PeeWee and Plush by Johanna Hurwitz Page B

miserable and not getting any closer to getting Plush out of the hole. Nevertheless, wehad forgotten what goes along with eating: drinking. By midmorning Plush was very thirsty.
    â€œI need a drink,” she gasped.
    â€œWater 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.
    â€œCome 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.
    â€œIt’s all so big,” Plush marveled, looking around as we walked. “How will we ever find our way home again?”
    â€œThat’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?

CHAPTER TWO
Plush Gets Angry

    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?
    â€œI never knew the world was so big,” she said, looking up at the tall trees around us and then across toward the playground.
    â€œThis 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.
    â€œThe park smells different from the petshop,” commented Plush, sniffing the air. “It’s better,” she admitted.
    Those were her first words of praise about the park.
    â€œAnd 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.”
    â€œYou’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.
    â€œLook 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.
    â€œThis 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 noticeus.” I was thinking of the horses that I’d seen trotting along their special trails.
    â€œFollow 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.
    â€œI wouldn’t