Fenway and Hattie by Victoria J. Coe Read Free Book Online Page A

not . . .
    A bacon-y smell wafts in from the hallway. Wowee, I love bacon! I speed out the door. “Great news, Hattie!” I bark. “Bacon!”
    I bound down the stairs, straight toward that bacon-y aroma. And sounds of popping and sizzling. Until I get to the Eating Place doorway and skid to a stop. My tummy sinks. Curse you, Wicked Floor!
    Food Lady and Fetch Man are sitting at the table, holding steaming cups that smell like coffee. I inhale the smoky, salty scent of bacon.
Mmmmm!
My tongue can already taste it.
    Hattie trots right on in, her energy full of purpose. She snatches a strip of glistening bacon and turns to me. “Fenway, come!” she says.
    Fetch Man pats Food Lady’s arm. His face is beaming with pride.
    Hattie stretches out her hand, as if I didn’t notice she was holding a piece of ripply, gorgeous bacon. “Fenway, come!” she says again.
    My belly roars with desire. Saliva drips onto my whiskers. The Wicked Floor is standing between me and that—
gulp!
—wondrously yummy bacon.
    Hattie gazes at me sweetly. She wants to give it to me. She edges closer. “Fenway, come!”
    Why is she doing this to me? I jump up and up, scratching my claws against the wall. “Give me that bacon!” I whine.
    Food Lady’s eyes widen. Fetch Man shoots up from his seat.
    â€œFEN-way, no!” Hattie shouts. She rushes over, shooing my paws off the wall. With that bacon still in her hand . . .
    Chomp!
Mmmmm!
Wow, that was easy. I lick my chops.
    Food Lady goes to the front closet and grabs my leash. “Hattie,” she says, her face full of encouragement.
    Hattie looks defeated. She trudges over to Food Lady, who rubs her shoulders.
    Hooray! Hooray! We’re finally going to the Dog Park.The real one. With big water dishes to splash in. Benches to climb on. And dogs! Lots of romping dogs! I dash to Hattie’s side, leaping and twirling.
    She clips on the leash, and we head to the front door. We walk right past the jump rope coiled on the floor. Its scent of familiar short humans and gritty pavement has grown so faint, it’s almost unrecognizable.
    It’s a mystery, but there’s no time to investigate. There’s playing to be played!
    I pull Hattie down the steps and into the hot, blazing sun. After stopping to pee on a patch of grass—me, not her—we head down the walkway and onto the actual street. Where cars and trucks and buses go. I try to let Hattie know that this is a bad idea by pulling her onto the sidewalk.
    But—whoa, the sidewalk is gone! Where will I find yummy crumbs to eat or sticky wrappers to lick?
    Apparently, it doesn’t matter, because Hattie is determined to walk in the street. Good thing there are no cars or trucks or buses coming.
    In fact, it’s strangely quiet. No human voices yelling or sirens screaming. And not even one car door slamming. The only noises I hear are buzzing bees and fluty, chirpy birds up in the leafy trees. It’s all so wrong. Where did everything go?
    And those aren’t the only problems. Hattie’s heading up the street . . . without Fetch Man. Or Food Lady. They’re supposed to come on walks. Where are they? Why is Hattie leaving without them?
    As I scout around, I see even more signs of trouble. Where are the lampposts and parking meters? Or trash cans? What will I sniff? How will I know which dogs have passed by?
    The more I protest, the more Hattie yanks the leash. Maybe I’m worrying for nothing . . .
    Because up ahead, beyond the trees . . . there it is! The Dog Park! I’d know that fence anywhere! My tail starts wagging. My legs move faster.
    But Hattie’s pace does not quicken. Doesn’t she realize how important it is to get to the Dog Park? “Hurry,” I bark. “The other dogs are probably already playing without us.”
    I sniff like crazy, trying to pick up whiffs of who might be