by H. Y. Hanna
CHAPTER 2
“Death? Who’s going to die?”
“Did somebody say death?”
“Are the puppies dead?”
The panicked whispers skittered across the group of dogs like fleas on a rampage. Honey saw Bean listening with her eyes wide. The puppy was starting to look scared again.
“Nobody is going to die,” Honey said quickly. “It’s just a stupid, dried-up old bug, that’s all.” She gave Suka a sceptical look. The Husky was always full of the latest news and gossip, but sometimes her imagination could be as fluffy as her big, plumed tail. Like the time she told everyone there was a monster living in the sewer tunnels and it turned out to be just a family of rats. Or when she said the vet was making a FrankenMutt in the back room and it was just an old Dalmatian with a bandaged tail.
“It doesn’t really mean death, does it?” Honey asked Suka.
“Well... not exactly,” Suka admitted. “It says in my Boy’s book that scarabs are also called dung beetles and the humans in Old Egypt put them all around their dead when they buried them. They thought the beetles were, like, guardians of the Underworld or something.”
“Forget the stupid bugs. What about him?” growled Tyson the Jack Russell Terrier. Everyone edged out of his way. When it came to Tyson his bark was bad enough, never mind his bite. Honey had seen the gruff terrier reduce a police dog to quivering jelly once. He wrinkled his muzzle as if at a bad smell and threw a dark look over his shoulder. “I’ll bet ya he’s got something to do with it.”
They all followed Tyson’s gaze to where an old man sat reading a newspaper on a bench, a lone dog beside him. The sun was behind them so it was hard to make out more than a silhouette, but Honey could see muscles rippling beneath the dog’s black coat and a short, grizzled muzzle.
“Who’s that?” Honey asked.
“That’s Max, my new neighbour,” Suka said, her fluffy tail waving with excitement. She lowered her voice. “He’s a Pit Bull.”
Several dogs took a step back; others looked at each other and nodded meaningfully.
“I heard Max used to be a fighting dog,” said Suka. “He was a total killer in the ring! He could take on dogs twice his size and finish them in five minutes.”
“Really?” Honey glanced back at the Pit Bull.
“Festering fleas, Honey—don’t ya know anything?” growled Tyson. “Pit Bulls are dangerous! Everyone says so. Ya can’t trust them.”
“You should have seen the fuss my Boy’s Mother made when she heard he was moving into our neighbourhood.” Suka paused before adding in a loud whisper, “She wanted him muzzled.”
“Muzzled!” Honey gasped. “But why?”
Suka gave a delicious shiver. “She said all Pit Bulls are vicious. I mean, he might try to kill us in our sleep or something!”
Honey frowned but before she could reply, they heard a guttural growl in the distance. She turned to look. Max was standing stiff, hackles up, staring at a dog who had just entered the park with a man. As they approached the bench, Max suddenly exploded in a frenzy of foam and snarling teeth, lunging at the new dog, who yelped and cowered away. The old man dropped his newspaper and grabbed Max around the neck while the new dog and his human hurried past.
“Did you see that?” Suka said excitedly.
“Told ya he was dangerous,” Tyson growled, pushing past Honey to get a better view. A long string of drool fell from her jowls and plopped onto his head. “Aarrghh-grrrr!” spluttered Tyson.
“Oh, sorry!” Honey gulped. “That just happens sometimes—”
“Sometimes?” Ruffster laughed. “Mate, you drool all the time.”
Tyson growled and started shaking his head from side to side, trying to fling off the slimy slobber. Bean bounced over and watched him with interest.
“Me drool too!” she said eagerly, then gave a little hiccup and regurgitated some milky liquid onto Tyson’s paws.
“Bean!” Honey said, horrified. “What are you doing?”
The other dogs sniggered. Honey looked around the park, but she couldn’t see the Pet Sitter anywhere. Typical. Humans were never around when you needed them. She tried to grab the puppy by the scruff but before she could get near, Bean darted away and ran off.
Honey turned back to Tyson. “Sorry! Here, let me lick that off—”
“No thanks. Keep yer dribbly jowls away from me,” Tyson growled, backing up quickly. He bumped into another dog and turned in surprise. It was the new dog who had been attacked by Max.
Everyone eyed the newcomer curiously. He was a medium-sized dog with a narrow snout and pointed ears that stretched, bat-like, above his head. His black coat was smooth with an iridescent sheen, and his tail curled low behind him. Around his neck, he wore a thick, gold collar. But the most striking thing about him was his piercing yellow eyes with pupils so narrow they looked almost like slits.
Honey realised she was staring. Hastily, she dropped her eyes and found herself looking at the stranger’s front paws. She blinked, wondering if she was seeing right....
“You all right, mate?” Ruffster asked. “Saw what happened with that Pit Bull.”
“Yesss.” The new dog had a soft, whispery voice. He shivered. “I think he wanted to kill me.”
“Did he bite you?” asked Suka eagerly. “They say a Pit Bull’s jaws can go right through your head!” She sidled up to the strange dog. “You’re new, aren’t you? I haven’t seen you before and I know all the dogs in town.”
“Yesss, I came recently. I am called Newbie.”
“Newbie?” Ruffster laughed. “Mate, I’ve heard a lot o’ stupid names, but that one takes the dog biscuit!” He trotted over and circled Newbie, sniffing his bum politely. “So what kind o’ dog are you, anyway? I’m a Welsh Corgi with a bit o’ Airedale on my mother’s side; my father—they’re not so sure—they reckon a bit o’ Collie, definitely some Terrier and maybe even—”
Bean bounced suddenly into their midst, chasing a leaf blowing in the wind. She lunged at the leaf, tripped and fell over, smacking into the new dog.
“Bean!” Honey groaned as the puppy scrambled to her feet, jamming one paw into Newbie’s face.
“It is all right.” Newbie winced as the puppy stepped on his tail. “I like puppiesss.” He watched as Bean bounced away again. “How old is your little sissster?”
“She’s not my sister.” Honey sighed. “Um, she’s about ten weeks, I think.”
Newbie’s eyes gleamed. “Really? She looks so big.”
“Dane pups grow a lot faster than other dogs,” Honey explained. “We look like a grown-up dog by four months, but we’re really still big babies and—” She stopped suddenly as she realised Bean was bouncing towards the bench where Max and the old man were sitting.
“Wait—Bean!” she cried in horror.
Too late. The puppy bounced right up to the bench and crashed into Max’s back. The Pit Bull turned in surprise. Bean tumbled over and landed on her back, her huge paws splayed in all directions as she looked up at him with big, scared eyes.
Max sprang up and moved towards the puppy.
“Leave her alone!” Honey yelped. She charged over and flung herself over Bean’s body, turning to face the Pit Bull with bared teeth. “She’s only a baby!”
Up close, Max was every bit as frightening as Suka had suggested: long, pitted scars snaked across his face and one eyelid drooped, the eyeball red and bloodshot. His body was covered with more scars, and between the bulging muscles showed areas where the fur had not grown back around the puckered, damaged skin.
Honey shuddered in spite of herself and knew that he could smell her fear. She said a bit wildly, “Don’t... don’t you touch her!”
“What did you think I was going to do?”
Honey stopped short. His voice was deep and guttural but not as harsh as she had expected. And it must have been a trick of the afternoon sun, but for a moment, she thought it was sadness—not madness—that she saw in his eyes.
�
�I...” She hesitated, then glanced back at her friends. They were watching avidly. She knew what they were thinking: Honey, the big, useless lump...
She turned back to Max. “You’re a Pit Bull, aren’t you?” she snarled. “That’s all I need to know!”
Max stiffened and his eyes went hard. Honey braced herself, but the Pit Bull just gave a deep growl in his throat and turned away. “Keep that pup away from me.”
Honey watched him warily for a moment, then nudged Bean quickly to her feet. As they walked back to the other dogs, Bean sneaked a look back at Max.
“Doggie scary.”
“Yes, doggie scary,” Honey agreed. “You keep away from that doggie, you understand?”
Bean nodded and scampered off. The other dogs surrounded Honey eagerly as she rejoined them.
“Did you see his fangs? Does he smell?” Suka asked.
“Holy liver treat, mate,” said Ruffster. “That was somethin’ else! “
“Proud of ya, Honey,” growled Tyson. “Never thought ya had it in ya.”
“It wasn’t like that...” Honey protested.
But nobody was listening. They were all jostling around her, wagging their tails. Honey had never been the centre of so much admiration before. She should have been enjoying the moment, but all she could think about was the look in Max’s eyes when she had snarled at him.
She turned hastily to Ruffster. “Where’s the new dog?”
“Went off,” said Ruffster. “Bit o’ an odd mutt, don’t you think? Stupid name. And he talks really funny.”
“Maybe he can’t help it,” said Honey. “Some dogs are born... you know, a bit different.”
“Yeah, I guess. I knew this mutt who barked like a squeakin’ hinge.” Ruffster cocked his leg against a park bin. “Think I’m headin’ home. See my Guy over there callin’ me.”
They all heard a voice shrieking Suka’s name.
“Howling hyenas, listen to my Boy’s Mother screeching.” Suka sighed. “When is she ever going to learn that calling me once is enough? Huskies will come when they’re ready!”
“Yeah, some humans are really hard to train,” agreed Ruffster. “My Guy ain’t too bad. Problem I have is teachin’ him to share. Managed with the couch, though, so I’m makin’ progress. Just got to be consistent.”
They heard Suka’s name being screamed again.
“Uh-oh, better go.” Suka grinned as they saw a woman stomping, red-faced, in their direction. “Are you bringing that pup tomorrow, Honey?”
“Yes, I guess so. She’s staying with...” Honey glanced around. “Where is she?”
Bean was nowhere to be seen. In the distance, Honey could see the Pet Sitter walking around, a worried expression on her face.
“Bean? Bean?” The Pet Sitter cupped her hands around her mouth. “BEAN!”
Something in her voice made the hairs on Honey’s neck stand up.
“Has anyone seen her?” Honey whirled around to the other dogs. They all looked blank. “She was here with me just a moment ago!” Honey insisted.
Everyone put their noses to the ground. Honey ran in circles, sniffing urgently. Nothing. Not one whiff of a scent. It was as if the puppy had just vanished.
Then she stopped short, staring at something on the ground. It was the leaf Bean had been chasing. It was wedged against something else.
Something black.
The dead scarab beetle Ruffster had shown her earlier.
“Hey, mate,” said Ruffster, coming up slowly behind her and staring at the scarab too. “You don’t reckon this is like those other pups that’ve gone missin’?”
Honey felt her heart lurch in her chest. No... surely it was a coincidence?
“Ya should ask that Pit Bull,” growled Tyson.
Honey turned quickly, but the park bench was empty. Max was gone.
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Historical Note: The real story of the ‘lost Fabergé eggs’
ALTHOUGH THIS BOOK is a work of fiction, many of the objects and places portrayed in the story do in fact exist. Russia has a rich and fascinating history which has inspired countless legends and fired many imaginations:
FABERGÉ EGGS: Created by Peter Carl Fabergé for the Russian Imperial family, these were a series of fabulously lavish, jewelled eggs which were given as Easter gifts by the Russian Tsar, Alexander III, to his wife, the Empress. His son, Nicolas II continued the tradition, presenting an egg each Easter to both his Empress and his mother, the Dowager Empress. In total, there were 50 imperial Fabergé eggs created, from 1885 through to 1916, but only 42 have survived, with many lost during the Russian Revolution.
In the Russian Orthodox Church, Easter was the most important occasion of the year—even more important than Christmas—and there was an old tradition of giving coloured eggs as gifts to friends and family. It was this tradition that inspired Tsar Alexander III to commission the first Fabergé egg as a surprise for his Empress—and each egg did in fact hold a surprise inside: incredible works of art such as a tiny clockwork elephant made of ivory and gold or a miniature nightingale that could sing and flap its wings.
You can read more about these wonderful eggs and see pictures at www.faberge.com and you can also view some of them in real life at the Kremlin in Moscow.
RUSSIAN REVOLUTION: This is the collective name for the two revolutions that swept through Russia in 1917, ending centuries of imperial rule as the last Tsar of Russia abdicated. It was caused by the people’s unhappiness at Russia’s involvement in World War I, as well as their anger at the chronic food shortages. There followed a time of political and social unrest which led to the formation of the Soviet Union.
ST BASIL’S CATHEDRAL: Named as one of the Seven Modern Wonders of the World and unique in its architecture, this legendary building is officially called "The Cathedral of the Intercession of the Virgin by the Moat". It was built by Ivan the Terrible to celebrate Russian victory against the Mongolians and it is said that he blinded the builders, Barma and Postnik Yakovlev, so that they could never build anything so beautiful again. It stands in the famous Red Square, in Moscow and is now a museum.
MATRYOSHKA DOLL: Perhaps better known as a “Russian doll”, this is a type of nesting doll which is made up of a set of wooden dolls, each of decreasing size, that are placed one inside the other. Although the dolls can be male or female, traditionally, they show a Russian peasant woman painted on the outer layer and the smallest doll inside is usually a baby. The first doll was created by a wood carver named Vasily Zvyozdochkin in 1890. There are many styles of matryoshka doll, from those painted to show fairy tale characters to those depicting Soviet leaders.
* AUTHOR’S NOTE: in an amazing case of “life imitating art”, a few weeks before I published this story, I was flabbergasted to read in the news that a real “lost Fabergé egg” had been found in the United States by an American scrap metal dealer who had bought a gold egg at an antique sale and nearly melted it down before realising what a priceless treasure he had in his possession. He sold the egg for $33 million to a private collector. I couldn’t believe that a story created from my imagination a few months earlier had suddenly come true in real life! You can read more about it here: http://dailym.ai/1gf2PGM
Glossary of British terms used in the stories
AUTUMN – the season after summer, before winter (American: Fall)
(Christmas) Cracker – a fun Christmas ornament made of a cardboard tube wrapped in brightly-decorated paper and twisted at both ends, so that it resembles a giant sweet-wrapper. Inside the tube are a few small gifts, such as a paper hat, plastic toy, a joke or riddle. The cracker is usually pulled by two people—one at each end—and breaks in half with a loud bang. This is usually done just before eating the Christmas meal, so that people can wear the paper hats on their heads while eating.
Biscuit – American: cookie
Bum – a person’s (or dog’s) buttocks or behind (American: butt)
Drawing room – an old-fashioned word for living room
Football – popular sport played by kicking a ball across a field into a net, also known as soccer
Fridge – shortened form of “refrigerator”
Gibberish – nonsense
Me – sometimes used instead of “my”
Nick (something) – to steal
Pavement – American: sidewalk
Podgy – rather fat; chubby (American: pudgy)
Poo – American: poop
Punnet – a small container, like a basket without a handle (usually used to refer to strawberries, i.e. “a punnet of strawberries”)
Reckon – to think (e.g. “I reckon it’s over there”)
Rubbish – American: garbage, also an expression used when you think what someone is saying is not sensible (e.g. “he was talking complete rubbish”)
Stuff your face – to eat a lot of food; to eat greedily
Sweets – American: candy
(to get a) telling-off – a scolding
Tuck in – to eat heartily (e.g. “he tucked into the bacon and eggs”)
Vet hospital – animal hospital
* British English conventions of spelling, grammar and usage are followed in the story. For example:
British / American
colour / color
centre / center
practice / practise
neighbourhood / neighborhood
realise / realize
mummy / mommy
doughnut / donut
forwards / forward
BOOKS IN THIS SERIES:
MOONBEAM CHILDREN’S Book Awards 2014 ~ Gold Medal Winner
"Five Stars. There is a magic to speaking to children and H.Y. Hanna has completely captured it."~ Readers' Favorite International Book Awards 2014 Silver Medal Winner
"...a delightful cast of characters, each with their own endearing personalities. With playful puns and creative twists on age-old clichés Hanna artfully addresses such moral topics as prejudice and stereotypes, gossip and rumors all rolled up into an page-turning mystery." ~ Children’s Literary Classics Book Awards Gold Medal Winner