Fenway and Hattie Up to New Tricks by Victoria J. Coe

Author:Victoria J. Coe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2018-01-02T05:00:00+00:00

Back in the car, I’m curled up near one window, and Hattie’s strapped in beside the other.

She can’t take her sad eyes off me. Clearly, she feels bad about what happened. She’s liable to let me get away with anything right now—chewing the upholstery, bounding into the front seat with Fetch Man, searching for snacks in her bag.

The trouble is, I don’t want to do any of those things. All I want to do is lick away my paw’s awful soreness. But I can’t put my tongue on something that tastes so bitter! Talk about an obstacle!

I need to find a way around it. Hattie hates seeing me suffer, like Goldie and Patches said. Somehow I need to use this to my advantage. After all, I’m all about pouncing on Opportunity.

By the time the car goes quiet in the garage, I’m determined to turn things around. Hattie carries me out of the car and into the Eating Place. I give myself a vigorous shake. At least that Cone of Doom has disappeared. Hopefully for good!

Food Lady glances up from the counter. She’s still dressed in raggedy clothes and reeks of wet paint. Fetch Man must not mind the odor because he breezes over and kisses her cheek.

Hattie chatters at her, apparently explaining what happened, because all eyes are focused on me. Food Lady looks surprised. Did she not expect me to trounce the cone?

Fetch Man pats Hattie’s shoulder, then sets the carton, tube, and little rattle-y bottle on the table. He reaches into his pocket and unfolds a piece of paper. He stares at it, speaking in a serious tone.

Hattie nods, full of determination, and strokes my head. My family’s paying way too much attention to me. They’re obviously up to something. And from the intense looks on their faces, it’s not playing with toys or fetching balls out in the Dog Park.

Hattie nuzzles my ears. “Soke-it,” she says. She must be apologizing again, because she smells sad and her voice sounds like a promise.

Does this mean everything will be better from now on?

“Thanks,” I bark, licking her cheek. “I’ll take it.”

With the carton hooked on one finger, Hattie carries me out of the Eating Place, down the hallway, and into the Washing Room. My fur prickles. Oh no! This is not a good sign!

I squirm desperately. “Let’s go someplace else,” I bark. “Like the Dog Park?”

“Shhh,” Hattie murmurs, calm as can be.

As if there’s anything to feel calm about. “Bad news, Hattie! It’s called the Washing Room for a reason! Can’t we go play outside?”

She acts like she either doesn’t get it or doesn’t care. She puts the carton on the counter and opens it.

Normally, I’d trust that any carton or box or package that Hattie opens is something wonderful, like a snack. But right now, my guard is up. And with good reason. Hattie’s motives are clearly suspect. Snacks do not belong in the Washing Room. This carton doesn’t smell like any snack I’ve ever smelled before. It smells like Spicy Breath.

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