The School for Talking Pets

by Kelli Anne Hawkins

  Rusty took a step closer to the noticeboard. In the top corner, a flyer advertised a ‘Special Event’.

  Saturday Night Lecture Series for Dogs:

  Understanding Human Customs and Manners,

  Including Why Not to Lick in Public,

  and Sniffing No-Nos

  Rusty shook his head at the wonder of it all, scurrying to catch up to Nader and the others again. They had reached the end of the corridor and waited at another lift. This time, when they piled in, Nader pressed the button marked −2. They emerged in a corridor similar to the floor above, but here the walls were painted fire-engine red.

  ‘On this floor we have the languages, reading and arts rooms,’ Nader began, sauntering back the way they’d come. ‘We call this the Orwell Floor, after the author of that ground-breaking novel Animal Farm.’

  ‘Excuse me, Mr Heydar, sir,’ said Maximilian. ‘I have a question.’

  Nader turned to him. ‘Yes, Mr von Zimmermann?’

  ‘Who owns the pets here? This school is only for pets, ja? But who owns these pets, since this is a secret school?’

  ‘Ah, good question, Mr von Zimmermann. Miss Einstein owns every single pet on Docens Animalis. Some are rescued animals, some are new additions to her family, while others of us have been with her for a very long time. However, if our experiment with you children goes to plan, Miss Einstein may consider opening the school to people and their pets from all over the world.’

  Shelby frowned, then Maximilian spoke again. ‘Do animals talk to one another in their own languages? I mean, if one cat meows at another cat, does the second cat understand what the first one is saying?’

  ‘Of course,’ Nader said, surprised. ‘Cats. Dogs. All animals understand their own language. Why do you think dogs bark at one another all the time? If it were just noise, that would be very rude, wouldn’t it?’

  The children nodded. That made sense.

  ‘I have a question,’ said Akira. ‘Why only pets? Why not teach all animals to talk, including wild animals?’

  ‘Well, Miss Tanaka, it is interesting you should ask that. At the start, we did try teaching wild animals to talk. It seemed only fair,’ he added with a shrug. ‘However, I’m afraid it didn’t go to plan. Oh, wild animals learned to talk with no more trouble than pets did, there was no problem there. No, the problem was with what they were saying.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Shelby.

  ‘Well, take a tiger, for example. A tiger’s first words to a teacher were usually along the lines of “You look tasty”. A lion might say, “You smell delicious.” Bears, well, they said less, but they licked their skinny lips and sharpened their teeth in class, staring at the teacher all the while. As you can imagine, it was most disconcerting, both for the teachers and the other students. A school has to be a safe place for all. Occupational Health and Safety, you see.’

  Rusty imagined a lion lazing across the desk beside him as he listened to Miss Chester explaining the difference between their and there. He shuddered.

  Nader turned and continued walking. The others followed.

  ‘But the cats back in that math room were eyeballing those mice like they’d make a tasty snack,’ observed Shelby, stroking Porky protectively as she tapped across the floor in her heels.

  ‘Yes, it’s true, we do have to watch some of the more, ah, predatory animals. Even me,’ admitted Nader, pulling his shoulders back. ‘You may see me as the epitome of culture and sophistication, but my ancestors were fearsome predators, and my instincts to chase mice — even larger rodents, such as guinea pigs — were difficult to overcome.’

  He turned back to them, his fluffy tail pointing straight up, and licked his lips as he scrutinised Porky.

  Shelby clutched her guinea pig to her chest more tightly.

  A bell sounded, snapping the white cat out of his slightly menacing recollections.

  ‘Don’t fear, children. We haven’t had any pupils eaten yet,’ Nader added with a wink at an understandably jittery Shelby.

  They reached the end of the corridor. Nader pressed the button for the top floor and the lift pinged.

  ‘Time for recess, children.’

  CHAPTER 19

  THE DINING HALL AND A SEA OF SHARKS

  The lift opened to a sea of animals.

  ‘Woof!’

  ‘Snuffle-slurp-glug.’

  ‘Don’t hog all the hay, cows! Miss E said we all have to share, remember?’

  Rusty was back in the huge room at the top of the school, but now it was filled with animals. Some were already sprawled out, sleeping, their chests rising and falling evenly. Others sat in groups, possibly in conversation with other animals. Rusty couldn’t tell. Most, though, stood at bowls or troughs, tongues out as they lapped up water or food.

  ‘This is the dining room,’ announced Nader with a disapproving huff. ‘It is apparent in here, more than anywhere else in the school, that in spite of all Miss Einstein’s work, most animals remain . . . well, animals.’

  Braithwaite grinned as he let an over-excited Bismarck sniff a bony grey dog who’d fallen asleep with its big pink tongue lolling from its open mouth. Akira wandered over to stroke a horned goat with a long white beard. It bleated at her, a clump of straw falling from its mouth to the floor.

  Rusty scanned the room. There were cats, dogs, rabbits, mice, guinea pigs, sheep, pigs and other assorted animals. One thing was obvious.

  There were no lizards.

  Rusty bit his lip and, putting aside his niggling concern, walked towards the window overlooking the ocean, followed by the other children. He stepped around a velvety grey rabbit with floppy ears who sat nibbling a lettuce leaf.

  ‘Good day!’ said the rabbit cheerfully, hopping away before Rusty could reply.

  He shook his head. Hearing pets talk was a hard thing to get used to.

  Beside him, Akira laughed. ‘It is amazing, yes?’ she asked as she strode past and put her hands against the glass. ‘To be here.’

  Rusty nodded, joining Akira at the window. He peered down.

  And immediately wished he hadn’t.

  Below them — far, far below — were jagged grey rocks. Waves flung themselves against the rocks every few seconds, sending white spray almost as high as the building. Fine mist hung in the air like a fog. Rusty’s legs wobbled and he pulled his sweaty hands away, leaving damp handprints on the glass. He glanced sideways to Bongo, who peered down at the ocean with more interest than he’d shown in anything on the tour so far.

  ‘It is a long way down,’ said Akira with a dreamy smile.

  ‘You like heights?’ Rusty asked, trying to stop imagining his skinny body plummeting out the window onto the razor-sharp rocks below.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘I dream of flying like my Sora. That is what I told Miss Einstein.’ She rubbed Sora’s fragile little puffed-out chest, and the bird shook his tufty feathered cap at her and tweeted in response. ‘To fly,’ she said, gesturing out the window. ‘It would be wonderful, yes?’

  ‘I guess,’ Rusty said, though he wasn’t convinced. ‘Are there sharks in that ocean?’

  Braithwaite overheard and dragged Bismarck across to them. ‘Are there sharks, you ask? Oh yes,’ he said, stifling a grin. ‘You don’t think all the sharks in the world live Down Under, do you?’

  Rusty shivered. Sharks terrified him.

  ‘Are you OK, Rusty?’ Braithwaite said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

  ‘So the school is all below us?’ Maximilian’s voice came from beside him.

  ‘Yes,’ said Nader, who had made his way through the scrum of animals to stand near Maximilian. ‘You’ve seen the first two levels — the Albert and Orwell Floors. Level three is for music and performing arts, named the Bowie Floor. While her grandfather was a Mozart man, Miss Einstein has more modern musical tastes, so it’s named for twentieth century musical genius David Bowie. The next level down is sports and recreation. It’s called the Williams Floor, named for the famous tennis-pl
aying sisters Venus and Serena. Below that you’ll find our concert hall, for assemblies and performances. We call it the Golden Hall. You’ll find out why when you attend your first assembly tomorrow afternoon. And the lowest levels house administration offices and Miss Einstein’s living quarters. Now, children, are you hungry? Let’s head to the buffet.’

  CHAPTER 20

  RECESS

  ‘We don’t have to eat dog food . . . or hay, do we?’ asked Shelby doubtfully, voicing what all the children were thinking.

  ‘Ha ha! A human joke. Very funny,’ Nader said, but his smile was tight. ‘No, of course not. Come over to the buffet table, choose something to eat and meet some of our teachers.’

  Nader meandered between the animals to one side of the room. Here, overlooking the lawns, a table had been set with an array of steaming dishes. Rusty could see spaghetti bolognaise, toasted sandwiches, sushi, hamburgers and pizza, along with salads and bowls of fruit.

  The smell of cheese and meat and tomato sauce made Rusty’s stomach growl. He hoped the others would assume it was just a greedy puppy or a sheep with a stomach-ache. But Braithwaite noticed.

  ‘Hungry, are we, little Australian?’ He laughed.

  Fortunately for Rusty, the British boy’s mirth was cut short when Bismarck spotted a Doberman gnawing on a bone and dragged him away.

  ‘Should we be eating . . . meat?’ Maximilian began, saying the word in a hushed tone as he glanced around furtively. ‘With animals here? Might they not tell us it is rather . . . impolite?’

  ‘There is no need to worry about that,’ Nader replied. ‘Miss Einstein serves only the best meat substitutes on Docens Animalis. Everything on this table is vegetarian — not that you’d ever guess.’

  Rusty was surprised. The sausages he’d eaten the previous night weren’t made of meat? But he was relieved too. He wouldn’t feel right eating beef or bacon with a talking cow or pig watching on.

  ‘Over here we’ve set up food for some of the smaller pets,’ said Nader, and Rusty was pleased to see a bowl of crickets for Bongo near some birdseed for Sora and a fresh container of hay for Porky.

  He took Bongo from his shoulder and placed him on the table. The lizard licked up a cricket and started chewing. Shelby sat Porky near the hay and he scrutinised it disdainfully before beginning to chew, his distinct lack of interest obvious. Sora flew down and nibbled the seed, his eyes hidden behind his crest of feathers.

  ‘Please, children, eat,’ said Nader.

  Rusty chose piping-hot macaroni and cheese, which was as cheesy and creamy as it smelled.

  ‘OMG,’ exclaimed Shelby as she bit into her — vegetarian — pepperoni pizza. ‘Nader was right. You’d never know this wasn’t meat. It’s as good as the pizza on Seventy-Third and . . .’

  She was interrupted by Porky, who made an odd whistling sound as he stared at his owner. He spat out a mouthful of hay and it landed on the table like . . . well, like a glob of chewed-up hay covered in guinea pig saliva.

  Shelby made a sad face. ‘Oh, Porky, my little baby-waby, you know you can’t eat cheese. It’s bad for you. But here’s some fruit, that’s good for you,’ she said, setting a bowl of fresh berries down before the guinea pig.

  Porky waddled over to it, diving face-first into the bowl and emerging with bulging cheeks and red-and-purple splattered fur. He sat back on his haunches and chewed contentedly, his furry round belly stuck out in front of him.

  ‘He loves sweet foods,’ Shelby explained to Rusty when she saw him watching. ‘And I just can’t resist giving my Porky-boy what he wants.’

  ‘Fruit should be a sometimes food for guinea pigs,’ Maximilian scolded Shelby.

  Shelby’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, but before she could respond somebody spoke. ‘Good morning, young ones.’

  The speaker was a man in his fifties with a large belly and wispy grey hair that had been combed all the way over his bare skull from a small patch on one side in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his baldness. Rusty thought the man must look funny when he woke up in the morning.

  ‘I’m Mr Fletcher, one of the teachers here,’ the man said, his accent sounding almost Australian.

  ‘One of the best.’ Nader twitched his nose and showed his teeth at the teacher. Mr Fletcher wore shorts, a short-sleeved button-up shirt and long socks. He looked like most of the teachers from Gundarra South Public School. ‘Mr Fletcher is South African. His specialties are science and medicine. Mr Fletcher was previously head of medicine at NASA. Yes, he worked with real-life astronauts. Actually, he is planning to prepare some of our animals for space travel over the coming months.’

  ‘Talking pets will be the astronauts of the future, you know,’ Mr Fletcher said, scratching his scalp so that several long grey strands of hair came unstuck, flipping over to dangle down the wrong side of his head as far as his shoulder.

  Akira and Rusty looked at one another with wide eyes. Talking pets — in space!

  ‘It has always been my dream to be the first animal — the first cat — in space,’ Nader continued, sounding wistful.

  ‘Hasn’t a cat already achieved spaceflight?’ Maximilian piped up, tomato sauce on the corner of his mouth. ‘Many, many years ago. And other animals too? Dogs, chimpanzees . . .’

  Nader stared at the German boy with narrowed eyes and twitching whiskers until his words petered out. ‘Yes, you are correct, of course,’ he agreed, but he sounded very grumpy about it. ‘Félicette. A French cat. 1963. I meant, of course, I would like to be the first talking animal in space. The others couldn’t report on their findings. I would be of incredible benefit as an animal astronaut.’

  ‘Of course you would, Nader,’ Mr Fletcher soothed the cat, whose tail batted angrily as he stared at Maximilian. The teacher walked over to Nader and bent down to scratch his neck. Nader couldn’t hide his pleasure at having his fur rubbed. He raised his head and purred.

  ‘This cat,’ Mr Fletcher said, smiling fondly as he straightened up. ‘What a student! Do you know he speaks five languages? Three of them human ones.’

  Three human languages? Rusty’s mind boggled. What were the other ones? Cat? Obviously. Dog? Rabbit? Or something else entirely?

  ‘Nader’s a natural scholar. Actually, we’re working on a scientific paper together at the moment.’

  Just then the bell rang. Within a minute, the room was all but empty. Only Nader, the teachers, the children and their pets remained. Plus a rather large mess. Scraps of food, hay, gnawed bones, puddles of water and a sprinkling of fur littered the floor — and a few, let’s call them mishaps, of a kind it paid not to examine too closely. But, within moments, several animals — including the rabbit who had greeted Rusty earlier, two dogs and a cat — started pushing brooms and mops over the floor.

  ‘So, back to the business at hand,’ Mr Fletcher beamed at them in a very jolly way, still unaware how ridiculous his hair looked. ‘Children, it is very exciting to have you here. I don’t know if Nader told you, but we are thinking of opening up the school to regular people and their pets. You five, and your pets, are our guinea pigs.’ He smiled at Porky, then added, ‘Sorry, Porky.’

  Porky glanced up when he heard his name, but his berries were far more enticing than the teacher.

  ‘I’d like to introduce you to my colleague, Mr Moretti,’ said Mr Fletcher, gesturing to a slim young man who’d come to stand beside him. The man had short dark hair and a shy smile, and hardly seemed old enough to have finished school himself.

  ‘Ciao, children,’ Mr Moretti said in softly spoken Italian.

  ‘Mr Moretti hasn’t been with us long,’ Mr Fletcher said. ‘He graduated from Cambridge at the top of his class studying veterinary medicine. Mr Moretti’s specialities — herpetology, ornithology and entomology — are some we haven’t had much experience with at Miss Alice Einstein’s School for Talking Pets. Isn’t that right, Mr Moretti?’

  Before he could answer, Maximilian interjected. ‘You can teach insects to talk?’ he asked, surp
rised. ‘Herpetology is the study of reptiles, ornithology is the study of birds, and entomology — isn’t that the study of insects? Do you really believe you can teach insects to talk?’

  ‘You have a very good knowledge of English words, Maximilian — including the big ones,’ Mr Moretti said. ‘To answer your question, we do believe that some insects will have the aptitude to learn to talk. We are looking firstly at some of the larger species, particularly phasmids, which you probably know as —’

  ‘Stick insects!’ Maximilian butted in again.

  ‘Well done again,’ Mr Moretti said. ‘Yes, stick insects. We’re also focusing on grasshoppers and some of the larger beetles. Possibly even arachnids after that, which are —’

  Braithwaite beat Maximilian to the answer. ‘Oh, I know that one. Arachnids are spiders, aren’t they?’ He grinned at the German boy pointedly. Maximilian scowled at him.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. We’ll start, obviously, with non-venomous spiders. Tarantulas will probably be high on our list.’

  Tarantulas. Big hairy spiders. Rusty shuddered. He caught Shelby’s eye and she grimaced.

  ‘I have a particular interest in birds and reptiles,’ Mr Moretti said, smiling at Rusty and Akira, ‘so I imagine I’ll be seeing a lot of you two. I’m very much looking forward to having Sora join a new class I’ve just started: “Pronunciation for Beaked Animals”. So far, the class consists of two cockatoos, one canary and a toucan, so we could certainly use some new members.’

  Mr Moretti spoke to Rusty next. ‘I’ll have some private lessons with Bongo too. He’s an Eastern Blue-Tongued Lizard, if I’m not mistaken? One of the more common types, found right up and down the east coast of Australia. A magnificent specimen, isn’t he?’

  Rusty nodded. How did Mr Moretti know that? Most people outside of Australia hadn’t even heard of blue-tongued lizards.

  ‘We haven’t yet had any reptile graduates from Miss Alice Einstein’s School for Talking Pets. As you can imagine, we are very excited to see how Bongo fares.’