it didn’t matter. He didn’t have a choice. “Well, thanks, I mean, thanks for the thought anyway. I’d better get going. I’ll be back soon, not really late. Way before dawn.”
“We’ll be watching for you,” Norma-Jean said.
“We’ll leave a light on for you,” Little Annie added.
Then the two cats hopped up onto the wall and disappeared over the other side.
I wonder what they’re really planning to do? The thought flew through Paco’s mind and then winged away. He had other things to worry about. He looked down the dark alley, gathered up his courage, and took off at a run toward Elm Street.
Even a difficult journey over the tallest mountains goes downhill half the time.
Getting into Coco’s yard took no effort. Her family used an “invisible” underground electric fence to keep her from straying. Coco was so little inclined to wander that most of the time they forgot to put the shock collar on her. She stayed inside the boundaries anyway. She knew she wasn’t supposed to go any farther, so she didn’t. She was a good dog and never gave anyone a bit of trouble.
Therefore, without encountering either a fence or a wall, Paco scooted into Coco’s backyard. He bounded up the back steps and cautiously put his nose into the doggy door. He sniffed and didn’t smell anyone. He cocked his head and listened for footsteps or voices, and hearing neither, he hopped inside. It was as easy as pie.
Paco softly tiptoed to the edge of Coco’s doggy bed in the kitchen. “Wake up,” he whispered.
Startled, Coco let out a small yip before Paco put a paw to his lips. “Shhhh. It’s just me.”
Coco’s eyes got very wide. “Paco! What are you doing here? It’s still dark out. Is Olivia here too? Has something happened?”
“Shhhh. Keep your voice down. I’m here by myself.”
“You are? But why?” Coco’s heart leaped for joy. She was glad to see Paco, although it was very late at night and totally unexpected.
“I sneaked out of the house. I’m off to see the werewolf.”
“You didn’t! You’re not!”
“I did. I am. And I need you to come with me. You will, won’t you?”
“Of course I will, but—”
“But?”
“How long will it take to find the werewolf? I wouldn’t want my family to wake up and find me gone. They’d be very worried.”
“No problema, muchacha bonita,” Paco grinned. “We will follow the highway out of town to Mount Diablo. It’s only a few miles. The whole trip won’t take more than three hours, there and back again. Maybe four, if we have to hunt for a werewolf footprint. But even then, we’ll be back before dawn.”
Bonita! He called me pretty. That was Coco’s first thought. Then she focused on the rest of what Paco had said. She frowned in concentration. “It’s really quite a long way. More than just a few miles, I believe. We’ll need to take my backpack. We’ll need water if we have to run far. Maybe a snack too. We’ll definitely need a flashlight. Dogs can’t see in the dark, you know.”
“I know that!” Paco felt more than a little put out. The cats had said the same thing. How dumb did everyone think he was? Then a funny, uncomfortable kind of feeling started wiggling around inside his chest. He had never even considered the idea of bringing food and water or a light. He worried that maybe he had forgotten something else important.
While Paco’s worries grew, Coco padded over to the refrigerator. She took two bottles of water from a shelf and a pack of frankfurters from the deli drawer. She might get in trouble for stealing them, but she was willing to take a scolding. If she and Paco didn’t eat them all, she’d put the remaining hot dogs back. Her family might not even notice any were gone.
After getting the food and water onto the floor, Coco pushed the supplies into her backpack, slipped her front paws through the straps, nudged it over her head, and hoisted it onto her back. Then she walked over to the coat-and-hat rack by the back door. She stood up on her hind legs to reach one of the pegs and carefully removed the headlamp Sandy wore when he walked her at night. By squirming about and rubbing on the floor, she managed to slip the elastic band over her own head.
The headlamp perched on her forehead like a frog on a lily pad. “You’ll have to switch the light on for me, Paco. But we won’t need it until we get to the mountain. The highway will be well lit.”
All the while, Paco had paced nervously back and forth. He kept glancing up at the clock on the microwave. “Are you all set, Coco? We need to get started. I want to be at the mountain by midnight.”
“Just one more thing.” Coco went over to the outlet where the invisible electric fence was plugged in. She carefully knocked the switch to off with her nose. Then she looked at Paco and asked, “Why do you want to be there by midnight?”
“Because midnight is a magic hour. If a werewolf is out there on the prowl, he’d be wandering then, don’t you think?”
The two dogs trotted along the wide, white highway that led from town toward the hulking black object that filled the horizon—Mount Diablo. Only an occasional car whizzed past. Whenever one did approach, Coco insisted that they hide in the weeds beyond the berm of the road. This slowed down their progress quite a bit, but Coco said she didn’t want a good Samaritan to stop, thinking they were lost. Or something, she murmured, not wanting to suggest that a not-so-good Samaritan might want to catch them and steal them.
Coco was wise beyond her years.
Yet as long as they ran along the highway, the two dogs, one big and brown, one small and black, made good progress and didn’t get very tired. Fewer and fewer cars passed them. Pretty soon, only huge semis rumbled by on the wide, white interstate. Sometimes Paco glimpsed the faces of dogs peering out the truck windows as they rode along in the cabs. The big rigs seemed in too much of a hurry to even slow down. After a while, Coco and Paco didn’t bother hiding from them and were able to travel faster.
The waxing moon rose. Since it would be full in just a few days, even dogs could see quite well in the bright moonlight. Paco’s confidence grew. His plan was working just as he had imagined. Perhaps he hadn’t forgotten anything else at all.
After trotting along for an hour or maybe a little longer, they reached the foothills in front of the great, dark mountain. Here, the highway suddenly turned sharply to the right, away from Mount Diablo. Two smaller
roads continued toward the mountain, one heading toward the eastern side; one leading to the western side.
At this fork in the road, neither route was marked “Werewolf This Way.”
But the dogs didn’t hesitate long before deciding which one to take.
Why? Because only one of the roads was white.
At this fork in the road, the route that was paved with tar and asphalt twisted to the left into a murky forest and disappeared. The road that was made of crushed white quartz sparkled in the moonlight and led uphill through open fields.
“This has to be the way,” Paco pointed to the uphill road. He was puffing a little bit since he had to take two steps to keep up with every one of Coco’s.
Trotting along, and quite enjoying the outing with her very best friend in the whole world, Coco smiled. “Yes. And I don’t even have to use the headlamp. We can see very well. But Paco—”
“What, Coco?” Puff, puff, puff.
“When was the last time it rained?”
“Rained?” Puff, puff. “The day before yesterday, I think. Livy always puts on my red rubber boots when it rains. Sí, it rained two days ago, I’m sure. Por qué?”
“Didn’t you say that you have to drink rainwater out of the werewolf’s footprint?”
“Sí, sí. I did.” More puffing.
“What if we find a footprint and there’s no rainwater in it?”
Paco slowed his pace. He caught his breath. Doubt attacked him like a swarm of mosquitoes.
Coco realized her friend had fallen behind. She turned around. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t think of that.” Paco’s mouth drooped in an unhappy frown. He stopped walking. “Maybe the footprints will be dry, and we’ve come all this way for nothing.” He sat down on the side of the white road, his head hanging.
Coco looked up. No clouds stretched misty fingers across the heavens. The night sky was so clear she could see the face of the man in the moon on the bright lunar surface. “It’s not going to rain tonight.” She paused in thought for a moment. “But it did rain very hard two days ago. There’s a chance some water might remain in a footprint.”
Chihuawolf Page 3