Fergie and I trotted through the woods. I sniffed the ground. Sniffed the weeds. So many great smells!
We stopped at the edge of the woods behind my house. I heard laughing, shouting voices. Then I saw my parents. In the backyard. Throwing a Frisbee around with Fergie and Cooper!
Those fakes!
I growled with anger.
I bared my teeth. Prepared to attack.
"Whoa!" Fergie cried. "Cooper, wait! You can't just barge over there and attack them!"
Fergie was right. That wouldn't solve anything.
I watched my dad send the Frisbee flying across the yard.
I had a strong urge to jump up and go for that Frisbee.
But I stopped myself. This was no time for playing.
Then I had an idea. The greatest idea. The idea of a lifetime.
"Come on!" I urged Fergie. I began loping toward the side of my house.
"Cooper, where are you going?" she asked.
I didn't answer. I stopped outside the wall to Mickey's room. "This will just take a second," I told Fergie.
She read my mind. She knew what I planned to do.
Side by side, we leaped through the wall of the house.
And burst into Mickey's room.
He was standing in his underwear. Leaning over his dresser, sorting out his T-shirts. He cried out and spun around as Fergie and I started to growl.
My brother uttered a short, terrified whimper. He started backing up, his eyes wide with fright.
Fergie and I began barking and jumping up on our hind legs.
"How — how did you -?" Mickey stammered.
Those were the only words he could choke out.
Then he let out another whimper, stumbled past us, and bolted out through the bedroom door. "Mommy! Daddy! Help!" I heard him scream. "Mommy! Daddy!"
Fergie and I didn't want to miss seeing him run through the yard in his underwear. We trotted through the wall and watched until he disappeared around the garage.
"Did you see his face?" I yelped happily. "Was that awesome?!"
"Man, that was excellent!" Fergie cheered.
"Hey, you two!" a stern voice called.
I turned around.
Dad!
"How did you dogs get in this yard?" my father demanded sharply. "Come on. Out! Out!"
"But, wait! Dad! It's me, Cooper!" I tried to yell. But all that came out was Woof! Woof! Woof!
"Out! Out!" Dad repeated angrily.
"Dad! Wait! It's really me! Listen! You've got to listen!"
"Woof! Woof! Woof, woof, woof! Woof! Woof, woof, woof, woof!"
My father armed himself with a broom and waved it wildly at Fergie and me. "Out!" he cried, shaking the broom at us.
"What's going on?" Mom called from the doorway.
"Mom! It's me. Cooper!" I barked furiously.
"Oh, Sam. Please get rid of those animals! You know I'm allergic to dogs!"
"But, Mom!" I cried. "Can't you tell it's me?"
Woof, woof! Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof!
"Please, Sam! Call the pound! These dogs look dangerous. They might have to be put to sleep! Call the pound. They'll know what to do."
I watched in horror as my dad picked up the phone and dialed.