PeeWee's Tale by Johanna Hurwitz

CHAPTER ONE
A Birthday Present

    I was born in a cage in Casey’s Pet Shop. Though my eyes were open, I can’t remember my first hours or days. But soon I became aware of the wonderful smell of my mother and four siblings. We huddled together for warmth and comfort. I drank my mother’s milk and scratched my tiny paws on the floor of the cage.
    One by one, my brothers and sisters lefthome to be adopted by humans. And by the time I was a few months old, I had a new home too. On May 2, I became the birthday present for a nine-year-old boy named Robbie Fischler. It didn’t take long for me to discover that he’d been hoping for a dog.
    â€œWhat’s this peewee thing, Uncle Arthur?” he asked as he was handed my cage, which was tied with a red bow that was larger than me.

    â€œHaven’t you ever seen one, Robbie? It’s a guinea pig,” Uncle Arthur told him.
    I stood up straight and proud as I looked at Robbie through the mesh wire of the cage.
    â€œGuinea pigs are members of the rodent family, like mice,” my new owner was told.
    â€œOh, Arthur! How could you bring such a disgusting creature into this apartment?” a woman complained loudly.
    â€œNow, Barbara . . . Robbie is my only nephew and it’s time he had a pet of his own to take care of.”
    â€œI wish it was a puppy,” Robbie said gently. “I don’t think guinea pigs can do anything.”
    I ran around inside my cage trying to act like a puppy. I’d seen many at Casey’s Pet Shop. I couldn’t bark or wag my tail, but I tried to look cute and friendly.
    â€œYour parents would have had a fit if I had walked in here with a dog,” Uncle Arthur explained. “Beside, a guinea pig is so much easier to care for. It’ll help you develop a sense of responsibility for when you do get a dog.”
    â€œWe have no plans of getting him a dog,” Robbie’s mother said. “Arthur, you should have asked me before you brought this rodent here.”
    Robbie opened the cage and put his hand inside to pick me up. Mrs. Fischler screamed and backed away as her son stroked my fur. I rubbed against Robbie the way I’d noticed cats doing in the pet shop. Maybe that would make my new owner happy.
    It seemed to work.
    â€œHe’s awfully cute,” Robbie admitted, looking at my dark brown fur, which hasstreaks of reddish brown here and there. I also have a reddish-brown strip down the center of my face.
    Robbie smiled. “I really, really like him. Thanks a lot, Uncle Arthur. I’ll pretend he’s a dog.”
    â€œAnd I’ll pretend he isn’t here,” Robbie’s mother said, shuddering.
    When Robbie’s father came home, I was shown proudly to him. “I’m going to call him PeeWee,” Robbie announced. “Because he’s so small.”
    â€œHi, PeeWee,” Mr. Fischler said to me.
    â€œWhy couldn’t Arthur have given him some goldfish?” Mrs. Fischler asked her husband. “Instead he gave Robbie a
rodent
.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” Robbie’s dad said. “He’s in a cage. He won’t bother you.”
    â€œBut Arthur
knows
how I hate mice,” Mrs. Fischler said. “I’ve hated them ever since we were children.”
    â€œPeeWee’s not a mouse,” Robbie reminded his mother.
    â€œCome on. Let’s get ready,” Robbie’s father said, trying to distract his wife. “Remember, we’re taking Robbie out to dinner and to a movie to celebrate his birthday.”
    In a little while I was alone in my cage in Robbie’s bedroom. Unlike the pet shop, there were no other cages or animals around. But still, there was plenty for me to see. There were brightly colored curtains on the windows, a bed with a matching spread, and shelves filled with toys and books. I decided that Robbie’s mother couldn’t be all bad if she’d fixed up her