Chihuawolf (2 page)

A
new
day
brings
new
opportunities
.

A night's rest and a yummy breakfast—uninterrupted by Little Annie and Norma-Jean—restored Paco's bright outlook. And Olivia had dressed him carefully. His trendy polarized shades went perfectly with his red baseball cap. A blue-striped polo shirt matched his blue nail polish. He peeked into the hall mirror and knew he looked smashing.

As he and Olivia headed out the front door, the thought of seeing Natasha at his morning play date made him quiver in anticipation. Then a ride in the car, one of his favorite things to do, brought him moments of bliss. With his spirits soaring, he arrived at the backyard pool of Olivia's best friend, Sandy, whose formal name was Alejandro.

Daylight sparkled like diamonds on the blue water. Joy bubbled up in Paco's heart.

Sandy set out water bowls for the dogs and a cooler with fruit juice and bottles of water inside for everyone else. He waved hello. Olivia and Paco were the very first guests there.

Olivia unsnapped Paco's leash, and he took a deep breath of air that smelled faintly of chlorine. He used his back foot to adjust the strap holding his sunglasses in place behind his ears. Then he unrolled a yellow towel next to Olivia's chaise lounge and lay down. He put his paws behind his apple-shaped head and turned his face toward the sun. He hoped to catch some rays and work on his tan.

From the beach towel next to his, Sandy's dog, Coco, an overweight chocolate Labrador retriever, rolled over onto her back, trying to scratch an itch near her shoulder. “You know, Paco, you shouldn't have told Natasha your real name was
El
Lobo
, the wolf.” She turned a soft brown eye toward her small friend. “If she can't love you for what you are, she won't love you if you pretend to be somebody else.”

Paco furrowed his brow. “
Por
qué?
I don't follow you.”

“Because she'll love the make-believe image, not the real you.” Coco kept her voice gentle. She thought Paco was a splendid fellow. He didn't have to change even a whisker for
her.
“I like you just the way you are,” she murmured.

Paco didn't hear her. He had already closed his eyes and fallen asleep.

Almost in the next breath, a flurry of sharp, annoying yips woke him up.

“B-Boy's here!” Coco jumped up and barked a greeting to the Jack Russell terrier who ran onto the diving board, spun around four or five times, bounced up and down, and then dove into the pool.

A brown and white head quickly bobbed to the surface, and the Jack paddled to the ladder and climbed out. He pranced right up to Paco and shook, spraying droplets of icy water on Paco and Olivia.

“Stop it, B-Boy!” Olivia squealed and scrambled to her feet. “Tommy!” she cried out to the lean, muscular boy with spiky red hair who followed the Jack Russell onto the diving board. “Your dog's getting me wet. Make him stop!”

Tommy grinned at her. “Cannonball!” he bellowed, sprinted to the end of the board and jumped. He hit the surface with a loud splash. A geyser of water shot ten feet up into the air. Paco saw what was coming and scooted under the chaise just in time, but buckets of water rained down on Olivia.

“Noooooo!” Olivia cried. “My hair!” She grabbed a towel and frantically started drying off. She happened to glance at Sandy, who choked back a laugh but ended up with a goofy grin on his face. She stamped her bare feet. “Your friend Tommy has no manners. And you're no better.” She glared at the olive-skinned boy who had been her very first friend in kindergarten.

“Aw, come on, Livy! Don't be mad. So you got wet. You've got a bathing suit on. Tommy's just having fun.”

Just then, Tommy's head broke the surface of the water near the side of the pool where Olivia and Sandy were standing. His wet fingers gripped the edge. His cheeks bulged out. His eyes twinkled. He bobbed straight up like a porpoise at Sea World, pursed his lips, and sent a stream of water right at Olivia.

She danced back, but the spray hit her legs. “Ohhhh, that's so gross. Tommy Thompson, I hate you for that!” Of course, Olivia didn't really hate Tommy. In fact, she secretly liked him a lot.

In the meantime, B-Boy kept barking. He raced all the way around the pool, came back, and did a couple of backflips in front of Paco. Then he threw himself down flat on his stomach, stretched out his back legs, twisted his head around as far as it would go, and started biting at the fur on his shoulder. “A flea! I think I've got a flea!” He yelped between bites. “I can't stand it. It's awful. I'm upset. It's a terrible flea. I can't get him!”

B-Boy sprang to his feet to try a different position. He aimed his head at his tail, curved his body like a doughnut, and began to spin. Around and around he went, yapping frantically, chasing the imaginary flea. He went so fast he became a blur.

“Do you believe that crazy dog?” Paco's voice was heavy with disapproval as he watched B-Boy's antics. “He has no cool at all.”

“He can't help it, Paco,” Coco said. “He's a Jack Russell terrier. Everybody knows they're show-offs.”

“B-Boy!” Paco yelled. “B-Boy! Yo! I need to ask you something.”

B-Boy slowed his circling. He raised an eyebrow and looked at Paco. Then he stopped. He straightened his body out, shook himself from head to toe, seemed to think for a second, jumped up on one front leg, and balanced for a minute. Then he came down and grinned a wide doggy grin. “Hey hey hey Paco.
Cómo estás—
what's happenin', homie?”

Paco rolled his eyes. “
Estoy
bien
. I'm great. I'm your best
homie
in the whole world. At least, I will be, if you found out what I asked you to.”

“Oh man, you sure you want to do this thing?” B-Boy nervously marched in place. His pink tongue hung out and he began to pant.

“I
do,
if I
can.
That's what you were supposed to find out. Can't you hold still for a minute?”

B-Boy was now doing a handstand on his front paws. He dropped down on all fours again. “Sorry 'bout that. I got this rhythm in my head and I just have to dance. I gotta dance, dance, dance.” He began bouncing up and down.

“B-BOY!
Alto!
Stop!” Paco, frustrated, raised his voice. “Did you get on Tommy's computer or not?”

B-Boy kept bouncing. “Sure, sure. He leaves it on 24/7, you know? No problem. He went to sleep and I went right to Google.”

“And what did you find out?”

“About you becoming a werewolf?” Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

“
Ay, caramba!
Of course about me becoming a werewolf! Can I or can't I?”

Suddenly B-Boy became very still. Worry wrinkles appeared in his forehead. “Paco, my man, I don't think you should be fooling around with something like this.”

“I don't care what you think! I need to know. Can I turn into a werewolf?”

B-Boy cocked his head to one side. Then he cocked it to the other side. Then he looked Paco straight in the eye. “Yes.”

Paco shook with excitement. “Tell me! Tell me how!”

“Weeeelll. It's not that simple. I found two ways you could do it.” B-Boy paused and looked about as serious as a Jack Russell terrier can ever look.

Paco's impatience poured over him like an icy shower. His nerves tingled. His skin twitched beneath his shiny black fur. “What are they? Come on. Tell me!”

“One way is—” B-Boy paused and took a breath. Then he scratched his side with a back foot. “It's…It's…”

“B-Boy! Come on! Spit it out.” Paco's voice became very high and shrill.

“It's sorta complicated! First you got to put on a belt made from the skin of a wolf. Then you smear a magic salve all over yourself. Then you recite poetry, some crazy stuff, you know?”

Dismay darkened the Chihuahua's face. “
Qué?
I can't do
that
. Where would I get the belt? Or the salve? Or find out what poem to recite?”

“Yeah, yeah!” B-Boy panted. “That's what I thought too. Too many details. But I found this other method. Another way to become a real werewolf.”

“Can I do the other way?” Paco's eyes lit up again.

B-Boy shrugged. “Sure. Why not? It seemed simple.”

Paco dared to hope. “You mean simple dumb? Or simple easy?”

“Easy. Easy as pie. All you have to do is drink rainwater from a werewolf's footprint.”

Paco's eyes glittered. He quivered with excitement. He barked his high, sharp bark. “Drink rainwater? That's a no-brainer. I do that all the time. I can be a werewolf!” He gave B-Boy a high five. “
No
problema!
I can be a werewolf!” He and B-Boy did a victory dance. Paco looked like a chicken scratching in the dirt, but he didn't care what he looked like. He was happy, happy, happy.

From behind him, Coco coughed. Paco didn't turn. She coughed again, louder. Paco kept dancing, scratching the ground, hopping up and down. He was wrapped up in the moment. He didn't hear her at all.

“Paco!” she finally yelled. “Paco, there
is
a problem!”

Paco spun around. “
Problema?
Problema?
What problem?”

Coco's eyes became very soft and sympathetic. She hated to upset her friend. “Paco, you're not thinking this through. You can drink rainwater. Every dog can. But you have to drink it from a werewolf's footprint. Where are you going to find a werewolf? I don't think any live around here.”

Paco stood very still. All his joy vanished. He thought,
Coco's right. Where can I find a werewolf?
Then a memory tugged at him. His face brightened. “Maybe one does live around here, Coco. I think I heard one last night.”

“You did?”

“I think so. I don't know so. Anyway, I heard an awful howl. It sounded really mean. It must have been a werewolf.”

Coco didn't want to argue with the little dog, but she hadn't heard anything the night before, and she possessed very good ears. “But you don't know it was a werewolf. It was probably a big dog. Or a coyote.”

Coco sounded very certain. Paco's head drooped down; his eyes stared at the ground. “I guess you're right. It must have been a big dog.”

Seeing the effect of her words, even though she spoke the truth, Coco felt terrible for crushing the Chihuahua's dreams. “Maybe it
was
a werewolf,” she offered, her voice encouraging. “One of the wild creatures might know for sure what was howling last night. Why don't you ask that friend of yours, you know, that old skunk who lives near your backyard?”

Paco's ears stood up. His nose twitched. Hope returned like the bedroom light flicking on early in the morning. “Yes! I'll ask Professor Pewmount. Even if he didn't hear it, he knows all the forest dwellers. They may have seen or heard something. News travels fast among the wild ones. I bet it
was
a werewolf. That's a great idea, Co—”

He stopped in the middle of his sentence. A wonderful smell had reached his quivering little nose. His heart beat faster. His head swiveled. His eyes widened. There, waiting for her mistress to open the gate into the pool area, stood a regal Afghan hound. Her narrow snout was raised upward, her curly tail was held high, her long golden coat was shimmering like waterfalls of silk.

Natasha.
The dog who had stolen his heart had arrived.

“Hi, Victoria!” Sandy yelled.

The pretty girl who held Natasha's bejeweled leash smiled. Her straight, waist-length blond hair matched her dog's silky coat almost exactly. Her silver flip-flops matched her silver tote bag. Her sunglasses glittered with rhinestones. She waved toward Sandy and Olivia with a turn of her hand like the queen of England greeting her subjects.