She’s gearing herself up again. Oh yes, I can always tell, just as I could with F.O. It’s my sixth sense, it sort of sniffs out what’s going on inside ’em, or what the cat calls their S.O.M. – their STATE OF MIND-LESS-NESS. Of course, Maurice doesn’t believe in my sixth sense, says it’s all hooey. But I know what I know, and I can tell you that the Prim is getting all excited and nosy again and she’s on the track of something – or more like someone! And when that happens she’s a bit like me with a bone or a bunny, TEE-NAYSHUS … Hmm, I like that word and it’s easier to say than some of the other words Maurice uses. Anyway, so that’s it: our mistress is definitely on the warpath again and I bet you that there’s going to be a big HULL-A-BALLOON. Trust Bouncer, he knows!
Take the other night, for example. I was having a really good kip in my basket, knackered with playing Top Dog with my new friend Louis Lionheart (cor, he’s a one!), when there’s a mighty crash and in comes P.O. all got up in her night clothes and curlers, and muttering something about having to think. That made me a bit fed up ’cause I’d been having a really GOOD dream, all about chewing the tail off the cat’s toy mouse. So I gave a growl and said a few rude words, but she went on crashing about and rattling the kettle and stuff.
Huh! No sleep for the wicked, as Maurice is always telling me. So I thought I might as well stretch the old ham’n’ eggs – or as the cat would say ‘savour the night air’ – and force her to let me out. As a matter of fact, I quite enjoyed that, though I was still a bit miffed at being woken up. So when later on she opened the back door and yelled at me to come in I hid behind the potting shed and made her blooming well wait. That kept her cursing for a bit! But then I heard her bawling something about no more bones. Don’t suppose she meant it; still, you can never be sure with humans and it doesn’t do to chance your whatsit, so I raced in pretty smartish.
The next morning she was still in an odd state (so was Maurice, all yawny and sulky) and sat on the sofa frowning and swilling coffee. Then up she leaps, and scoots from the house like a ferret from a trap. Oh ho! I thought, something’s up. I mentioned this to Maurice but all he did was twitch his tail and look po-faced. I suppose he thinks his night’s sleep was disturbed. His sleep? What about mine! Anyway, the cat was in one of his IN-COMMUNI-CADO moods and I left him to it.
And then I started to feel a bit bored, so I visited Boris and Karloff in their hutch and shouted the odds. But nothing happened (out for the count in the back, I suppose). Then a really good wheeze hit me: I would trot along to the tall house and stir up Louis Lionheart. He’s always ready for a romp. So with the Prim out and the cat sulking, it was easy to squeeze through the hedge and out into the lane without any beggar seeing me.
It doesn’t take long to reach the spaniel’s place … and do you know what? Just as I got there I saw his people leaving together by the front gate and without him. So I lurked behind a lamp post for a while just to see them out of sight, and then sloped up and took a crafty peek through the hedge. And what do you think I saw? Old Lionheart stretched his length on the lawn gnawing a rubber toy! Things couldn’t be simpler. ‘Lion,’ I barked, ‘come here quickly!’
‘What-ho!’ he yelped, and came bounding over to see me. ‘If it’s not old Bouncer,’ he cried. ‘How did you get out?’
‘Easily,’ I said, ‘with a bit of low cunning. No fleas on Bouncer!’
‘I should think not,’ he said, ‘I wouldn’t mind having some of that.’
‘It’ll come,’ I told him. ‘And meanwhile what about a little jaunt somewhere?’
He nodded eagerly and, twirling around, tried to do a somersault. It wasn’t very successful. ‘But which way have my people gone?’ he asked, panting slightly.
I told him that I thought they had wandered off down to the river.
‘Oh yes, they like doing that, always at it – so we’d better go the other way.’
I agreed and, grabbing his collar in my teeth, tugged him through the hedge.
We wandered towards the edge of the town, sniffing this and growling at that. And then as we passed a pair of wide gates, Lionheart said, ‘I say, Bouncer, have you ever been in there?’
I shook my head.
‘Shall we go in? You never know, we might find a cat.’
So we slipped in and looked around. There didn’t seem to be any cats about, and I thought it all looked a bit boring: a square white house, big lawn and some empty flowerbeds. I mean there were no nice molehills, no long grass or bunny hutches, and not even a shed – not like at MY house! I was just about to say that we could probably find somewhere more fun nearer the town when I saw a garden seat by one of the windows and someone sitting on it. Louis saw it too. ‘Who’s that?’ he asked.
‘Dunno,’ I answered, ‘but it looks like a lady. Never seen her before.’
Louis screwed up his eyes and then wagged his tail. ‘But I have,’ he chortled, ‘and I don’t like her. She’s not nice.’
I asked him how he knew her and why she wasn’t nice.
‘Well,’ he explained, ‘I was in the grocer’s the other day with my mistress. She had put me on my lead and I was being very good. Or at least I was only doing a little bit of prancing – just by those nice biscuit stacks in the corner. Anyway, that roly-poly person was there, and she pointed at me and frowned and said I was in her way or something stupid like that. I thought that was a bit rotten as I was being really nice and chummy to everyone!’
‘So what did your mistress say?’
‘She didn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to. When she’s annoyed she just gives one of her looks. I think it’s called’ – Lion sniffed at a patch of grass – ‘uhm … withering. Yes, that’s what it’s called, and when she withers you don’t half know it! Anyway, she had a good old wither at this person who went all pink and tossed her head. I don’t think they liked each other, you can generally tell with humans.’
‘Oh yes,’ I said, ‘nearly always. So what did she smell like?’
Lion wrinkled his muzzle. ‘Nothing much, just boring. I mean, she didn’t smell of DOG or even of CAT. All the best people smell of one or both. If you ask me, Bouncer, that lady is not of the best.’
‘Cor,’ I said, ‘you’ve got a sixth sense just like mine!’
He grinned and wagged his tail. ‘It’s getting better: it’s the company I keep.’
We had a laugh and a quick roll on the grass, and I was just about to lift my leg against a handy watering can when this thin weedy-looking chap comes out of the house and sits next to the lady and starts yacking.
We watched for a bit, and then Louis Lionheart started to fidget and growl. ‘Ssh,’ I said, ‘we’ll play a game. Let’s pretend we are bloodhounds and see how close we can get to them without being seen. Whoever is seen first is a ninny. And then we’ll scarper!’
‘You’re on,’ Lion whispered.
So that’s what we did – edged on our bellies alongside the hedge like collies do, until we reached a couple of big stone pots with flowers stuck in them. We crouched behind these and were so close to the humans that we could hear what they were saying … No, that’s not quite right, I could hear; Lion was too busy snuffling and chuckling. I told him to CONTAIN himself, like Maurice says to me, and cocked my ears.
You know, when I was a young pup I hadn’t a clue what humans were on about (they grunt and burble), but now that I am big I am getting the hang of it. Not as good as the cat, of course, but not bad all the same – and MUCH better than Duster, the Penlows’ cairn terrier, who only knows six words: walkies, haggis, badboy, NO, ochaye and grub. Well, Bouncer knows lots more than that! So I listened very carefully and heard the weedy one say something about having to take care as they were treading on thin mice. Pretty rum really … I mean, what’s the point of treading on ’em? Much more fun to chase the blighters like Maurice does. And in any case, why thin? Ah well, you never know with humans – daft as a fox’s brush, and no mistake!
Anyway, the lady gave a fat laugh and said he was a dear boy and shouldn’t worry so much. Hmm. He didn’t look very dear to me – kick your rump as soon as look at you! But then he said something which made her look rather fierce and she wagged her finger at him. It was to do with pills. (Now I know about pills because the Prim shoves them into me when the old gut is playing up or she thinks I’ve got worms.) So I pricked up my ears even more and concentrated really hard. And this is what I heard: ‘Oh, Auntie, I do hope you are taking your pills, you know you like them. And whatever happens we must stay calm, mustn’t we?’
Can’t say this made much sense to me, but I didn’t have a chance to think, because just then the Lion gave a deafening sneeze. And that did it: our cover was blown and we had to skedaddle fast. So we tore across the lawn and through the gates like cats out of hell. I looked back once and saw the roly-poly lady shaking her fist. Not that that bothered me – I mean humans do that all the time, don’t they.
Well, after that BROO-HA-HA as Maurice would call it, we decided to go back to our own homes and lie doggo for a bit. It doesn’t do to hang about. Besides, I wanted my nosh. Oh, and by the way, who was the ninny? Well, it wasn’t Bouncer, that’s for sure!