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  Contents

  1. Fine Friends

  2. Rain Matters

  3. Kona’s Conviction

  4. A Genius

  5. Up All Night

  6. Morton

  7. Only One Owl

  8. The Master Plan

  9. Decoys

  10. Nerves

  11. If You Can Dream It . . .

  12. . . . You Can Do It

  13. Perfectly

  14. Home

  About Cynthia Rylant and Arthur Howard

  For Boris

  —C. R.

  For Beverly

  —A. H.

  1

  Fine Friends

  It is not an easy job raising three children, especially if those children seem always to be hanging upside down in a tree.

  Such was the life of Stumpy Squirrel, the busiest squirrel mother in all of Gooseberry Park.

  It was all Murray’s fault, of course. Bats most naturally hang upside down and are good at it. Murray was a bit of a show-off anyway, so he swung by his toes whenever anyone passing by happened to look up.

  Murray was Stumpy’s tree mate, best friend, and self-appointed uncle to her three children: Sparrow, Top, and Bottom. And he could be a very naughty influence, as when he taught the children to hang by their toes, and they drew all sorts of remarks from the park residents as a result.

  Most remarks were kind, as when Old Badger said she had never seen such clever squirrels in all her days.

  Some remarks were neutral, as when the raven simply commented that toes were neither good nor bad, they just were.

  And a few remarks were plainly mean and of course issued forth from the mouths of the weasels, every one of whom remarked that it would probably be a good idea if a certain squirrel mother taught her children some etiquette.

  “Etiquette?” repeated Murray when Stumpy told him about this insult. “Isn’t that where New Yorkers go for the weekend?”

  “No,” said Stumpy, “that’s Connecticut. Etiquette is manners.”

  “Manners!” shrieked Murray, who enjoyed drama. “Manners! If I had manners, I’d starve!”

  (Murray was referring to the fact that he regularly pilfered egg rolls from the Dumpster by the Chinese restaurant down the street. And doughnuts from the bakery Dumpster on the other side of the park. And enchiladas from the Taco Craze Dumpster over by the freeway. The list could go on for miles.)

  “Well,” said Stumpy, “mothers are sensitive.”

  “And weasels are rats,” said Murray. “Rats in weasel clothing.”

  Stumpy sighed.

  “Gwendolyn would understand,” she said. “Gwendolyn understands everything.”

  Murray nodded in agreement.

  “It’s because she’s a hundred and four years old,” he said.

  “She is not!” cried Stumpy. “She’s just wise.”

  “Gwendolyn is wise and a hundred and four years old,” said Murray.

  “You are counting all her past lives she told us about,” said Stumpy. “In hermit crab time Gwendolyn is just, well, she is just . . .”

  “A hundred and four,” said Murray.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” said Stumpy.

  Gwendolyn was Stumpy and Murray’s dear, dear friend. They could not imagine how they had ever managed without her. Gwendolyn might be a hermit crab, but she understood each of them perfectly. She gave Stumpy—who was something of a worrier—the very best advice about rearing young children. (Gwendolyn’s advice always solved the problem.) And Gwendolyn praised Murray’s heart, which was actually quite a big heart, but one that Murray hid behind a million funny lines.

  Gwendolyn never let her bat friend get away with this.

  “You are a shining emblem of love to those children,” Gwendolyn often said to Murray.

  “A shining plum?” said Murray.

  “A shining emblem,” said Gwendolyn.

  “A shiny Indian?” said Murray.

  “Emblem,” said Gwendolyn.

  “Envelope?” said Murray.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” said Gwendolyn.

  But Murray really did hear her. And it made him proud.

  The true hero among them all, of course, was the one who said very little about love or courage or wisdom but excelled at all three. And this true hero’s name was Kona.

  Kona was a chocolate Labrador who lived a quiet dog’s life with Gwendolyn and their human, Professor Albert.

  It had been well over a year since Kona had faced the greatest challenge of his life by rescuing Stumpy’s three children. This had happened during a most terrifying ice storm that ravaged the trees of Gooseberry Park, among those the great pin oak where Stumpy’s babies had just been born.

  With Murray’s help, and Gwendolyn’s help, Kona managed to hide the children he had rescued by placing them in the Christmas decorations in Professor Albert’s basement until Stumpy—who had gone missing in the storm—was found.

  It was during this time that Murray developed a strong attachment to television and Oreo cookies. Both were still central to his life. And he had since then sneaked into Professor Albert’s house on warm summer days—easing open the screen door with his sneaky little foot—so he could have a cookie and watch Jeopardy! with Gwendolyn. Professor Albert was usually napping in the hammock.

  So life for these fine friends and for Professor Albert had been very rich since the ice storm, and the three squirrel babies—once sheltered by a chocolate Labrador and a hermit crab in a human’s house—had grown taller and rounder and stronger. And they could hang by their toes.

  Life had been very rich and very quiet.

  But the very quiet part was about to change.

  2

  Rain Matters

  Gooseberry Park was mystical. That was how Gwendolyn described it once, when Kona took her for a visit to the new home Stumpy and her three children shared with Murray (a very nice sugar maple tree on the south side).

  Mystical. A place of enchantment. Gwendolyn was a very spiritual hermit crab, and just as she could recognize a beautiful heart in a person (such as Professor Albert, who this day was helping his third cousin paint a porch), or a beautiful heart in a bat or a squirrel or a dog, she could also recognize it in a place.

  There was a stillness to Gooseberry Park that is rare in this world. It seemed that every tree, every flower and bird and creature, had taken a deep breath and settled in. This feeling nearly brought tears to Gwendolyn’s eyes as Kona carried her through the winding paths and alongside the flowing water of Gooseberry Creek.

  “How precious, this green place,” Gwendolyn whispered.

  She and Kona had a lovely visit that day with Stumpy, Murray, Top, Bottom, and Sparrow. It is not often one sees a Labrador, a hermit crab, four squirrels, and a bat sharing egg rolls and powdered doughnuts. But feeding good friends was Murray’s second-favorite hobby. (His first favorite was feeding himself.)

  It had been a very special afternoon for Gwendolyn and her friends. It seemed, that early-spring day, that nothing would ever go wrong in Gooseberry Park.

  But slowly, and relentlessly, something was going wrong. And it involved rain. The friends did not yet know. Even Gwendolyn, who seemed to know many things before they happened, di
d not know.

  A drought was coming.

  The green trees, the purple irises, the soft mosses, the tall grasses: Every living thing in Gooseberry Park depended upon rain. Rain created life. And because the rain always came, year after year, the animals did not even think about it. They did not watch for it. They did not wait for it. It always came, just as the night always turned into day. Rain was dependable and constant.

  Constancy. Being able to count on something or someone. This is what brings joy, and certainly Kona and Gwendolyn knew this joy. They had lived with dear Professor Albert in his comfortable home for many years.

  Gwendolyn had arrived there first. During her long life, Gwendolyn had lived many lives in many places, and her children were scattered far and wide around the world (one even lived in a bunker in Antarctica with a famous scientist). Then one day Gwendolyn found herself in a pet shop. And Professor Albert found her and took her home.

  After a time Professor Albert decided he needed a dog. A dog would get him out of the house. Professor Albert was retired and could spend a whole day sitting in his chair with a thick book about elephants or penguins or the planet Mars, and he wouldn’t have walked even to the mailbox. Gwendolyn was a perfect pet, but he could not exactly leash her up and take her for a walk in the park. And Gooseberry Park was where Professor Albert knew he should be going every day. It felt so good being there. But he did not want to go alone.

  So Professor Albert went to get a chocolate Labrador puppy from a nice woman on Paradise Lane who had a whole yard full of chocolate puppies, big ones and little ones. And when one little puppy got into Professor Albert’s lap and would not leave, it was love at first sight.

  That puppy was Kona. And while Professor Albert was very responsible about feeding Kona and teaching him good manners, it was Gwendolyn who really taught Kona about life. In the quiet, dark hours of the night Gwendolyn told Kona everything that mattered. And one thing that really mattered, Kona learned as he grew into a dog, was constancy.

  This summer for the residents of Gooseberry Park, for Kona, for Gwendolyn, and for Professor Albert, rain would no longer be something constant in their lives.

  3

  Kona’s Conviction

  Ooh, looky,” said Murray. “Gummies.”

  “You promised, Murray,” said Stumpy, turning on the faucet in Professor Albert’s kitchen.

  “Promised what?” Murray asked, doing a little tap dance in the cupboard.

  “You promised to take only one treat,” said Stumpy.

  “I don’t think so,” said Murray, tappy-tapping on top of a cellophane bag.

  “You did,” said Stumpy.

  “I must have been sleepwalking,” said Murray.

  “You were not sleepwalking,” said Stumpy. “You were flying. You were flying here. Right over my head. And you promised. Only one treat. And that was an Oreo, which you have already gobbled.”

  “Oh, I meant only one treat at a time!” said Murray. “And I never gobble. I nibble. Gobbling is for rats. Rats gobble. And then they burp.”

  There followed several seconds of loud crinkling that sounded distinctly like a cellophane bag of gummy candies being opened.

  “What are you doing, Murray?” asked Stumpy as she carefully put the lid back on the paper cup she’d found outside the Java Love Cafe.

  “Mmp. Mmp. Mmp,” said Murray.

  “What?” asked Stumpy.

  “Dusting!” said Murray.

  Stumpy turned around to look at Murray. He was hugging the cellophane bag to his chest, and he had a red sticky thing between his toes.

  “You have a gummy between your toes,” said Stumpy.

  “Want it?” he asked.

  “Definitely not,” said Stumpy.

  “Good!” said Murray. He popped the red gummy candy into his mouth.

  “Mmp,” he said.

  “Professor Albert is going to worry about his brain again when he sees that open bag,” said Stumpy.

  “Oh, I can fix that!” said Murray.

  He stuffed the rest of the candies into his mouth.

  “MMP-MMP!” he said, dramatically flinging open his wings.

  He swallowed down the lot and threw the bag behind the cupboard.

  “That was ‘ta-da!’ ” said Murray. “I said ‘ta-da.’ ”

  Stumpy smiled. Murray always made her smile. Even when he was a thief. And a litterer.

  “I have the cup of water ready,” Stumpy said. “Are you sure you can carry it?”

  “Just slide that paper thingy back on it,” said Murray.

  “You mean the sleeve?” asked Stumpy.

  “Right. Put the sleeve on it,” said Murray. “After that you can put another sleeve on it. And a hat! And shoes! Then we can name it!”

  “I’ll just put the sleeve on it,” said Stumpy.

  “Right,” said Murray. “Then I’ll grab it with me toesies.”

  “Thank you, Murray,” said Stumpy.

  She suddenly looked very serious.

  “I am so worried about the water problem,” she said.

  “Me, too,” said Murray. “I haven’t soaked in a tub for weeks.”

  “You don’t have a tub, Murray,” said Stumpy.

  “Exactly,” said Murray.

  “I think something will have to be done,” Stumpy said. “There’s been no rain for so long.”

  “Five months,” said Murray, hopping on top of Professor Albert’s refrigerator. “Five months and seven days with no moisture and an average high of ninety-one degrees, with nighttime lows in the mid-eighties.”

  “Murray, have you been sneaking over here to watch the six o’clock news?” Stumpy asked.

  “How did you know?” said Murray.

  “Because you sound just like Stan the Weatherman,” said Stumpy.

  “Stan is the Man,” said Murray.

  They went to join their friends in Professor Albert’s living room. (Professor Albert was at his bassoon class.) Gwendolyn’s bowl sat in front of the picture window. Outside, the tall dogwood tree in Professor Albert’s yard had turned completely brown, its dry leaves dropping with each whisper of wind. But the birdbath was full of fresh water. Professor Albert filled it four times a day now since the drought. Two jays were showering.

  “Did you get your cup of water?” Kona asked Stumpy.

  Stumpy nodded.

  “Kona,” she said, “in the park animals ask day after day whether anyone smells rain coming, whether the eagles see rain coming, and the answer is always no.”

  “Stan the Man says no, too,” added Murray.

  “Some of the animals are starting to feel a little desperate,” said Stumpy. “Even my children—who usually think only of the next race up the tallest tree—are worried. They told me to be very careful bringing the water home. They asked Murray to hold the cup tight.”

  “Which I will,” said Murray with a firm nod of his head.

  Gwendolyn’s antennae extended higher, as they always did when she was listening with concern.

  “The babies,” said Gwendolyn. “Newborns in the park will not thrive.”

  Stumpy nodded.

  “The older animals, too,” said Gwendolyn, “are in danger. They cannot travel as far as the others to get a drink of water.”

  Kona looked at Gwendolyn’s antennae, and he knew that the situation had become very serious. For so long they had expected rain just any day. Surely any day.

  But newborns and the elderly could not wait for any day. Rain was not here today, and they could not survive just by imagining it.

  Gwendolyn looked at Kona.

  “We must give them help,” she said.

  Kona sighed. For a moment he wished he were someone else. Maybe one of those dogs on a surfboard in Hawaii.

  Then he shook himself out, lifted his head high, remembered who he was, and answered with conviction:

  “We will, Gwendolyn. We will.”

  “Want a gummy?” said Murray, pulling something from his
toes.

  “Another one?” asked Stumpy.

  “I have many little toesies!” said Murray.

  4

  A Genius

  The thermometer in Sammy’s Split-Second Lube was registering one hundred degrees when Professor Albert dropped off his car for an oil change the next day. It was too steamy to stay in the garage, so he walked across the street to the dollar discount store.

  He browsed among the kitchen gadgets and the potted plants and the bathroom towels. Then he walked down the pet aisle.

  And that is when he saw it.

  It was a fabulous glass bowl with a beautiful palm tree and a little blue pool just the right size for a hermit crab. Gwendolyn would love it!

  Professor Albert bought the bowl and a new chew bone for Kona, and he picked up his lubricated car and drove home.

  Kona was very happy to get a new bone, and while he worked on that, Professor Albert helped Gwendolyn arrange herself in her new home.

  Gwendolyn had always enjoyed the tropics, so she was delighted with the palm tree. And a pool! Gwendolyn dipped a delicate claw in the cool, clear water. Wonderful.

  It made Professor Albert very happy to be good to his pets. And he did not even know that he was also good to a bat and four squirrels. But he was. And they tried to be good to him, too.

  Stumpy polished Professor Albert’s mirrors with a paper towel while she was visiting his house. And she took away the dust bunnies from beneath his couch. When her children came along, she instructed them to weed Professor Albert’s flower beds, which they were good at and often tried to do upside down.

  And although Murray ate a lot of Professor Albert’s snacks, Murray also brought him snacks. A fortune cookie from Norm’s Chinese Diner. A packet of hot sauce from Taco Craze. The little cups of creamer that people left on the tables outside Java Love. And at Easter, Murray had even tried to bring Professor Albert a whole bag of jelly beans, but Murray couldn’t help himself and he had eaten them all before he landed.