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“Chokin’ chicken bones!” Ruffster yelped, jumping a foot into the air.
“Moooooooo!”
The dogs all scrambled backwards as two hulking forms came up to them. A milky odour filled the air. Honey stared at the gentle, placid faces, the wide, long-lashed eyes, and big, distended bellies hanging from bony rumps and shoulders. Cows, she realised. They were cows.
“Moooooo?” The bigger of the two cows turned its head to look at her, chewing slowly.
“Er ... hello.” Honey wagged her tail hesitantly. She looked back at her friends and hissed, “Do any of you speak Cow?”
They all shook their heads.
“Maybe if you just say ‘moo’ after every word, they’ll understand you better,” suggested Suka.
Honey turned back to the cows and said, as slowly and as clearly as she could, “We ... we’re just walking across the field. We’re trying to get back to the fence.” She paused, then added quickly, “Er ... moooo.”
The bigger cow turned its head and peered at Ruffster, who shrank away, his hackles raised.
“Moo. Why you scared?” The cow blinked at him.
“He’s not scared of you,” Honey assured the cow. “We were just talking about the Phantom Hound and when you appeared out of the mist, we got a bit frightened.”
The cows looked at each other and nodded, flicking their long ears. “Moo. Ghost dog.”
Honey’s ears perked up. “Oh! Have you seen him?”
The cows nodded and chewed placidly. There was a sudden plop sound and then a strong odour filled the air.
“Oh my Dog!” Biscuit jumped up, his nose twitching madly. “Cow poo!” He dived under the cow’s belly, squeezed past the udder, and came up behind the cow, watching her bum avidly. There was another plop and Biscuit squealed with excitement. “This is better than those human machines that make soft, gooey ice-cream!”
“Eww ... Biscuit, you’re not eating it?” said Suka. “That’s disgusting!”
Honey turned back to the cows, who were still chewing placidly. “About the ghost dog ... where did you see him? Here? In the field? What does he do?”
The cows looked to their right. Honey followed their gaze. The mist was lifting slightly now, she realised, the white fog thinning out so that you could catch glimpses of the countryside around them. In the distance, though the trails of vapour, she could see a different fence. This one must have bordered the far side of the field, away from the arena. Beyond it, she could see nothing but darkness.
“There. Moo. Over fence. To big hill beyond. Moo.” The bigger cow nodded. “Many times.”
“Oh,” said Honey, looking at the far fence again.
“What’s he doing there?” asked Suka.
The cows made no answer other than another plop, which was followed by another squeal from Biscuit.
“I think we’d better go before Biscuit turns into a cowpat,” said Suka in an undertone.
Honey nodded. She wagged her tail at the cows. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
The cows snorted through their big, velvety nostrils, then with another deep “Moooo...” they turned and plodded away. Biscuit watched them go wistfully.
“We’ve got to find out what’s over that fence ... why the Phantom Hound keeps going to that big hill ...” said Honey excitedly.
Ruffster shook his ears irritably. “For kibble’s sake, mate, you’re not seriously goin’ to believe what those two moo-heads said?”
“I believe them,” said Suka.
“Me too,” said Biscuit.
“Fine, fine,” Ruffster grumbled. “But how are we goin’ to get out there? It’s hard enough gettin’ away from the humans when we’re at home—it’s almost impossible here at the show. They’re always watchin’ us and there are people everywhere.”
“That’s Suka’s department,” said Honey with a smile. “I can’t wait to see what she thinks up this time.”
––––––––
They got back with no problems and Anja crept back to her tent, with the humans none-the-wiser about their whole escapade. Well, except for the puzzled looks that Ruffster got when they noticed the dried mud clinging to his body. But it was late and everybody was tired so the questions were put off until morning.
Honey woke early the next morning. She yawned, sitting up on the old horse blanket that Olivia had laid down for her, and tried to stretch in the cramped space. These caravans sure weren’t designed for Great Danes—or any other large breed, really. It was no wonder that most of the bigger show dogs seemed to sleep outside in crates or tents. Honey looked around. The humans were both still fast asleep in their bunks, with Ruffster’s Guy snoring loudly. Ruffster himself was sleeping up near the front of the caravan, curled up into a tight ball, with his nose under his tail.
From the faint light filtering in through the caravan windows, it looked like the sun had only just risen. Honey stood up and carefully made her way over to the windows, pushing her nose between the blinds to get a better view. This side of the caravan faced out towards the field at the back of the arena. Since they were the last caravan parked on the end of the row, there was an uninterrupted view straight out to the field and beyond.
Honey peered through the glass. There was an early morning mist—a pale haze that hugged the line of the horizon and obscured parts of the field. Through the misty veil she thought she could make out the shape of two hulking figures standing on one side of the field, their heads lowered companionably together. The cows, she thought.
Then she saw something else that set her heart racing
A pale grey form was drifting past the cows and moving slowly across the field. The Phantom Hound! Honey began to whine with excitement, running back and forth between the window and the caravan door. He was here! She had another chance to follow him! She had to get out!
She tried to nudge the caravan door open with her nose but it was locked. Panting with frustration, she whirled and ran back to the window one more time, shoving her head at the glass for another look. The blinds smacked and rattled as she jammed her nose between them. She bounced impatiently on her toes as she saw the Phantom Hound again, weaving in and out of the mist. Where was he going?
Behind her, she heard exclamations and groans—then somebody yelling her name. Honey looked back and realised that the whole caravan was rocking from side to side.
“Cripes ...” Ruffster’s Guy sat up in his bunk and rubbed his face. He groaned and looked at Olivia in the other bunk. “This whole place is shaking! Your great horse of a dog is going to overturn the whole caravan if she doesn’t stop.”
Olivia sat up, scowling. Her hair looked like a bird nest after the baby birds had had a really good party while mummy and daddy bird were away for the weekend. She squinted at Honey. “For goodness’ sake, Honey, what are you doing?”
Honey whined again and paced in a circle.
“Maybe she needs to go to the toilet,” suggested Ruffster’s Guy, yawning.
Olivia sighed. “Oh, all right. Give me a sec.” She hauled herself out of the bunk and shrugged into a hoodie, then stumbled towards the caravan door. She had barely slid back the bolt and turned the door handle when Honey was pushing her way past and thrusting through the door.
“Hey! Wait—Honey! Honey!”
Honey ignored her, stumbling down the caravan steps and bounding towards the fence which enclosed the field. She strained her eyes to keep the Phantom Hound in sight. He was heading away now—she could see his pale grey form moving towards the far fence on the other side of the field. Honey galloped faster, her heart hammering in her chest. Where was he going? She had to find out.