My heart races with the amazing thought . . .
The Evil Bunny is not in the Dog Park because he is GONE!
Hooray! Hooray! I leap and twirl for joy. The Evil Bunny is gone! I knew Goldie’s idea would work. It was the Best Idea Ever!
Now we can go back to how things are supposed to be. I’m so excited, I can hardly control myself. But then I hear Hattie’s voice yelling, and I stop mid-romp. What’s going on?
Hattie’s in the middle of the Dog Park. Her face is angry. Her arms are flailing. She’s growling at Angel.
Angel’s shoulders slump. Her eyes are sad and wet. She sniffs and snorts, chattering back at Hattie.
Hattie is really mad. She’s yelling sounds like “Yew-did-it” and “Yew-dropt-im!” and “Yew-let-im-get-awaaaaay!” Her forehead scrunched up, she keeps shouting at Angel until Fetch Man rushes over. He clamps a hand on Hattie’s arm.
Tears glisten on Angel’s cheeks. Fetch Man starts to talk to her, his eyes full of kindness, but she turns and flees through the Friend Gate.
As Angel hurries off, Hattie breaks into sobs. Fetch Man puts his arm around her heaving shoulders.
Apparently Hattie doesn’t want to be comforted. She shrugs out of his grasp, clenching her fists. What made Hattie so mad? The Evil Bunny running away? Why is she mad at Angel?
One thing’s for sure—Hattie is upset. But luckily, she’s got her beloved and loyal dog to cheer her up.
And she must be thinking the exact same thing. Her face angry, her nose sniffling, she sprints through the grass right toward me. My tail goes into auto-wag mode.
She races up the steps, flies across the porch, and slides the door open.
“I’m so glad you’re back, Hattie,” I bark. “Let’s play!” I chomp a squeaky toy and bounce on my paws, gazing up at her invitingly.
Hattie sucks in a breath. She shakes a finger at me. “Bad boy! Bad boy!” she yells. She sounds furious.
Whoa! Her anger is too painful to bear. My ears sag. My tail slumps. I drop the squeaky toy. I slink back.
Hattie keeps shaking that angry finger. Her voice rises with even more fury. “Bad! Bad! Bad!” she shouts.
I sink down on the floor and turn my head. Maybe if I don’t look at her, if I don’t listen, it won’t hurt so much.
Hattie’s yelling turns into sobbing. And hiccuping. Finally, she flies down the hall. I hear her footsteps bounding up the stairs.
My heart shatters. Why didn’t I see this coming? She’s gone. And I’m alone with the terrible truth—
Hattie doesn’t love me anymore.
I’m curled up for a Long, Long Time.
I thought Hattie loving that Evil Bunny was the worst thing that could happen. But that’s nothing compared to the horribly sick feeling in my tummy right now.
Why did she stop loving me? Wasn’t I cute and cuddly? Wasn’t I fun to play with? Didn’t I do a good enough job of making her happy?
My body’s so heavy, I can’t even move. Not that I’d want to. Without Hattie, what would I even do?
A familiar sound wakes me. F-f-f-f-t! The sliding door closes. Fetch Man and Food Lady come in from the porch. Their heads are hung. Their faces are pained. They smell helpless and frustrated.
I know how they feel.
Fetch Man sighs and wraps his arm around Food Lady’s shoulder. If they notice the poor, pathetic dog curled up in the corner, they don’t let on. They plod into the Eating Place and slump around the table. With the empty cage. They chatter in low voices, sounding concerned.
Soon I hear Hattie’s footsteps padding down the stairs. She strides into the Eating Place, too. Fetch Man pats the seat beside him, and she plops onto it.
Hattie’s eyes are puffy. She rests her chin in her hands. She listens as Fetch Man speaks in a serious voice.
When he finishes speaking, she springs out of her seat. Her face is pleading. Her lower lip is trembling. “Keep-ser-ching!” she says. She sounds desperate. She starts to move to the back door.
I push up onto my paws. I creep closer.
Fetch Man cocks his head. “Hattie . . .” he calls.
Just then—vroooooooom!
The noise drifts in from the front windows. Everyone freezes.
Across the street, a car door slams.
Hattie gasps. “Oh no!” she cries. She races to the front of the house.
I slink into the hallway for a better look. Hattie’s peering out the window. At Whisker Face and Round Lady’s house. Her hands fly to her face.
Fetch Man and Food Lady rush to Hattie’s side. They all hold a shared breath, standing still for a moment, gaping across the street like they can’t believe their eyes.
Hattie’s the first to turn away. Her face is full of panic. “Now-what?” she sobs.
Food Lady rubs Hattie’s arm. Fetch Man speaks to her in a sober voice. It’s obvious they’re both trying to calm her. And it’s not working.
Hattie clenches her fists. She bounces up and down. “No . . . no!” she shouts, her nose sniffling, her face frantic with fear. She shirks away from the tall humans and tears down the hall.
What could be so scary? I don’t hear any loud booming noises. I don’t smell fire or smoke. But something terrifying must be happening, because Hattie is really afraid.
I run into the Eating Place and leap onto her legs. “Whatever it is, let me handle it,” I bark. “I’m your protector.”
“FEN-way,” she snaps. She grabs me by my new collar and holds me at arm’s length. “Stop it!”
“Hattie, I can help,” I bark, straining to get loose. “If you’d let me.” I pull and pull. I’m desperate to jump into her arms—fwoop!
Ha! I’ve slipped right out of the collar. I throw myself at her.
“FEN-way!” she scolds, turning away with a huff. She goes over to the tall humming box and pulls the door open. A burst of cold air wafts out.
I move closer, my tail wagging. As if there were any hope she’d be getting us some yummy ice cream. Or a hot dog.
Hattie grabs a big pointy carrot and closes the humming box. With a loud breath, she heads out the back door. It’s clear she’s going outside, armed with that carrot. She probably wants to find a new Evil Bunny to love.
I heave an enormous sigh. Why can’t she love just me? I’m her beloved dog. I snuggle with her. I play with her. I make her happy.
What does she need an Evil Bunny for?
I curl up on the floor. Trapped. Alone. And rejected. I’m about to close my eyes again when I see a flicker of dazzling light.
My sparkly collar.
I get up and skulk over to it. It’s lying limp on the floor, glittering. I bat it with my paws.
I hate that collar. It’s bumpy and itchy. And I already have a perfectly good collar. One that jingles. What did Goldie say . . . that it wasn’t my style? Ha!
I growl at that stupid collar. Hattie made it for me back when she loved me and adored me and fussed over me. But then that bunny came and she just stopped.
Snarling, I bear down on my front paws. I open my mouth. I pounce!
Chomp! Take that, you annoying collar! I never liked you anyway. I step my brown paw onto one end. My jaws tear at the other. It tastes like string and plastic. Yuck!
I won’t be deterred! I drive my claws into another spot on the sparkly collar. I bite the beads and string, pulling with all my might.
Bits of gritty glitter fly out of my mouth. I want to gag, but I won’t stop. Not until the sparkly collar is destroyed once and for all!
Me and Hattie were happy before those Evil Bunnies came. Why did they have to ruin everything?
Chomp! Pull! R-r-r-r-r-r-rip! Patooey!
Beads clatter and roll and scatter on the floor. You get what you deserve, sparkly collar!
And what about Goldie? Chasing away the Evil Bunny was all
her idea. And look at the good it did me! The bunny’s gone and Hattie doesn’t love me anymore. Some friend Goldie turned out to be. She gave me the Worst Idea Ever! Next time I see her, I’ll—I’ll—
I grab hold of what’s left of the sparkly collar. Chomp! I tug and tug and—r-r-r-r-rip! More sparkly beads fall off. More shreds of soggy string cling to my mouth. I gag.
What did Hattie see in that Evil Bunny anyway? What’s so lovable about him? He’s a nasty and annoying creature. All he did was huddle in a cage. Rustling in the hay. And twitching those evil whiskers. What was that all about?
He never snuggled on her pillow. Or played fetch. Or protected her from danger!
Chomp! Pull! R-r-r-r-r-r-rip! The sparkly collar is nothing but shreds dangling from a metal clasp. Glittery beads are sprinkled all over the floor. It’s officially destroyed. I gag a few more times. At least one job is done.
I drink long, sloppy, throat-clearing gulps from my water dish. The used-to-be collar betrayed me. The Evil Bunny stole my short human. Patches wasn’t on my side. Goldie didn’t help me at all. And Hattie stopped loving me.
I’m mad at everybody! And everything! I’m the Maddest Dog Ever!
I’m searching the Eating Place for another victim . . . a broom? a dish towel? . . . when the door slides open, and Hattie trudges in. With the carrot.
She’s sobbing uncontrollably. She’s completely dejected. Her face is full of pain, like she wants to melt away and never come back.
My heart is crushed all over again.
My Hattie is miserable. And there’s nothing I can do about it.
Well, maybe there’s one thing . . . but it might be too big, even for a professional like me.
Anyway, I can’t do anything stuck in here. “Please . . . oh, please . . . somebody please let me out . . .” I whine, pawing furiously at the door. I whimper. I howl. It’s an emergency!
I hear Hattie’s footsteps pad up the stairs, then fade away. I keep at it. “I can’t wait even one more second . . .” I cry, louder and more urgently this time. “I have to go oooooouuuuuut!”
It takes a couple more moans and howls, but eventually it works! Fetch Man rushes in from the Lounging Place holding a rattly garbage bag. His face is all business. “Let’s go, Fenway,” he says with an exasperated sigh.
“I’m so ready! I’m so ready!” I bark, jumping up and down. Fetch Man opens the door and I trot onto the porch.
Now what?
I peer up at a dark, gloomy cloud rolling across the sky. I sniff the heavy, rushing breeze. I scan the Dog Park, shivering.
Plants and shrubs wave in the wind. The leafy leaves in the giant tree ripple and swoosh. Even the low branches are creaking and swaying.
My ears perked, I listen to the breeze whistling and sobs coming down from Hattie’s window.
My heart is overcome with sadness. My legs feel heavy, stuck in place.
I turn my snout into the whooshing wind again. My coat ripples and ruffles. I can’t just stand here.
I give myself a good shake. And just like that, I snap out of my misery. It’s up to me to make Hattie happy. It might mean giving my nemesis what he wants, but I’m tough enough to take it.
There’s no other way. I must find that Evil Bunny! I have to save him and bring him back to Hattie.
I trot through the grass, my ears alert, my snout sniffing and swiveling. Clues are here somewhere and I will find them!
I’m checking out the bushes when I notice a slight rustle. A furry little swish? It’s the Evil Bunny! I’d know him anywhere.
Like a shot, I dive under the fluttering bush. It smells odious all right! I crawl deeper under the bushy branches until a sickening sound freezes me in my tracks.
Chipper. Chatter. Squawk!
I back out into the grass. A few bushes down, a small head pops out of the shrubby leaves. A bristly tail flounces. A twig snaps.
My hackles pricked, I prepare my most menacing growl. How dare that squirrel barge into the Dog Park! Especially at a time like this!
“The Dog Park is for dogs!” I bark, racing after him.
Rustle. Crackle. Swish. The squirrel scampers up the bush and flings himself onto the fence.
I leap up and paw the fence. I’m about to give him the business when another horrifying sight comes into view. Another squirrel appears right next to the first one. Where did he come from?
Two against one is hardly a fair fight. Especially when they have a significant height advantage over me. I slink back, squinting into the wind. “You’re a couple of . . . c-c-cowards!” I bark.
Chipper. Chatter. Squawk! The squirrels peer down from the fence top, taunting. Jeering.
My fur prickles. “I’m warning you for the last . . . t-t-time!” I bark, glancing up at the threatening cloud. Which is somehow way bigger than it was a second ago.
The squirrels go on chippering at me. Shuddering, I take another backward step. I didn’t come out here to mess with a gang of squirrels! I have a job to do. What is it about those nasty creatures, anyway? Why are they so horribly annoying? And distracting?
Intruding where they don’t belong, twittering and chittering, taunting. Just asking to be chased. Or worse.
My gaze locked with their beady little eyes, I continue backing away. They’re no match for a vicious dog like me. They’re nothing but cowards!
The Evil Bunnies are the biggest cowards of all. With their terrifying leg thumps, their ear-splitting squeals, their horrifying chomping teeth—not to mention their stench! I tremble just remembering the first time I smelled it.
I’m backing up some more when my hind paw hits a wobbly wire fence. The vegetable patch where that first Evil Bunny prowled through. Clearly one of the gang! He ate the lettuce and the vegetables. Before I tracked him to that hole under the back fence . . .
The back fence!
I look past the giant tree to the back of the Dog Park. Is that the same hole? The one that smelled like bunnies?
Whoooooooooooo . . . whoooooooo . . . the thick wind whistles. How did the sky get so dark? It’s the middle of the daytime.
With every bit of fur on my back bristling with fear—I mean, courage—I creep over to investigate. I paw the dirt, sniffing around the edges. That hole smells bunny-ish all right.
My paws are slow and shaky. I inch closer. I poke my snout into the hole. Sniff . . . sniff . . . the Evil Bunny odor is everywhere. But it’s not very strong.
Which can only mean one thing—the bunny, or bunnies, are someplace else.
I whip my head around, frantically searching the Dog Park again. So where did they go?
Whoooooooooooo . . . whoooooooo . . . the wind howls. Its voice is sultry. And menacing. A bad combination.
Whoa. I huddle against the fence, my fur matted back in the breeze. My eyes adjusting to the strange darkness. My body trembling with . . . anticipation.
I squint into the wind. Hunting bunnies is a dangerous job. But no crying wind or dark sky or chippering squirrels will stop me. I have to save Hattie from misery! Nothing has ever been more important.
Nose to the ground, I zigzag through the grass. I catch whiffs of Fetch Man and Food Lady, Hattie and Angel . . . and every now and then, I pick up the stench of bunny . . . one . . . two . . . how many are there? I quake with confidence. The trail leads somewhere. And I won’t rest until the nasty end!
I sniff my way along the side fence, the wind fierce and rushing into my face. As I approach the Friend Gate, I gaze up and halt in my tracks.
What’s this? The Friend Gate is opening. Is somebody coming? I wait and wait. But nobody appears. How is the Friend Gate opening by itself?
My fur standing on end, I trot up to it. Right into a powerful gust of wind.
As the Friend Gate swings wider and wider and wider, I crane my head. My neck swiveling on high alert.
But all I see is grass. Nobody’s there.
Whoooooooooooo . . . whoooooooo . . . the wind wails. The Friend Gate starts to slap back.
Whoa! I jump out of the way just in time.
Smack! The Friend Gate bangs shut.
I thrust my snout under the gate, sniffing wildly. How did it open and close by itself? And more important, what’s that smell?
My nose sniffing like crazy, I take whiffs of bunny after bunny after bunny. There’s no question—the gang’s all here.
I jerk back, shuddering. The evidence is solid all right. And terrifying.
But I have to go for it. Hattie’s happiness is at stake!
Summoning all my bravery, I rush up to the Friend Gate again. My nose searches under, around, and up. What’s this? A gap! The gate’s not closed all the way.
I wiggle my snout into the gap, grunting and pushing, the heavy Friend Gate starting to budge. And then . . . it finally flies open!
I burst into the Dog Park next door. That Evil Bunny Gang is here. I know it! My expert nose will hunt them down!
I race through the grass, my nose leading the way. At first, I’m bombarded with scents of Angel, Goldie, and Patches . . . but every now and then I catch the faint scent of bunnies. I’m on the right track.
Whoooooooooooo . . . whoooooooo . . . a gust of wind beats into my ears. Along with a familiar jingling sound. I turn toward it.
“Fenway!” Goldie lopes over, her tail wagging happily like nothing is wrong. “What’s going on?”
“What’s going on?” I repeat with a snarl. “Hattie’s hurting and it’s all your fault!”
Goldie freezes, her eyes glaring. “How is that?”
“You and your bad ideas,” I growl. “The Evil Bunny’s gone and everything is ruined.”
Goldie humphs. “Well, if you ruined everything, that’s not my problem.”
Figures she’d say that. “Leave me alone, Goldie!” I say, baring my teeth. “I’m on an important mission and I don’t need any more help from you!”
“That’s fine with me!” she says, clearly miffed.
As she heads across the Dog Park, I notice Patches curled up near the back fence. She looks as miserable as the rest of us.
Fenway and Hattie and the Evil Bunny Gang Page 9