Badger the Mystical Mutt

by Lyn McNicol

  Hamish smiled at Badger.

  “Hamish, where are you?” shouted a voice from a nearby garden.

  “Oh, that’s my Big Folk, I’d better go,” said Hamish, and trotted home.

  Top Dog tilted his head to one side, with a flicker of recognition when he heard Hamish’s Big Folk call him inside.

  Even after all these years, he thought fondly, I still think I can hear their voices.

  He shook himself; he was probably just being silly. He returned to licking the empty dinner bowl then licked around it again. Only when he was totally sure the bowl had no more licks left, did he sit back and think.

  “Could it be possible that my own Big Folk have been right here in the lane, under my nose, all this time?” he wondered.

  He shook himself again.

  “That’s ridiculous,” he thought “One chinwag with that mystical mutt and I’m getting soppy. I’ll take this back to that daft peg-eared spaniel.”

  He dragged the bowl back into the lane and up to the garden where Hamish lived. When he arrived, Hamish asked him timidly:

  “Why are you so annoyed about me being in Pet Idol?”

  “I hate everything it stands for. All those posh pampered pets and their posh pampered Big Folk. It’s nonsense!”

  “But I’m not posh, or pampered, I’m just Hamish with daft ears.”

  “You said it!”

  “So what’s it all about then?” asked Hamish innocently.

  “Stupid pets, stupid judges, stupid prize. Winner takes it all.”

  “Prize? What’s the prize? Can I eat it?” asked Hamish excitedly.

  “Who says you’re going to win?” sneered Top Dog. “According to the pee-mail I just read, you’re up against Polly Poodle and Treacle the tortoise-shell cat.”

  “Then again …” added Top Dog thoughtfully, “against those two, you’ve got a pretty good chance.”

  “I like Polly Poodle and Treacle’s one of my best friends.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” said Top Dog, raising his eyes to the sky. “Anyway, since you asked, the prize is a year’s supply of Crunchy Munchy Chewy Chops and your very own personalized dinner bowl. Big Deal!”

  “Brilliant!” said Hamish, “although there’s only so many Crunchy Munchy Chewy Chops even I could eat in a year. I’d have to share them out.”

  “Why would you want to do that?” asked Top Dog.

  “Why not?” replied Hamish.

  Top Dog shrugged, turned to leave, then said over his shoulder:

  “Thanks for the dinner, by the way. You’re not as bad as I thought.”

  “Neither are you,” said Hamish.

  “Sssssssssssshhhhhhhhh! I’ve got my reputation to think of.”

  As Top Dog headed homewards to his cardboard box, Hamish ran indoors with his dinner bowl, happier than he’d been in a while.

  He didn’t trip over his ears once.

  The next day, the neighbourhood pets and strays clustered eagerly around the window of the local TV shop. It was the end of the live final of Pet Idol and all eyes were on the TV screens inside.

  Soon the moment came that they had all been waiting for … the loud speaker outside the shop announced in a Big Folk voice …

  “In third place, it’s Polly the Poodle for her perfect poodle perm and particularly posh poise.”

  The audience gasped.

  “No surprise there, gang,” scoffed Snif. “Her Big Folk spend a fortune at the Poodle Parlour.”

  Dodgy Dave added: “She looks like candy floss on legs.”

  Top Dog, who was watching from the side away from his gang, looked over and shook his head.

  “Is there any need for that, you lot?” he asked.

  “But it’s exactly what you would usually say. What’s changed?” asked Dodgy Dave, a little bamboozled, before adding, “Why aren’t you standing here with us anyway?”

  “Yes, when exactly did you start being so nicey-wicey?” barked Lennie.

  “Especially about those losers!” added Pickle, nodding at the TV.

  Top Dog ignored them all and returned to the screen. The gang did the same.

  “And in second place, we have Treacle the tortoise-shell cat, for her tender treatment of other cats.”

  The crowd outside gasped again.

  “Ah, Treacle. I’m so glad. She deserves it. She’s such a gentle soul,” sighed Badger the Mystical Mutt, who was watching quietly from the back of the crowd.

  Top Dog and Badger shared a quick smile with each other.

  “What?” Pickle screamed at the screen, “Treacle the tortoise-shell cat? Are you mad? She’s a worn-out goody-two-shoes moggie!”

  Top Dog growled at Pickle menacingly:

  “Leave it!”

  Pickle looked at the rest of the gang in disbelief.

  “Did you just hear that? Am I having a nightmare, or did that really happen? Is it just me, or is he,” Pickle nodded in Top Dog’s direction, “acting very strangely?”

  Pogo Paws, Dodgy Dave, Snif and Lennie all grunted in agreement, each as baffled as the other as to why Top Dog wasn’t joining in with their jokes.

  Then, the voice from the loud speaker boomed out again, and all the animals outside hushed.

  “And now, for the big one…”

  There was a very long pause.

  “The one you’ve all been waiting for…”

  Another long pause.

  “…the one who will tonight take away this year’s Pet Idol trophy…”

  There was another long pause.

  “How long is this going to take? Get on with it!” yelled Dodgy Dave.

  “…the one who will also receive a fabulous prize of a year’s supply of Crunchy Munchy Chewy Chops…”

  “Is this likely to finish tonight? I’ve got a bone to pick,” sighed Snif.

  “…as well as a personalized dinner bowl…”

  “Oh, pooperscoopersmellysnooper! Just tell us the blooming winner. I’m bored now,” grumbled Pogo Paws.

  “At last, in first place, the winner of this year’s Pet Idol, is…”

  The drum roll seemed to go on forever. Top Dog stared at the screen. Badger hoped with all his heart that Hamish would be the winner.

  Top Dog’s gang — Pogo Paws, Pickle, Dodgy Dave, Snif and Lennie — all sat, scowling at the screen. It seemed like an age before the Big Folk’s voice finally announced:

  “HAMISH! We’ve chosen Hamish for his happy heart, not to mention his helpful and honest nature, and his ability to listen to others with his huge floppy ears.”

  Hamish bounced up to the stage to collect his award from the Big Folk. His tail was wagging so much that his bottom shook.

  Outside the TV shop, the collected animals were barking and woofing, meowing and purring, squeaking and chirping in merriment. Pogo Paws, Pickle, Dodgy Dave, Snif and Lennie were booing and growling. Top Dog stared at them all coldly.

  “Why can’t you be pleased for Hamish? He’s going to share his prize with us all.”

  “Oh, sorry, Top Dog. Is this the same Hamish you were chasing a few days ago, tying his ears on top of his head and cutting his hair?” snarled Dodgy Dave.

  “Yes, the same Hamish you were joyfully covering in blue paint and dunking in the tank?” barked a peeved Pickle.

  “And the same Hamish you were calling a floppy-eared softie and Fancy Pants recently?” added Snif.

  “Yes, I know,” admitted Top Dog, “but things have changed. I was wrong. He’s not a bad pup, and once you get to know him, he’s okay really.”

  Dodgy Dave looked at the rest of the gang and they nodded knowingly.

  “Top Dog, I think it’s time for us to split. We can’t be in your gang anymore. You’re turning into a pet. Why don’t you be friends with that floppy-eared softie and I’ll set up a new gang … with me in charge!”

  Top Dog shrugged, then he noticed one of the Big Folk up a ladder, cleaning windows with a great big bucket of soapy water. The one-time leader of the ga
ng walked over and nudged the bottom rung. The bucket toppled and spilled soapy suds all over Dodgy Dave.

  Dodgy Dave was rooted to the spot as he dripped frothy bubbles all over the pavement. Then, realizing what had just happened, he shook himself vigorously, pointed his paw in rage and growled menacingly:

  “Just you wait, Top Dog. We’ll make sure the Dog Catcher gets you this time. Come on, gang!”

  With that, the gang ran off.

  Top Dog returned to his cardboard box with his head hung low and his tail down. He was happy for Hamish’s win, yet sad that his pals had deserted him.

  “Well, Badger said this might happen,” he sighed. “They weren’t ever really my pals. They were only interested in making everyone else unhappy and I don’t want to do that anymore. Leading the gang was beginning to feel like a chore anyway. They can look after themselves from now on.”

  For the first time since he had left his Big Folk, he nosed something out from the back of his cardboard box; something which he had been given as a pup. Something he had managed to keep with him through thick and thin; a scrawny, grey, matted cuddly toy. He pulled his scruffy blanket around him and bedded down for a nap. He fell into a contented dream about his old family of Big Folk and a new friend called Hamish.

  Tucked in tight and nuzzled close to him was his trusty unicorn toy.

  Meanwhile, as Hamish headed homewards with his prize, he decided to visit Top Dog to share out his Crunchy Munchy Chewy Chops. He resolved to keep his personalized dinner bowl for himself because, after all, who could he possibly share it with when it had his name on it?

  As he trotted cheerfully up the lane, five ominous shadows surrounded him and merged into a menacing circle. Hamish looked from left to right from front to back and, holding on tightly to his prize, started to panic.

  “Aren’t you going to share out your Crunchy Munchy Chewy Chops with us then, Fancy Pants?” snarled Dodgy Dave, emerging from the shadows.

  The hairs on the back of Hamish’s neck sprang upright and beads of sweat bubbled on the end of his nose. He quivered.

  “Enjoying the spotlight, eh?” spat Snif.

  “Just hand over the Chewy Chops,” hissed Pickle right into Hamish’s ear. Hamish winced.

  “Lost your tongue, Pretty Boy?” snarled Lennie.

  “Just give us the Chewy Chops and you can be on your way,” hissed Pickle again.

  “No! Go away!” squealed Hamish, as Pogo Paws bounced forward about to swipe his precious bag of Crunchy Munchy Chewy Chops.

  Out of nowhere, another shadow launched into the middle of the circle, knocking Pogo Paws to the ground.

  “Run, Hamish!” shouted Top Dog, as the gang closed in on their old leader.

  Hamish ran as fast as he could, still clinging tightly to his prize. As he ran, he heard the yelps and thuds, the screams and whimpers, the howls and barks of a pack of savage dogs and their prey.

  I need to get Badger, he panicked, as he ran towards the crack in the fence at the bottom of his garden.

  “Badger!” shouted Hamish. “Badger, where are you?”

  But Badger wasn’t there.

  Suddenly, a voice boomed from above. “Hello, Hamish. Well done! I knew you could do it. Even Top Dog was cheering you on.”

  Hamish looked around him.

  “Up here,” shouted Badger

  Hamish looked up to see Badger in the treetop, covered in leaves.

  He grinned sheepishly at Hamish.

  “I was trying out a new teleporting spell, but it needs more practice.”

  “Badger, hurry up, there’s no time to waste. Top Dog’s life is in serious danger. You need to come down now and help me save him before it’s too late,” panted a very flustered Hamish.

  “What? What’s happened?”

  “Follow me, and bring all the magic you can. We’re going to need it.”

  As they reached the spot where Hamish had been ambushed, they found Top Dog lying motionless.

  “Oh no!” cried Hamish “We’re too late.”

  Top Dog whimpered. Hamish ran to him and nuzzled him.

  Badger looked up the lane and spotted the Dog Catcher’s van.

  “Quick Hamish, we’ve got to get Top Dog away from here,” he said anxiously.

  Top Dog groaned.

  “I don’t think he can move,” said Hamish, worriedly.

  “Right, we need to think quickly.”

  The Dog Catcher’s heavy boots thundered down the lane.

  Badger spied a pile of grass cuttings, and nodded to Hamish. The two of them stood in the middle of the heap, and kicked their back legs as fast as they could, showering the grass over Top Dog until he was completely covered.

  “Look as cute and calm as you can, Hamish, and I’ll try to distract him.”

  The Dog Catcher stopped when he saw Hamish and bent down to ruffle his fur.

  “Congratulations on winning Pet Idol. I wish all dogs were like you,” he said gruffly.

  Hamish gave him a huge smile and fluttered his long eye lashes.

  “Right, I’m after that rogue, Top Dog, so I must get on.”

  Suddenly, the pile of grass cuttings behind Hamish sneezed. The Dog Catcher stopped and looked around.

  Quick as a flash, Badger barked loudly and ran towards the other end of the lane. The Dog Catcher followed him.

  Phew! thought Hamish, That was close.

  Minutes later, a panting Badger returned.

  “I led him in the direction of Dodgy Dave’s hidey hole. That should give us enough time to get Top Dog back to his box. But first we need to take a look at his injuries.”

  Badger and Hamish gently pulled him free of the grass cuttings.

  “Oh dear, it’s worse than I thought,” sighed Badger, looking at Top Dog’s broken shape. “We must act quickly before we can move him anywhere.

  “First, Hamish, I need you to be absolutely still and silent, while I ask ’Chief to help us heal his wounds.”

  Badger placed a paw softly on Top Dog’s shoulder. Sparkles of light appeared and swirled around their friend. ’Chief unravelled slowly from around Badger’s neck and floated onto Top Dog, as he whispered:

  “Show Koo Ray, Show Koo Ray, Show Koo Ray.

  Use your healing magic to take the pain away.”

  Top Dog lifted his head. His eye was swollen, his ear was bitten and crusted and one of his front paws was badly twisted.

  Badger’s ’Chief tied itself around Top Dog’s paw, as the sparkles of light faded.

  “Do you think you could walk a little bit now?” asked Badger gently. “We just need to get you back to your bed, before the Dog Catcher returns.”

  Top Dog nodded heavily and tried to get up.

  “Okay, Hamish. One shoulder each. Let’s go!”

  Together, they carried their poor injured pal back to his cardboard box.

  “He should be okay for a while there,” said Badger, as they walked wearily home, “but the Dog Catcher will be back for him.”

  All the earlier excitement of Pet Idol had been forgotten.

  Badger and Hamish sat in the garden, wondering how poor Top Dog could ever escape the Dog Catcher.

  “He’s normally so big and strong, but now he has no fight left in him,” said Hamish.

  “If only he had a home where he could rest properly and get better,” said Badger.

  “He doesn’t even get his dinner every night,” added Hamish.

  “If he had a home, he’d get his dinners every night,” Badger replied.

  “It won’t be long until the Dog Catcher finds him in that cardboard box,” frowned Hamish.

  “But not if he had a home,” said Badger.

  “You saw in the Crystal Cave what it was like for him growing up,” said Hamish.

  “I know, but it would be different if he had a home,” Badger replied.

  “Top Dog hasn’t even got any Big Folk to look after him,” Hamish added.

  “But he would if he had a home,” winked Badger.


  Badger’s eyebrows began to twitch magically. Hamish looked at Badger.

  “Do you think he needs a home?” asked Hamish.

  “It would certainly help him right now,” smiled Badger.

  “Maybe I’ve just had an idea,” said Hamish. “I’ve got to go.”

  As Hamish squeezed through the crack in the fence at the bottom of the garden, Badger coughed loudly.

  “Ahem… before you go. Did you mention something about sharing out your Crunchy Munchy Chewy Chops?”

  Back at home, Hamish sniffed around for his lead and favourite squeaky ball.

  This should do the trick, he thought as he squeaked his toy with gusto at his Big Folk’s feet.

  “Okay, Hamish!” his Big Folk shouted. “We get the message. It’s a bit late but come on then. It’s not every day you win first prize in Pet Idol. Let’s go for a walk.”

  Soon Hamish was trotting down the lane towards where Top Dog lived in his cardboard box.

  Now’s my chance to help him, he thought.

  Hamish excitedly drew his Big Folk closer and closer towards the cardboard box.

  But when they got there, it was empty.

  Top Dog was nowhere to be seen.

  Oh no, thought Hamish, the Dog Catcher must have captured him.

  He lay down beside the empty box and whimpered.

  “C’mon Hamish,” said his Big Folk tugging at his lead. “It’s only an old empty box. Let’s go home so you can enjoy your treats.”

  Hamish moped homewards and resolved to return in the morning. For once, he had no appetite — his tummy was in knots.

  The next day, Hamish dragged his Big Folk back to the same spot, but still there was no sign of Top Dog.

  I wonder if Badger the Mystical Mutt can help me find him? Hamish thought hopefully.

  He peered through the crack in the fence and saw Badger drooling over a slice of toast.