Chapter Two

“Nobody will buy him,” said the other puppies later. “That’s for sure.”

“What a racket!” said the sheepdog.

“It made me feel quite ill!” said the gun-dog.

“A really common noise!” said the guide-dog.

“Made by a really common animal!” said the show-dog.

“Pshaw!” said the lap-dog.

They all stared balefully at the guard-dog.

“The sooner he’s sold, the better,” they said.

And that afternoon, he was.

Into the pet shop walked a tall lady with a face that looked as though it had a bad smell under its nose, and a small fat girl.

“I am looking for a puppy,” said the lady to the shopkeeper, “for my daughter. I know nothing about dogs. Which of these would you recommend?”

All the puppies lolloped forward to the inner wire of the pen, whining and wagging and generally looking as irresistible as puppies do. All, that is, except the guard-dog. He sat alone, small and silent. He was not exactly sulking – that was not in his nature – but he still felt very hurt.

“Nobody will buy him. That’s for sure,” they had said.

He resigned himself to life in a pet shop.

The shopkeeper was busy explaining the various virtues of the five pedigree puppies when the fat child, who was standing, sucking her thumb, took it out with a plop.

She pointed at the guard-dog.

“Want that one,” she said.

“Oh, that’s just a mongrel puppy, dear,” said the shopkeeper. “I expect Mummy would prefer …”

“Want that one.”

“But, darling …”

The small fat girl stamped her small fat foot. She frowned horribly. She hunched her shoulders. With a movement that was as sudden as it was decisive, she jammed her thumb back in her small fat mouth.

“She wants that one,” said her mother.

By the end of that day, the guard-dog was feeling pretty pleased with life. To be sure, there were things about his new owners that he did not quite understand. It seemed, for example, that simple pleasures like chewing carpets and the bottom edges of curtains drove the lady into what he considered a quite unreasonable rage, and as for the child, she was temperamental, he thought, to say the least.

Though at first she had seemed willing to play with him, she soon began to complain that his teeth were too sharp or his claws too scratchy or his tongue too slobbery, and had made a ridiculous fuss over a doll which had sported a fine head of hair and was now bald.

Strange creatures, he thought that night when at last all was quiet, but I mustn’t grumble. I’m warm and well-fed and this seems a very fine house for a guard-dog to guard. Which reminds me – it’s time I was off on my rounds.

Ears cocked, nose a-quiver, he pattered off on a tour of the downstairs rooms.

His patrol over, he settled down in a basket in the kitchen. There was plain evidence that he had done his duty. In the centre of the drawing-room, for example, there was a fine white fleecy rug, and in the centre of the rug was a bright yellow pool. In other rooms there were other messes.

Comfortable now, the guard-dog closed his extremely small eyes. It had been a tiring day, and he was just drifting off to sleep when suddenly, outside the kitchen door, he heard a stealthy sound! He leaped to his feet.