PeeWee and Plush (2 page)

“It seems so big. Too big,” said Plush softly.

I knew how she felt. It wasn't so long ago when the vastness of the park overwhelmed me too. But now I felt perfectly at home here, and I would do all I could to help her learn to love this new place too. “Don't
worry. I'll make sure nothing bad happens to you,” I promised her.

Together we listened to the sounds of the park at night: the leaves above us rustling in a slight breeze, a cricket calling to another cricket, and far off the sound of city traffic.

“Are you cold?” I asked Plush.

“How can I be cold?” she asked. “I learned in the pet shop that guinea pigs are warm-blooded, like all other mammals,” she reminded me. Still, I could feel her body shaking.

“Rest, rest,” I cooed. And gradually her shuddering stopped and her body relaxed. After a time, I knew that she was asleep. I was drifting off too, but I forced myself to stay awake a bit longer. It had been a long
time since I had smelled the scent of another guinea pig so close to me. I wanted to enjoy it as long as possible.

When I woke the next morning, I thought I'd dreamed that another guinea pig had come to live with me. Then I opened my eyes and I saw Plush. She wasn't a dream. She was real!

Usually I'd leave my hole as soon as I'd awake. But that morning, I lay quietly and waited until I heard Plush stirring.

“Good morning,” I greeted her.

“Is it?” she asked, puzzled. It was the first time she had awakened somewhere other than in a cage, and she seemed confused and anxious.

“Of course!” I jumped up and poked my
head out of the tree hole. “The sun is shining and we must find you some breakfast.”

“Will you bring something to me here?” Plush asked.

I turned around. “Don't you want to stretch your legs? Don't you want to smell the fresh air? Don't you want to see the world?”

“Not now,” she answered. “Not yet.”

“Didn't you sleep well?” I asked.

“I just want to rest here. Breakfast in bed would be a real treat,” she told me.

“Of course,” I responded. I would do anything to make my new companion as happy as I was.

I ran through the shrubbery that grew near our tree and looked up at the neighboring
tree where Lexi lived. Sure enough, he was sitting on a limb chewing on something.

“Good morning,” I called to him.

“And a good one it is,” he called back. “Shall we give Plush a tour of the park this morning?” He raced down the tree trunk with his usual speed. I always marveled at his ability. “Where's Plush?” he asked.

“She's still in the hole. She wants me to bring her something to eat.”

“Bring her something? Is she sick?”

“No. Just resting,” I said. I didn't think Plush was ill. I wanted to run back and ask her but decided against it. Instead, I'd find her a choice item to eat and her appetite would tell me about her health.

“
Life in a hole is fit only for a mole
,” said Lexi. He has a way of reciting proverbs that he
learned from his mother. They are usually quite right, but sometimes they're just annoying. This was one of those times.

Lexi went to the opening of our hole. “Plush! Come on out,” he called.

“Good morning,” Plush replied. But she did not move.

Three little sparrows flew down to the foot of our tree. “The sun . . . is out . . . today,” they sang, each chirping two syllables of their message. Plush looked out at them, staring wide-eyed at these new visitors. But she did not move.

I began to think she would stay in our hole forever. “I think she's afraid of the outside,” I whispered to Lexi.

“But she can't stay inside all day long,” he said.

“Why not?” I asked miserably. Here I was with a beautiful mate, and I couldn't convince her to share the world with me.

“She'll starve,” said Lexi firmly. “If you don't bring her food, that is.”

“I can't do that,” I moaned.

“Yes, you can,” said Lexi firmly. But he was wrong. I couldn't do it. I spent the next few hours running back and forth bringing new seeds and nuts to Plush. I was tired and miserable and not getting any closer to getting Plush out of the hole. Nevertheless, we
had forgotten what goes along with eating: drinking. By midmorning Plush was very thirsty.

“I need a drink,” she gasped.

“Water is not like a nut,” I explained to her. “I can't carry any to you.” I didn't tell her that I could probably find a wet leaf and that might satisfy her need. I saw this as my only chance.

“Come with me,” I coaxed. “I know where there is a large puddle nearby. No one will see you. You'll be safe. And you can have a long cool drink.”

And so, after great hesitation, Plush pushed her head out of our hole. At last she was outside. Together, we went toward a nearby puddle.

“It's all so big,” Plush marveled, looking around as we walked. “How will we ever find our way home again?”

“That's not a problem,” I reassured her. The only problem was how would I keep Plush from wanting to go back to our hole to hide again?

Plush stuck her face down into the puddle and eagerly lapped up water. Now that she was outside in the sunlight, I could admire her sleek, golden brown coat and dark eyes much better than I could inside our hole.

When she finally satisfied her thirst, she turned and looked around. “So this is the park,” she said. Did I hear a bit of curiosity in her voice?

“I never knew the world was so big,” she said, looking up at the tall trees around us and then across toward the playground.

“This is just a tiny corner of the park,” I told her. “It goes on and on, bigger than a thousand cages, bigger than a hundred pet shops, bigger than dozens of city streets. There's a huge lake and several smaller ponds, a great lawn, statues to admire and trees to shade us. There's a carousel for children to ride on and a big zoo filled with many more animals than you ever saw in the pet shop.” I stopped for breath. Lexi says that not one of his relatives is as enthusiastic about the wonders of the park as I am.

“The park smells different from the pet
shop,” commented Plush, sniffing the air. “It's better,” she admitted.

Those were her first words of praise about the park.

“And what about the food here? Didn't you enjoy your breakfast this morning?” I wanted to know.

Plush nodded. “It's the bigness of it all,” she explained. “That's what scares me. My mother told me that I was going to live in a small cage all my life. Not in a big space like this.”

“You're right,” I told her. “The park
is
big. But we're much bigger than many of its inhabitants. Let me show you,” I said, leading her into a nearby bush. “Sit still and watch the ground,” I instructed.

Plush held her body still and only twitched her face muscles a couple of times. “What are we looking for?” she asked, puzzled.

“Look at your right foot,” I said.

Plush looked down. A pair of ants, each carrying the smallest crumb of bread, walked past her foot and toward their hole.

“This park is full of animals,” I told Plush. “Many are bigger than us, many are faster, and many are stronger. Some can do all sorts of things that we've never dreamed of doing,” I said, thinking of the flying birds. “But we are much, much bigger than the millions of insects who live here. Some are so small, you'll never see them. And some of the animals are so big, they'll never notice
us.” I was thinking of the horses that I'd seen trotting along their special trails.

“Follow me.” I motioned to Plush. We moved out from under the bush. “Now look up.”

Plush did as I asked. We could both see the birds that circled the trees around us. “Some of those birds are half your size,” I told her.

“I wouldn't want to fly like that,” Plush said. “I feel dizzy just watching them.”

She looked down at the ground again. “Oh, what's that? It looks delicious,” Plush said, moving quickly toward a nearby flower. “I think I'll have a bite.”

“It's a buttercup,” I told her. “It looks pretty but don't be fooled. Buttercups are poisonous to eat.”

“How do you know?” Plush asked. She already had the bright yellow flower in her mouth and was biting into it.

Acting fast, I lunged forward to grab the buttercup from her with my teeth. Somehow, I missed—and bit Plush by mistake. The flower fell out of her mouth as she squealed with pain.

I felt terrible. Never in a hundred moons would I have wanted to hurt her.

“I'm sorry,” I started to say. But even before the words were out of my mouth, Plush darted off. I thought she'd only go a few paws away. She'd be too frightened to go too far. But to my horror, she scampered in and out of the shrubbery. Suddenly I was in a panic. From one moment to the next, I'd lost sight of her. Where had she gone?

It didn't make sense. An hour ago, Plush was afraid to leave the safety of my hole. Then, finally, I'd gotten her to go outside. And now she'd run off into the unknown, which had so terrified her.

I've come to know the park as a wonderful place. But I also knew that there were dangers awaiting a small animal who wasn't careful. I had to find Plush before she came
to harm. As simple a thing as nibbling on another buttercup could mean disaster.

How would Plush know that guinea pigs must never eat fool's parsley, wood anemones, lily of the valley, bindweeds, thorn apples, foxglove, larkspur, bleeding heart, horsetails, water parsnip, henbane, rhubarb, and ragwort? I'd never heard of any of those odd names until I came to the park. Mostly I learned from my own stomach after eating those plants. Other things I learned from Lexi's warnings.

As I pushed my way through the underbrush looking for Plush, I had even more worries. The park is filled with dangerous skaters, bicycles, and speeding cars. And what about dogs running through the park to get exercise? Even though signs say dogs
must be kept on leashes, sometimes their owners don't pay attention. More than once a dog has almost chewed me to bits! And if one of the many children, parents, or park attendants who are around made a grab for Plush, I'd probably never see her again.