by John Tovey
Jon was looking towards me, scratching his head in bewilderment.
‘What the…?’ he began to say, but I couldn’t hear the rest because his voice was blown away by the sea breeze.
Of course, I was told off again, but what they didn’t understand was now I’d got a taste for strawberries I couldn’t help myself – they were my favourite food in the whole world. I wasn’t supposed to eat them because I was a dog, and not just a guide dog, but a doggy strawberry thief too!
CHAPTER 7
THE WESTIE SISTERS
‘So,’ said Stan, ‘I heard about you stealing strawberries.’
He arched an eyebrow as he gazed down at me disapprovingly.
‘Er, who told you?’
‘No one, it’s the talk of the park. Who would’ve thought it, eh? Dez the strawberry thief!’
‘Are you talking about the sandwiches or the day out at the beach?’ I asked.
‘What? You mean you’ve done it twice!’
‘Er…’ I cast my eyes down guiltily.
Stan began to tut.
‘Dez, my son, I honestly thought you were better than that!’
My face blushed as I glanced up at him.
‘Sorry, Stan.’
‘I should think so! I thought you were a decent kid, not a common…’ Stan stopped mid-sentence, lifted his head and pricked his ears up in the air. ‘’Ere, can you hear that?’
I tried to listen, but my big ears flapped around and got in the way.
‘Hear what?’
‘Shush!’ said Stan, putting a paw to his lips. ‘Listen, it sounds like there’s a dog in pain.’ He tilted his head and turned both ears like mini antennae to try and pick up the noise. ‘There it goes again, that’s definitely a dog in pain.’
I flipped one of my ears over the top of my head so I could hear what he could.
‘I heard it too! It’s coming from over there, near those bushes,’ I said, pointing over to them. ‘Come on, let’s go. Someone must be trapped!’
Stan and I ran as fast as we could over towards the bushes. Then I stopped and swung my head so both ears flapped and landed on top of my head. I signalled for Stan to be quiet, so we could work out where the noise was coming from.
‘Whaaaa, Wha, Whahhhhh, Wha, Wha, Wahhhhh! Bum bum bum, dum de dummm…’ the voice whined.
‘Whatever do you think it is?’ I asked.
‘I dunno. But it could be a trapped dog, so we have to act fast!’
Charging through the bushes into a small clearing, I braced myself for something horrible – a dog with its leg broken, or something even worse. Instead we found two little Westies. One was standing on top of a small rock, posing. She had one paw clutched to her chest, making the dreadful din, while the other was crouched on the floor, both paws over her ears.
‘Make her stop… Purlease, just make her stop!’ the second one cried, begging for mercy.
‘Who is she?’ I shouted, clamping my ears against my head to stop the dreadful noise from seeping in.
The little Westie looked up at me, exasperated.
‘She’s my sister, pet. She’s called Kilty.’
‘Milty?’ I shouted.
‘No, KILTY!’ she hollered over the awful din.
‘Oh, sorry,’ I replied, nodding my head to show I’d understood.
‘But what’s wrong with her? I mean, is she in pain?’ asked Stan, trying to pin down the tips of both ears to his head.
‘No man, she thinks she’s a singer,’ Bonnie cried.
‘A SINGER?’ Stan and I chorused in surprise.
‘Aye, a singer! But she’s got an awful voice.’
Suddenly, Kilty stopped singing and the three of us sighed with relief.
‘I think you’ll find I am a singer, Bonnie, man,’ she said, fixing her sister with a steely glare.
Bonnie shrugged her shoulders.
‘See what I mean? She’s clearly disillusioned. She couldn’t carry a tune, even if it was in a wheelbarrow.’
Just then the sisters began to argue.
‘Can!’
‘Can’t!’
‘Can!’
‘Can’t!’
Stan put a paw up to halt them.
‘Listen, ladies, I think we’d better pause for a moment and do the introductions. My name is Stan,’ he said, patting a paw against the fur on his chest, ‘and this…’ he said, stretching out his other paw, ‘…is my good friend, Dez.’
‘Hiya,’ Bonnie said, smiling.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ Kilty answered, doing a theatrical curtsey on top of the rock, which she’d pretended was a stage.
Bonnie rolled her eyes and groaned. ‘Well, as you’ve probably worked out, I’m Bonnie, and this,’ she said, nudging her head over towards where her sister was standing, ‘is her ladyship, Kilty.’
‘Honoured, I’m sure,’ Kilty said, batting her eyelashes sweetly.
I felt myself go red as I searched for the right words.
‘So… erm… you’re a singer then, Kilty?’ I mumbled.
‘I am, pet!’ She beamed. ‘And whatever you do, don’t forget this face, because one day, I’m gonna be a star! One night, you’ll see me on telly.’
Bonnie shook her head in disbelief.
‘In ya dreams,’ she muttered under her breath, but loud enough for Stan and me to hear.
‘Now, the most important thing is, when you’re a singer like me,’ Kilty said, hopping down daintily from her rock, ‘is to try and preserve your voice. Now,’ she added, suddenly sounding posh, peering all around her. ‘Oh, yes, over here! That’s perfect.’ She smiled, lining herself up in front of a puddle. ‘Now then, every day I look in the mirror and practise my VOWELS…’ she explained, pronouncing each letter of the word.
Suddenly, she dropped the posh accent.
‘Dez, pet, come over here and join us…’ she said, waving a paw, beckoning me over.
‘But why do you both keep calling us “pet”?’ I asked, a little confused.
‘It’s because we’re from Newcastle, pet,’ Bonnie explained, her eyes widening as she stood up with pride. ‘It’s only the greatest city in the whole wide world!’
Kilty grabbed my shoulder and beamed at me, her eyes glistening with excitement. ‘And it’s where Cheryl Cole’s from – well, Cheryl whatever she’s called now she’s got married again. Anyway, it’s where our Cheryl’s from. And one day, I’m gonna be just like her.’
Kilty lifted up her paw and swept it across, as though spelling out the words in mid-air. ‘KILTY WATSON, I can just see it now – my name in big letters, in theatres and on the telly. It’s Kilty, by the way,’ she said, breaking off for a moment, ‘NOT Milty. And I’ll be great, just like our Cheryl. We could duet together and maybe one day I might even get to sing with Harry Styles!’ she added, squealing with delight.
Bonnie sniggered as Kilty dipped her head bashfully.
‘Harry who?’ I asked.
‘HARRY STYLES, One Deeee,’ she said, showing her teeth and emphasising the ‘D’. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t know! Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of One Direction!’
I shrugged. Kilty turned away in disgust, as though she’d given up all hope. She looked at her glowing white reflection in the puddle.
‘A.E.I.O.U.,’ she said.
As she did so, the muscles in her mouth and neck stretched like Plasticine.
‘What’s she doing?’ I asked, looking over towards Bonnie.
‘She’s practising her vowels – she thinks they help with her voice, and keep her, erm, young-looking…’
‘I am young!’ Kilty tutted, as she turned sharply on all four paws. ‘Besides, you’re only jealous, just because ya weren’t blessed with a voice as pure as mine.’
‘I wouldn’t call it pure, more poor,’ Bonnie grumbled in a low murmur.
‘What did she say?’ Kilty demanded.
‘Dunno.’ I shrugged.
‘Sorry, didn’t catch it,’ Stan lied, getting to his feet. �
��Anyway, ladies, my friend and I really must dash. You know, things to do, people to meet.’
‘Nice to meet ya both,’ Kilty called cheerfully, looking over the top of her sister’s head. With her snub black shiny nose, and cute little button eyes, she really was one of the prettiest Westies I’d ever seen.
Maybe she already was a star? I’d never seen X Factor, so I couldn’t be sure. Maybe Kilty was already the real deal?
Slowly, I started to feel a little star-struck.
‘Y… y… you too,’ I said, suddenly starting to flush a little. Kilty’s beauty was beginning to make me a little hot under the collar. ‘And you know I’ll look out for you…’
‘Eh?’ she said, looking up at me.
‘On X Factor,’ I said, crossing my front paws to show her.
It made her chuckle.
‘You will that, me and Harry! I’ll have to nudge our Cheryl out the way, though,’ she giggled, pretending to push Bonnie over with her elbow.
Bonnie looked up and scowled.
‘See ya, lads,’ Bonnie said, lifting a paw to wave. ‘And next time ya hear her ladyship, remember, it’s not a dog in pain, it’s a wannabe Westie WAG!’
Stan howled with laughter and Bonnie joined in too, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Kilty.
‘Bye then, Kilty. And I hope you break a leg,’ I said, waving back.
‘Eh?’
‘Break a leg! It’s an old theatrical saying for good luck on stage,’ I explained.
‘Ah right, I see,’ Kilty nodded. ‘For a moment, I thought ya wanted me to break me leg or summat.’
‘I wish you’d break your neck then at least I’d be spared ya singing,’ Bonnie muttered, rolling her eyes.
‘Eh?’ Kilty replied.
‘Nothing, I said, I hope you break a leg, and then we can all enjoy ya singing.’
A smile appeared on Kilty’s face. ‘Ah, right you are! Now, Bonnie, I want ya to listen to this and tell me what ya think. It’s me own special version of Adele’s beautiful ballad, “Someone Like You”.’
As we left, Bonnie crouched back down on the ground and placed both paws on her ears.
‘Bye, you two.’
She sighed as we turned to walk away.
‘Poor Bonnie,’ Stan remarked as we pushed back through the hedge and into the park.
‘Why, I thought Kilty was rather good,’ I protested.
Just then, her howls broke the silence of our surroundings.
‘Never mind, I’ll find somebody like yoooouuuu, hooooo, hooooooo….’ she whined.
I turned to Stan.
‘Nah, you’re right,’ I agreed. ‘That voice could curdle milk!’
CHAPTER 8
ROGER AND MISTA SUNSHINE
Following our meeting with the Westie Sisters, Stan and I often bumped into them down the park. ‘Hiya pet!’ Kilty called from across the grass one day.
‘Oh, hi Kilty,’ I said, waving madly back at her, my face blushing.
‘Er, I think someone’s a little smitten with Kilty the singer…’ Stan teased, giving me a sly nudge.
‘No, we’re just friends, that’s all,’ I protested, trying not to catch his eye. I hadn’t realised it was that obvious.
‘Now, lad, it’s a big world out there and there’s, erm, plenty of fish in the sea. Don’t tie yourself down too young, that’s my advice.’
I looked up at him, a little confused.
‘But I’m not interested in fish, Stan!’
He shook his head in despair. ‘No, I know that, Dez. It’s just a saying. It means you’ll get to meet lots of lovely girly dogs throughout your life, so don’t tie yourself down with the first one you meet.’
‘Oh, right,’ I replied, feeling a little foolish.
‘Isn’t it a glorious day?’ Stan sighed, changing the subject.
I looked up at the cloudless cornflower-blue sky. It was a scorcher of a day.
‘Yeah, I bet Mista Sunshine’s really busy today. Hey, let’s go over and take a look.’
‘Okay.’
Stan and I wandered over to the other side of the park, where Mista Sunshine had parked up his van alongside the children’s swings.
‘Look at that queue!’ gasped Stan. I followed his gaze. He was right – there must have been at least twenty children standing there, waiting to buy ice cream.
‘I wish I could queue up and buy one,’ I sighed. ‘I’ve never tried ice cream before.’
My mouth watered at the thought of sweet, sticky cream melting against my tongue.
‘Whatcha doing, lads?’
It was Kilty. The sisters had wandered to the other side of the park to catch us up. I felt my heart leap.
‘Erm, erm…’ I stuttered, a little flustered.
‘Oh, nothing much,’ Stan replied. ‘Dez was just saying he’d love to try ice cream.’
‘What’s it taste like? Have you ever tried it?’ I blushed.
‘Oh, no, not me, pet!’ Kilty said, rubbing her pink belly. ‘I’ve got to keep myself trim, if I wanna go on telly. But our Bonnie’s tried it.’
‘Have you?’
Bonnie looked up at me. There was a twig tangled in a tuft of white fur on top of her head. She was a real tomboy, the total opposite of her sister.
‘Ooh, I have Dez, and I have to say, it tasted delicious!’ she said, licking her lips at the thought. ‘Do ya know if you watch them kids over there I bet you one of them will drop one, and that’s when you,’ she said, nudging me against my side, ‘could step in.’
‘You mean I should steal one?’ I asked, recalling how much trouble the strawberries had got me into. ‘It’s just that, er, I don’t think I should…’
But Bonnie shook her head.
‘No, not steal. Once food falls on the floor, humans don’t want it anymore, so it just goes to waste. If you don’t eat it, then it’ll just melt. Anyway, that’d be your best chance.’
Stan suggested that we all go and sit under the shade of a big tree while I observed from a distance, waiting for my chance. I didn’t have to wait very long. Five minutes later, a little boy who was with his mum asked for an ice cream. I watched his mother hand over some coins to the ice-cream seller. Mista Sunshine was a disgusting man. I looked on in horror as he wiped his snotty nose on the back of his hand before passing her the ice cream. The mother looked horrified, but took it from him. Just then Mista Sunshine straightened up and let out a loud fart.
PARP!
It was so loud, everyone had turned to look at him, but he didn’t care. The mother shook her head in disgust. She picked up one of the bottles, which was chained to the counter to stop someone from taking it, and poured some sticky, red sauce over the top of her little boy’s ice cream.
‘What’s that?’ I asked, referring to the red stuff.
‘Oh, it’s just monkey’s blood,’ Bonnie replied.
Stan and I looked at her.
‘MONKEY’S BLOOD! You mean Mista Sunshine kills monkeys for their blood, just so he can pour it on ice creams?’ I gasped, holding a shocked paw against my mouth.
Bonnie and Kilty glanced at one another and burst out laughing. They rolled about on the grass, giggling, clutching their sides.
‘Oh, Kilty, make him stop! I think I’m gonna wee myself,’ Bonnie chortled.
‘Don’t!’ Kilty replied. ‘I think I already have.’
‘What on earth…?’ said Stan, breaking the moment. ‘What’s monkey’s blood?’
‘It’s NOT actual monkey’s blood, you silly billies,’ Kilty explained, ‘It’s what we call strawberry or raspberry sauce, up in Newcastle.’
My ears picked up.
‘Strawberry sauce!’
‘Yeah,’ said Bonnie, ‘that’s what kiddies put on top of their ice creams.’
I licked my lips. ‘Well, why didn’t you say so?’
I watched the little boy, willing him to drop the ice-cream cone. It wobbled a little as his mum handed it to him, smothered in glorious strawberry sauce. I felt my
mouth water. She turned to hand his little sister an ice-lolly, and that’s when it happened: another child accidentally bumped into him and the top of his ice cream plopped onto the ground.
‘Go! Go! Go!’ my friends screamed at me, like I was a soldier on operation.
As I ran, I watched in slow motion as the boy turned back to his mother and began to cry.
‘Whaaaa!’ he bawled, the empty cone in his hand.
As I looked over, I realised the ice cream had already started to melt against the warm tarmac. I ran like the wind, and within seconds I was there, standing over it, slurping up the watery mess from the floor.
‘NOM, NOM, NOM!’
The ice cream tasted lovely, but the strawberry sauce was out of this world! The boy stopped crying as all the children turned to look at me – the greedy Labrador, licking ice cream up off the floor. But I didn’t feel bad because I was like a doggy hoover, clearing up all the mess. The little boy began to giggle as his mother turned back to Mista Sunshine.
‘He’s dropped it on the ground,’ she said, pointing over at me, ‘and now that dog is eating it.’
I greedily slurped away at it but raised one guilty eye to look at the woman and Mista Sunshine, who was busy picking his nose. He glanced at the green bogey he’d pulled out, resting it on the tip of his finger, and then he looked down at the mother.
‘So, I wondered,’ she continued, ‘if I could just have another little scoop to go on top of his cone…’
But Mista Sunshine wasn’t listening; his face had turned bright purple. Ginger whiskers smattered across his chin were peppered with wiry grey hairs, which stood out on end, making him look even crazier. He was wearing a dirty, tea-stained string vest, which stretched across his belly. It had grey and ginger curly chest hair sticking out in between the holes. Sunshine poured in through the roof of the ice-cream van. It bounced off a perfect bald spot right in the middle of his head, which shone and caught the light like a highly polished mirror.
‘Why you…!’ he screamed. His voice was so loud and angry that the crowd of children who had been queuing up backed away warily from his van.