Stick Dog Wants a Hot Dog (7 page)

As if to add a greater sense of urgency and a spirit of teamwork, Karen exclaimed, “Down with Phyllis!”

And they took off.

Chapter 5
Karen Is Gone

They tore as fast as they could around to the back of the blue house. When they got there, they slowed down and stalked their way to the corner so that they could just see where Peter had his frankfurter cart parked on the sidewalk.

“Okay,” said Stick Dog. “First, we need to get closer. When he turns his head, we run behind the hanging laundry. Let's get behind one of those big white sheets. Got it?”

“Got it,” the other four said.

“We better go one at a time. There will be less chance of us getting spotted that way,” Stick Dog said. “Karen, since you're the smallest, you should go first.”

Karen raced across the green lawn, pumping her little dachshund legs as fast as she could. In a matter of seconds, she was positioned behind one of the sheets hanging out to dry. She turned around to face the others, waved to indicate the coast was clear, and then crouched down low to ensure that she was well hidden.

“Okay,” said Stick Dog. “Who wants to go next?”

Before anyone could answer, however, a sudden and terrible sound vibrated the house—and the ground beneath their paws. It was metallic and shaky. It screeched and then smashed.

Do you know what it was?

It was a screen door opening and slamming shut.

A large man with a dark black beard came out of the house, stomping toward where Karen was hiding behind the hanging sheet.

She had heard the bang and jerked her head in the direction of the sound. But behind the hanging sheet, she could not see this large, impending doom. She turned to look at Mutt, Stripes, Stick Dog, and Poo-Poo.

While Karen could see nothing, the other dogs could see everything. They saw the large, bearded man coming toward the laundry—coming closer toward Karen. They began waving their paws in the air, signaling Karen the best they could about the approaching danger.

She knew she had to run—or hide. Her legs were already tired, and they felt heavy and frozen from fright. Karen could feel the giant human creature coming closer even though she couldn't see him. The rumbles and vibrations in the ground grew more severe with each additional footfall.

She snapped her head back toward her friends one final time before taking action. The other dogs were still waving frantically, but they knew they couldn't bark and give themselves away to the bearded beast.

Karen couldn't get her legs to run.

But she could hide.

And hide she did.

The stomping human was three steps away, shielded from seeing Karen only by the thin cotton sheet hanging from the clothesline.

Karen leaped higher than she ever had before—at least ten inches—above the laundry basket.

The human creature was two steps away.

Karen dove nose-first into the clean, dry clothes.

He was one step away.

Karen dug and nestled herself into the bottom of the basket, wriggling beneath all the folded napkins, blue jeans, T-shirts, and underwear.

The bearded man opened his fist and stretched his thick fingers wide, preparing to grab and clench. He grasped the sheet in his hand and rubbed it between his fingers. “Still damp,” he said to himself, and looked up at the sky.

Karen knew she was safe. If the laundry was still damp on the line, this scary, bearded human beast would leave the basket. He'd come back later when everything was dry and then fill up the basket and take it in. She could relax. They could get back to their frankfurter plan. They could beat Phyllis the raccoon to the delicious-smelling food. Karen was closer to the frankfurter cart than before. She could smell that meaty aroma all the better now. She wiped a little drool from her mouth on a white linen napkin in the bottom of the basket.

Then the basket moved.

In a voice that was dark and gravelly, deep and foreboding, the human said, “Might as well take these in.”

With that, the basket—and Karen—were up in the air.

The man held the basket on his hip, pivoted in place, and began his return to the house. Halfway across the lawn, Karen stuck her head out from the back of the basket. There was a pair of boxer shorts decorated with lots of red hearts on top of her head. She stared with wide eyes at the other dogs at the corner of the house. There was panic and fear on Karen's face—and there was panic and fear on the others' faces as they watched from a distance.

The screen door screeched again on its hinges as it opened.

Karen ducked her head beneath the underwear again. The man stepped inside. When the screen door slammed shut, the house and the ground shook.

Karen was gone.