Invasion of the Dognappers

by Patrick Jennings

  “You have no evidence at all that he took Pickles,” Aggy said. “Or Chloe.”

  “He went inside to find out the dog’s name.”

  “That makes him a dognapper? Did you even see him come out?”

  Logan sighed. “No.”

  “So he was still in the store when you got on the bus?” Aggy asked.

  “I guess.”

  “So how did he steal Pickles?”

  Logan just looked at her, waiting.

  “Oh, I get it,” Aggy said. “He was an alien. He could do whatever he wanted.”

  Logan answered with a knowing tilt of his head.

  “It’s a hairy alien?” Thatcher said. “Can aliens be hairy? Are you thinking of Bigfoot?”

  “Aliens are not all little green men,” said Logan. “Or tall green men with big eyes. Most of them can change form. They can be whatever they want to be. They could make themselves look like you, even. To be an alien, you just need to come from another planet. If you went to another planet, you’d be an alien, Thatcher.”

  “Really?” Hair flip. “Cool.”

  “It should be noted that my mom didn’t see any hairy guy with an accent when Chloe was stolen,” Kian said.

  “Exactly,” Logan said. “She didn’t see him. That doesn’t mean he wasn’t there.”

  “You call that logic?” Aggy asked.

  “I call it deducing,” Logan said. “Ever heard of it?”

  “Will you guys stop arguing so we can go find this guy?” Thatcher asked. “Where do we look, Logan?”

  “We split up. Aggy can stake out the library. Kian, take Ketchoklam Park. Thatcher, downtown. And I’ll take Sandwiches.”

  “I can’t hang out downtown,” Thatcher said. “My mom doesn’t let me. Not by myself.”

  “I was going to the library anyway,” Aggy said.

  “What about you, Kian?” Logan asked.

  “Sure, I’ll go to the park to look for the hairy alien,” he said.

  “I’ll go with him,” Thatcher said. “I’m allowed to go to the park if I’m with a friend.”

  “Logan!” a voice interrupted. “What are you doing?”

  Logan turned to see his mom striding toward him. She was dressed up and wearing makeup, which meant she’d been with a client.

  “I’ve been waiting in the car for you,” she said, out of breath. “I’ve got to get you to Patrice’s house. I have a client in ten minutes. Sloane and Bubba are in the car. Move it!”

  “But, Mom, the Crew has investigating to do.”

  “Sorry, guys,” she said to the group, then grabbed Logan’s hand and pulled him away.

  He twisted around and yelled, “CRU, find the hairy man with the accent!”

  “The Crew is so on it!” Thatcher said, flashing a thumbs-up.

  “There goes our fearless leader.” Aggy sighed. “Off to his babysitter’s house.”

  9. The Housesitter

  “Who are you?” Logan asked the man who answered the door.

  “I’m Buck,” the man answered. He was wearing black sweatpants, a pale orange sweatshirt, and green slippers. “Come in,” he said, stepping aside.

  Logan was nudged inside by his mom. She followed behind, holding Sloane in one arm.

  “I’ll leave Bubba out here on the porch,” she said to Buck. “You’ll be glad I did. She’s flatulent.”

  “Oh,” said Buck.

  “Where’s Patrice?” Logan asked.

  “Logan, this is Patrice’s friend, Buck,” his mom explained. “Remember, I told you Patrice is out of town? Buck is watching her house. I’ve known Buck a long time. He’s going to watch you and Sloane today.” She set Sloane down and kissed him on the head.

  “Hi, Sloane and Logan,” Buck said, waving his arm like a windshield wiper.

  Logan sneered.

  “I have to run,” his mom said, heading out the door. “Be good, guys. Have fun.”

  She waved at Logan as she flew down the steps, then climbed into her car and sped away.

  “I suppose you know where everything is,” Buck said to Logan.

  “I’ve only been coming here since before I can remember,” Logan said.

  “I guess that means you know.”

  “I know.”

  Sloane began to whimper.

  “He’s probably upset because you’re not Patrice,” Logan said.

  “You might be right, Logan,” Buck said, and crouched down beside Sloane. “You want to go outside and swing?”

  Sloane stopped whimpering.

  “I’ll push him,” Logan said. “Sloane likes it best when Patrice pushes him, and he likes me to push him second best. He doesn’t even know you.”

  “Good point,” Buck said.

  Logan led them outside to the tire swing in the backyard. Buck hoisted Sloane up into it.

  “Move aside now,” Logan said, and nudged Buck’s hip with his shoulder.

  “Uh … sure,” Buck said, backing away.

  Logan gave Sloane a hard push.

  “Too high! Too high! Patrice!” Sloane wailed.

  “It’s not too high, and Patrice isn’t here,” Logan said, and pushed him again, just as hard.

  “Patrice! Patrice!” Sloane wailed louder.

  “Oh, forget it,” Logan said, disgusted. “You can push him, Buck. Only don’t push him too high.”

  “I’d be happy to,” Buck said. He caught the high-swinging Sloane, then restarted him with a gentle push.

  “Come on, Bubba,” Logan said.

  Bubba, who had found a spot she liked near a tree and fallen asleep, rose to her feet, one leg at a time, and followed Logan around to the front of the house. She chose another spot she liked and lay down again with a heavy sigh. “Unnnh, unnnh, unnnh,” she said.

  Logan wondered whether the other Crew operatives had found the hairy man yet. He wished he had a cell phone so he could check in with them.

  “Here I am,” he said aloud to himself, “locked in an interplanetary battle for Earth’s dogs, and with no way of communicating with my cooperatives.”

  Then he had an idea. He went into the house and found Patrice’s cordless phone. He dialed Aggy’s number.

  “Hello, Logan,” she answered. “How’s the babysitter?”

  “Patrice is my caregiver, not my babysitter, and she isn’t here. Her housesitter, Buck, is watching us. Did you find the hairy guy yet?”

  “No. It’s only been, like, twenty minutes or something, hasn’t it? And he could be anywhere.”

  “He’s not at the library?”

  “I’ve seen men with beards. I haven’t heard any bearded man speak with an accent, but this is a library, and people don’t talk very much.”

  “Curses!” Logan said. “Call me at this number if you find the guy. If I find him, I’ll call you.” And he hung up.

  He started to head back outside, then changed his mind. “I better stay by the phone.”

  He sat on the couch under Patrice’s bay window and took out his clipboard. He saw a group of middle-schoolers walking down the street, two boys and a girl. He saw the woman who lived across the street kneeling in her flowers, pulling weeds and tossing them into a wheelbarrow. He noticed a telephone pole papered with flyers. He pulled out his binoculars and focused on them. One said, in big, bold letters, MISSING DOG.

  10. The Third Dog

  Logan ran outside. Bubba stood up slowly.

  “Sit, Bubba!” Logan ordered as he passed by. “Stay!”

  Bubba sat. Bubba stayed.

  Logan was not surprised to find that a couple of the flyers on the pole were about lost dogs. Others advertised garage sales, rooms for rent, and a motorcycle for sale. One reported the disappearance of an electric wheelchair. Logan ripped down the ones about the missing dogs.

  “Hey, there!” a voice from behind him said. “What are you doing?”

  Logan spun around and saw the weeding lady coming toward him. She had white hair, a wrinkly face, and glasses that magnified her eyes.


  She held a small metal claw in her hand, and her knees were muddy.

  “What are you doing there?” she asked.

  “I’m not stealing, ma’am,” Logan said. “I’m part of a team that is investigating dognappings in the area….”

  “One of those flyers is mine,” the lady said, waving a finger at the flyers he’d pulled down.

  “Which one?” Logan asked, fanning out the flyers.

  She singled out a picture of a small Pomeranian mix. “That’s my Ollie,” she said sadly.

  “Can you describe the circumstances, ma’am?” Logan asked, holding up his clipboard. “You can trust me. I’m the chief investigator of the ICRU.” He knew they had dropped the Intergalactic, but while he was on his own, he included it.

  “The what?” the woman asked.

  “The Intergalactic Canine Rescue Unit, ma’am. When was the last time you saw your dog?”

  “Yesterday,” the lady said.

  “And what happened?”

  “Well, I was out here tending the flowers, and Ollie was running around, playing. Digging and growling is what he likes doing most. Then I stopped hearing him, so I went to look for him.”

  “Had he vanished?” Logan asked.

  “Completely,” the lady said, her chin beginning to quiver. “All I found was his collar.”

  Logan looked up from his note-taking. “His collar, ma’am?”

  “Yes. He must have pulled it off. He does that sometimes.”

  Logan wrote furiously.

  “Why aren’t you in school?” the lady asked. “Is it a holiday I don’t know about?”

  “No, ma’am,” Logan said, still writing. “I attend an alternative education program, ma’am. I only go to school three times a week, and only for a couple hours at a time.”

  “It’s a private school?”

  “No, ma’am. NICE is part of the public school system.”

  “NICE?”

  “It’s an acronym for Nelsonport Individualized Choice Education.”

  “I see….” the woman said, though she still appeared confused.

  “Did you happen to see a stranger around that day, ma’am? A hairy man? A hairy man with an accent?”

  The lady’s brow furrowed as she considered this. “No. Not that I can remember, anyway….”

  “Think, ma’am!” Logan said, causing the woman to jump. “It’s important. Very important. Did you or did you not see a hairy man with an accent on the day your dog vanished? He might have had dog treats on him.”

  “Logan?” Buck called before the flustered lady could answer. He was across the street, holding Sloane by the hand. “I need you to stay on the property, Logan.”

  Logan ignored him. “Did you, ma’am? Did you see a hairy man around here? Did you? Huh? Did you?”

  “Logan?” Buck said. “Come on back now.”

  “I’m going to need these flyers to help you get your dog back, ma’am,” Logan said to the lady. “You can print up another one, can’t you?”

  “Logan,” Buck said. He and Sloane were now across the street.

  “Goga!” Sloane said.

  “I have to go, ma’am,” Logan said. “But I’ll be back. Don’t worry about anything, ma’am. We’ll find your dog.”

  “We?” she asked.

  “The ICRU, ma’am.”

  “Oh, yes,” the woman said.

  Logan walked to where Buck and Sloane were standing, but did not stop.

  Buck followed after him. “What were you talking to her about?” he asked.

  Logan didn’t answer. He marched straight up to Bubba.

  “Come on, girl,” he said. “I’m taking you into the house even if you do fart. It’s for your own protection. I don’t want some hairy alien with an accent dognapping you.”

  Bubba climbed to her feet again and followed Logan inside. She sat at Logan’s feet as Logan punched Aggy’s number, and whimpered, “Unnnh, unnnh, unnnh.”

  The call went to voice mail.

  After the beep, Logan said, “At least three dogs are missing in Patrice’s neighborhood. One owner said her dog’s collar was found in the yard. The alien—or aliens—have struck again. Let’s rendezvous at Ketchoklam Park at two o’clock to discuss strategies. This is Logan, signing out.”

  And he hung up.

  11. Crew Rendezvous

  Ketchoklam was a lush, sloping city park perched high on a cliff overlooking the bay. Squids, sharks, whales, seals, and dolphins swam in the waters beyond the park. Enormous ships from Asia sailed by, completing their long Pacific voyages. Steelgray nuclear submarines and aircraft carriers occasionally drifted past. At the base of the cliff was a rocky beach teeming with mussels and squawking gulls. In the distance stood towering snow-peaked Canadian volcanoes. Without much notice of any of this—they had gotten used to it—the Crew gathered on a wooden picnic table to compare notes.

  Logan wasn’t the only one who had brought missing-dog flyers. Kian had found two as well. And Aggy had torn down a few from telephone poles around the library.

  Thatcher had seen lost-dog flyers, too, but had left them alone.

  “I didn’t think it was right to tear them down,” he said. “What if someone saw the missing dogs, but there wasn’t a flyer to tell them who to call? What would they do then? Huh?”

  “No one’s going to find these missing dogs, Thatcher,” Logan said seriously. “These dogs are no longer on Earth, if they’re alive at all. Who knows what the aliens want them for? Maybe they’re using them for food, or for fuel for their spaceship….”

  “Gross,” Aggy said.

  “I bet the aliens just like dogs,” Thatcher said. “Maybe they don’t have any on their planet.”

  “Yes, I’m sure they traveled light-years for pets,” Kian said. He then growled like a dog and jumped Thatcher.

  “Cut it out, men,” Logan said. “We have a lot of work to do.”

  “Like what?” Aggy asked. “Call the people on the flyers and ask them if they’ve seen the hairy man?”

  “We don’t have time for more interrogations,” Logan said. “We need to find him ourselves before he takes any more dogs.”

  “You haven’t established that this man was anywhere near any of the other dogs that were stolen,” Aggy said. “You saw him pet a dog once. Big deal.”

  “I know an alien when I see one.”

  “Yeah, you were right about that sub we had last month,” Aggy said.

  “I’m telling you, that guy wasn’t human,” Logan said. “He had antennae coming out of his head.”

  “Really?” said Thatcher. “He had antennae? Like a bug?”

  “I saw them.”

  “Yeah,” Kian said. “Lots of substitutes have antennae.”

  “How are we going to find the hairy guy?” Aggy asked.

  “We’re going to use one of our dogs for bait,” Logan said, eyeing each of them.

  “I’m not letting Bear be bait,” Thatcher said. “No way. I don’t want some alien to zap him.”

  Logan looked at Kian.

  “Chloe’s unavailable,” he said. “Remember?”

  “Don’t you have another dog?” Logan asked.

  “My dad has a cat,” Kian said, with visible distaste.

  “Like an alien would take a cat.” Thatcher laughed.

  Kian screamed like a leopard and bared pretend claws at Thatcher. Thatcher screamed and clawed back, and the two predators went at each other.

  Logan looked to Aggy.

  “Nope,” she said. “Leave Festus out of it.”

  “I thought you weren’t afraid of aliens?” Logan said.

  “I’m not. Festus just had surgery and needs to rest.”

  “Oh, all right. We can use Bubba,” Logan said. “I’ll go get her and bring her to Sandwiches. We’ll all meet there.”

  “I can’t go to Sandwiches,” Thatcher said. “I’ve got soccer.”

  “Me, too,” said Aggy.

  “I have piano,” Kian said.
/>   “Yeah, Kian has piano lessons,” Thatcher said in a lilting, teasing voice, while pretending to tap piano keys on Kian’s head.

  Kian punched him in the gut, which prompted a slugfest.

  “Silence!” Logan shouted.

  The fighting stopped. Everyone stared at him.

  “We are in the midst of an alien invasion, people,” he said. “I don’t want to hear about your other commitments.”

  “Logan!” a voice called out. “Logan! What are you doing here?” His mom was running toward him, Sloane in her arms, his head bobbing.

  His shoulders slumped. “Not again.”

  “I guess we won’t be trapping any aliens today after all,” Aggy said.

  “Buck said you just walked away without telling him where you were going,” his mom said.

  “I had to, Mom,” Logan said. “It was vital.”

  His mom stopped in front of him, caught her breath, and said, “Move it, bud. Into the car. I’m mad. You’re in trouble. Move it.”

  “But Mom—”

  “Nope,” she said, shifting Sloane into one arm and taking Logan’s hand. “Sorry, Crew, but I need your leader!” she called over her shoulder as she pulled him away.

  “That’s okay, Jenny,” Kian said, waving at them. “Bye.”

  They all stood silent for a moment, then headed off toward their scheduled activities.

  12. The Fate of the World’s Dogs

  “Son, you do not walk away from the person I have given authority to take care of you,” Logan’s mom said.

  Logan was pinned in an easy chair in the living room, his mom leaning over him. He knew never to speak when his mother’s face was red. At the moment, it was like a huge strawberry.

  “Okay?” she asked.

  He nodded. Nodding was usually okay.

  She relaxed and sank into the couch. “Was this about the aliens taking the dogs?”

  Logan nodded again.

  His mom straightened her spine and folded her legs into the lotus position. She rested her hands on her knees, palms up, closed her eyes, and breathed mindfully. That was what she called it: mindful breathing. Deep inhalation. Hold it. Long, slow, audible exhalation. And again. The red began to pale.

  Sloane sat beside her and did his best to imitate her.