The picnic blanket is spread across the green grass. Pip trots through it and spots a dark fizzy bottle glowing gold in the sun.
'Soda!' Pip says, ears perking straight up. He grabs the bottle and tips it to his nose. Bubbles tickle his whiskers.
Pip pops the cap. Fffft! The bottle fizzes over his paw. He giggles, licks his wet paw, and takes a big sip.
Pip's eyes go wide. His fur bristles. He spits the drink into the grass. 'Not soda,' he croaks.
Mom picks up the bottle and reads the label. 'Vinegar,' she says. Dad laughs so hard he snorts his lemonade through his nose.
Pip buries his face in his paws. He peeks one eye out — everyone is still laughing.
Grandma presses a cold apple slice into Pip's paw. Pip crunches it — crisp, sweet, perfect.
Pip offers the rest to Dad, whose nose is finally dry. Apples are much better.