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    Return to Howliday Inn
    Return to Howliday Inn
    Return to Howliday Inn
    Ebook115 pages1 hour

    Return to Howliday Inn

    By James Howe and Alan Daniel

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    First there is the omen: A relentless rain stops suddenly at 3:00 am and Chester shows Harold and Howie a cat carrier, open and waiting, by the front door. Chester, who has been reading avidly about the paranormal, predicts that they will soon be traveling someplace, and chances are they are not going to like it.

    Indeed they are not, as the very next day, with the sun shining bright and clear, the Monroes finally leave for their vacation, dropping Chester, Harold, and Howie off at the scene of some previous harrowing experiences -- Chateau Bow-Wow, the boarding kennel that Chester so aptly had dubbed "Howliday Inn."

    And this visit promises to be no less harrowing than the last one. The three are greeted by a whole new group of temporary residents. There's Hamlet, the Great Dane, whose sadness grows deeper with his certainty that his beloved master Archie will never return to pick him up. And Bob and Linda, a pair of yuppie puppies from fashionable Upper Centerville who have been left at Chateau Bow-Wow with a more than adequate supply of gourmet treats, also seem to have been left with a more than adequate supply of worries. Then there are Felony and Miss Demeanor, sinister sisters in crime who pride themselves as cat burglars, and The Weasel who tries almost too hard to make a good impression.

    Chester is certain that nothing bodes well and he is right. Unexplained voices, buried bones, a collar with the name Rosebud on it, and a secret code all make for a paranormal experience that none of the guests at Chateau Bow-Wow will ever forget.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAtheneum Books for Young Readers
    Release dateJan 24, 2012
    ISBN9781442452503
    Return to Howliday Inn
    Author

    James Howe

    James Howe is the author of more than ninety books for young readers. Bunnicula, coauthored by his late wife Deborah and published in 1979, is considered a modern classic of children’s literature. The author has written six highly popular sequels, along with the spinoff series Tales from the House of Bunnicula and Bunnicula and Friends. Among his other books are picture books such as Horace and Morris but Mostly Dolores and beginning reader series that include the Pinky and Rex and Houndsley and Catina books. He has also written for older readers. The Misfits, published in 2001, inspired the nationwide antibullying initiative No Name-Calling Week, as well as three sequels, Totally Joe, Addie on the Inside, and Also Known as Elvis. A common theme in James Howe’s books from preschool through teens is the acceptance of difference and being true to oneself. Visit him online at JamesHowe.com.

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      Book preview

      Return to Howliday Inn - James Howe

      [ ONE ]

      The Omen

      IT was the third straight day of rain. The third day of listening to Mr. Monroe whistle the score of The Phantom of the Opera through his teeth while indexing his collection of meatless soup recipes. The third day of Mrs. Monroe’s saying, increasingly less cheerfully, Channel Six says it’s going to clear by morning. The third day of Pete whining about what a rotten summer it had been and Toby asking When was it going to stop because how could he try his new skateboard? and Were they going to go on vacation even if it kept raining? and Why couldn’t they ever rent the movies he wanted at the video store?

      Not that the Monroes were the only ones getting, shall we say, edgy. No, even we pets—we who ordinarily exemplify a calm acceptance of fate to which humans can merely aspire—even we were losing it. My first inkling of this came when I found Howie racing around the basement on his little dachshund legs going, Vroom, vroom.

      Uh, Howie, what are you doing? I asked.

      It’s the challenge of my career, Uncle Harold, Howie panted excitedly. I’m chasing hubcaps at the Indianapolis Five Hundred.

      I would have had a little reality chat with Howie then and there if I hadn’t caught myself that very morning gazing into the mirror on Mrs. Monroe’s closet door and wondering if the time hadn’t come for me to try something different with my hair.

      Even Bunnicula, usually the calmest of us all, had taken to hopping around his cage as if the floor were covered with hot tar and twitching his nose so rapidly you would have thought he’d suffer from whisker burnout.

      Surprisingly, only Chester seemed unaffected by the elements. Or perhaps I should say that if he was affected, it was not in the way one would have anticipated. As the rest of us grew more irritable, Chester mellowed.

      How do you do it? I moaned on the third night, as the rain continued to pelt the windows and I tried in vain to find an acceptable spot for settling down to sleep. At this point, every square inch of carpet looked the same and I was desperate for a change. Chester, meanwhile, was curled up happily shedding on his favorite brown velvet armchair, an open book in front of him and a contented-on-its-way-to-becoming-smug smile on his face.

      Why aren’t you going crazy like everybody else? I demanded. What’s your secret?

      His smile grew more knowing. Books, he said, with a nod to the one in front of him, are not only windows to the world, dear Harold, they are pathways to inner peace.

      I shook my head. I’ve tried books, I said. Fifteen minutes and all I ended up with was cardboard breath.

      Try reading them instead of chewing them, Chester advised.

      Oh. This hadn’t occurred to me.

      Chester is a big reader. The problem is that his reading often gets us into trouble—especially considering the kinds of books he likes to read.

      So what are you reading about now? I asked. The supernatural?

      The paranormal, he said.

      Well, that’s a relief. Pair of normal what?

      "No, Harold, not a ‘pair of normal,’ the paranormal. How shall I explain this? The paranormal are experiences that are . . . beyond explanation. Like Bunnicula, for example."

      Chester believes our little bunny is a vampire.

      Or Howie.

      Howie?

      I’m still convinced he’s part werewolf. That’s no ordinary howl on that dog.

      Uh-huh, I said.

      Or, Chester went on, if I may use the expression with regard to a cat, doggedly, haven’t you ever felt that something was about to happen, you just knew it in your bones, and then, bam! it happened?

      A chill ran down my spine. Chester! I cried. I had a paranormal experience just the other night.

      Chester’s eyes lit up. Really? Tell me about it, Harold.

      Well, it was after dinner and I was lying over there by the sofa, where Howie’s sleeping now and . . . I was yawning and I felt my eyes growing heavy ...

      Yes? Go on.

      And I had this overpowering feeling that I was about to . . .

      What, Harold? Oh, this is really exciting. Go ahead.

      That I was about to fall asleep. And I did.

      Chester looked at me for a long time without speaking. And do you have the feeling that you’re about to experience pain? he asked at last.

      You mean right now? Well, no.

      The book fell off the chair. It landed on my paw.

      Ow! I cried.

      Never discount the paranormal, were Chester’s parting words, and he jumped down and headed toward the kitchen in search of a midnight snack.

      I wanted to whimper but no one was around or awake enough to hear. This made me ask myself the question, If a tree falls on a dog in the forest, does the dog make a sound? I was eager to share this provocative conversation starter with Chester when my gaze fell on the open pages at my feet. I began to read.

      Harriet M. of Niskayuna, New York, reports the fascinating case of the phantom telephone conversation. I had been talking with my sister Shirley for seventeen minutes late one afternoon before I noticed that the phone plug was disconnected, she writes. "The next day I told Shirley what had happened and when. Stunned, she informed me that she had had oral surgery just two hours prior to the phantom conversation and her mouth was wired shut. She would have been incapable of speaking to me even if the phone had been hooked up!"

      Incredibly, Harriet herself suffered such extreme tooth pain the following day that she too was forced to undergo emergency oral surgery. While under the effects of anesthesia, she recalled her sister’s words during their nonexistent (??) conversation: That new dentist is so cute. I’d do anything to see him, wouldn’t you?

      Amazing stuff, isn’t it?

      I looked up at the sound of Chester’s voice as he emerged from the kitchen, licking milk from his lips. Now I understood how he’d remained so calm all this time. His brain had turned into a two-week-old banana days ago.

      THE rain stopped at exactly three o’clock in the morning. I remember the time because I was awakened just before the clock in the hall chimed the hour. It was not the rain that woke me, however, nor the ticking of the clock. It was a voice.

      Harold, it whispered in my ear, something terrible is going to happen.

      Go away, I thought. But the voice persisted.

      Harold, it intoned. "Wake

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