THERE WAS ONCE A DOG who could perform the most amazing tricks. It could stand on its head and bark the Dog’s Chorus whilst juggling eight balls on its hind paws and playing the violin with its front paws. That was just one of its tricks.
Another trick it could do was this: it would bite its own tail, then it would roll around the farmyard like a wheel, balancing two long poles on its paws – on top of one of which it was balancing Daisy the Cow and on the other Old Lob the Carthorse – all the while, at the same time, telling excruciatingly funny jokes that it made up on the spot.
One day Charlemagne, the cock, said to Stanislav, the dog: ‘Stan, you’re wasted doing your amazing tricks here in this old farmyard – you ought to go to the Big City or join the circus.’
Stan replied: ‘Maybe you’re right, Charlemagne.’
So one bright spring morning, Stanislav the Dog and Charlemagne the Cock set off down the road to seek their fortunes in the Big City.
They hadn’t gone very far before they came to a fair. There were people selling everything you could imagine. There was also a stage on which a troop of strolling players were performing.
So Charlemagne the Cock strode up to the leader of the troop and said: ‘Now, my good man, this is indeed your lucky day, for you see before you the most talented, most amazing juggler, acrobat, ventriloquist, comedian and all-round entertainer in the whole history of our – or any other – farmyard… Stanislav the Dog!’ And Stanislav, who all this time had been looking modestly down at his paws, now gave a low bow.
‘Can’t you read?’ said the leader of the troop. ‘No dogs!’ And without more ado, Charlemagne the Cock and Stanislav the Dog were thrown out.
‘Huh!’ said Charlemagne, picking himself up and shaking the road-dust out of his feathers. ‘You’re too good for a troop of strolling players anyway.’
Stanislav climbed wearily out of the ditch. He was covered in mud, and he looked at his friend very miserably.
‘I’m tired,’ he said. ‘And I want to go home to my master.’
‘Cheer up, my friend!’ replied Charlemagne the Cock. ‘We’re going to the Big City, where fine ladies and gentlemen drip with diamonds, where dukes and earls sport rubies and emeralds, and where the streets are paved with, gold. With your talents, you’ll take ‘em by storm. We’ll make our fortunes!’
So the cock and the dog set off once more down the long, dirty road that led to the Big City.
On the way they happened to pass a circus. Charlemagne the Cock strode up to the ringmaster, who was in the middle of teaching the lions to stand on their hind legs and jump through a ring.
‘Tut! tut! tut! My good man,’ said Charlemagne the Cock. ‘You needn’t bother yourself with this sort of rubbish any more! Allow me to introduce you to the most superlative acrobat and tumbler – who can not only stand on his hind paws, but can jump through fifty such rings … backwards and whilst balancing one of your lions on his nose … and do it all on the high wire … without a safety net!’
‘I only do tricks with lions,’ said the ringmaster.
‘But Stanislav the Dog has more talent in his right hind leg than your entire troop of lions!’
‘These are the best lions in the business!’ exclaimed the ringmaster. ‘And they’d eat you and your dog for supper without even blinking. In fact they need a feed right now!’ And he reached out his hand to grab Charlemagne the Cock. Stan the Dog saw what was happening, however, and nipped the ringmaster on the ankle.
‘Run, Charlemagne!’ he yelled.
And Charlemagne ran as fast as he could, while Stan the Dog leapt about – nipping people’s ankles – as the entire circus chased them down the road.
‘Help!’ squawked Charlemagne, as the circus folk got closer and closer and hands reached out to grab him by the neck.
But Stan the Dog ran under everyone’s legs and tripped them up. Then he said to Charlemagne: ‘Jump on my back! I can run four times as fast as these clowns!’
And so they escaped, with Charlemagne the Cock riding on Stan the Dog’s back.
That night they slept under a hedge. Charlemagne the Cock was extremely nervous, but Stan the Dog curled himself around his friend to protect him. Stan himself, however, was not very happy either.
‘I’m hungry,’ he murmured, ‘and I want to go home to my master.’
‘Cheer up!’ said Charlemagne. ‘Tomorrow we’ll reach the Great City, where your talents will be appreciated. Forget these country yokels. I’m telling you – fame and fortune await you and… ’
But his friend was fast asleep.
Well, the next day, they arrived in the Great City. At first they were overawed by the noise and bustle. Many a time they had to leap into the gutter to avoid a cart or a carriage, and on one occasion they both got drenched when somebody emptied a chamber-pot from a window above the street, and it went right over them.
‘Oh dear, I miss the farmyard,’ said Stan the Dog. ‘And nobody here wants to know us.’
‘Brace up!’ cried Charlemagne. ‘We’re about to make our breakthrough! We’re going straight to the top!’ And he knocked on the door of the Archbishop’s palace.
Now it so happened that the Archbishop himself was, at that very moment, in the hallway preparing to leave the palace, and so, when the servant opened the door, the Archbishop saw the cock and the dog standing there on the step.
‘Your Highness!’ said Charlemagne, bowing low to the servant. ‘Allow me to introduce to you the Most Amazing Prodigy Of All Time – Stanislav the Dog! He does tricks you or I would have thought impossible! They are, indeed, miracles of …’
‘Clear off!’ said the servant, who had been too astonished to speak for a moment. And he began to close the door.
But Charlemagne the Cock suddenly lost his temper.
‘LISTEN TO ME!’ he cried, and he flew at the servant with his spurs flying.
Well, the servant was so surprised he fell over backwards, and Charlemagne the Cock landed on his chest and screamed: ‘THIS DOG IS A GENIUS! HIS LIKE HAS NEVER BEEN SEEN OUTSIDE OUR FARMYARD! JUST GIVE HIM A CHANCE TO SHOW YOU!’
And Stan the Dog, who had nervously slunk into the hallway, started to do his trick where he bounced around on his tail, juggling precious china ornaments (which he grabbed off the sideboard as he bounced past) whilst barking a popular Farmyard Chorus that always used to go down particularly well with the pigs.
‘My china!’ screamed the Archbishop. ‘Stop him at once!’ And several of the Archbishop’s servants threw themselves at Stan the Dog. But Stan bounced out of their way brilliantly, and grabbed the Archbishop’s mitre and started to balance a rare old Ming vase on the top of it.
‘Isn’t he great?’ shouted Charlemagne the Cock.
‘Grab him!’ screamed the Archbishop, and the servants grabbed Charlemagne.
‘But look at the dog!’ squawked the cock. ‘Don’t you see how great he is? Do you know anyone else who can juggle like that?’
But just then – as luck would have it – all the butlers and chambermaids and kitchen skivvies and gardeners, who had heard all the noise, came bursting into the Archbishop’s hall. They stood there for a moment horrified, as they watched a barking dog, bouncing around on his tail, juggling the most precious pieces of the Archbishop’s prize collection of china.
‘Stop him!’ roared the Archbishop again. And without more ado everybody descended on poor Stan, and he disappeared under a mound of flailing arms and legs. As a result, of course, all the Archbishop’s best china crashed to the floor and was smashed into smithereens.
‘Now look what you’ve done!’ yelled Charlemagne.
‘Now look what we’ve done!?’ exclaimed the Archbishop. ‘Listen to me! You’re both filthy, you look as if you slept in a hedge, you stink of the chamber-pot and you dare to burst into my palace and wreck my best china! Well! You’re going to pay for it! Throw them into my darkest dungeons!’
And the Archbishop’s servants were just about to do so, when suddenly a voice spoke from above them.
‘Silence, everybody!’ said the Voice.
Everybody froze. Then the Voice continued: ‘Don’t you know who this is? Archbishop! Shame on you! This is the Voice of God!’
The Archbishop fell to his knees, and muttered a prayer, and everyone else followed suit.
‘That’s better!’ said the Voice of God. ‘Now let Stan the Dog go free. He didn’t mean no harm.’
So they let go of Stan the Dog.
‘And now,’ continued the Voice of God. ‘Let Charlemagne the Cock go!’
So they let go of Charlemagne the Cock.
‘Now shut your eyes and wait for me to tell you to open them again!’ said the Voice of God.
So they all shut their eyes, and Stan the Dog and Charlemagne the Cock fled out of the Archbishop’s palace as fast as their legs could carry them.
I don’t know how long the Archbishop and his servants remained kneeling there with their eyes shut, but I am certain that the Voice of God never told them to open their eyes again. For, of course, the Voice wasn’t the Voice of God at all – it was the Voice of Stan the Dog.
‘You are, as I say, a very talented dog,’ said Charlemagne as they ran down the road. ‘But I’d almost forgotten you were a ventriloquist as well!’
‘Luckily for us!’ replied Stan. ‘But look here, Charlemagne, I’ll always be talented – it’s just the way I am. Only I’d rather use those talents where they’re appreciated, instead of where they get us into trouble.’
‘Stanislav,’ said Charlemagne, ‘maybe you’re right.’
And so the two friends returned to the farmyard. And Stanislav the Dog continued to perform his astounding tricks for the entertainment of the other farm animals, and they always loved him.
And even though Charlemagne occasionally squawked a bit at night, and said that it was a waste of talent, Stan the Dog stayed where he was – happy to be the Star of the Farmyard.