by H. Y. Hanna
A message?
Honey hesitated and looked around, wondering if she should show her friends. On the other side of the room Ruffster, the mongrel mutt, was running around the base of a ladder, barking excitedly at a young man who was perched at the top, stringing coloured lights across the ceiling. Suka was following her Boy as he went from window to window, spraying something white from a can and covering the glass panes in snowy patterns. In the far corner of the room, several more humans were gathered around trestle tables, talking and laughing as they laid out mince pies, gingerbread cookies, and other Christmas goodies on the brightly coloured tablecloth. From a black box next to them, music drifted out, trying to compete with Ruffster’s barking, while a man crooned about chestnuts and open fires.
Everybody was so busy and happy that, for a moment, Honey wondered if she should just forget the whole thing. But something about this strange bauble bothered her. She scooped it up in her mouth, her baggy jowls completely hiding it, and carried it over to Ruffster.
“Reckon my Guy’s fixin’ it straight? I keep tellin’ him to move it a bit to the left, but he just won’t listen.” Ruffster rushed to the right of the ladder then to the left, his eyes following the man, and barked again. “Oh, for kibble’s sake, you stupid human. Left. Left!”
“Ruffster, what do you make of this?” Honey dropped the strange bauble in front of him.
“Eeuuww. Mate, I’m not touchin’ that,” said Ruffster as he eyed the slobber-covered lump on the floor.
“Sorry.” Honey ducked her head in embarrassment and quickly licked the drool off. “It was in that box of Christmas decorations, but... it looks different. And I think there’s a note inside.”
“A note?” Ruffster cocked his one upright ear.
“Yes, there’s a piece of paper... look.” Honey showed Ruffster the hole.
He sniffed without much interest. “Could be anythin’, you know. Like those little bits o’ paper with lots o’ numbers, which always come with stuff humans buy. My Guy’s always leavin’ them scrunched up everywhere.”
“No, I think this is different,” insisted Honey. “Do you think you can get it out?”
Ruffster tried to stick his snout into the hole, but it was too big to fit. “Nah, mate, need a smaller dog.” He looked around. “Tyson here yet?”
“He left me a Peemail saying he was going to be late,” said Honey. “His family are taking him carol-singing first.”
At that moment, there came a shriek from the trestle tables. Honey and Ruffster turned to see a black nose suddenly appear from beneath the tablecloth, followed swiftly by a black, tan, and white body. Biscuit the Beagle scrambled out from under the table, a large cookie clamped in his mouth, and raced across the room towards them.
“BISCUIT!” an exasperated female voice yelled after him, but it was too late. By the time he’d reached Honey and Ruffster, all that was left of the cookie were a few crumbs on his nose.
Biscuit licked his lips and looked defensively at them. “I had to. My Missus is starving me to death. She’s got me on half rations because she says I need to go on a diet. Can you believe that? A diet? Me?”
Ruffster eyed the Beagle’s podgy tummy. “Reckon you could lose a few pounds, mate. You’re lookin’ a bit tubby.”
Biscuit drew himself up indignantly. “I do not look tubby!” He started to say something else, but Honey quickly distracted him by showing him the strange bauble. He peered into the hole and thought for a moment, then looked up, his tail wagging. “It’s like a treat ball!”
“Huh?” Ruffster sniffed quizzically.
“You know, when humans think they’re being clever by stuffing treats inside toys and things... and making us spend ages getting it out.” He lifted his nose proudly. “My Kong record is one minute, fifteen seconds. Full destuffing. Not even a lick of peanut butter left.” He lay down with both paws around the strange bauble and stuck his mouth into the hole. “Now...”
It took a bit longer than one minute and fifteen seconds, but Biscuit finally got the scrap of paper out. They huddled together to look at it. Honey had been right—the black marks were writing. Thin, squiggly lines that ran crooked across the paper, stopping just where it had been torn in half:
TWO
“WHAT ARE YOU ALL LOOKING at?” Suka came up and peered over their shoulders. Honey explained again about the strange bauble and the piece of paper that had been wedged inside. Suka sniffed the note and began whining anxiously. “It’s a child.”
“What do you mean?”
“The writing... it looks like my Boy’s. Humans only write like that when they’re still pups—their writing changes when they grow up,” explained Suka. She looked at them, her blue eyes concerned. “We have to help him. It could be a child like my Boy, in some kind of trouble. Look, it says ‘I can’t get out’—maybe he’s trapped somewhere.”
“But he could be anywhere.” Ruffster scratched his upright ear. “How’re we ever goin’ to find him?”
“It’s Jones!” said Suka. “I’m sure it is. My Boy said last time when he tried to sneak near the cottage with his friends, Jones came out yelling and waving a stick. He was really scary. Oh my Dog, he must be keeping the child trapped in the school somewhere... Otherwise, how could the child have put the note into that box of decorations?”
“But we don’t know where he got the decorations from—” said Honey.
“I could track him,” offered Biscuit, his nose quivering.
“Why don’t we just show the note to the humans?” asked Ruffster. “Reckon they’d know what to do.”
“But we’ll never be able to explain to them about Jones and the box and where we found the note,” Suka argued. “Humans are lousy at communication. They bark an awful lot, but they never really listen. And they don’t get Body Language at all. I’ve been trying to teach my Boy for ages and he still thinks that a wagging tail always means I’m happy.”
They heard the door to the school hall swing open and a gust of cold air swept the room.
“Put me down! Put me down, ya fussy old hen!” A small brown and white Jack Russell was wriggling angrily in the arms of a plump woman who had just entered the room. She sighed and placed him on the floor, where he shook himself irritably before trotting over to join the other dogs.
“Stupid woman,” he muttered. “Can walk by myself.”
“That’s ’coz you’re small, mate,” said Ruffster helpfully. “Humans always think small dogs need to be carried around. If you were bigger, you wouldn’t—”
“What did ya call me?” Tyson growled.
Honey hastily stepped between them and told Tyson what had been happening.
“Bad idea involving humans,” growled the Jack Russell.
Biscuit cast a wary look towards the trestle tables. “Uh... yeah, I don’t think I should go near my Missus for a while.”
“Honey, what about Olivia?”
Honey looked back to where her own human was just putting the finishing touches to the Christmas tree. Silver tinsel now festooned the branches and sparkling baubles nestled amongst the pine needles.
“I don’t know...” she said doubtfully. “I could try.”
Honey picked up the note in her mouth and the others followed her over. But before she could thrust the piece of paper at her human, Olivia looked up from where she was rummaging at the bottom of the cardboard box and gave a delighted smile when she saw the dogs.
“Oh! Perfect!” Olivia jumped up, her hands full of something red and white and furry, and hurried over to them.
Honey tried to shove the piece of paper at Olivia, but her human ignored her completely. Instead Olivia started fussing over the dogs: making Ruffster sit next to Honey; picking up Tyson and setting him between her front paws; getting Biscuit to sit on the other side and Suka lying next to him. And plonking a Santa hat on each of their heads. Finally, she stood back with a satisfied smile and grabbed her camera. The other humans started to gather around as well, laughing
and clasping their hands and cooing, “Oh, adorable!”
Uh-oh. When humans started saying things were “adorable”, that’s when dogs had to worry.
“Ticks! Not another Christmas photo shoot,” moaned Ruffster.
“Humans are obsessed with putting things on our heads,” growled Tyson as his Santa hat slid down to cover his face. The humans erupted in laughter as Tyson shook his head blindly, trying to shake the Santa hat off.
Honey looked up hopefully as Olivia came over to rearrange her Santa hat and tried once again to thrust the note at her human.
“Oh, Honey, take that rubbish out of your mouth. It’s going to ruin the photo.” Olivia grabbed the paper and tossed it aside.
Honey watched in dismay as the scrap of paper fluttered to the ground a few feet away.
“I can reach it,” said Biscuit, starting to get up. But Olivia immediately pushed him back down.
They all followed the paper with their eyes. It drifted along the floor a bit, caught in a draught, then a shoe came down over it... and then it was gone, stuck on the underside of the shoe as the human walked back across the room to the trestle tables.
“Noooo!” cried Suka. “We’ve got to get it back!”
THREE
IT TOOK TWENTY-TWO photos before Olivia was satisfied and let the dogs go. They shook off the Santa hats with relief and hurried over to the other side of the room. Hovering by the trestle tables, they scanned the group of humans there for the one who had stepped on the note.
“There she is!” hissed Suka, eyeing a woman in a blue top and flowered skirt.
“I think we have to wait until she sits down,” said Honey. “Humans like to cross their legs. That will lift the shoe up and give us a chance to get to the note.”
As they watched, the woman talked and laughed with others on the other side of the trestle tables, while she busily filled little bags with sweets and tied ribbons around them. She arranged them in neat little rows before her. Two. Four. Six. Eight. Ten. Twelve. Fourteen. Sixteen...
“We could be waitin’ for ages,” grumbled Ruffster.
Suka yawned and shifted her weight on her paws. Then her ears perked up. “Wait, look—!”
The woman said something with a chuckle, then pulled out a chair at the table and sank into it gratefully. The other women at the table followed suit.
“C’mon!” Ruffster dived under the tablecloth, followed by Tyson and Biscuit. Honey looked at Suka hesitantly. Both of them were much bigger and wouldn’t fit under the trestle tables so easily. In fact, Honey wondered if she would fit at all. She didn’t want to be left out, though. Taking a deep breath, she ducked her head and crawled under the tablecloth. Suka followed her.
Under the table, it was like being in a rectangular tunnel with a flat wooden ceiling. Light filtered through the tablecloth hanging down on either side. They had crawled under at the top end of the table and they could see a forest of legs down at the other end. Ruffster, Biscuit, and Tyson had started inching forwards on their stomachs and Honey and Suka tried to follow suit. Thank goodness the trestle tables were fairly wide, but Honey still bumped some of the table legs as she squeezed past down the centre between them.
“Shh!”
“Sorry,” Honey panted, starting to drool from the effort. Crawling was tough for a Great Dane with her long legs and deep chest—she couldn’t slide along the ground like the smaller dogs but had to sort of hump along like a tortoise. She bumped one of the table legs again and the table squeaked. But luckily the noise of the humans talking and laughing above them drowned the noise out, as well as the music which was now thumping rhythmically as a woman sang about a little drummer boy.
Honey heaved a sigh as she finally reached the other dogs. They were huddled together next to the cluster of chairs and legs.
“Which one is it?” whispered Ruffster.
“That one,” said Suka decisively, pointing her nose at a pair of legs that jutted out from beneath a long flowered skirt. As Honey had predicted, the woman had crossed her legs and they could see the sole of the shoe that was raised.
The scrap of paper wasn’t there.
“Oh no! It’s gone!” Biscuit whimpered.
“Reckon it’s on the other shoe?” Ruffster asked.
They waited tensely. After about five minutes, the legs uncrossed and then recrossed again, this time with the other shoe raised. They all leaned forwards eagerly...
It was there. Stuck to a pale pink blob on the sole of the shoe.
“Quick!” said Ruffster, starting forwards.
“Wait, let Tyson do it,” said Honey. “He’s a lot sma—er—I mean, he’s more nimble.”
The Jack Russell gave a grunt and crawled forwards. He wriggled his body until he was angled right under the raised shoe and then carefully reached upwards. Honey watched him anxiously. The paper seemed to be stuck fast, with no loose edge to grip. How was Tyson going to pull it off? As she watched, he raised his lips and nibbled the edge of the paper with his front teeth.
A corner came unstuck.
They all held their breath as he gripped the raised corner and gave a gentle tug. The woman’s leg twitched as she felt the pressure and a hand came down to brush her leg. Tyson let go and ducked down, barely avoiding the hand. The leg swung, then stilled, and the hand disappeared. Tyson slowly reached up and gripped the corner of the paper with his teeth again.
“Careful! Don’t rip it!” Ruffster hissed.
Tyson paused and gathered himself, then gave his head a sharp twist, yanking the paper at the same time. It came away suddenly, with pink goo still attached, stretching back to the underside of the shoe. Tyson backed away, still pulling, and the sticky pink strands stretched longer and longer... then broke.
“What’s that?” Biscuit wriggled eagerly over to Tyson and sniffed the remaining pink strands stuck on the piece of paper. “Ooh... smells like strawberry!” And before anyone could stop him, he began eating the pink blobs off the scrap of paper.
“Biscuit!”
“Mm-mmf?” Biscuit looked up, his mouth covered in pink goo. He worked his jaw spasmodically. “Shtuff... awpul... shewy... can’t geddit... offa... my... teed...”
“It’s gum, mate,” said Ruffster, his eyes wide. “You gotta spit it out.”
Biscuit gagged and stuck his tongue out, pushing against the sticky pink strands. “Mm... can’t...” His eyes rolled wildly and he started to pant.
“That’ll teach ya to eat things ya don’t know,” growled Tyson.
“Spit it out! You need to spit it out!” urged Suka.
“It’s all right, Biscuit,” said Honey gently. “Just try and spit it out.”
Biscuit worked his jaw again, then spluttered and spat. “Pffft... Pffft!”
An enormous pink bubble suddenly formed in front of his nose. It grew bigger and bigger and popped right in Honey’s face. She yelped and jerked upwards, smacking her head into the underside of the table. There was a rattle and crash and human voices shouted from above. Then the side of the tablecloth was lifted and several human faces peered at them.
“Biscuit!” came the exasperated female voice again.
A hand reached in and hauled the Beagle out from under the table. The other dogs scrambled out after him and Honey saw several of the humans staring at them in surprise. Biscuit struggled as his Missus held him firmly with one hand and scooped wads of pink gum out of his mouth with the other. The crowd around them snickered.
“Argh! I don’t know what I’m going to do with this dog!” Biscuit’s Missus shook her head as she let him go. She wiped her hands clean on a tissue and glowered at all the dogs.
Honey hung her head and put her ears back, trying her best to look sorry. Next to her, Suka gave a pleading wag of her fluffy tail while Ruffster did his best Sad Dog Eyes. Even Tyson raised a sheepish paw. Biscuit skulked behind them, still probing his teeth gingerly with his tongue.
His Missus heaved a sigh. “That’s it! Out—the whole lot of you! Out!
”
She hustled them to the double doors of the school hall, opened one and shoved them out. The door slammed shut after them. Honey looked around. They were alone in a long corridor running past the school hall. Double swing doors sealed the corridor at either end.
“Festerin’ fleas, Biscuit, now look what you’ve done!” growled Ruffster.
“It smelled really good...” Biscuit protested weakly.
“What are we going to do now? How are we going to help that child?” asked Suka.
Honey’s tail drooped. “Without the note, we haven’t—”
“I’ve got the note,” said Tyson, showing them the piece of paper he held in his mouth.
Suka gave a squeal of delight and Tyson reeled back as Honey gave him a slobbery lick in the face. Ruffster bounced around excitedly and even Biscuit began to wag his tail. They all crowded around the note again. There were still bits of pink gum clinging to the paper, but they could read the message:
“THAT LAST BIT... Rangifer tarandus... what does that mean?” asked Ruffster. “Sounds like gibberish.”
“I think it’s a name,” said Suka slowly.
“A name?”
“Yes, I’ve seen words like that before. In one of my Boy’s books about animals. It’s called Latin. My Boy says it’s called the ‘scientific name’, like... sort of like your fancy name.”
“You mean, like my pedigree name?” asked Honey.
“No, it’s not your name—it’s the name of your kind. Like for all dogs. Or cats. Or horses. Or whatever. I saw the one for dogs; it’s Canis lupus familiaris.”
“Eh? Canny, loopy what?” said Ruffster.
Honey looked down at the note again. “So what’s the animal for this name?”
“I don’t know...” Suka sat up suddenly, her blue eyes bright with excitement. “But I know where we can find out!”
“Where?”
“The place where my Boy says you can find the answers to everything. Come on!” Suka sprang up and started towards one of the double doors at the end of the corridor.