I rushed along the path stopping from time to time to listen. The problem was that the wind blowing through the leaves sounded similar to two guinea pigs running through the dried grass. I stopped to catch my breath. Perhaps Lexi was smart not to get involved with the responsibilities of parenthood. But I couldn’t turn off my concern. I worried that a dog had caught my children and I continued on my search. Suddenly I heard a strange whirring noise. Instinctively, I crouched low while I looked around. There before me was a large shoe with wheels attached. It moved closer and I backed away.
I’d seen such shoes before. Lexi told me they were called roller skates. Usually they were seen in pairs and a human would be wearing them. But this one roller skate was unattached to anything.
“Hi, Pop,” a voice called to me. “Look what we found. It was under a park bench.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” I exclaimed to Pip, who came forward from the other side of the roller skate. “Why are you playing in full view where anyone could see you?”
“There’s no one around today,” Pip said.
“Where’s Squeak now?” I asked.
“Here I am, Pop,” my younger daughter said, crawling out from inside the shoe. I hadn’t even noticed her.
“Well, come along at once, both of you. We have to go back to your mother and Perky. We have a big journey ahead of us. There’s no time to play,” I scolded them.
So there we were, Plush and I and our four offspring. We hadn’t gotten very far from our hole and it didn’t seem as if we’d ever make it to the rain forest. We huddled together under a bush for a midmorning rest.
While the others slept, I worried about the situation and considered our options:
We could return home and brave out the winter.
I could return home with Perky while Plush and the other pups spend the winter in the rain forest.
Or, I could force Perky to ride on Lexi.
The third choice seemed to be the best. But I knew I had to reject it. Plush was absolutely right. Lexi was bound to begin climbing trees and leaping on branches even if he was carrying my little Perky. Squirrels just behave that way. It’s their nature. But if we didn’t get to the rain forest, I was afraid we’d be doomed.
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
No comfortable feel in any member—
Member. That was a funny word for “limb,” I thought, dozing off, thinking of paws and hands and tails and feet. Feet! Suddenly I woke with a start. The solution to our problem had come to me. We could use the skate to get to the rain forest. Perky could ride in it. That is, if we could convince him to get inside.
Luckily, the skate was still where Pip and Squeak had left it. With some effort, I managed to move the skate along the bumpy ground toward where my family still lay sleeping. I woke everyone up and explained my new plan. There was much chatter among them when they heard what I had to say.
“What fun you’re going to have,” Squeak shouted to Perky. He didn’t look so sure of that.
Plush and I had to help Perky climb inside the shoe part of the skate. As always he was reluctant to try a new experience, and I had to give him a few hard pushes to get him moving. Once inside the skate, he curled himself into a ball.
“Don’t you want to look out?” Pip called to her brother. “You won’t be able to see where you’re going.”
Perky lifted his head for a moment. “I don’t want to see,” he replied.
“I don’t care if you look or not,” I said. “The important thing is that now you’ll be moving at a better speed.” Then I took the laces that hung down from the skate in my mouth and used them to pull the skate along. It was harder than ever to move the skate now that it had the weight of Perky added to it. It occurred to me that if I went on the cement path, instead of traveling in the grass as I usually did, the skate would roll with much greater ease.
Now there was a new problem. Out on the walkway, I was visible to any passersby. It was a piece of luck that the cool, damp weather of the day did not encourage many people to use the park. There were no mothers or nannies pushing carriages. Only a few solitary individuals were walking their dogs or strolling through the park. So from time to time as I saw someone, I had to pull the skate and veer off the path and into a bush to avoid a human I saw coming toward us. It was quite exhausting.
After a time, Perky stuck his head out. “This is fun!” he exclaimed. I don’t believe my son had ever in his life found anything to be fun before.
So I kept on going. Perky’s change of heart gave me new strength. I panted when there was a steep incline on the sidewalk, but I kept on pulling. Suddenly the incline ended and the sidewalk sloped downhill. What a relief. I dropped the shoelace and stopped to catch my breath. I turned and waved to Plush who was a short distance away with our other children. Suddenly her face filled with horror and she screamed out to me.
“PeeWee! Look at the skate!”
I looked back at the skate and saw that it had started to roll down the hill on its own. I ran after it, trying to grab the shoelace, and finally I caught it by its tip. I held on as tightly as I could, but the skate was moving so fast that it lifted my feet off the ground.
Suddenly the shoelace was pulled out of my mouth and I landed on the cement path with a thud. A moment later I sat up, dazed, and then horrified, as I saw that the skate was rolling downhill faster than ever with poor little Perky trapped inside.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Journey’s End
“Stop! Stop!” I shouted.
But Perky couldn’t and the skate wouldn’t.
Ignoring my bruises, I raced down the hill after the runaway skate.
Plush, Pudge, Pip, and Squeak came running and calling out behind me. But we discovered that guinea pigs are no match for a roller skate.
Finally the wild skate slowed down and fell over on its side as it veered off the walkway. I rushed toward it terrified of what I would find inside. Could Perky have survived such a tumble?
And then I saw his little head peeking out of the skate. “Hi, Pop,” he shouted cheerfully. “That was great. Can we do it again?”
“Great?” I sputtered, thinking of how the skate had run me down and left me so frightened regarding Perky’s fate. And what about my sore body?
“It was like flying,” Perky said. “I felt like I was a bird!”
“You’re a guinea pig,” I said. “Why do you want to feel like a bird?” But then I laughed. Perky was safe, unharmed, and happy. And I was happy too.
We decided it was high time for a little rest.
“Lucky you,” said Pudge, looking at Perky still inside the shoe. “You’re getting a ride all the way to our new home. It’s not fair.”
I was about to defend Perky. After all, he had twisted his paw earlier. But to my surprise, Perky spoke up. “You can have a turn, Pudge,” he offered. And with that, he climbed out of the shoe without any assistance and walked alongside of it with Pip and Squeak when our rest period was over. The twisted paw seemed just fine. Perhaps Perky hadn’t really twisted it at all.
Plush and I looked at each other with amazement. What had happened to change our timid son? Was it the first real dose of good fresh air in his lungs? Was it the fact that the park was almost empty of humans and dogs that cold, cloudy day? I don’t know the answer. But it was a joy to watch all of our children chattering happily, running, and riding in the skate. Each had a turn inside. Even Plush.
“Pop. You should have a turn too,” said Pudge.
“Well, I don’t mind if I do,” I replied. “But you’ll have to work to pull me. This skate won’t move by itself.”
Twice during our journey we saw Lexi. His eyes nearly popped out of his head the first time he saw the skate.
“PeeWee, you’re even smarter than I ever guessed,” he told me. “A good head is better than two tails.”
He’d told me that once before, but repetition didn’t make those words any less satisfying.
Thankfully, all of us, even Pudge, were small enough to slip under the door of the rain forest without waiting for a human to open it. Inside, we stood savoring the warmth and good smells around us. I knew in a few days the pups would be running all over this place. There was much to explore and many new animals to befriend. And best of all, we would be safe from the winter.
I settled my family in a hollow log and then slipped outdoors again. As I had hoped, there was Lexi waiting at the entrance.
“So you made it here,” he said.
“Yes. I’m proud of the pups. They all pulled together,” I reported.
“Well, winter is a long time. I’m going to miss you,” Lexi said to me.
“And I’ll miss you,” I replied. “But I hope you’ll come by from time to time. You can tell me what’s going on in the rest of the park.”
“I will. I will,” said Lexi. “A nut is good but a good friend is better.”
“Thanks, pal,” I said. “That’s one of the best sayings your mother ever taught you.”
Lexi scratched himself and winked at me. “That’s one saying my mother never knew. I made it up myself,” Lexi responded.
We parted and I went back inside. A small bat was flying around in the dark and I introduced myself.
“Do you eat insects?” he asked me.
“No,” I said, wondering if he was about to offer me one.
“Good, good,” the bat replied. “In that case, welcome to the rain forest.”
“Thanks,” I said to my first new friend in this area. Obviously, he was not as generous as my pal Lexi.
I returned to my family. They were all cuddled around one another inside the hollow log and already fast asleep. It had been a long and difficult day. No wonder they were all tired. I could hardly keep my eyes open either.
As I moved close to Plush and all our little pups, I thought of Thomas Hood’s poem. New and happier words came to me replacing the words I’d memorized.
No ice—no snow!
No winds that blow!
No chill—no shock—
No ground like rock.
Just snug and warm—
We’re safe from harm,
November, in the rain forest!
Goodness, I thought to myself, I’ve become a poet too. I wondered if I could create some other poems during the long winter ahead. It could be a new activity as I watched my family grow and develop.
Plush turned over in her sleep and let out a series of soft sounds. I recognized them as a melody from one of the operas we had heard during the summer. She was dreaming of her favorite music. Soon I’d be asleep and dreaming happy dreams too. What more could I wish for?
About the Author and Illustrator
Johanna Hurwitz was born and raised in New York City. A former children’s librarian, she is now the award-winning author of many popular books for young readers, including PeeWee’s Tale; Lexi’s Tale; Oh No, Noah!; Class Clown; Rip-Roaring Russell; and Baseball Fever. The recipient of a number of child-chosen state awards, she visits schools around the country to speak to students, teachers and parents about reading and writing. She lives in both Great Neck, New York, and Wilmington, Vermont.
Patience Brewster has illustrated more than thirty books, including Bear’s Christmas Surprise by Elizabeth Winthrop and Queen of May by Steven Kroll. She lives in Skaneateles, New York.
PeeWee and Plush Page 5