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ruler and a doorstop, or why that evening, when he took Fuzzy out of the hutch and stroked him, Fuzzy hardly squeaked at all. And he didn’t mention it to Henrietta either.

2
    Guinea Pigs Wanted
    T he next morning Coco was rudely awoken from her beauty sleep by the sound of singing. She peeped out from under the straw and stared in amazement.
    After what Ben had said about Fuzzy’s cooking, Coco had expectedto find him moping around the hutch, feeling sorry for himself, but instead he was racing around the rug, squeaking away loudly to a tune on Radio 2 as if nothing had happened. The Blisses had left the radio on by mistake.
    “I wish to goodness,” she complained, reaching out a delicate paw and helping herself to a dainty morsel of fresh grass, “you would stop. One feels a headache coming on.”
    “I can’t stop,” Fuzzy squeaked, dancing a little jig in time to the music. “Something wonderful hashappened. Something marvelous. Something I’ve always dreamed of.”
    “The Queen has a new hat?” Coco suggested, stretching her toes and clambering out of bed.
    “No!” Fuzzy tried not to sound exasperated. “Better than that.”
    Coco gasped. What could be better than the Queen’s new hat?
    “Scarlet Cleaver”—Fuzzy rubbed his paws together in glee—“the world’s greatest cook, is opening a restaurant, right here in Strawberry Park. It’s going to be called the Meat Cleaver.”
    “That’s a horrible name for a restaurant,” Coco said. “And it’s a stupid idea. Strawberry Park’s got about three thousand restaurants already.” She strongly disapproved of Scarlet Cleaver who, unlike the Queen, always wore very revealing dresses.
    “
And
,” continued Fuzzy, ignoring her, “she wants guinea pigs.”
    “Rubbish!” retorted Coco, who suddenly felt a little jealous.
    “It’s not rubbish. I saw an ad on the newspaper under the hay.” Fuzzy was beginning to feel quite cross withCoco. “‘Guinea pigs wanted: Good money paid’—that’s what it said.”

    “You’re making it up,” Coco sneered.
    “That’s rich, coming from you!” Fuzzy chattered, almost losing his temper. He took a deep breath. “Don’t you see, Coco? It’s my chance to learn to cook things properly for Ben and Henrietta. I’m going to volunteer!” He turned the radio up and wiggled his bottom in time to the music.
    “Hush!” Coco sat back and scratched her rosettes. She had the feeling something wasn’t quite right. “One can’t think straight with that racket!” Fuzzy was being deliberatelyannoying. He
knew
she preferred harp sonatas.
    Fuzzy groaned. Reluctantly he turned the radio, which was on the floor next to Henrietta’s yoga mat, down a bit, twisting the volume knob with his paws.
    Coco was quiet for a moment. Suddenly she started giggling. “You are silly, Fuzzy!” Coco laughed. “Scarlet Cleaver doesn’t want
real
guinea pigs; she wants
people
to be ‘guinea pigs.’”
    “How can a person be a guinea pig?” Fuzzy asked, puzzled.
    “Being a ‘guinea pig’ means trying something out.” Coco let herself out of the cage and sauntered toward him, fluffing her whiskers.
    “So why get a human to be a guinea pig when a guinea pig can be a guinea pig?” Fuzzy couldn’t understand it.
    Coco looked at him with some sympathy. He really wasn’t very clever. “It’s an
expression
, silly. Humans use them all the time. It’s like when Henrietta calls us chalk and cheese. We’re not really chalk and cheese, are we? It just means we’re completelydifferent.” She helped herself to some of Henrietta’s special hand cream, which was lying on the floor next to the yoga mat.
    “Of course,” she added, “when one is brought up at Buckingham Palace, that’s the sort of thing one learns. Rather like the harp.”
    Fuzzy bit his tongue.
    “Anyway,” Coco continued unkindly, “you can’t cook. Ben said so, remember? So even if Scarlet Cleaver
did
want guinea pigs, she wouldn’t want you. Now