Read Online Fenway and Hattie by Victoria J. Coe - Free Book Online

food out here in the hallway. I thought My Hattie was back.
    â€œFenway, come!” she calls again, crouching down and slapping her knee. Angel pats Hattie’s shoulder, like she’s the one who needs support.
    My tummy’s aching. I must convince Hattie to bring me that food. “Please, Hattie,” I whine. “You can’t let me starve.” I flop onto my back and kick my legs. I moan and moan and moan. I turn my head for a peek.
    Hattie can’t take her eyes off me. She looks like her heart is breaking. Angel pats Hattie’s shoulder some more.
    Hattie is clearly torn. She murmurs something to Angel, then grabs the dish and hurries into the hall.
    Wowee! I knew she’d do it! I plunge right in like someone’s about to stop me.
Mmmmm!
It’s the Best Meal Ever. Sadly, it disappears all too soon.
    â€œI knew I’d get My Hattie back,” I bark. I lick and lick her cheek. She smiles.
    Angel plops next to us on the carpet, shaking her head. Her face looks disapproving.
    I climb onto her knee and lick her anyway. She tastes like ketchup.

    When everything’s cleaned up, we all head to the front door and Hattie clips my leash. She goes for the jump rope, but when Angel frowns, she drops it. Hattie sighs and grabs the fat leathery glove instead.
    Whatever she has planned, it’s bound to be fun. When we get outside, Hattie leans down to hug me and somehow my leash gets tied around a slim tree. “Um, hey, Hattie . . .” I bark as she walks away. “Aren’t you forgetting somebody?”
    Hattie stops near a patch of dirt, where Food Lady is kneeling and digging and sprinkling water. Angel is near the driveway, fingering that white ball. Which can only mean one thing—another awesome game of fetch! Or chase! I struggle to get loose.
    Fetch Man hovers next to Hattie, watching her intently. He has a hopeful look in his eye.
    â€œHey, everybody!” I bark. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m stuck here and I can’t play.”
    They act like they can’t hear me. Angel winds up and hurls the ball toward Hattie and Fetch Man. Hattie stretches out to get it, but it bounces behind her and dribbles toward Food Lady and the dirt.
    â€œI’m on it, you guys!” I bark, leaping out as far as I can. It’s a whisker beyond my reach.
    Hattie jogs right past me, looking annoyed. Or discouraged. She scoops up the ball and heads back.
    â€œUnfair! Unfair!” I bark. I jump and twist, even though it’s no use.
    Fetch Man rests his hand on Hattie’s back. He talks into her ear, then stands aside, moving his arm like he’s tossing a ball.
    Hattie nods. She strokes her cap a couple of times. She pulls her arm back and flings the ball at Angel.
    Fetch Man starts clapping, but then stops as the ball sails over Angel’s head. It lands on the driveway and begins rolling toward the street.
    Hattie’s shoulders slump. Fetch Man pats her back, his face encouraging.
    Angel is about to head after the ball when strange sounds make us all stop in our tracks.
    Tinky-tinky-tink-a-too.
    Is it music, like fluty birds? It’s moving toward us. It must be exciting because Hattie and Angel drop their fat gloves and squeal with glee. Do they know what this is?
    Fetch Man does not appear the least bit curious. Food Lady does not even look up. She keeps on playing in the dirt like her sense of hearing is gone.
    The
tinky-tinky-tink-a-too
is getting louder. And closer. Hattie skips up to Fetch Man, who digs into hispocket. Smiling, he hands Hattie and Angel a couple of small flimsy papers.
    Clutching them tightly, the short humans scamper to the edge of the grass. Their heads turn in the direction of the noisy music. Waiting.
    Until . . . a truck turns the corner!
    My hackles shoot up. Is the Big Brown Truck coming for us again?
    No! It’s smaller. And whiter. And it’s playing the tinky-tinky music.
    Hattie