Chihuawolf (4 page)

Paco didn't have to think twice, or even think at all, about who would go along the white road with him, travel beyond the boundaries of his hometown, and stay the course until he reached Mount Diablo. No matter how long the way or difficult the journey, Paco had one friend who would never turn him down.

That friend—more true, more loyal, more trustworthy than all the rest—was Coco. Labrador retrievers have kindness and helpfulness woven into the very fiber of their being. But Coco had an extra measure of both. Paco knew that. Sad to say, he took it for granted. He and Coco had been pups together. They had tugged on the same chew toy. They had munched on the same bone. Coco had even sat back and allowed Paco to eat out of her doggy bowl. For a lover of food, as Coco clearly was, sharing her precious dinner showed how deeply she cared for him.

Therefore, Professor Pewmount's request to “not go alone” was already taken care of, in Paco's mind at least. But the small dog remained outside in the soft gray dusk to think about something else. He stared off into the gathering darkness and put all his brain cells to work on a plan for slipping out of the house and finding the werewolf.

He thought about it long and hard, hoping to create something terribly clever. Then a cricket chirping in the grass distracted him, and he forgot what he was thinking about. He tried a second time to come up with a plan before swiveling his head to better hear the musical call of a tiny peeper toad in a tree. He lost his train of thought again. Finally, he concentrated very hard, and this time, not interrupted by anything, he came up with a brilliant idea.

Paco hopped onto all fours, pranced up and down for a moment, shook himself to make his dog tags jingle, and with a light heart, headed for the house. The corners of his mouth curled into a wide smile. Happiness made him bounce. He had taken the first step toward fulfilling his dream. And he knew, with absolute certainty and not a glimmer of doubt, that his plan would work.

An hour or two later, Olivia called out, “Paco, come see what Mommy and I got you at the mall!”

Olivia's cheeks glowed a pretty pink and her brown eyes shone with excitement. In one hand she held up a plastic shopping bag that she shook loudly like a baby's rattle.

From his place on the seat of the recliner, Paco sleepily open his eyes. Instead of leaping to the floor and running over to see what she had bought (and he wanted to know what was in the bag, he really did), he lazily turned over on his back, put all four legs in the air, and squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could.

Olivia stared in amazement at the unmoving dog. Paco loved presents. She had never seen him act this way before. She turned to her mother. “Do you think Paco's sick?”

Unnoticed by Olivia, Paco's forehead furrowed into a frown.
Oh
no! I can't let her think I'm sick. She might take me to the vet!
He must to do something quickly. He did. He snored. The snore made his whiskers vibrate. He snored again, louder. His cheeks flapped, showing his gums.

“That's no sick dog.” Mommy's voice was brisk and no-nonsense. “That's a dog enjoying a good sleep. He wore himself out at Sandy's pool today, that's all.”

“I guess so…” Olivia wasn't convinced. She couldn't remember Paco swimming in the pool or running around like B-Boy. She did recall him barking a lot with the other dogs. But could barking wear a dog out?

Finally she shrugged. She thought about how Paco was only a little dog. A very little dog. He must be delicate and easily tired. Pity squeezed her heart. Poor, dear, fragile Paco. Barking was all the exercise he could handle.

“It's already eight o'clock. Let him get a good night's rest. He'll be his old self again in the morning.” Mommy steered Olivia out the door and snapped off the light behind them. The sound of them talking in the hallway reached Paco, who still pretended to be asleep and snored as much as he could.

“And you know what, Livy?”

“What, Mommy?”

“I'm pretty tired too. Let me run a bubble bath, get you into your pajamas, and we'll read a good book together before we go to bed. Would you like that?”

“Can we read the book about Mole and Ratty and Toad of Toad Hall?”

“Definitely. I never get tired of reading that one.”

Paco heard them move away and start climbing the stairs. Olivia's fading voice drifted downward.

“Animals can't really talk, can they, Mommy?”

Mommy laughed. “Only in books, Livy. Only in books.”

As soon as they left, Paco jumped up. He wasn't the slightest bit sleepy. Excitement hummed through him like a vibrating guitar string. He wanted to howl with happiness. He listened to Olivia and Mommy climb the stairs to the second floor. He heard the bath water running into the tub.

He leaped into action. He ran over to the couch and grabbed a throw pillow in his teeth. He carried it over to the recliner and put it where he slept. Then he ran back to the couch and retrieved the small afghan throw Grammie had knitted. Taking it back to the recliner, he covered the pillow, so that if anyone should glance into the dark room—and he didn't think anyone would—the bump on the chair cushion would look like a sleeping dog.

Paco felt pleased with himself. So far, so good.

Next, he walked quietly through the kitchen, making sure his nails didn't go click, click, click on the tiles. He squirmed out the doggy door, taking care that the flap closed gently, without a sound. He went down the steps, stopped for just a brief moment, then marched determinedly toward the far end of the yard where Pewmount had rambled away a few hours before.

Paco knew about the dirt path that zigzagged through the area where the grass was never cut.

All of a sudden, a rabbit scooted out of it, raced across the grass, and disappeared into the high, dense weeds. Paco tensed. Was something else in there?

He gathered his courage and entered the path. Darkness closed in around him. Taking careful steps, he followed the twisting path to a place hidden behind some raspberry bushes. Here, the stone wall around the backyard had crumbled. It made an escape route that led from the safety of home into the wide world beyond.

Paco stopped. All he needed to do now was follow his plan. He could go through this secret exit to the next block, where Coco lived, without going toward the front of the house, where someone might see him. It was a great plan.

But when he had thought it up, Paco had seen only the adventure and the fun. Now, as the small Chihuahua stood alone in the dark night, his heart thumped hard in his chest. He felt nervous. His feet didn't want to move.

Then Paco squared his shoulders and told himself that Pewmount, who was a very old skunk, often traveled this way. Timid bunnies and worried mice did too.

But Paco never traveled this way, and that made all the difference.

In fact, he had never left the yard before without being in Olivia's arms or dancing at the end of his leash. Suddenly the world felt very big and he felt…he felt…well, he felt very small.

Yet he would not give up. He reminded himself he had the heart of a lion. Coco had said so, hadn't she? He pushed past the raspberry brambles. He climbed up and over the tumbled-down stones of the old wall. He told himself it wasn't hard at all. He looked around.

A narrow, brick-paved alley led between the houses to Elm Street. Paco lifted his chin, took a deep breath, and wagged his tail. He'd be at Coco's house in no time. There was no reason to be scared.

At that very moment, a movement to his right made him turn quickly. A dark shape came up over the wall behind him.
Ay ay ay! Run!
his brain commanded.

But it was too late. A heavy weight landed on his back and pushed him flat to the ground.

Paco yelped in terror. His heart fluttered like a trapped butterfly.

Who had grabbed him in the dark?

“Gotcha!” a familiar voice yelled. A very familiar voice.

“Get off me, Norma-Jean!” Paco cried out with a muffled sound—muffled because a gray furry body sat on his head.

“Make me!” the cat laughed.

So Paco did. He nipped at whatever was closest and caught Norma-Jean's tail with his teeth.

“Ow! That hurts!” the cat complained and jumped off.

Paco scrambled to his feet and saw Little Annie picking her way down the stones to join her sister.

“Where do you think you're going?” the black cat asked.

“We saw you sneak out of the house,” the gray cat added.

Not wanting to answer, Paco asked a question of his own. “What are
you
doing out here?”

Norma-Jean rubbed her face with a dainty gray paw. “We always go out at night. It's when cats prowl. We can see in the dark, you know.”

“But dogs can't,” Little Annie chimed in. “So what's the story, half-pint? We
know
you're up to something.”

“No, I'm not!”

The two cats exchanged a look that said they didn't believe Paco, not even a little bit. Then they spoke in perfect unison. “Yes, you are!”