Lost! The Hundred-Mile-An-Hour Dog Read online

  Run, Streaker, run!

  Streaker, the hurricane on four legs, is lost – help!

  She really has to get back home to see Trevor (he’ll be missing her)…

  AND, most important of all, her puppies!

  Jeremy Strong once worked in a bakery, putting the jam into three thousand doughnuts every night. Now he puts the jam in stories instead, which he finds much more exciting. At the age of three, he fell out of a first-floor bedroom window and landed on his head. His mother says that this damaged him for the rest of his life and refuses to take any responsibility. He loves writing stories because he says it is ‘the only time you alone have complete control and can make anything happen’. His ambition is to make you laugh (or at least snuffle). Jeremy Strong lives near Bath with three cats and a flying cow.

  Read more about Streaker’s adventures

  THE HUNDRED-MILE-AN-HOUR DOG

  RETURN OF THE HUNDRED-MILE-AN-HOUR DOG

  WANTED! THE HUNDRED-MILE-AN-HOUR DOG

  Are you feeling silly enough to read more?

  MY DAD’S GOT AN ALLIGATOR!

  MY GRANNY’S GREAT ESCAPE

  MY MUM’S GOING TO EXPLODE!

  MY BROTHER’S FAMOUS BOTTOM

  MY BROTHER’S FAMOUS BOTTOM GETS PINCHED

  BEWARE! KILLER TOMATOES

  CHICKEN SCHOOL

  KRAZY KOW SAVES THE WORLD – WELL, ALMOST

  Jeremy Strong

  Illustrated by Rowan Clifford

  PUFFIN

  This is for Dazzy Donut lovers everywhere.

  May the power be with you, whether you

  have two legs or four.

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3

  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia

  (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

  Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi – 110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand

  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  puffinbooks.com

  Published 2008

  1

  Text copyright © Jeremy Strong, 2008

  Illustrations copyright © Rowan Clifford, 2008

  All rights reserved

  The moral right of the author and illustrator has been asserted

  Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of

  trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent

  in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition

  including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

  ISBN: 978-0-14-191082-6

  Contents

  1. Pies!

  2. The Pie Robber

  3. The Middle of Nowhere

  4. Whoo-hoo!

  5. In the Company of a Killer

  6. Flying Lessons

  7. Found?

  8. How to Read

  9. An Unwelcome Visitor

  10. Dazzy Donut Dog Goes Surfing!

  11. More Monsters

  12. Bad Behaviour

  13. Red Bottom Dog

  14. Homeward Bound

  15. Who’s the Fastest? Guess Who!

  1 Pies!

  It wasn’t my fault. All I did was jump in the back of a van. What’s wrong with that? In fact I was being really helpful. Trevor Two-Legs – the boy who is supposed to look after me — had gone wandering off. He’s always doing that and then he gets lost. He should be kept on a lead. Trevor’s hopeless when he’s lost and he starts calling for me. ‘Streaker? STREAKER!’ What am I supposed to do? I KNOW WHERE I AM. HE’S THE ONE THAT’S LOST!

  Anyhow, Trevor had disappeared as usual, leaving me all on my own. I was trotting about sniff-sniffing and there was this van with the back doors open, so I had a peep inside and guess what? It was full of pies and sausage rolls. It was! A whole van full of pies and rolls. My favourite!

  And I was thinking: Hmmm, fancy leaving all those pies lying about like that. Someone could easily come along and steal the whole lot.

  The thing is, I’ve always fancied being a super-clever-guard-dog type of dog, only I’ve never been given the chance. I’d be an extra-super-special guard dog and I’d probably have superpowers too, and an extra-special name. I’d call myself DAZZY DONUT DOG.

  That’s DAZZY because Dazzy is a super-special word, and DONUT because Dazzy Donut Dog likes eating donuts. (Of course, really it’s me — I like donuts. A WHOLE LOT.) And it’s DOG because I’m a dog.

  Dazzy Donut Dog lives in my head, where nobody can see her, except me. She has amazing super-special-powers, which she gets from eating SUPER-SPECIAL-POWER DAZZY DONUTS, with jam inside, or icing on the top. I keep all the donuts in my head too, but it’s a BIG SECRET, so don’t tell anyone.

  Whenever there’s trouble all I have to do is eat one of the super-special-power-donuts and KER-CHING!! I become Dazzy Donut Dog and go Whizz! Whoosh! Grrrrrr! Gotcha!

  But that Trevor, he’s useless. He never gives me anything to guard. I’m not complaining, because I like Trevor and his mum and dad. It’s just that they’re all a bit useless, being two-legs. Fancy having only two legs! That’s a bit naff, isn’t it?

  I’ve never been given the chance to show them what I can really do. I could be the best guard dog ever, and if a robber came along I’d leap out and bark furiously and jump up and down — boing-wuff! boing-wuff! — like that. And if they came too close I’d dive at their ankles and bite them, raargh-raargh, crunch-crunch! like that. And they’d go ow-wow-wow! like that, and I’d go, Huh! serves you right, rotten robber. You shouldn’t go around stealing things. Dazzy Donut Dog is on your case! Then they’d run away, slowly, because they only have two naff legs.

  So there I was, the superest, dooperest guard dog ever, and right now, right there in front of me, almost touching my nose and almost almost almost in my mouth even — there were all these pies and sausage rolls just lying there. I could almost hear them calling out to me: Hey, we’re over here, lots of lovely pies just ready to be stolen!

  STUPID PIES! So I thought, right, I will be Dazzy Donut Dog and get in the back of this van and stand guard over it. I shall probably get a medal for doing this and meet the Queen, but I hope she doesn’t pin it on me because that would make me jump. It would have to be on a ribbon. A yellow one.

  And I’d probably get a reward too, like a lifetime’s supply of pies and I could take it back for my three puppies, because they are the best puppies IN THE WHOLE WORLD and I love them to bits and pieces of bits. Then my pups would know what a brave and clever mum they have and guess who that is? ME!

  That was why I got in the back of the van. There I was, busily checking it out to make sure there wasn’t a pie thief hiding somewhere, and what did I find? A big sausage roll, on the floor. In fact, not just one, but three sausage rolls, lying ON THE FLOOR! How stupid can
a sausage roll get? That’s asking for trouble, isn’t it?

  I said, ‘Hello, hello. What are you lot doing out of your box?’ And I was about to pick one up and put it with the others when I thought: Hmmm, this might be a pretend sausage roll.

  I know you can get pretend pies because I ate one once. It was a mistake. I didn’t mean to eat it. At least, that’s not exactly true — I DID mean to eat it but that was because I thought it was a real pie, but it turned out to be made of painted plastic. It tasted horrible and I had to spit it out. SPLUUURRRRGH! Like that.

  All these splinters of plastic came shooting out of my mouth and made a mess and lots of people shouted at me and I got chased (again), but I didn’t care because I can run like a crazy thing, like a rocket, like an un-guided missile. In fact, I am probably the fastest dog in the whole world. (Though I’m not very good at stopping.) Besides, they shouldn’t make plastic pies. What is the point of that?!

  Anyway, I thought: This roll could be like that nasty pie and there’s only one way I know to check if the sausage roll is real and that is to taste it.

  2 The Pie Robber

  I picked up one of the rolls with my teeth. It certainly felt like a sausage roll. That was the first good sign. And it certainly smelt like a sausage roll. That was the second good sign, so I licked it all over just to make sure, and it certainly tasted like a sausage roll, and that was the best sign of all.

  I looked at the roll and the roll looked at me and I was thinking: Aha! Suppose it only tastes like a sausage roll on the outside, but the inside is made of something horrible, like mustard, or custard? Well, there’s only one way to check for that, so I bit into it, and guess what? It wasn’t made of custard or mustard. It was made of sausage. Right the way through.

  The roll was a bit chewed up by this time so I thought I might as well swallow it. Then I checked the other two sausage rolls that were lying on the floor to make sure they weren’t pretending, and guess what? They weren’t. So that meant the only thing to do was to stay there and guard the rest of the pies and rolls and make sure that nobody came along and tried to eat them.

  That was when I had my CLEVER IDEA. Now then, Trevor Two-Legs gets pocket money and he puts it in a piggy bank to keep it safe from robbers. So my clever idea was this. I thought: I can put all those pies in a special bank for pies, and then nobody can steal them. I haven’t got a piggy bank, but I do have a doggy bank. In fact, I AM a doggy bank!

  Wasn’t that a brilliant idea?! So I started eating as many pies and rolls as I could so they would be safe. Then I saw a two-legs coming towards the back of the van. He was a SAUSAGE ROLL ROBBER! I know he was a robber because he was wearing dark glasses. This was going to be my big moment. I’d definitely get a medal and a lifetime’s supply of pies for this!

  I crouched down behind a crate and got ready to growl and bark and leap up and throw myself at his ankles and go RAARGH! RAARGH!

  The thing was though, the man didn’t steal any pies or sausage rolls. All he did was shut the door. BANG! And I was still inside. I felt him climb into the front of the van and the engine started up and we were off. VROOOM!

  He wasn’t supposed to do that! He wasn’t supposed to steal the whole van! He was only supposed to steal the pies! I shall never understand two-legs. What was the point in taking the whole van when all he had to do was reach inside and take the pies from the back?

  We rattled off down the road and I was wondering what to do. I soon realized that my first duty as a guard dog was to protect the rest of the rolls and pies and get them safe inside my doggy bank. So I ate them, which meant getting them out of their boxes and everything. I’m so clever!

  Then I barked and barked, woof-woof-WOOF! But the driver man didn’t hear me. I threw myself at the back wall of the cab. I leaped at it and scritch-scratched it and bit it and barked, but it was no use. HE WAS DEAF!

  Two-legs have got terrible hearing. Not like me. I can hear ants snoring when it’s ant bedtime. But two-legs always have such silly, small ears — have you noticed? It’s no wonder they can’t hear properly. Mine are big and flappy like proper ears should be. And my pups have got ears like flags!

  I tried to sit down, but the van was on wriggly roads. I got thrown all over the place and soon I felt a bit sick. I’m sure it wasn’t the pies, it was the van, and before long I really was sick. I was a bit miffed at first because I thought my plan wouldn’t work now, because half the rolls and pies were back on the van floor, even if they were a bit mushy. But then I remembered how picky two-legs are when it comes to food. They probably wouldn’t want them now. Not when they were all gloopy and steaming.

  We travelled for ages. It felt like about a year at least and it had gone dark too. The van slowed down and squeaked to a stop. I went and hid behind a crate so I could leap out at the robber and go RAARGH! RAARGH!

  The back door opened. I peeped out. The two-legs was bald and he’d taken off his dark glasses. I thought: That’s odd. He doesn’t look so robber-ish now. As he opened the door he staggered back, holding his nose and staring at the brown piles on the van floor. I thought: Aha, this is my moment of glory! I shall get a medal and meet the Queen!

  So in my head I ate a super-special-power donut and became the wonderfully brave and fearless Dazzy Donut Dog. I hurled myself out from behind the crate and I started to go RAARGH! RAARGH! but my tummy was still feeling upset from the ride and I threw up instead, all down his trousers. He screamed like a lady with a big spider and, well, I know that kind of scream. It means trouble, so I ran for it as fast as I could, which was a lot faster than him with only two naff legs and I disappeared into the night. Ha ha! I am so clever sometimes.

  And then I discovered where I was. Or to put it another way, I discovered where I wasn’t. It was the middle of nowhere. I was hopelessly LOST.

  3 The Middle of Nowhere

  What a dark and moonless night! It was a bit creepy, I can tell you. The wind howled and an owl hooted. They are such old ladies, owls. All they ever do is go Whoo-hoooo! like they’re scared of the dark. Why don’t they get up during the day when the sun’s shining? I’m not scared of the dark at all because Dazzy Donut Dog is not scared of ANYTHING.

  It was eerily quiet, apart from that daft owl. I wandered along a wide, empty street with big buildings. They were even bigger than the building I ran into last week by mistake. I’d never seen so many books. I got chased out by three screaming women and one of them tried to hit me with a magazine and I hadn’t even done anything! Anyhow she missed, because I am the superest dog at zigzagging and can run like a TORNADO!

  The buildings were lit by orange lights and surrounded by tall wire fences. The fences had big signs with pictures on. Sometimes it was a skull, and sometimes it was a two-legs being struck by lightning and it was making him jump-jump-jump, like he was going Ooh! Ow! Stop it! I knew what those signs meant — they meant DANGER! KEEP OUT!

  I sat down so I could have a thinking kind of scratch. I scratched behind my right ear and under my chin. I scratched my chest and the top of my head and behind my left ear. Then I scratched in front of my left ear, and the funny thing was, I still didn’t know where I was.

  I thought: There must be a sensible way to do this. What I need to do is start with what I already know. It will be like putting the pieces of a puzzle together.

  So I started sorting things out, like this:

  Question 1: Where am I?

  Answer: I don’t know.

  Question 2: Which direction is home?

  Answer: I don’t know.

  Question 3: Are there any pies left?

  Answer: I don’t know. The van’s gone now and anyway, what have pies got to do with finding your way home?

  Question 4: You’ve ruined it now. You’ve just asked a question and it was supposed to be an answer.

  Answer: And now you’ve given an answer when you were supposed to be asking a question.

  Question 5: Will you stop doing things the wrong way round?


  Answer: Oh good, that was a proper question. Ask me another.

  Question 6: If you don’t know the way home, how can you find out?

  Answer: Ask someone.

  Question 7: That’s a really good idea.

  Answer: That isn’t a question. That’s just conversation.

  After that I got tired of talking to myself and decided I really couldn’t do anything more until it was morning so I started to look for somewhere to sleep.

  I hunted and hunted but everywhere was just roads and big buildings with hardly any windows, and wire fencing. I walked right round to see if there might be a place where I could get in. I came to some enormous gates covered with skulls and people getting hit by lightning and going Ooh! Ow! Stop it! I sat down and wondered why nobody was allowed in.

  Anyhow, I was sitting there, wondering where I could sleep, when all at once two gigantic massive monster mutts as big as rhinoceroses came thundering across and hurled themselves at me from the other side of the chain-link fence.

  Well! I just sat there and looked at them. I mean, what was all THAT about? Couldn’t they see the wire? They clawed at it with their paws and foam was bubbling out of their mouths. They rolled their bloodshot eyes and growled like nothing on earth. ‘GRR$%&∗@RRR!’ Honestly, the language they used! It was dreadful.

  ‘Good evening,’ I replied, because I think if you’re polite then there’s no reason for anyone to get upset.

  And they said: ‘Why don’t you ∗&?%$£ back to your wormhole you @£$%⁁& ∗&⁁%$%£$⁁%&∗@∗∗% ∗&⁁%$£@’

  ‘Oh, really?’ I answered coolly. ‘Well, the trouble, dear friends, is that I’m afraid you don’t have any brains.’

  You should have seen them! They went crazy-mad! They launched themselves at the fence again, roaring and cursing — it was such bad language. I got to my feet and walked up and down in front of them.