A Guard Dog Named Honey by Denise Gosliner Orenstein

Author:Denise Gosliner Orenstein [Gosliner Orenstein, Denise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2019-04-14T16:00:00+00:00

The next morning, I hung around my room for a while instead of dashing over to see Phoebe as usual. Although I was eager to tell her about Honey’s sale, I was also dreading it. Honey really wasn’t that bad of a dog after all, and I worried that Sam the dog man didn’t sound that nice. What if he ended up being mean to her or got mad when she shook her head in a tornado of slobber? What if he made her eat regular dog food instead of the delicacies Phoebe prepared?

And if I was concerned about the sale, I was pretty sure Phoebe would be even more upset. But I couldn’t let her change her mind after I’d already sealed the deal. Then Willis would have to stay in jail, and Sam the dog man didn’t sound like someone you’d want to mess with.

But before I could even finish getting dressed, the phone rang. What’s going on? I thought to myself. Someone else to buy Honey? There must be a shortage of Neapolitan mastiffs in Massachusetts.

It was Phoebe herself on the phone.

“Beanie!” She sounded frantic, her voice a few pitches higher than usual. “Emergency. You have to come over right now. Please come over. I really need your help!”

My first thought was that she’d hurt herself or Edwin had finally snapped and was holding her hostage on Beach Bluff’s widow’s walk.

“What’s wrong, Phoebe?” I felt panic rising in my throat, but knew I needed to keep calm. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Can’t talk.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t want Edwin to hear. Just come over now. I’m in my bedroom.”

And then the phone went dead.

Luckily, I only had to throw on my jeans and sneakers and was out the door in one minute flat. It was one of Rock Haven’s stormy summer days and the rain pelted my face as I ran. Each time I made a bit of progress forward, I was pushed back by an angry slap of warm, humid wind—it felt as though I would absolutely never make it to Beach Bluff to rescue Phoebe.

When I finally got there, I saw that the double front door had blown open and someone had tied up Honey to the front porch with a shallow bowl of blueberries floating in a few inches of cranberry juice. Her favorite treat. But who could have led her from outside all the way up the steps to the covered porch? Honey looked up at me mournfully for a second, then dunked her gigantic head back in the bowl. But there was not a second to lose, no time to think about her or anything else. I had to rescue my friend.

The old house’s immense carved wooden stairway seemed endless, and I tried to take the stairs two by two, falling once or twice. I wanted to call out to Phoebe and let her know I’d be there to help in just a few seconds, but remembered what she said on the phone about not wanting Edwin to hear.

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