PeeWee's Tale (2 page)

I had looked down at the floor of the cage. Perhaps if I pushed the pieces together, I could create a whole page that would tell a story too. But it never worked. All I could read were more scraps that said
Opr
and
Yor
and
Majo
.

Now in my new cage in Robbie Fischler's bedroom, I studied the scraps again. The pieces of paper in my new cage were just as small and meaningless as they had been in my old one though. If only they were larger! Still, seeing the books on the shelf in the room gave me hope. Perhaps I would finally have a chance to see one of them open with a complete page in front of me. Then I could read a story.

It didn't take me long to adjust to my new home. One cage is pretty much like another: four sides, a water supply, an exercise wheel. But belonging to Robbie was much more fun than living in the pet store. Because he really wanted a dog, Robbie treated me as if I were one. He didn't make me stay inside my cage. Instead, he often let me out to explore his bedroom. At first, I was a little timid. But soon I
learned to run under his bed; I hid inside his bedroom slippers; I walked around inside the dark closet where his clothing hung.

Maybe it was because he didn't have any brothers or sisters, but Robbie talked to me a lot. Sometimes he held me up to the window. I could see the street below with the cars going along. And in the distance, I noticed a large area of green. “That's the park where I go and play with my friends,” Robbie explained to me.
What was the park like? I wondered. But my world inside Robbie's apartment was big enough to keep me busy.

One day Robbie's mother walked into his bedroom. Robbie was sitting on his bed and I was on his lap while he gently combed my fur.

“What do you think you're doing?” Mrs. Fischler yelled.

“I'm combing PeeWee's hair. You're always telling me to comb mine,” Robbie explained.

“Throw that comb into the garbage at once,” his mother told him. “I don't want it to go anywhere near your head ever again. I'll get you a new comb, but it's just for you—
not
that rodent.”

“If you're getting me a new comb, I can save this one for PeeWee,” Robbie suggested.

“No! I don't like you handling him so much.
And I never want to see him on your bed either. Put him back in his cage where he belongs.”

That was bad, but worse was to come. One day when Robbie let me out of my cage, I went into the hallway outside his bedroom. Just at that moment, Mrs. Fischler came walking by. She took one look at me and let out a deafening shriek.

“Help!” she screamed so loudly that she frightened me. I ran around in a circle looking desperately for a place to hide.

Robbie came running.

In her panic, Mrs. Fischler had jumped up on a nearby chair.

“What is that creature doing out here?” she shouted.

“PeeWee was just taking a little walk,” said Robbie, picking me up.

“Lock him inside his cage immediately!” his mother called to Robbie “And keep him in it.”

So Robbie took me back into his room and placed me inside my cage.

“Isn't she silly?” Robbie whispered to me. “How could anyone be afraid of you, PeeWee?”

Even though I
wasn't hungry, I nibbled on one of the dry pellets that were the major part of my diet. Eating, drinking, and running on the exercise wheel were the only activities that I had. Of course, I still occasionally studied the letters on the scraps of paper on the floor of my cage. Even though they made no sense, I wanted to keep my ability to read.

So life at the Fischlers' continued, and I was careful not to leave Robbie's bedroom. I didn't want to frighten his mother, and I really didn't want her to frighten
me
.

One evening when Robbie had a sleepover date at the home of one of his classmates, Mrs. Fischler came into his bedroom. Mr. Fischler was with her.

Lying quietly in the corner of my cage, I listened to Robbie's parents speaking together.

“Barbara, I don't like this at all,” Mr. Fischler said to his wife. “He's going to be very upset when he comes home.”

“Robbie didn't even want a guinea pig,” Mrs. Fischler responded. “If my brother hadn't given it to him for his birthday, we wouldn't have this problem. But I can't go about my own home in fear that this thing is going to get out.”

“What does it matter if he does? This poor guinea pig can't possibly hurt you.”

“You don't understand,” Mrs. Fischler said. “I keep imagining this rodent in every corner. I can't relax. I even wake at night thinking of him crawling around. We'll just tell Robbie that he got out of the cage and got lost. He'll feel bad for a day or two, but he'll get over it. And I'll make it up to him in some way.”

“What you want to do is probably illegal,” Mr. Fischler said.

I stood up in my cage. What were the Fischlers going to do? I wished Robbie was there to protect me.

Mr. Fischler opened my cage and took me out. “He is a handsome fellow,” he said to his wife as he stroked my fur. “I'm only going along with this because I'm concerned about what the guinea pig is doing to your blood pressure.”

I looked at Robbie's mother. What was blood pressure? I wondered. Mrs. Fischler nodded her head. “Go on already. Put him in the box and get him out of here,” she said.

Robbie's father put me inside a small box. At once, the lid was placed on top of it and it became too dark for me to see anything.

“I'll be back in twenty minutes,” I heard Mr. Fischler say.

After that, there were no more words. But the box jiggled up and down, and I guessed that Mr. Fischler was carrying me someplace. I ran around in the small space trying to find a way out. What was happening to me? I was sure it couldn't be good.

After a while, the motion of the box stopped. The lid was removed. Although it was only dimly lit, I could see the face of Robbie's father looking down at me.

“Well, good luck, PeeWee,” he
said, stroking my fur gently. “It's not your fault that you were born a guinea pig.”

Then he took me from the box and placed me down on the floor. If felt damp and prickly, not at all like the paper-covered floor of either of my cages or the soft carpeting at Robbie's home.

In the dim light, I could see the shoes and legs of Mr. Fischler begin to move away from me. I ran after him as fast as I could. But my legs are so very small and my feet are even smaller. Mr. Fischler got farther and farther away, and soon I knew it was hopeless. I couldn't possibly catch up with him. I could hardly breathe from all my running, and my mouth was dry with thirst.

When I finally started moving again, one of my paws stepped into something wet. I turned
around and discovered a puddle of water. Nothing ever tasted so good as that cool liquid on my tongue.

Now I wasn't thirsty, but I was very, very tired. I was too tired to be afraid, too tired to wonder where I was. All I wanted was to curl up and take a nap. When I awoke, I would think about how I could find Robbie.

Near where I was standing, there was a small cage. I circled around and saw that it had only three walls. Still, I felt I would be safer inside it than out. In all my life, I'd never slept outside of a cage.

Inside, the cage had an unusual smell. I licked a small part of it and discovered a fine salty taste. So I licked one whole wall before I feel asleep.

I woke with a thud. Suddenly, I found myself rolling round and round. It took me a moment to realize that I was not inside the wheel or even inside my usual cage. I was someplace else.

Finally, my new home rolled to a halt. After my heart stopped thudding, I cautiously stepped outside. It was not longer dark like
the night before, and I could see many strange sights.

Color was all around me, more beautiful than the curtains and bedspread in Robbie's room. I marveled at brilliant yellow and a hundred shades of green, I could hear many birds singing, and their songs were sweeter than those of the birds I'd known in the pet shop. Moving forward, I sniffed at the ground. This place smelled pretty wonderful, too!