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

  Fantastic! And then, and then, and THEN I realized I wasn’t actually flying — I was FALLING!

  AND I DIDN’T HAVE A PARACHUTE! I WAS CRASHING! And then guess what? I CRASHED! I HIT THE GROUND! KERRUMPPP! (Oof! Ow! Bish! Bash! Oooh! Urgh! Wallop! Wapp! Eek! Squeak!)

  That must have been my fastest crish-crash-crush ever. Wow! I got to my feet rather unsteadily and counted my legs to make sure none of them had fallen off and do you know something? I had five! But the fifth one was just my tail being sad and hanging down. So I wagged it and woofed: ‘Ta da!’ because I was so amazed at myself. A small crowd of two-legs gathered round.

  ‘Giraffe!’ cried a child, pointing at me. I shook my head sadly. Honestly, kids these days — they don’t know anything. I blame the schools.

  ‘You need glasses, I’m a dog,’ I snapped back, even though I knew they wouldn’t understand. Why is it that two-legs spend so much time teaching us to understand them, but they never bother to learn our language?

  ‘Psst!’

  I swung round. It was Cat. He was lurking behind a litter bin. He jerked his head to say I should follow him, so I did.

  ‘Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,’ I wuffled, trotting after him and a moment later we legged it for some cover in one of the car parks.

  ‘Do you make a habit of throwing yourself off cliffs?’ Cat asked.

  ‘I was flying,’ I told him.

  ‘You were not flying. If you want to fly you have to wear an aeroplane. You could have been killed.’

  ‘Well I wasn’t, so there. How did you get down then?’

  ‘I used the path that was right next to where you decided to make your Death Leap,’ Cat said icily.

  ‘I flew.’

  Cat sighed and suggested we went on a food hunt. I said we could look for Trevor Two-Legs at the same time. I was certain that this must be the shopping centre that he came to with his parents, and I also knew in my heart of heart of hearts that Trevor would be LOOKING FOR ME!

  7 Found?

  We decided to begin our search round the back. Cat thought it would be safer if we kept away from the two-legs and he was probably right. Behind the shops it was pretty filthy. Shops looks clean and shiny from the front, but you should see the back. It’s all cardboard boxes and piles of rubbish thrown out every which way.

  I could smell food so I followed my nose, sniff-sniffing until I reached a dark doorway. The door was open. I went in. Cat hovered behind me.

  ‘Is it safe?’ he asked.

  ‘Scaredy-cat,’ I threw back at him.

  ‘Not,’ he said, stepping inside. ‘I was checking my whiskers. Cats’ whiskers are very sensitive, you know.’

  We headed up a short corridor and soon found ourselves peering into a huge glass palace. I hardly knew where to look there was so much to see. Everywhere you turned there was something different — clothes shops, food shops, kitchen shops, books, TVs, magazines, computers — all spread out on two levels connected by moving stairways and there were two-legs everywhere! It reminded me of an ants’ nest I dug up once by mistake, when I was trying to bury a bone.

  ‘I don’t like it,’ muttered Cat. ‘I don’t trust them.’

  ‘Listen, where there are two-legs there’s always free food. It’s Rule Number Two.’

  ‘What’s Rule Number One?’

  ‘Rule Number One is there’s no such thing as a free lunch.’

  ‘Doesn’t that contradict Rule Number Two?’ asked Cat.

  ‘Does it?’

  Cat shook his head. ‘Dogs,’ he muttered.

  ‘Brains like mushy peas.’

  I wasn’t going to let him get away with an insult like that! ‘Cats,’ I shot back. ‘Brains like triangles.’

  Cat stopped dead. ‘What?’

  Honestly! Don’t you hate it when you make a really clever remark but nobody understands? It happens to me a lot. I flicked my tail casually. ‘Oh, come on! Everyone knows triangles are stupid.’

  Cat went on staring at me. ‘Really? Oh.’

  He shook his head and I pressed ahead.

  ‘Come on, I can smell food.’

  We soon found a really brilliant butcher’s, piled high with whopping great lumps of the meatiest meat ever, just dying to be gobbled up at once. My tongue was almost trailing on the floor. And guess what? They had a whole tray of salami sausages. My favourite. I love garlic!

  I was about to tell Cat that he ought to do something to attract everyone’s attention while I sneaked up on the salami, when double guess what?

  I SAW TREVOR! AND MR TWO-LEGS!

  They were on the other side of the store, on the upper level! I jumped for joy. I jumped so much I landed on top of the meat counter and woofed as loudly as I could: ‘I’M OVER HERE!’

  Trevor turned and looked. Mr Two-Legs turned and looked. They saw me. They jumped for joy too and yelled back: ‘STREAKER! WE’RE OVER HERE!’

  ‘I KNOW YOU’RE OVER THERE! I SAW YOU FIRST!’

  Then I realized that it wasn’t just Trevor and Mr Two-Legs looking at me — it was everyone and they were all staring at me standing on the meat counter. They didn’t look happy at all. Somebody began to reach out with big red grabby paws and I thought: I know what you want to do. You’re going to take me away from Trevor and my puppies and I shan’t let you. So I went woof-woof-raaargh! and that scared them so much they looked like bananas in a liquidizer. Then all the two-legs began screaming and leaping up and down. It was time to scarper and we set off down the hall.

  Talk about yelling! Anyone would think I was a giant cockroach! Several people jumped on to counters and clung to each other in horror. One woman grabbed a ceiling light and she went swinging backwards and forwards until she ran out of grip and let go and she landed on the egg display — KER-SPLOPPETY-SPLAP!

  ‘Ohhh, a doggy!’

  ‘Oooh, a kitty!’

  ‘Get them out at once!’

  ‘Call the Fire Brigade!’

  ‘Get Pest Control!’

  Pest Control? That was a bit much. Cat was looking more and more worried as the two-legs began to close in around us. I desperately hunted round for Trevor. Then I saw him. He was still with his dad and they were struggling down the moving stairs, pushing against the crowds of shoppers trying to escape from all the fuss and bother below.

  ‘TREVOR!’ I woofed.

  ‘STREAKER! I’M COMING!’

  Cat was pulling at me. ‘We’ve got to go. Come on, it’s too dangerous. The two-legs are almost on top of us. WE HAVE TO GO NOW BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!’

  ‘TREVOR!’ I bellowed.

  But this time there was no answer and no sign of either of them. Strange hands were beginning to pull at me. It was definitely time to be Dazzy Donut Dog again, and I secretly ate two imaginary super-dooper-power-plus Dazzy Donuts with all those little coloured sprinkles on top.

  KER-CHINNGGG!

  I struggled free, forced myself to turn away and raced after Cat, who was already legging it. Faster and faster we went, until my ears were streaming out behind me. We skidded between counters. We knocked displays over. We knocked people over. Everywhere we went the shouts and yells followed close behind. Now it had become a race for freedom.

  We dashed up the ‘down’ escalator, and down the ‘up’ escalator. We raced through a bedding store, using the display of beds like trampolines — boyoinngg! boyoinngg! boyoinngg! We toppled wardrobes so the two-legs had to clamber over them to get to us.

  We hurled ourselves through a big clothing store and Cat came out at the other end wearing a pair of pink knickers over his head. We raced past the electrical area and I got a vacuum cleaner plug caught up in my collar and now I was towing a big red vacuum cleaner along behind me. The vacuum cleaner got caught on a display of handbags and soon I had this huge trail of bits and bobs bouncing and skidding along behind me until at last the plug worked free and I shot off after Mr Frilly Knickers.

  I could see the open doors that meant escape. ‘This way!’ I yelled at
Cat. We even had to dash back past the butcher’s on the way and I got that salami sausage! A leap, a snaffle and it was mine! Whoosh-whizz! I am so good at this! There is no dog like me anywhere in the universe! I am the world champion. Even better than Dazzy Donut Dog, probably.

  We went whooshing back outside and a furious pile of two-legs came tumbling after us like lava spilling from a volcano.

  ‘Get the thieves!’

  We whizzed out into the open air and across the road, still scattering shoppers. There was a wild chorus of poops and parps from cars, several screeching skids and a series of loud bangs as they crashed into one another. Doors were flung open and drivers leaped out but they were instantly mown down by the unstoppable crowd that was chasing us from the centre. What a kerfuffle! Someone started a fight and it quickly spread.

  Cat and I crept quietly away and hid beneath a big wheelie bin. In the distance we heard sirens approaching. We split the salami sausage between us. Cat chomped happily on his while I just sat there, looking out at the disaster area beyond. It was my last chance to spot Trevor. I couldn’t believe that we had found each other and then lost each other again. And it wasn’t just Trevor I’d lost. It was my pups. They seemed further away than ever.

  Cat’s head jerked up from his sausage. ‘Are you sniffling?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ I growled. ‘Dazzy Donut Dog does not sniffle.’

  Cat lowered his head and began chewing again. ‘Lovely salami,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Mind if I eat yours?’

  8 How to Read

  We stayed under the wheelie bin for the rest of the day. For one thing we were sleeping, and for another it took a long time to clear away the mess. Breakdown trucks towed away the smashed vehicles, one by one. Those two-legs can make VERY BIG MESSES when they want to. If I made a mess that big I would be in such trouble.

  It was late afternoon when we moved. It had started to drizzle. The problem was that there were roads leaving the shopping centre in every direction. Which one should we follow? I sniffed around for clues but there was nothing helpful, only messages from other dogs, some cats, a fox and a new, weird scent that neither of us could make sense of.

  ‘Foreign language,’ Cat said eventually. ‘Polish probably.’

  Cat and I spotted a road sign, with its funny picture and writing. Cat frowned and nodded wisely.

  ‘Do you know what it says?’ I asked Cat in astonishment. ‘Can you read?’

  ‘Of course,’ Cat said nodding. ‘All cats can read.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Of course. Cats can do anything.’

  This was good news. I’d always thought cats were idiots. I looked at him with admiration. ‘What does it say?’

  ‘Seven o’clock,’ Cat announced.

  ‘Oh.’ I was disappointed. I had hoped it would tell us where we were and where we should go. ‘It doesn’t say where Barton is? That’s where Trevor lives.’

  Cat shook his head. ‘Nope. Just says seven o’clock. Come on, I reckon we should go right.’

  I was puzzled. ‘Why would a road sign say seven o’clock?’ I asked Cat. He looked at me and rolled his eyes.

  ‘How should I know? It’s a sign for two-legs. You know how weird they are. Maybe they need to know when it’s seven o’clock. Look, it’s raining. We’re getting wet. Are you coming or not?’

  I trotted after him. Sometimes Cat made me feel small and stupid. I didn’t like that. I’m not small and stupid. I’m middle-sized and parts of me are clever. I’d like to see Cat snatch a salami from the middle of a shopping centre.

  However, it was good to have a friend to travel with and it was brilliant that he could read. That was going to prove a big help. We edged along the roundabout and took the road on the right.

  We kept going until it was dark, by which time the rain was really coming down and we were both soaked. Cat likes the night more than I do. It’s good for pouncing, he says. The darker it is, the better. Personally speaking, I prefer the moon, and the brighter it is, the better. So we argued and almost had a fight. I went raargh-raargh and showed Cat my teeth and he went hiss-hiss and flicked open the claws on one paw. We stood and glared at each other for a few moments and then decided to call it a draw. It was a stupid argument anyway. We only did it because we were fed up, cold and wet.

  Not long after that we found a big old shed and decided to hole up there for the night. It was lovely to find somewhere dry. Cat caught two mice in the pitch dark. I couldn’t even see them, but he could. He offered one to me but I wasn’t interested so he ate one and said he’d have the other for pudding later. First of all he chucked them about the place a lot and chased after them.

  ‘Why do you do that?’ I asked. ‘Why don’t you just catch them and eat them?’

  ‘Aerobics,’ he said. ‘Keeps me fit.’

  I waited until the chewing had stopped. ‘I’ve been thinking,’ I began. ‘You could teach me to read.’

  Cat coughed, choked and swallowed hard. ‘Why would you want to do that? One of us can read already. There’s no point in you learning as well.’

  ‘It would be nice to be able to read.’ I wasn’t going to let him put me off. There was an old bit of newspaper lying on the floor. I pushed it across to him and pointed to a word in big letters.

  BOX

  ‘What does that say?’ I asked. ‘How does it work? It looks so mysterious.’

  Cat grumbled to himself and studied the word carefully. After a few moments he sat up neatly and poked the paper with one paw.

  ‘It’s quite simple,’ he purred. ‘Each of these marks is a little picture and when you put each little picture together it tells a story.’

  ‘Really? That’s wonderful!’

  ‘Hmmm. The round one is an easy one. What do you think it looks like?’

  ‘The moon.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. It’s too small to be the moon. It’s got to be something smaller.’

  ‘Your head?’

  ‘Do you want to learn how to read, or not?’

  ‘Tell me what it is then.’

  ‘It’s an orange. So that mark means orange.’

  ‘That’s so clever! What do the other marks mean?’

  Cat pointed at the last one. ‘That’s easy too.’

  ‘It’s a cross,’ I said.

  ‘Exactly. So that’s what it means. Cross.’

  ‘I’m beginning to get it!’ I woofed excitedly. ‘But I don’t understand the first one. That looks difficult.’

  ‘It’s a bit hard,’ agreed Cat. ‘But if you’re intelligent it’s actually quite easy.’

  I sat up and tried to be intelligent but it sounded like nonsense to me. How could it be hard and easy at the same time? I told Cat he’d have to explain.

  ‘It’s a picture of a two-legs,’ Cat said. ‘The two-legs is sitting down, so you can’t see his legs. What you can see is his very fat belly and his even fatter bottom.’

  ‘Yes. I can see that now, but it still doesn’t make sense. What is the story about?’

  ‘It says Two-legs is very cross because he has a fat orange belly and a fat orange bottom.’

  ‘It’s a funny story!’ I barked. ‘Tell me another!’

  ‘No. I’m tired. I’m going to sleep.’ Cat closed his eyes and turned his back to me. I gazed at the wonderful story and my wonderful friend. Imagine being able to read stories like that! Cat was so clever. I closed my eyes.

  9 An Unwelcome Visitor

  Not for long. We were woken by the noise. I’d heard that noise before. It was the noise very soft feet make, like Trevor when he’s creep-creeping down to the kitchen to snaffle biscuits when he thinks nobody’s looking.

  Cat’s eyes were wide wide wide now. I’d never seen them so big — great golden globes shining in the black. His ears flicked this way and that and went flat back against his head as he lowered his body closer to the ground. His tail went switch-twitch.

  ‘Sssh!’ he hissed.

  ‘I didn’t say anything,’ I p
ointed out.

  ‘You were breathing!’

  ‘Well, I am SO sorry. Pardon me for living.’

  ‘Sssh!’ he hissed again urgently.

  So we listened to the noiseless feet outside.

  Round the barn they padded and as the moon slid for a moment from behind a cloud WE SAW THE SHADOW — a BIG shadow moving across the open doorway and then it was gone, just leaving behind the strange scent of a faraway land. I was shivering. It wasn’t cold. It was terror. I looked across at Cat. He was pressed hard against the ground, every hair on his body on end. We waited, and we waited some more. Whatever it was had gone. We took deeper breaths and at last I whispered, ‘What was that?’

  Cat’s voice croaked with fear.

  ‘The Beast. The Beast of the Night. It is a creature of the dark and uses night like a cloak of invisibility. It creeps upon its victim, seizes it and that’s the end of it. Terrifying.’

  That sounded familiar to me. ‘A bit like you catching mice?’ I suggested. Cat’s golden eyes slowly turned upon me and burned holes right through my skull.

  ‘Or maybe like you chasing cats,’ he suggested, slowly closing his eyes. ‘The Beast is not a joke,’ he went on. ‘The Beast will eat anything, INCLUDING DOGS.’

  I swallowed hard. ‘Maybe I will have one of your mice after all,’ I said. ‘Then we can take turns in keeping watch while the other sleeps.’ Cat smiled, flicked the second mouse across to me and went to sleep.

  I gazed at the dead mouse. Yuck! I wondered what Dazzy Donut Dog would do. She’d never have the problem in the first place. She’d be out there, hunting The Beast. Then she would leap upon it, RAARGH! RAARGH! BITE! CHOMP! CHOMP! And The Beast would squeal like a baby pig — oink-oink-oink — like that, in a teeny-tiny voice. And The Beast would squeak: Oh, please let me go, Dazzy Donut Dog. You are so big and powerful and scary and I won’t ever be nasty again, not to anyone, not even cats, not even worms, not even really eeny-weeny things like woodlice.