‘NO! Leave it to me,’ I snapped. Honestly, baboons — you can’t take them anywhere. I barked again.
‘WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! LET ME IN! I MUST SEE MY PUPPIES!’
And guess what? The door opened and out they came! All three of them, bounce-bounce-bounce, lick-lick-lick, love-love-love, and we rolled about and they bit me and I pretended to spank them with my paw, only very, very gently and we hugged and bounced and licked all over again. Then we sniffed each other’s bottoms, because that’s the best way to say ‘Hello!’
Trevor sat on the front doorstep watching and he was crying! He was! The big booby! Then his mum and dad came out and they frowned and I could see they were frowning at Cat and Hoolie. They weren’t at all happy about that, but Trevor said they ought to stay. Mrs Two-Legs said she was definitely not having a cat in the house and Mr Two-Legs told Hoolie to get off his car and put the aerial back and what did a baboon need windscreen wipers for anyway? Then he went inside to ring the Safari Park to tell them there was a mad baboon in his front garden and would they please come and remove it immediately, and they did, because they were only just up the road, waiting with the dog warden’s van. It wasn’t there for me — it was for Hoolie and the cheetah!
Cat curled between Mrs Two-Legs’s feet and purred and rubbed against her and jumped up into her arms and nuzzled her and purred and of course she gave in and said how nice he was.
‘You are so sweet,’ she drooled. ‘And I’m going to call you Cutie-pops.’
Cat glanced back at me and told me to wipe the grin off my face.
So that was how I got lost and found (twice!) and had an adventure and outran a cheetah and my puppies are brilliant and if you turn over the page you can see a special picture of me and them. Oh yes, and I don’t bother to be Dazzy Donut Dog any more because actually I think I am quite enough of a super-dog without having to pretend. But I do still like donuts.
And last of all, you know what? Cat has been teaching me some more reading and writing and I have written a story for you.
GQ SSSSSSZZZZZZ O
It’s brilliant isn’t it? Maybe you can’t read yet, so I’ll tell you what it says.
I am the fastest dog in the world.
That G thing is the cheetah with his mouth open going pant pant pant, and the Q mark is obviously me with my tail of course.
SSSSSSZZZZZZ is me running really fast fast fast, and twisting and turning.
The round O thing is the world. Cat said No it isn’t, it’s an orange, and we had an argument. I said it can’t be an orange or my story would say I am the fastest dog in the orange, and that was stupid and I told him to stop arguing or I’d bite his tail again, so he stopped, though he mutters ‘orange’ under his breath sometimes when he thinks I’m not listening but I am. Anyhow, O is the world, so that’s what my story says:
I am the fastest dog in the world.
And I am too!
With regard to the unfortunate incident on page 23, Streaker would like to point out that not all female dogs can do that, but she can because she’s clever, so there!
Lost! The Hundred-Mile-An-Hour Dog Page 6