Piddy Piddoo

by Paul Kelly

  “It’s my sporran, mate,” he said, “and it is deceptive... Look!”

  I gasped as he brought out the cheroot again, but it was all bent in two by this time and scraggy at the ends... Then followed a pair of woollen mittens, a spyglass, two sea shells, something that looked like a box spanner, a pair of spectacles and a tooth bitten pencil.

  “I’ve got some money in here too,” he added, “Coins an’ things, but I never show them off. Never know when you might get mugged, do you?” he enquired and gave me a strange look whereupon I immediately assured him that I had no intention of mugging him, if that was what he was inferring and as for all the other paraphernalia he had in that old sock of a thing, he could keep it... .but then as I looked at his face, I understood immediately that he didn’t know what I meant when I spoke about his paraphernalia... .

  “You do know what I mean, don’t you, mate? PARAPHERNALIA?” I asked emphasising the word with a distinct movement of my dignified mouth and he hedged a little before he blinked nervously and spoke again.

  “You don’t think it’s catchin’, do you?” he asked timidly and I gave up...

  “I think I’ll just go indoors now, if you don’t mind,” I said as I was getting rather fed up with this little fellow telling me his life story when I didn’t want to hear it but he was very persistent. I wanted to be alone and think of Lady Persia, you see... but he was having none of it.

  “What’s your name?” he called out as I was heading towards the house, “Mine’s Robert... Robert the Bruce actually,” and I wished that Charlotte would call me, even if she did give my name away...but she didn’t. The garden was quiet. Not even a whisper from the wind and I stood rooted to the spot.

  “My name... my name... Oh! well now... I’m Dirk... .yes, that’s my name,” I spluttered and my face went red as my wrinkles went all smooth. They always do when I’m telling a fib... Well Dirk is a nice name and I didn’t want this idiot midget laughing when he heard I was called... you-know-what, did I?

  “Dirk... Is that the same as Dirk Bogarde?”

  I swallowed hard... . Could I prolong this lie or should I just faint... ?

  “Much the same,” I said “It could be a very nice day if it doesn’t rain... don’t you think?” I said hoping to change the subject but he would have none of it.

  “Is that your own name or is it your kennel name?” he asked and screwed his face up with a look of intense interest. Was this a way out of the situation for me? I asked myself, but before I could answer he informed me what his kennel name was... and wait for it... Angus, Robert the Bruce Macfadden, Laird supreme of Auchtertool... but that his friends called him Angus... . Big deal, I thought, but I was too well mannered to say.

  “Oh! That’s an unusual name for a... “ I wanted to say stupid midget of a dog, but my good manners prevailed and I smiled back as I said how unusual it was to have such a royal title, thinking that would please him.

  “It’s nothin’ special... “ he went on, “My brother’s name is Fergus Bonnie Prince Charlie Macfadden, the same family name as mine of course, except that he is the grand Laird of Tullabuddy East.”

  “I presume that’s the opposite of Tulla, whatever you call it ..WEST, Yes?” I grunted as I lowered my eyes and prayed that Charlotte wouldn’t call me by this time and trying desperately to think that if she did, how would I explain away my new-found title of Dirk to my companion.

  “Naw... There ain’t no Tullabuddy West, Mate... Everybody knows that,” he laughed scornfully and I was about to spit, when I heard the familiar sound...

  “Piddy... Piddy Piddoo,” Charlie called out in a clear voice and I could feel my heart miss a beat.

  “Who’s that shoutin’?” Angus, Robert the Bruce asked and I looked about me, pretending that I hadn’t heard anything, but Charlotte called out again, even louder than before.

  “Piddy... Piddy Piddoo,”

  Angus, you-know-what, looked at me in a strange way...

  “I think someone up at that house is a wee bit strange. Don’t you, Dirk?” he asked and I nodded enthusiastically as I swallowed hard.

  “Perhaps it is some code that they use,” I suggested and tried to hurry away as if to resolve the situation, but Angus whats-is-name put out his tiny foot and tripped me up.

  “Don’t go up there mate. I’ve heard of this sort of thing before where people call out all sorts of daft things when they’re goin’ round the bend. Don’t do it Dirk... Don’t do it lad,” he pleaded but I desperately wanted to retreat to the house and lick Charlotte’s hand as I knew she had something nice waiting for me up there, but how could I deal with this Scottish pain in the arm before I could get away? I began to have another think... just for a moment, but it was quite a big think really and then it came to me... Yes, a brilliant thunk came to my rather brilliant mind.

  “Well... I haven’t been absolutely honest with you, old chap,” I said, trying to be as casual and as compromising as I could, “You see, that name you heard... You know, the Piddy Piddoo thing?. . “ (I lowered my voice considerably when I said that and rolled my eyes)... “It really is the code we use for my kennel name, which is rather royal in its essence too, you know.”

  Angus Mc whats-is-name looked at me with wide eyes and I stared down at him with disdain.

  “Yes, Piddy is Persian for Prince,” I said, hoping that Lady Persia would forgive me being so arrogant if she wasn’t laughing her beautiful head off already... “and Piddoo is for... well, it means something like Your Royal Highness, in that language, you see... but I was being far too modest to say that in front of you... “

  I scanned the heavens and shoved my pink tongue into my cheek, but my Scottish companion accepted all that I said... Without a good pinch of salt, I should imagine..

  “Och!... Should I bow when I see you then?” he asked and I assured him that a common curtsey would be enough... and as he was such a little fellow, a little curtsey would do... as we didn’t want any of the mishaps to his rear that sometimes occurred in the snow, did we now. .?

  “If I had my Tam-o-Shanter on, I would... I would... . have raised it to you, your Royal Highness,” he stuttered, but at that moment Charlotte called my name again... only this time, I closed my eyes and smiled as I accepted my royal title and made my way up to the house, with a quiet, leisurely, somewhat royal dignity and constrained stride, even if my belly was rumbling all the way and I was thinking how I could eat a horse...

  “Maybe we could meet again... soon perhaps, your Royal Highness?” I could hear the insolent pup call out as I left the scene, but my pace got faster as I approached the house, until all I could hear when I reached the conservatory was a muffled moan... a serf pleading for my company as any servant would of his master and do you know... somehow the picture of the Lady Persia seemed to fade into insignificance... A king was about to dine...

  ***

  Chapter Three

  Well I was tired and I think people should make excuses for other people, (or dogs) when they’re tired, especially when a guy’s been looking after the house all day when his parents are out gallivanting... don’t you?

  I do love them both and they’re very kind to me... more than the first people that I lived with were to me for the first eighteen months of my life... You see, it was Chas who decided he wanted to have another pet about a year after their last Boxer died... and he came all the way from London to Preston to pick me up, not knowing what I’d look like or what sort of a character I would be... and I think that is very kind. After all, I could have been a monstrous villain of a beast instead of the nice, gentle, firm but fair doggie I am... not to mention my handsome good looks and all that other stuff... eh?... but then Charlie and Chas. love Boxers and they wanted another white boxer soon after the last one died as he was white too and they said the house was empty when they came home in the evening and Charlie said she ha
ted coming home when there was no warm snout to greet her... so they got me. Tarrah ra rah!... and I’m in charge of the house when they’re out. They don’t leave me very long on my own, mind you... No more than three hours and if it should be longer than that they always arrange for a dog-sitter to come in, just to see that I’m alright and not getting too lonely... Mrs. Parviter is her name and she is very nice, except that I’m not keen or her earrings... too flash for my liking, but I wish she’d get to know where Charlie keeps the bikkys.

  Anyway as I have said I had had a hard days house guarding that particular day and I was tired, but when Chas. and Charlie arrived home with two of their friends, Robert and Louise. I had hoped they might play with me for a little while before they got nattering, about all sorts of uninteresting things that would bore you to tears, but they didn’t. They all came in straight away and made tea and ate cakes and things and chatted about everything... except me... and I was not only tired, but I was annoyed as well... so I thought I might do a little something to make then realize that I was there... I did it twice and nobody said anything, but then on the third time Robert looked at Louise and Louise looked at Charlie and Charlie stared at Chas. before he called out for me to behave myself... and I thought that was very unfair. After all they give me all this lovely food, so what do they expect and I try to do it without making any noise... Well a gentle hissing sound maybe, but nothing more. It was just the way they looked at each other as if to shift the blame from one to another, that confused me... and the way Chas. wafted his hand beside me as he smiled apologetically to the guests... . And then shoved me into the garden...

  I went, of course, but I didn’t like it one bit so I squeezed my nose hard up against the patio doors and snorted, making a great spray across the glass. Charlie doesn’t like that and I really didn’t want to annoy her by doing it, but it’s Chas. who has to clean the windows so what else was a fella to do when his nose is put out of joint?

  I waited for a little while outside, looking in at all the talkers and wishing I was in there with them. I like to hear people talking, you see and I can look from one to the other as they exchange views and I can pick up quite a bit of information myself that way, but they just went on eating and laughing, as my mouth began to drool and big, heavy drops of saliva fell onto the window sill, but nobody looked towards the patio window and I was left there just to do my drooling and snorting. I thought they would be sorry if it pelted down rain and I got the pneumonia and had to be warmed up or I’d die, but nobody could read my thoughts and it did start to rain, so I raced down to the gazebo in what Chas. calls my scissor-run, because my legs look like a pair of scissors with the speed I run... and I just sulked in there. It was cold, but at least I could watch the rain beating down without getting wet and I shook myself dry and made a fine spray all over the walls. If I didn’t feel so miserable, I would have laughed, but instead I just wanted to cry...

  “Hi there!”

  I opened my eyes wide in surprise and waited, until I could hear the voice again. Now I knew who that was without looking up, and although I would have preferred it to be someone else... someone more warm and cuddly, I was glad of any company in that damp old place, so I shoved my head out for a second and closed my eyes to stop the rain getting at them . .

  “Is that you, Angus, Robert whatever you call yourself?” I hollered with my eyes tight shut and the voice came back to say it was and could he come into the gazebo beside me as he was soaked sitting on the wall and he had been waiting for quite some time for me to come into the garden.

  “Sure you can come in, but it doesn’t have any windows in here... only a wall at the back and a verandah all round the side... not even a door,” I added, but before I could say any more, the little white scruffy fellow was gasping for breath at my side.

  “Nice to see you again, your Royal Highness,” said Angus the Bruce, “and I’d like to do that curtsey thing for you but I don’t know how, havin’ never done one ever in my life, as I’ve never met a Royal Highness before, you see.”

  I ran my paws across my forehead to dry my wrinkles and preened.

  “That’s alright, just get down on one knee, that’ll do,” I said, wishing that Chas. could see me at that moment and to realize just how important I was and shouldn’t be treated as I had been up at the house, when all I did was just hiss a few times... from my beautiful rear...

  Angus the Bruce chap did as I said and I could hear his old back creak as he started to get up again and he started to stagger a little.

  “My lumbago, you know... Get’s to me in this weather. Sorry your Highness,” he grunted and do you know... I felt sorry for him and wished I could do something to help... but there are no fires in these gazebos and no other means of keeping him warm.

  “I’m sorry you are feeling that way,” I said, but I can’t get back into the house. They’ve locked me out... purely by accident, of course, otherwise I could have smuggled you in by the side door and we could have got under the radiator in the kitchen.”

  Angus whatsisname shuddered and I could hear his teeth chattering... all except that one that was missing in the front of his mouth. It wouldn’t chatter against his gums, would it?

  “Maybe we could cuddle up together,” he said... “If your Majesty would allow?”

  But I was having none of that. Once you stoop to the level of ordinary commoners, you’re finished and there’s no getting back to the top again and I wasn’t gonna take any chances that this midget might ever think I was anything other than H.R.H. Charlotte was a queen and Charles was a king, in my eyes, but they had both let me down and Lady Persia had gone into hiding somewhere so I only had my own dignity to fall back on... Not my tail, of course... No, never that... A Royal can’t think of such things as tails when there are other more important things to be thunk and my dignity was in jeopardy at that very moment.

  “No... definitely no cuddling,” I insisted and moved away a few inches from the intruder.

  “Why can’t I see your crown?” the midget asked and his nose twitched making his whiskers shine in the rain.

  “Because I have to keep it dry, stupid... A king never wears his crown in the rain. I thought you would realize that.”

  Angus Brucie-boy shrugged his shoulders and closed his eyes.

  “Where do you keep it then? When you haven’t got it on your royal head?” he went on and I narrowed my eyes to have a good thunk on that one...

  “In a hat box of course... where else? Do you think I’d keep a valuable crown any old place in the house? No it’s in a hat box and locked away in the safe.”

  “Does it have a key?” he asked.

  “A key? a key? Why would I need a key for my crown?” I asked

  “No not for the crown... for the safe?” he asked again and I felt somewhat silly as I blushed a little, but I dismissed the question. If he was silly enough to ask something like that, then I wasn’t going to be just as silly to answer him, was I?... No way. .

  “It must be wonderful to be a Royal person,” he sighed and I preened again as I ran my noble tongue across my royal snout.

  “Well, yes it is, but it has its drawback too, you know... ” I said, thinking of the four people sitting in that warm lounge not so far away and stuffing themselves with cakes and biscuits... and my mouth began to water. I looked for the sporran as I was thinking and I can tell you for nothing, I was having a really good solid thunk.

  “You... you wouldn’t have any... . any bikkys in that purse, would you, Angus?” I asked and I could feel my voice fading... with the hunger, no doubt and also having to call my companion by his Christian name... This was indeed very unroyal... very demeaning to a person of my calibre but what can you do when you’re hungry? The little chap looked sadly at me as he shook his head.

  “Naw... no bikkys... only a few bits of an old pancake... that’s all. Not fit for a Royal
to eat,” he said, but I gasped as he said that and I could feel my chest caving in as I looked at him with sorrowful, pleading eyes. He shook his head in regret, but I ignored him.

  “Let’s have a bite then,” I demanded... after all I was of Royal blood and he should obey anything I should command, but his reply surprised me.

  “Shouldn’t a king say please?” he asked and I snorted all over his sporran, where he removed his hand swiftly and wiped it clean on his handkerchief. “A king can say anything what he likes,” I snapped, “Now give us a bite of that there pancake, before I land you one round the ear-ole.”

  Angus the Bruce drew in his insignificant chin and shoved his sporran between his legs as he tucked his kilt in tight around his thighs.

  “Only if we can be... friends,” he said and looked at me imploringly... well, what could a chap do after that? King or no king... you have to eat, don’t you and that party of four that threw me out didn’t want me as a friend, did they... Not after... well, you know what.”

  “O’K’ Its a deal. Now give us a bit... friend,” I snapped as he unwound the purse from his thighs and opened it slowly. I grabbed the pancake as soon as I saw it and tore it into little pieces, shoving one of the larger pieces into my gob.

  “Haven’t you forgotten something, your Highness?” Angus the Bruce fellow asked.

  “What?” I gabbled with my mouth full and stared at him with my beady eyes. (My eyes always get beady when I’m suspicious....)

  “The magic word, Sir... that’s what,” he announced and I did feel rather ashamed... After all I had told Lady Persia that she should always use the magic word and here I was... guilty of not doing what I asked her to do.

  “Please,” I added hastily, “But I only need say that word once, you know... Not before every mouthful. Any more pancake, friend?”