Stick Dog Wants a Hot Dog (8 page)

Chapter 6
A Donkey?

“What are we going to do?” Mutt asked. “She doesn't stand a chance against that guy!”

“Did you see the size of him?!” Stripes exclaimed.

“He's a giant!” Poo-Poo confirmed.

“Shh. Keep it down. Let me think,” Stick Dog said quickly.

All of them were edgy and nervous. Every movement they made, from an ear scratch to a head turn, was sudden and fast.

“Does anyone have a chain saw?” asked Poo-Poo.

“Why?” asked Stripes.

“I was going to cut a hole in the side of the house to get Karen out.”

“Good idea,” said Stripes. “But I don't have one.”

Mutt said, “I'm fresh out of chain saws.”

“How about a motorcycle helmet?”

“Why?” asked Mutt.

“I was going to strap it on,” said Poo-Poo. He demonstrated with his paws, placing an imaginary helmet on his head. “And then run repeatedly into the house until I made a hole. Then we could pull Karen out. I'm prepared to do it without the helmet, of course.”

“You are great at smashing into things headfirst,” said Stripes with genuine admiration. “But I don't have one.”

Mutt spread out his legs and shook his entire body vigorously for seven seconds. From his tangled fur fell an old rubber ball, a pen cap, two bottle caps, a shoelace, and a yellow marker. He looked around at the stuff scattered on the ground. You could tell he was hoping to find a motorcycle helmet. There was great disappointment on his face when he realized there wasn't one. “Nothing,” he said.

Stick Dog was still thinking.

Poo-Poo grew increasingly frustrated as his ideas failed to work out. “I'm just going to bark my head off,” he said suddenly. “I don't know what else to do.”

“Great idea,” said Stripes.

“I'm in,” Mutt said, clearing his throat.

All three dogs took deep inhales of air.

“Stop,” said Stick Dog calmly. “Don't bark.”

Stripes, Mutt, and Poo-Poo exhaled.

“Why not?” asked Stripes. “We're dogs. That's what we're supposed to do.”

“Look,” Stick Dog said. “We're going to rescue Karen; don't worry. But we have to be smart and quiet about it. Barking is only going to attract attention—from the giant bearded man; from Peter, the frankfurter man; and from all the neighbors around here. It might even alert Phyllis to our presence. And we don't want that.”

“Good point,” said Mutt.

“Now, let's check out the back of the house and try to see inside,” said Stick Dog, crouching down to drag himself slowly and silently on his belly. The other dogs copied him. “Once we get a look inside, maybe we'll figure out a good way to get Karen back.”

They slithered around the corner to the back of the house. There they found a small patio with a grill, two chairs, and a table.

“Look! A grill!” said Stripes. “Remember those hamburgers from the grill at Picasso Park? Oh, man, that was good eating. Best things I ever tasted.”

“I can remember that glorious day,” said Poo-Poo, closing his eyes and imagining.

Mutt was moving his jaw up and down slightly—almost like he was chewing. “Sometimes I dream about hamburgers.”

“Hey, umm, guys?” Stick Dog said.

“I can almost taste them,” Stripes whispered, now swaying slowly back and forth.

“Me too,” moaned Mutt and Poo-Poo together.

“You guys! Snap out of it!” Stick Dog declared. “We have to rescue Karen.”

They all opened their eyes at once and shook their heads. “Sorry, Stick Dog,” Mutt said. “It's just that we saw the grill and everything. We couldn't help ourselves.”

“It's okay. Follow me.”

Luckily, there was a sliding glass door that led from the house to the patio. They scooched across the patio and peered inside.

“There she is,” whispered Stick Dog.

“Where?” Mutt asked.

“Still in the laundry basket,” answered Stick Dog. “See? The clothes are moving up and down every time she breathes.”

“How do you know that's Karen?” asked Stripes.

“Yeah, Stick Dog,” added Poo-Poo. “How do you know?”

Stick Dog turned his head and looked at them both. “We just saw her jump in the laundry basket a minute ago. Then we saw the basket get carried inside the house by the big guy with the beard. Now we see the basket inside, and there's something moving under the clothes. It's Karen.”

“It could be somebody else,” said Stripes. “We don't know for sure.”

“Of course we know,” said Stick Dog.

“But without seeing her,” said Mutt, “we don't
know
know.”

“Yes, we do,” said Stick Dog.

“It really could be anyone,” added Poo-Poo. “It could be a chipmunk maybe. Or a donkey.”

“A donkey?” Stick Dog asked, closing his eyes and trying to keep his composure.

“A small donkey, sure,” Poo-Poo said matter-of-factly. “Stranger things have happened.”

Stick Dog took a deep breath. “I'm not sure that's true.”

“Karen could have
transformed
into a donkey,” said Mutt, trying to help.

This made Stripes want to help too. “Or maybe she's been a donkey the whole time we've known her,” she said. “But just wearing a dachshund costume.”

“Yeah,” said Poo-Poo, “what about that?”

Stick Dog couldn't even speak. He had to think—and act—fast. He had to end this conversation, help Karen, and then, finally, get to the frankfurters—before Phyllis. His stomach felt completely empty.

He tapped the glass door with his front right paw as lightly as he could while still making a noise. When he did, Karen peeked out from beneath the pair of boxer shorts with hearts printed on them.