Lost! The Hundred-Mile-An-Hour Dog (8 page)

‘We’ll find a boat or something,’ I suggested.

‘Leave me. Go and find your puppies. I’ll be all right.’ Pause. ‘All on my own.’ Pause. ‘Alone.’

I hovered beside him. ‘All we need is a boat.’

Cat lifted his head and gazed around. ‘Oh yes. Let’s take one from the harbour.’

‘Harbour?’ I repeated.

‘How about that nice ocean-going yacht? Or would you prefer the luxury cruiser?’

I can be a bit slow sometimes, but the penny dropped at last. Cat was being CATTY. I decided to ignore it.

‘I do like the cabin cruiser,’ I said cheerfully, ‘but it’s a bit swanky. Maybe we can find a bit of plank or something.’

Good. That made Cat laugh and sit up. ‘A bit of plank? I would feel a good deal safer on a whole plank, but if we have to make do with a bit then so be it.’

We padded up and down the river bank, hunting. At one point Cat stopped and stared at some tracks in the mud. He sniffed at them. I took a look.

‘Big dog,’ I said, but Cat shook his head.

‘No claws.’ Cat carefully placed his paw alongside the big print and pressed down into the mud. He left an almost exact copy of the big print, but a lot smaller.

‘That’s a cat’s paw,’ I said. ‘But cats aren’t that big.’

‘The big ones are,’ said Cat.

‘There aren’t any big ones,’ I said.

‘No,’ Cat said slowly. ‘There aren’t
supposed
to
be any big ones.’ He looked up at me. ‘That,’ he added, pointing at the track in the mud, ‘is the mark of The Beast.’

I shivered. ‘I think we’d better get across the river. As soon as possible. I’m beginning to think we’re being followed.’

Ten minutes later we found a bit of plank. It wasn’t all that long, but it was wide, and made a decent raft. We tried it out in the shallows first, just in case. Cat didn’t like the river swishing over it from time to time, but the important thing was that it didn’t sink, even when we both stood on it. We were ready to cross.

Cat stood at the front. I pushed forward and stepped on to the makeshift boat. We were instantly caught by the fast currents. We whirled and swirled, dipped, dashed and crashed through waves. Water surged across the plank and almost swept Cat away because he was lighter than me. His fur stood on end.

Our raft went hurtling down the river.

Sometimes we travelled forward, sometimes backwards, and sometimes we spun in wild circles, but at least we were on the move.

‘Get it to the other side!’ Cat yelled.

What did he think I could do? I had nothing to steer with. I dipped my tail into the water and tried to aim the boat at the opposite bank.

‘That way!’ Cat shouted. ‘Rocks ahead! Watch out! Idiot!’

I was starting to panic. What would Dazzy
Donut Dog do? The answer came to me in a flash. Of course!

Gulp-gulp-gulp. That was three Dazzy Donuts. (One donut wouldn’t be enough for this job!) ‘Get underneath me so all our weight is in the same spot,’ I yelled at Cat. He flicked me a startled look, but at least he did what I said. Maybe my board was just a badly dinged plank, but Dazzy Donut Dog could do anything. I cross-stepped, slipped into a tail slide off a small wave, carved a bottom turn and a moment later I’d pulled a fakie and we were whizzing backwards. Even the cows we passed were impressed.

‘Yee-hah!’ I woofed.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Cat as the board slammed through the waves. At that moment we were caught in an eddy, swirled round and
round again. We hurtled towards the far bank and were in danger of crashing at top speed so I attempted a cutback and a moment later it was wipe-out. I opened my eyes underwater and saw Cat spinning round and down. I managed to grab him by a leg and after some pretty desperate doggy paddle, not helped by some very feeble catty paddle, we cast up on a little beach.

We lay there panting, soaked all over again, but I was exploding with excitement.

‘Woo-hoo! We almost got mullered!’ I yelled at Cat. ‘But we made it! Did you see that fakie I did? Oh boy, I am SO stoked!’

Cat shook his soggy head. ‘You’ve swallowed too much river water. I can’t understand a
word you’re saying. Mullered? Fakie? Stoked? What are you on about?’

‘Surf talk, man! It’s surf talk. I thought cats knew everything.’

‘They know everything worth knowing,’ he said evenly, before closing his eyes and going to sleep.

I smiled to myself. I wish Trevor had seen me. He knows everything about surfing and he tells me when we’re out walking. I wish he’d seen, and my pups too. Dazzy Donut Dog had definitely saved the day, not to mention saving Cat’s life. Twice. And was he grateful? No. Next time I think I might just push him under.

We were worn out after the excitement and danger of the river ride. I kept trying to tell Cat how amazing it had been, but he didn’t understand.

‘All right, so you’re good at slurping…’ he began.

‘Surfing,’ I barked.

‘Whatever. Will you please stop going on about it? Anyone would think it was special.’

‘It was special. It saved your life.’

‘Brag, brag, brag. That’s all you ever do.’

Well! That was a bit rich, coming from Mr Cats-Can-Do-Everything. I shut up after that. I thought if he was going to be like that then there was no point in talking to him — Mr Cool-as-a-Cucumber.
Actually, he was more like Mr Boring-as-a-Banana.

‘You’re sulking,’ Cat said, after ten minutes of silence between us.

‘Am not,’ I said, sounding so sulky I wanted to kick myself.

Cat snorted. That’s about as close to laughing as he gets. We bedded down in a wood and we slept like logs – which is just the way you should sleep if you’re in a wood.

When we woke we were pretty hungry and guess what? There was nothing to eat. I was getting fed up with this never-any-food business. It was no fun at all. I showed Cat my ribs.

‘Look. I’m starving. You’ll be able to see right through me soon.’

‘We’d better head for a town. We’re bound to find something lying around.’

‘Good idea, but we’d better be careful. Towns have dog wardens and dog wardens don’t like stray dogs. I’ve had some nasty experiences with dog wardens.’

‘You’re not a stray. You’re only lost. I’m the stray,’ Cat said.

‘I know that, but the dog wardens don’t. Besides, the dog warden in Trevor-Town has got it in for me. She’ll bang me up inside.’

‘Bang me up inside?’ repeated Cat. ‘What does that mean? You’re talking rubbish again.’

‘It means put me in doggy prison. Don’t you watch any television at all?’

‘No. I have better things to do with my time. Television is for two-legs who don’t get out enough and need to fill their brains with fluff.’

Cat was winding me up. I think he does it deliberately. That’s what cats are like. Luckily we didn’t have a chance to quarrel because at that moment we rounded a corner and there, standing right in front of us was a HORRIBLE HORROR THING with a bright red and blue nose, wild eyes and four very hairy arms.

We all screamed, including the Horrible Horror Thing — ‘AAARGH!’ — and we ran away in three different directions. Then we
turned round and stared at each other. Cat did a belly crawl across to me. His fur stuck up like hedgehog quills.

‘What is it?’ he hissed at me.

‘Don’t know.’

‘It looks like a gorilla with make-up.’ Cat shuddered. ‘Where did it come from?’

‘Don’t know.’ I looked at the Horrible Horror Thing again. It didn’t have four hairy arms. Two of the arms were really legs. It was just that the two arms it did have were awfully long. And Cat was right. It
did
look like a gorilla with make-up. Now it had two large paws clamped over its eyes. It slowly parted the fingers on one paw and looked at us with one eye.

‘Don’t eat me,’ it whimpered. Then all of a sudden it threw both arms wide, leaped in the air, stuck out its tongue and went ‘SPLLLLLURRRGH!’

Cat and I fled.

‘Hey!’ it shouted after us cheerfully. ‘Come
back. Just joking!’

We skidded to a halt and looked back. Horrible Horror Thing was trotting after us. Now I could see it had a long tall tail, whisking in the air. It stopped just short of us, sat down, picked up a stone, threw it casually at a fence and then picked its nose with a bit of twig.

‘Hi! Hoolie. That’s me. Hoolie Baboon — and not any old kind of baboon either. I’m a mandrill.’

‘Really,’ muttered Cat. I could tell he wasn’t impressed.