Lost! The Hundred-Mile-An-Hour Dog (4 page)

You hang around a food shop and when nobody is looking you snaffle a roast chicken or something. Do you know what the best target is?
I will tell you — a two-legs coming out of a burger bar. There they are stepping through the doorway with a big, fat burger and they’re trying to cram it into their big, fat mouth. Easy nosh!

You have to plan this and time everything just right. This is how it’s done:

Timing is really important. The two-legs with the burger has to be lifting the bun to his mouth at the right speed and the right time. If they are then that’s your moment. Your paws scrabble madly on the pavement,
whizz-whizz-whizz
, and you hurl yourself forward like an Outer-Space-Galaxy-Fighter-Rocket-Plane on a bombing run to blow up the Death-Star-Thingy-Whatsit —
FWWOWWWWW
!

Three bounds and you have reached top speed and now you launch yourself through the air, flying in a graceful arc and you dive right between two-legs’s face and the paw with the burger. With a tiny neat twist of your head you snatch the Death-Star-Thingy-burger from his
paw just before it disappears into his mouth and you’re away! You land on the far side and you’re off at top speed, whoosh-whizz, chomping the burger as you go. Job done. Yum yum yum!

I love doing that!

Just don’t make the same mistake I did once. I waited in ambush outside a burger place. The door opened and out came a two-legs right in the act of raising the bun to his face. I ran, I jumped, I flew, I grabbed, I landed and made off chewing happily. Chomp chomp chomp! But guess what? It wasn’t a burger bun at all. It was a mobile phone, and instead of a scrummy burger I had a strange voice in my mouth going ‘Urrh? Is that you, Harry? Harry? Are you growling? What’s that chomping noi—’

Then the phone went dead. That was because I’d just killed it and spat it out. Splrrrrgh! Mobiles are not good to eat, I promise you. They’re even worse than plastic pies.

But you can’t find burger bars in the middle of
nowhere. I was going to have to hunt. Maybe I’d find a rabbit that didn’t mind being my breakfast. I mooched around here and I mooched around there and do you know what? I think I must have picked the only rabbit-less zone in the entire country. There wasn’t a single one. I was so fed up and miserable and my tummy was saying:
Feed me! Please feed me! There’s space for an elephant in here!
And that was when the cat fell on me.

I was passing beneath a tree when there was
a startled yowl from above and as I looked up a large ginger ball of fur came zonking out of the tree, bounced off my head, landed on the ground, got up and looked at me with raised eyebrows.

‘Hi…’ it began. Then it saw my teeth and my hungry smile and decided to run for its life. I decided to run for its life too. I mean, you have to if you’re a dog. Cats and dogs are ancient enemies. We chase and they run. So that’s what we did.

Whoosh!
I’ve never seen a cat run so fast! And zig and zag! Away across the field we went, with my ears streaming out behind me — I love that! — until all of a sudden the cat stopped dead, spun round, hissed, spat and lashed out with one paw and almost took my head off as I skidded to a halt.

‘Whoa!’ I yelled, leaping back. ‘What was that for?’

‘I’m fed up with running,’ snarled the cat, with
every single hair on its body standing up and its tail all fluffed up until it looked like a monkey puzzle tree. Bristling — that’s what it was doing.

I sat down and stared at it. The cat glared back, lifted one paw, casually flicked open its claws and began to clean between them with its teeth. ‘So,’ drawled the cat. ‘What are you going to do now, clever-clogs?’

Good point. What was I going to do? I opened my mouth to speak, didn’t know what to say, so I shut it again. The cat grinned.

‘Lost for words? That’s the trouble with you dogs. You’re all hurry-scurry, huff, puff and woof.’ The cat’s fur slowly smoothed itself and he sat back on his haunches, never taking his golden eyes off me. Unnerving, it was, I can tell you. I decided to play it casual and act as if I knew what I was doing.

‘Actually, I was looking for a burger bar,’ I announced. The cat fell over laughing. He wasn’t meant to do that. Where was the respect? Down the drain, that’s where it was.

The cat glanced round. ‘A burger bar, in a field? Of course you were. Tell me, was I born an idiot, or were you born an idiot? Don’t bother to answer.’

‘Are you always as rude as this?’ I asked tetchily.

‘Only if you’re as stupid as this.’

I ask you! That’s no way to speak to Dazzy Donut Dog. ‘Listen, chum, I could crunch up your head in one gulp.’

‘You could,’ agreed the cat, lying down and
rolling on to its back as if it didn’t much care what I did but I could rub its tummy if I liked. ‘But before that happened I would probably have taken out both your eyes, shredded your nose and stuffed carrots into your ears.’

I choked. ‘Why would you stuff carrots into my ears?’

‘I always do,’ said the cat casually.

‘It’s my signature. Murderers always leave a signature on the dead body. Don’t you know anything? The Deadly Daffodil used to leave a daffodil next to his victim. Wanda the Weasel always left a lipstick kiss-print on her prey’s cheek. I stuff carrots in their ears.’

I swallowed hard. I was in the company of a killer cat. I began to back away. The cat smiled again.

‘You believe me, don’t you?’ it purred. ‘I said you were stupid. Where on earth do you think I’m going to find carrots around here?’

‘I knew you were joking,’ I shouted.

‘Of course you did. So then, tell me, Mr Mutt, what
are
you doing round here?’

‘I’m lost. And I’m not Mr Mutt. I’m a Miss and my name’s Streaker.’

The cat stretched itself slowly. ‘Well, Streaker, you may call me Great Lord and Master of All Things Visible and Invisible; Emperor of the Woods, the Wilds, the Winds and Wobbly Things; Pendragon of all Hilly Bits; Sultan of Sausages; Celestial Prince of Kippers, Goldfish and Chunky Rabbit—’

‘How about Moggy?’ I interrupted.

‘I don’t think so, unless you want to see those carrots,’ snapped the cat.

‘I’ll call you Cat.’

He eyed me for a second. ‘It’s a deal,’ he agreed. ‘I hate those names two-legs give you. I used to be called Sweety-pie.’

‘Bit out of character,’ I observed.

‘Exactly. Have you had breakfast? No? I’ve got half a mouse somewhere. I’m a bit of a wanderer myself. My two-legs threw me out.’

I thought:
I’m not surprised. I’ve never met such a… such a catty cat.
I didn’t say it of course. Didn’t want my ears filled with carrots. I tried to sound sympathetic.

‘Life must be hard,’ I offered.

‘I survive,’ Cat said with a shrug as we wandered towards the hedge. ‘But a warm home would be nice. Ah, there it is.’

He showed me the half mouse. It was the bottom half. I looked at the tail and the two back legs and I didn’t feel nearly so hungry as I thought.

‘It’s kind of you to offer, but I’m not that fond of mice.’

Cat shrugged and gulped it down in one. ‘We could head for town,’ he suggested, as he cleaned his whiskers.

‘Now that is a good idea. I can snaffle some food and maybe we can find out where we are and then work out how to get back home.’

‘Excellent,’ agreed Cat, trotting ahead of me, his tail held high. I fell in behind. I was thinking:
This is weird. I’m following a cat. It’s like we’re friends. I hope nobody sees. I’d be so ashamed. This isn’t supposed to happen.
And then I thought:
I’m hungry.

We heard the noise first — a steadily increasing hum. I thought:
It’s a giant bee as big as an elephant. It will suddenly appear from nowhere and land on top of us and we’ll be squashed. Splat!

I’ve had a bit of a problem with bees ever since one stung my tongue. All I did was eat a cheese sandwich. How was I to know there was a bee inside trying to eat the cheesy bit? The bee didn’t like being eaten so it stung me. OW! OUCH! HOT! My tongue was on fire! I went racing round and round with my tongue hanging out as far as possible, like I was trying to make it fall right out of my mouth. I had to dash dash dash all the way upstairs and stick my head in the toilet bowl so I could plunge my tongue into
the water to cool it down. FLOBBA-DOBBA-JOBBA! That was better.

I don’t like bees, and the humming noise was making me nervous. What would Dazzy Donut Dog do? Aha! I soon had a cunning plan. I trotted four steps and then suddenly leaped up, spun round to face back and landed. Then I walked backwards four steps, leaped up and spun round, so I was facing forward once more. And each time I spun round and landed I growled and
went
Raargh! Raargh! Gotcha!
just in case.

Cat stopped and watched me for several moments. ‘Everything all right?’ he asked casually.