“You can’t go where I’m going,” I tell her.
Eduardo cocks his head.
“He wants to know why not,” Tito says.
I don’t know what to say. I can’t tell the bush dogs that Josh and I could never fit four more dogs in our house. That would be rude.
Crash!
Suddenly, I hear a loud noise. The ground shakes. I shake. It’s the scariest sound I’ve ever heard.
“Oh no!” Anahi exclaims. “There goes another one.”
“Another what?” I ask her.
Eduardo looks up.
“Tree,” Tito tells me.
“The two-legs keep knocking them down and flattening the land,” Maria says. “I don’t know what they do with all those trees. But I do know a bunch of birds just lost their home.”
That’s so sad. I don’t know what I’d do if someone knocked down my house.
CRASH!
“Stop knocking down birds’ houses!” I shout to the metal machines. They don’t answer. Metal machines don’t talk.
But they do knock down trees. I don’t want to be here when they do that again. So I run toward the tall, tall tree that stands near where I buried my bone.
Run. Run. Run.
Fast. Faster . . .
Oh no! This is baddy, bad, bad!
The tree is gone. All the trees are gone. So are the plants. There’s nothing here but flat, smooth dirt. “Where’s the tall, tall tree?” I ask nervously. “It was here before.”
“It could have been the tree we heard fall,” Tito tells me.
“Or one of the other ones,” Maria says. “See? The metal machines knocked them all down.”
I look around. Sure enough, there are lots of metal machines knocking down trees and chopping them into little pieces.
“Are you sure this is where you buried your bone?” Anahi asks me.
That’s just the problem. I’m not sure. Everything looks so different here now.
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I thought it was. But I don’t see the field where two-legs were pushing the big black-and-white ball.”
“Those metal machines could have dug up a field,” Maria says. “They dig faster than any dog.”
Uh-oh! What if one of those metal machines digs up my magic bone? What if one of the two-legs gets his paws on it? What if a two-leg takes a bite of it?
My heart is thumpety, thump, thumping hard.
“Don’t be sad,” Anahi says. “We can get you another bone.”
“Not like my bone,” I say. “It’s . . . special.” And I can’t get back home without it.
CHAPTER 4
The bush dogs look at me curiously. I know that they don’t understand what’s so special about my bone. But I don’t have time to explain. I have to start digging. I have to find my bone before those metal machines do.
Diggety, dig, dig. Dirt flies out everywhere.
I dig hole after hole after hole.
But my bone is nowhere.
“Where are you, bone?” I whimper sadly.
Eduardo shakes his head and flops down onto his belly.
“He thinks you should stop and take a break,” Tito tells me.
“I can’t stop,” I insist. “I want to go home.”
Anahi nuzzles my ear with her snout. “This can be your new home. You’ll love living here with us in the rain forest.”
I open my mouth to tell Anahi that my home is with Josh, but before I can even get the words out . . .
Grumble. Rumble. My tummy interrupts me.
I know what it’s saying, because I speak tummy. And right now, my tummy is telling me it’s hungry.
Sniffety, sniff, sniff. Suddenly, my nose smells something sweet and fruity. Kind of like the fruit I ate that time my magic bone kaboomed me to Hawaii.
Grumble. Rumble.
“Okay, tummy,” I say. “I’ll get you some fruit.”
“Great idea, Sparky,” Tito says. “I could go for some food.”
“You can always go for some food,” Maria points out.
“Because I’m always hungry,” Tito explains. “I’m in the mood to eat a big, fat agouti.”
“Yum!” Anahi agrees.
Eduardo wags his tail and licks his lips.
“You’re going to love Amazonian food,” Tito tells me. “You haven’t lived until you’ve snacked on agouti!”
“Oh no, I’m not eating that,” I tell Tito a few minutes later.
“But it’s fresh agouti,” Tito says. “It’s delicious.”
The bush dogs have hunted down a little animal. It looks like the squirrels that run around in the yard I share with Josh. I mean the yard I used to share with Josh.
Either way, I’m not eating the agouti. No way.
“Here, have some guava,” Anahi says. She rolls a green fruit toward me. “It’s sweet. Just like you.” Her tail wags happily.
I don’t know why she thinks I’m sweet. She’s never tasted me. “Um . . . thanks,” I say as I sink my teeth deep into the round, green fruit.
My nose wrinkles. I don’t think it’s sweet. Actually, it’s sour. My nose doesn’t like it. And my mouth doesn’t like it, either.
My teeth tear away the sour green part of the guava. My tongue licks at the pink part inside.
Mmmm. The pink part is yummy, yum, yum! My tail wags as my teeth sink deeper into the sweetness.
“Who wants to go for a swim?” Tito asks. He swallows his last bite of agouti meat and runs toward some water that is flowing nearby.
“Last one in is a rotten agouti!” Maria exclaims loudly. She runs off at top speed, trying to beat Tito to the water.
Eduardo leaps up. His tail spins around and around. He runs after her.
“Come on, Sparky,” Anahi says. She nudges me a little. “Let’s go play in the river.”
I’m not in the mood to play. But I don’t want to sit here all alone, either. So I follow her to the water.
Run. Run. Run.
Run. Run. SPLASH!
The water is cool. It’s not salty like the water in the Pacific Ocean in Hawaii.
“Come on, Sparky, swim!” Maria shouts. Her paws go back and forth, and she starts moving really fast.
The other bush dogs swim faster, too. They are trying to catch up with her.
I move my paws back and forth. But I can’t swim like the bush dogs do. I’m moving slowly. Really slowly.
The bush dogs are splashing and laughing.
But I’m just paddle, paddle, paddling.
All this paddling is making me tired. I stop for a minute and climb up onto a big log. I lie down. I roll over. I scratch my back on the log.
Scratchity, scratch, scratch. That feels better. Scratchity, scratch, scra—
“SPARKY, NO!”
“Get down from there!” I hear Anahi shout.
I turn over and leap off the log—just as it opens its mouth!
Wiggle, waggle, what? A log with teeth. Big, sharp teeth.
Logs aren’t supposed to have teeth! But this one does. And those teeth look ready to take a great big bite . . . out of me!
CHAPTER 5
Help! I don’t want to get caught by a dog-eating log with giant sharp teeth. And paws.
Logs aren’t supposed to have paws. But this one does. Strong paws that help it swim fast.
“Come on,” I tell my paws. “Move it!”
Finally, I reach the squooshy, mushy, wet dirt. I climb out of the river and start to run. Fast. Faster. Fastest. My paws work better on land than in water.
The log’s paws don’t work as well on land. It slows down.
But I don’t. I keep running.
Wet fur flies in front of my eyes. I can’t see a thing. But I keep going. Fast. Faster. Whoops! I tri
p over some big, thick tree roots. I topple onto my back.
Ouch! That hurt! Stupid tree roots. Stupid fur in my eyes.
I roll over and run a little farther. I have to make sure that log can’t catch me.
Finally, I turn around. The dog-eating log has gone away. He’s climbing back into the water. He’s not going to eat me after all. Phew!
“I beat you, dog-eating log!” I cheer.
The next thing I know, I’m surrounded by bush dogs. Maria, Anahi, and Eduardo have all come out of the water to check on me.
Eduardo tilts his head.
“He wants to know if you’re okay,” Maria explains.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I tell Eduardo.
“Why would you want to sit on a crocodile?” Anahi wonders.
“A what?” I ask her.
“A crocodile,” Anahi says again. “You know, that big monster you were scratching your back on.”
“I thought that was a log,” I say.
The bush dogs laugh.
“You’ve got a lot to learn if you’re going to be living in the Amazon Rain Forest,” Maria tells me.
My tail droops between my legs.
Just then, Tito comes running out of the water.
“You couldn’t have shared a little of that fish with us?” Maria asks him.
“What fish?” Tito says. “I didn’t catch a fish.”
“Oh really,” Maria says. “Then what’s that fish tail doing hanging out of your mouth?”
We all look at Tito. I laugh a little, even though I’m sad to still be in the rain forest. It’s hard not to laugh at a duck-pawed dog with a fish tail hanging out of his mouth.
Tito swallows the last bit of fish. “I was still hungry,” he says. “Agoutis are small. Not much meat on them.” He looks up in the tree. “There are some yummy-looking figs up there. I wish we could reach them. They’d make a great dessert.”
I don’t know what a fig is. But I do know what yummy means. So I look up in the tree, too.
Wiggle, waggle, weird. Suddenly I’m staring right into the face of another dog. Except this dog is hanging upside down from a tree branch.
“How do you do that?” I ask the upside-down dog.
But the upside-down dog doesn’t answer.
“Doesn’t it hurt your paws?” I bark, a little louder this time.
The upside-down dog spreads his wings and flies away.
Wiggle, waggle, wait a minute. Wings? Flying?
“What kind of dog is that?” I ask the bush dogs.
Eduardo laughs. He shakes his head.
“He says that’s not a dog. It’s a bat,” Tito explains.
“A bat?” I repeat. “What’s that?”
“It’s kind of like a bird, because it flies,” Maria explains. “But it doesn’t lay eggs.”
“It sure had a dog face,” I say.
“I guess that’s why it’s called a bulldog bat,” Anahi explains.
I don’t want to live in a place that has logs that bite and bulldogs that fly. I want to live with a nice two-leg. One that loves me as much as I love him.
Josh.
That settles it. I’m not giving up. I’m going to find my magic bone. Even if I have to dig up every bit of the rain forest to do it!
CHAPTER 6
“Some leader,” I hear Maria complaining. “So far all he’s had us do is dig.”
“Digging’s not so bad,” Anahi says. “I’m getting really good at making holes.”
“I caught a pencil-tailed tree mouse while I was digging,” Tito says. “He was delicious.”
Eduardo shakes his head and wags his tail.
“I didn’t eat the tail part,” Tito assures him. “Everyone knows you’re not supposed to eat the tail.”
“Hey, leader,” Maria says. “How much longer do we have to dig?”
I don’t answer her. I’m too busy diggety-digging another hole beside a tree to talk. Diggety, dig, dig. Diggety, dig . . . Bonk.
Suddenly a hard round thing falls onto my head. It looks like a ball. But it smells sweet. Like a fruit.
“Who threw that?” I ask.
Eduardo cocks his head.
“He doesn’t know what you’re talking about,” Tito explains. “Neither do I.”
“We’ve been too busy digging to throw anything,” Maria grumbles.
Bonk. Down comes another one. This fruit-smelling ball lands closer to my tail.
“Cut it out!” I shout.
Bonk. Bonk. Bonk.
Three more fruit-smelling balls fly down from the tree.
Tito looks up. “The howler monkeys are up there.” He laughs. “Every time they swing between the branches, they knock down a passion fruit.” He stuffs one of the passion-fruit balls in his mouth and takes a bite. “Yum!”
“What’s a howler monkey?” I wonder.
HOWL!
Suddenly I hear some loud noises coming from up in the trees. It sounds sort of like someone is growling and laughing at the same time. But it sure isn’t a dog laugh. It’s too crazy. And way too loud. Louder than Maria, even!
I look up. Another passion-fruit ball flies down from the tree. It rolls down a hill—just like any ball would.
My tail starts wagging. My paws start hopping.
I know I’m supposed to be digging. But I can’t help myself. When I see a ball roll by, I just have to fetch it!
The next thing I know, I’m running after that rolling passion fruit.
My paws run, run, run. The passion fruit rolls, rolls, rolls.
Run, run, run.
Roll, roll, roll.
“GOTCHA!” I snag that ball between my teeth and run back to the tree. “I fetched the ball!” I call up to the howler monkeys.
The howler monkeys just howl something back. They are so loud, they make my ears hurt.
“I really don’t know what they’re laughing about,” Maria grumbles. “It’s not like their home up there is any safer than ours is down here.”
“They’re not laughing,” Anahi tells her. “They’re trying to scare us away from their tree. I don’t think they like sharing their fruit.”
“That’s because pretty soon there may not be any fruit left to share,” Maria complains.
Eduardo rolls over onto his back. I know that trick. I learned it in dog school. It’s called playing dead.
“Yeah,” Tito agrees. “How long before that tree gets knocked down with the rest of them? I sure will miss the taste of passion fruit when that happens.”
I take a bite of the passion-fruit ball I just fetched. Mmmm. It’s sweet.
“Why would two-legs want to get rid of a tree that makes something so yummy?” I wonder.
“Don’t ask me,” Anahi says. “I don’t understand anything two-legs do.”
“Yeah,” Maria snarls at me. “You explain it. You’re the two-leg lover.”
She makes that sound like a bad thing. But that’s because she doesn’t know any two-legs like Josh.
J
ust then, a howler monkey lets out a shout. It’s loud and scary.
Bonk!
Another passion fruit hits me—right on the head.
“Hey!” I shout up to the howler monkeys. “That one hurt!”
The howler monkeys howl. My ears fold up on top of my head. The howling hurts them. And every time the monkeys let out a shout, another fruit falls.
Howl!
Bonk!
Howl!
Bonk!
“Okay,” I yell back to the howler monkeys. “You don’t have to tell me again. I’m out of here!”
I run off toward another tall, tall tree. One that looks just as tall as the first tree I saw when I got here.
Maybe that grassy field is on the other side
of this tree.
Maybe I’m almost back where I started.
Maybe I will find . . .
Uh-oh! What’s this? There’s something sticky on my snout. And in my fur.
I’m caught in a net. A big, sticky net. It’s holding me tight. I can’t move. I’m sticky. And STUCK!
Wiggle, waggle, yikes! I’m in trouble!
CHAPTER 7
Dogcatchers use nets.
I know that because I got caught by a dogcatcher when I was in London. He put me in the pound. It was awful. There was no dirt to dig at the pound. And no windows to look out.
But the London dogcatcher didn’t have a sticky net like this one. I don’t know if rain-forest dogcatchers are different than London dogcatchers. But I do know that I don’t want to go to the pound again.
I have to get out of this net!
I push my head forward, but I can’t break through.
I twist to the side. Sticky-net strings wrap around me.
I twist to the other side. Sticky-net strings pull even tighter.
And then, suddenly, strange eight-leg creatures start creeping and crawling all over me.
“Get off me, eight-legs!” I shout. “What do you want?”
Then I start to laugh—even though this isn’t funny. I can’t help it. Their creepy-crawling legs tickle.
I try to shakity, shake, shake the creepy crawlers off me. But they don’t leave. They keep creeping and crawling.
Shakity, shake, shake.
Creepy-crawl.
Tickle, tickle.
Every time I shake, the net gets tighter around me.
And then, suddenly, I hear . . .
“SPARKY! RUN!”
It’s Maria. She’s shouting as loud as she can. Not howler-monkey loud, but still pretty loud.
“GET OUT OF THERE!” she yells.
“I’m trying,” I yell back.
“That cat is going to come for you!” Maria says. “You have to run away!”
That’s weird. Why would I run from a cat? I know all about cats. There’s one named Queenie who lives near Josh and me. Queenie’s mean. And she likes to tease me. But she’s not scary. I don’t have to run away just because some cat . . .
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