Christmas Chaos for the Hundred-Mile-An-Hour Dog

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by Jeremy Strong


  ‘Because Charlie’s dad is a member of the golf club,’ I answered.

  ‘So is your dad.’

  ‘I know. But my dad isn’t a policeman and my dad’s boss isn’t chairman of the golf club either.’

  ‘That stinks,’ Tina muttered, and I couldn’t have agreed more.

  Tina and I crept as close as we could. I was disappointed to discover that they weren’t holding hands, just talking. In fact, Charlie was on his mobile.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Make it Saturday. Have you got the money? Good.’ Charlie listened closely for a few seconds. ‘Of course they’re all right. Been well looked after. Yeah. Alsatians. Pedigree? Oh yeah. OK. See you Saturday, five o’clock.’

  Charlie snapped his mobile shut and grinned at Sharon. ‘It’s a deal,’ he said. ‘Fantastic.’ And he draped one arm round SHARON’S SHOULDERS! Tina clutched at my arm so hard I squeaked.

  Charlie spun round and it felt as though his eyes looked straight at me. ‘What was that?’ he demanded.

  ‘Charlie,’ moaned Sharon, ‘come on. I’m getting cold.’

  ‘Must have been a squirrel or something,’ Charlie muttered. ‘I hate squirrels. Tree-rats, that’s what I call ’em.’ He turned his attention back to his girlfriend. ‘I’ll give you a cuddle,’ he said and winked. ‘That will warm you up.’

  I whispered to Tina. ‘Pass me a bucket. I want to be sick.’

  ‘There’s no hope,’ Tina sighed.

  ‘No hope of what?’ I asked.

  ‘Romance is not a word you understand, is it, Trevor?’

  If you ask me, Tina can be very strange sometimes.

  We waited in hushed excitement while Charlie and Sharon wandered out of sight and earshot before we climbed out of our bush. When Charlie was on the phone, was he talking about the puppies? It sounded like it.

  ‘Except he said Alsatians,’ Tina pointed out. ‘Why did he say that?’

  ‘Maybe because he reckons one of his Alsatians is the father so he could be trying to pass the pups off as Alsatians too. Whatever he’s doing, it’s going to happen on Saturday at five.’

  ‘That’s when the big switch-on takes place,’ Tina said. ‘All the Christmas lights are going on.’

  ‘I’m sure he’s got those pups,’ I growled. ‘And he’s planning to sell them himself. We’ve got to stop him.’

  ‘How? We don’t even know for sure that Charlie does have the puppies and even if he does, where is he keeping them? It’s Saturday tomorrow, which only gives us the rest of today and half of tomorrow to find them before Charlie hands them over – if he’s got them.’

  ‘Charlie is the only suspect we’ve got,’ I said bluntly. ‘And everything fits.’

  ‘Sure, but those pups could be hidden anywhere, absolutely anywhere.’

  Tina and I stood in the middle of the golf course surrounded by wide open spaces. It felt as if we would have to search the entire world. We were startled by a loud yell. A small white ball landed with a thud nearby and rolled towards my feet.

  ‘Oi! You kids! Buzz off! This is a golf course! Go on, clear off!’

  Tina was outraged. ‘That could have hit us!’ she seethed.

  I grabbed the ball and chucked it towards the golfer as hard as I could. ‘Here’s your ball back!’ I yelled.

  And then we ran for it, almost as fast as Streaker.

  7. And the Contents of the Shed Were…

  I had a brainwave in the night. In fact my brainwave was trotting about my bedroom sniffing all the clothes on my floor – shoes (yuck!), socks (YUCK!!), pants (YUCK YUCK YUCK!!!).

  I was watching Streaker and wondering why dogs love sniffing things so much. Streaker will sniff anything – bushes, clothes, lamp posts, her friends’ bottoms, her enemies’ bottoms, Erik the Viking’s bottom (much to his disgust), ANY bottom. Mouse is just the same as Streaker. Basically, dogs like smelling pongy things. I mean, you never see dogs sniffing roses and rolling their eyes with pleasure. (Which is what Tina’s mum does, apparently.)

  Anyhow, my brainwave. Tina and I had already made a half-hearted attempt to get Mouse following the scent of the pups but we’d given up when the prints ran out. Maybe we should give it another go, with TWO dogs, using the PUPPIES’ SCENT! It was great. I smiled to myself, turned over and went back to sleep. Problem solved.

  Did I say problem solved? I wish. When I woke in the morning it seemed different. Streaker and Mouse did not exactly have a brilliant track record for finding things. In fact they didn’t have a track record for anything except possibly getting into trouble, not to mention getting Tina and myself into trouble at the same time.

  I told Mum and Dad what I was planning. I’d like to say that they were impressed, but they weren’t. They could see the pitfalls immediately and Mum summed it up in one word.

  ‘Streaker?’ she repeated. I nodded. Mum crossed herself. Dad drew a finger across his throat.

  ‘You’re not being very supportive,’ I grumbled.

  ‘I’m sorry, Trevor,’ Dad explained, ‘but I think it was only yesterday that I had to rescue the pair of you from prison on account of that dog.’

  ‘Yes, but –’

  ‘It wasn’t Streaker’s fault!’ Mum and Dad chorused.

  ‘Yes, but –’

  ‘It’s never Streaker’s fault,’ Dad interrupted. ‘Well, it isn’t,’ I said stubbornly.

  ‘It’s just that she’s always there,’ Mum pointed out.

  I got to my feet. ‘You don’t care what happens to those puppies, do you? They could be sold into child slavery for all you care.’

  ‘I think you’d have to make that puppy slavery for it to work as an idea,’ Dad chuckled.

  ‘It’s not funny!’ I yelled. ‘Nothing with Charlie Smugg in it is funny. You two can sit here and twiddle your thumbs but Tina and I are going out there with Streaker and Mouse and we are going to find those pups and bring them home, SO THERE!’ I rushed out, my face burning hot, slamming the door behind me.

  ‘OWWWWW!!’

  ‘What’s up now?’ asked Mum, rushing over.

  ‘Trapped my thumb in the door when I shut it,’ I hissed. ‘Leave me alone.’

  I pulled away from her and set off for Tina’s. Five minutes later I turned round and went back because I’d left without Streaker. Two minutes after that I went back because I’d forgotten my coat. Four minutes after that I went back because I needed the blankets the puppies used to sleep on.

  Eventually, somehow, I managed to reach Tina’s and told her the whole sorry saga. She held my hand to inspect my throbbing thumb. It had turned deep red, which was actually a relief since I had thought it was falling right off. At least it was still there to be seen.

  ‘You poor thing.’ Tina said this with such sympathy I thought she was going to kiss it better. I hastily tried to pull away from her, but she tightened her grip. ‘I’ll get some cream.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘My mum always puts special cream on bruises. It will help.’

  I nodded and Tina disappeared. About a minute later she reappeared with the cream behind her back. ‘Will it sting?’ I asked.

  ‘You are such a baby. Hold out your thumb.’

  I closed my eyes. I hate things like scratches and bruises. There was a splurty noise and I felt something cold on my thumb. I opened my eyes. A spiral blob of whirly cream sat on top of my scarlet thumb, making it look like a miniature strawberry ice-cream cone. It was totally ridiculous.

  ‘You said it was special cream!’ I grinned. ‘This is for puddings.’

  ‘I know,’ she chuckled. ‘But you have to admit that makes it a VERY special cream to put on bruises.’

  By this time I was laughing so much I had tears in my eyes. Tina was relieved. ‘See,’ she said, ‘I said it would make you feel better.’ That set us off laughing again.

  ‘You are such a twit,’ I told her.

  ‘Wow, I’ve been promoted. Just a while back ago you told me I was only a twittle, and now I’m a proper, fully
grown twit. Thank you, thank you.’

  There was no more time to lose. Tina shoved a camera into her shoulder bag. ‘To record any evidence,’ she said and I nodded, impressed. Tina was smart.

  We grabbed the dogs and the blankets and set off. The park trail had probably gone cold but we had to pick somewhere to make our start, so that was where we went. I pulled the puppies’ blankets from the bag and held one to Streaker’s nose while Tina did the same with Mouse.

  We had decided to keep both dogs on leads, even though we knew we would both have our arms pulled out of their sockets. (Tina’s from trying to pull Mouse along behind her, and mine from trying to stop Streaker from taking off and reaching the next galaxy.)

  Streaker quickly decided that I wanted to play blanket tug-of-war with her. She grabbed the other end with her teeth and began growling, snarling and pulling like fury until eventually I gave up and just let go. She sat down heavily and looked at me with disappointed surprise.

  Tina was having more success with Mouse. He sniffed the blankets carefully and then sat there, wrinkling his nose and smacking his lips as if he was tasting top-notch nosh. Finally he got to his feet and plodded off.

  I tried to follow but Streaker was still sitting on her haunches and wouldn’t budge. I ended up towing her along like a statue until she at last got to her feet and trotted beside me. I could have sworn she winked at me at that moment.

  Mouse led us to the golf course, which wasn’t much of a surprise. It was somewhere I didn’t really want to go back to, if only because of the angry golfers we had run into the previous day.

  It was hard to keep the dogs hidden as we were pulled across several greens. Mouse made a beeline (or should that be a dog-line?) for wherever the scent was leading him. Fortunately there were very few golfers mad enough to want to play that morning, and finally we spotted a small shed.

  Mouse headed straight for it. Streaker perked up too. She began straining at her lead and generally looking excited. My heart began to thump. I felt we were really on to something. Tina and I exchanged excited glances. This could be where the pups were being held.

  As we closed in on the hut I heard voices. I was on instant alert and put a finger to my lips to signal silence, while desperately hoping that neither of the dogs would start barking.

  The hut didn’t have any windows so we couldn’t see who was inside and we couldn’t hear the voices clearly either. There was no way of telling what they were saying. I signalled to Tina that we should back away so we could figure out a plan.

  ‘There are two of them,’ I whispered.

  ‘I couldn’t hear any puppies,’ Tina murmured.

  ‘Neither could I.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ she asked.

  ‘We shall have to go in there.’

  Tina’s face was white. ‘Are you sure? Won’t that be dangerous?’

  ‘We need to catch them red-handed,’ I said. ‘Otherwise we can’t prove anything. Plus, we’ve got the dogs with us.’

  ‘So what are we going to do?’ she repeated.

  ‘We burst in.’

  ‘Then what?’

  I looked at Tina. I looked at the sky. I looked at the ground. I didn’t know the answer. ‘I guess it depends on what they do.’

  ‘What do you think they’ll do?’ asked Tina.

  Honestly! Girls – they do go on. How was I supposed to know?

  ‘We deal with the situation as it arises,’ I hissed.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Tina! Let’s just get on with it. I’ll count to three. On three, you open the door and I’ll rush in and confront them. If anything happens you’ll be a witness. Whoever is in there can’t take on both of us.’

  ‘Right. I’ll try to take a photo too.’

  We moved back to the hut and prepared in silence. I mouthed the countdown.

  ‘One – two – THREE!’

  Tina yanked the door open and I rushed into the dark hut. FLASH-FLASH! The camera went off and the whole scene was brilliantly lit for a second. And there they were – Charlie Smugg and Sharon Blenkinsop – SNOGGING.

  8. Back on the Trail

  I immediately rushed out again, yelling at Tina. ‘Run!’

  Angry shouts followed as we fled. ‘I’ll get you!’ Charlie bellowed. ‘You won’t get away with this. I’m coming after you!’ He made a lunge towards the door, knocked over a stack of golf clubs and immediately tripped over them. He fell to the floor, arms and legs flailing, managing to knock over two more stacks. They clattered on to him as he struggled to his feet.

  ‘Charlie,’ wailed Sharon. ‘Come back here! I love you, Charlie. I’ll give you another bit of chocolate.’

  Charlie wasn’t impressed. ‘Be quiet, you daft octopus.’

  The last thing we heard was Sharon giggling. ‘Charlie, darling! You don’t really think I’m an octopus, do you?’

  We ran and ran, howling with laughter until we found ourselves at the far end of the golf course. Streaker thought it was a great game. She flew along beside us, ears bouncing while she looked up at me happily and barked her head off. Mouse lolloped along behind with his big shaggy coat flouncing about. He looked like some giant alien blob from Mars on a cheese hunt.

  When we ran out of golf greens we stopped, panting and chuckling at the same time, which is pretty difficult, I can tell you. I looked back up the course. There was no sign of Charlie or Sharon.

  ‘We’re safe,’ grinned Tina.

  ‘For the time being,’ I said, nodding.

  ‘I love you, Charlie darling!’ mimicked Tina and we started laughing again.

  ‘She’s an octopus,’ I added.

  ‘Well, he’s a gorilla, so they’re well matched,’ said Tina. ‘Did you see if the pups were there?’

  I shook my head. ‘You blinded me with the flash.’

  ‘Sorreee.’ Tina fiddled with the back of her camera. ‘Hmm. Doesn’t look like it.’ She showed me the little screen and the picture she had just taken. There were the two lovebirds, Charlie and Sharon, caught forever in full snog-mode. But there were no pups.

  ‘Maybe Charlie had been keeping them there but he’s moved them somewhere else for the handover later today,’ I suggested.

  ‘That’s not much help,’ sniffed Tina, still studying the photo. ‘Do you think we can sell this pic to the newspapers?’

  ‘That’d be fantastic. Charlie would be SO embarrassed. But he would also probably kill us.’

  Tina shrugged. ‘He’s going to kill us anyway. He’s probably waiting up there to ambush us on our way home.’

  ‘We’ll go back the long way. Come on.’

  We set off round the far edge of the golf course. There was a footpath I knew which led to a scattering of houses, some old lock-up garages and then came out near Tina’s road.

  Tina glanced at her watch. ‘We’ve got six hours left before Charlie hands over those pups.’

  ‘I know, and we still don’t know for sure that he’s actually got them or where the handover will take place.’

  ‘Thing is, everyone will be in town to watch the big light-up this evening,’ said Tina. ‘Everywhere else will be completely quiet. Charlie could go anywhere and nobody would notice.’

  I was silent. I’d already worked this out and it was bothering me, a lot. We carried on making our way towards home, keeping a sharp eye out for Charlie and any Alsatians he might have decided to bring along for fun and games.

  The footpath carried us through the block of lock-up garages. Two or three seemed to be in use but most of them had had their doors ripped off and covered in graffiti. It didn’t feel like a nice place to be and I wasn’t exactly surprised when the dogs began playing up.

  Both of them started tugging hard on their leads. Streaker was so eager her front paws were right off the ground.

  ‘What’s up with them?’ Tina asked. ‘Mouse, will you behave?’

  The St Bernard had his nose almost buried in the ground as he snuffled along. My hea
rt gave a tiny leap. I told myself not to get excited and let slip Streaker’s lead. She went tearing off like a rocket, heading straight for one of the lock-ups. She didn’t even bother to slow down or stop, but hurled herself at the metal door, scratching it wildly and barking, barking, barking.

  Tina and I exchanged one amazed glance and ran across to the locked garage. Inside we could hear little yippy barks. THE PUPPIES! Streaker and Mouse had found them. They were inside!

  I gave Tina a high five and whooped with triumph. It was a bit too early to celebrate, though, because we couldn’t actually get into the garage. It was locked solid with a fat padlock on the door and there was no way we could make it budge.

  ‘At least we know where they are,’ said Tina excitedly. ‘We can come back this afternoon before five and hide somewhere. We’ll lie in wait for Charlie and catch him red-handed.’

  ‘Sure. But we’ll need to photograph it all for evidence. We need to snap him taking the puppies from the garage and handing them over – so no flash this time, or he’ll find out.’

  We made the rest of the journey home safely and in high spirits. Tina headed back to her house and I went to my room to think. I considered telling Mum and Dad but they’d only take over and where was the satisfaction in that? I wanted this to be me and Tina. Our business with Charlie was personal and we were going to take him down! On the other hand, a bit of help could be useful. Charlie and his dogs were scary.

  Lunch seemed to drag on for hours. My head was spinning with my dilemma. Should I say something? Should I keep quiet?

  ‘I suppose whoever has taken the pups has done us a small favour, really,’ said Dad. That astonished me, to say the least. How on earth did Dad figure that out?

  ‘How come?’ I asked.

  ‘We don’t have to bother to find homes for them,’ he said. ‘And don’t look at me like that, Trevor, as if I’ve just murdered them. I’m just trying to find something positive in all this. I’ve taken the card down from the post office since there doesn’t seem much point in advertising something we no longer have. We’ll not find them.’

 

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