| |
––––––––
“WHERE D’YOU WANT THESE?”
Honey the Great Dane looked up as a shadow loomed over her. An old man with unkempt grey hair stood holding a cardboard box which brimmed with gold and silver tinsel, glittering red baubles, frosted snowflake ornaments, and a huge plastic snowman with a cheesy button smile.
The man’s face was not smiling, though. In fact, he was scowling heavily—deep lines running down from his nose on either side of his mouth and an angry knot between his grey eyebrows. Something about his piercing black eyes made Honey’s hackles rise and she wrinkled her muzzle in a low growl.
“Honey!”
Honey turned to see her human, Olivia, giving her a reproachful look. Olivia rose from kneeling by the Christmas tree and gave the old man an apologetic smile.
“You must have startled her. She’s usually really friendly and never growls at anyone.”
The man didn’t respond, but just stood there, holding the box.
Olivia’s smile faltered a bit, then she pointed to a spot by the Christmas tree. “Could you leave the box there? Thank you very much.”
The man gave a grunt, dropped the box in place, and stomped out of the room, leaving a trail of wet footprints on the floor behind him. Honey watched him go, still vaguely uneasy. Olivia kneeled by the box and began rummaging through it, lifting ornaments out and hanging them carefully on the Christmas tree. She gave Honey another reproachful look as Honey sat down next to her.
“What was that all about, Honey? It was just Jones, the school gardener. Why were you growling at him?”
Honey shifted uncomfortably. She hated getting a Telling-Off from Olivia. Besides, it was true. She hardly ever growled at anyone, unlike her friend, Tyson the Jack Russell Terrier, who was definitely more of a “growl first, sniff bums later” kind of dog. Still, there had been something about that old man...
“Psst. Honey. Don’t worry, I don’t like him either.”
Honey looked up to see Suka the Siberian Husky waving her plumed tail at her from across the room. Suka was the reason they were all here. Or rather, Suka’s human, her Boy’s Mother, who had asked them all to come and help decorate the school hall for the Christmas Fair tomorrow.
“My Boy says all the kids are scared of Jones. He lives in this cottage at the back of the school and cuts all the bushes around it into creepy shapes!” Suka gave a mock shudder. Suka might have been a Husky, but her real calling was “newshound”. Nothing happened in the neighbourhood without Suka knowing about it first. The only problem was figuring out which part of her news was real and which part had been added by her imagination. By now, Honey had learned to take the Husky’s words with a big pinch of liver sprinkles.
Still, Suka was right about Jones being creepy. Honey thought of those piercing black eyes and hoped she didn’t have to see him again.
“Hmm... what’s this?” Olivia frowned at a round object in her hands. She pulled a face and tossed it aside, then continued taking more decorations out of the box. The round object rolled towards Honey and stopped by her paw. She leaned down and sniffed it carefully. At first she thought it was a bauble, like the other ones on the tree, but instead of being bright red, gold, or silver, this one was a dull crimson, the paint chipped and flaking. And instead of a loop for hanging, there was a large hole on one side. It smelled of plastic. And dirt. And paper.
Paper?
Honey peered into the hole. There was a piece of paper wedged inside. Faintly, she could see black marks on it. Writing? Curious now, she nudged the strange bauble with her nose. It rolled in a circle, coming back to stop by her paw. She peered into the hole again. The piece of paper was still there. It had shifted a bit, though, and was now upside down, the black marks showing clearer. Definitely writing.
A message?
Honey hesitated and looked around, wondering if she should show her friends. On the other side of the room Ruffster, the mongrel mutt, was running around the base of a ladder, barking excitedly at a young man who was perched at the top, stringing coloured lights across the ceiling. Suka was following her Boy as he went from window to window, spraying something white from a can and covering the glass panes in snowy patterns. In the far corner of the room, several more humans were gathered around trestle tables, talking and laughing as they laid out mince pies, gingerbread cookies, and other Christmas goodies on the brightly coloured tablecloth. From a black box next to them, music drifted out, trying to compete with Ruffster’s barking, while a man crooned about chestnuts and open fires.
Everybody was so busy and happy that, for a moment, Honey wondered if she should just forget the whole thing. But something about this strange bauble bothered her. She scooped it up in her mouth, her baggy jowls completely hiding it, and carried it over to Ruffster.
“Reckon my Guy’s fixin’ it straight? I keep tellin’ him to move it a bit to the left, but he just won’t listen.” Ruffster rushed to the right of the ladder then to the left, his eyes following the man, and barked again. “Oh, for kibble’s sake, you stupid human. Left. Left!”
“Ruffster, what do you make of this?” Honey dropped the strange bauble in front of him.
“Eeuuww. Mate, I’m not touchin’ that,” said Ruffster as he eyed the slobber-covered lump on the floor.
“Sorry.” Honey ducked her head in embarrassment and quickly licked the drool off. “It was in that box of Christmas decorations, but... it looks different. And I think there’s a note inside.”
“A note?” Ruffster cocked his one upright ear.
“Yes, there’s a piece of paper... look.” Honey showed Ruffster the hole.
He sniffed without much interest. “Could be anythin’, you know. Like those little bits o’ paper with lots o’ numbers, which always come with stuff humans buy. My Guy’s always leavin’ them scrunched up everywhere.”
“No, I think this is different,” insisted Honey. “Do you think you can get it out?”
Ruffster tried to stick his snout into the hole, but it was too big to fit. “Nah, mate, need a smaller dog.” He looked around. “Tyson here yet?”
“He left me a Peemail saying he was going to be late,” said Honey. “His family are taking him carol-singing first.”
At that moment, there came a shriek from the trestle tables. Honey and Ruffster turned to see a black nose suddenly appear from beneath the tablecloth, followed swiftly by a black, tan, and white body. Biscuit the Beagle scrambled out from under the table, a large cookie clamped in his mouth, and raced across the room towards them.
“BISCUIT!” an exasperated female voice yelled after him, but it was too late. By the time he’d reached Honey and Ruffster, all that was left of the cookie were a few crumbs on his nose.
Biscuit licked his lips and looked defensively at them. “I had to. My Missus is starving me to death. She’s got me on half rations because she says I need to go on a diet. Can you believe that? A diet? Me?”
Ruffster eyed the Beagle’s podgy tummy. “Reckon you could lose a few pounds, mate. You’re lookin’ a bit tubby.”
Biscuit drew himself up indignantly. “I do not look tubby!” He started to say something else, but Honey quickly distracted him by showing him the strange bauble. He peered into the hole and thought for a moment, then looked up, his tail wagging. “It’s like a treat ball!”
“Huh?” Ruffster sniffed quizzically.
“You know, when humans think they’re being clever by stuffing treats inside toys and things... and making us spend ages getting it out.” He lifted his nose proudly. “My Kong record is one minute, fifteen seconds. Full destuffing. Not even a lick of peanut butter left.” He lay down with both paws around the strange bauble and stuck his mouth into the hole. “Now...”
It took a bit longer than one minute and fifteen seconds, but Biscuit finally got the scrap of paper out. They huddled together to look at it. Honey had been right—the black marks were writing. Thin, squiggly lines that ran crooked across the paper, stopping just where it had been torn in half:
––––––––
“WHAT ARE YOU ALL LOOKING at?” Suka came up and peered over their shoulders. Honey explained again about the strange bauble and the piece of paper that had been wedged inside. Suka sniffed the note and began whining anxiously. “It’s a child.”
“What do you mean?”
“The writing... it looks like my Boy’s. Humans only write like that when they’re still pups—their writing changes when they grow up,” explained Suka. She looked at them, her blue eyes concerned. “We have to help him. It could be a child like my Boy, in some kind of trouble. Look, it says ‘I can’t get out’—maybe he’s trapped somewhere.”
“But he could be anywhere.” Ruffster scratched his upright ear. “How’re we ever goin’ to find him?”
“It’s Jones!” said Suka. “I’m sure it is. My Boy said last time when he tried to sneak near the cottage with his friends, Jones came out yelling and waving a stick. He was really scary. Oh my Dog, he must be keeping the child trapped in the school somewhere... Otherwise, how could the child have put the note into that box of decorations?”
“But we don’t know where he got the decorations from—” said Honey.
“I could track him,” offered Biscuit, his nose quivering.
“Why don’t we just show the note to the humans?” asked Ruffster. “Reckon they’d know what to do.”
“But we’ll never be able to explain to them about Jones and the box and where we found the note,” Suka argued. “Humans are lousy at communication. They bark an awful lot, but they never really listen. And they don’t get Body Language at all. I’ve been trying to teach my Boy for ages and he still thinks that a wagging tail always means I’m happy.”
They heard the door to the school hall swing open and a gust of cold air swept the room.
“Put me down! Put me down, ya fussy old hen!” A small brown and white Jack Russell was wriggling angrily in the arms of a plump woman who had just entered the room. She sighed and placed him on the floor, where he shook himself irritably before trotting over to join the other dogs.
“Stupid woman,” he muttered. “Can walk by myself.”
“That’s ’coz you’re small, mate,” said Ruffster helpfully. “Humans always think small dogs need to be carried around. If you were bigger, you wouldn’t—”
“What did ya call me?” Tyson growled.
Honey hastily stepped between them and told Tyson what had been happening.
“Bad idea involving humans,” growled the Jack Russell.
Biscuit cast a wary look towards the trestle tables. “Uh... yeah, I don’t think I should go near my Missus for a while.”
“Honey, what about Olivia?”
Honey looked back to where her own human was just putting the finishing touches to the Christmas tree. Silver tinsel now festooned the branches and sparkling baubles nestled amongst the pine needles.
“I don’t know...” she said doubtfully. “I could try.”
Honey picked up the note in her mouth and the others followed her over. But before she could thrust the piece of paper at her human, Olivia looked up from where she was rummaging at the bottom of the cardboard box and gave a delighted smile when she saw the dogs.
“Oh! Perfect!” Olivia jumped up, her hands full of something red and white and furry, and hurried over to them.
Honey tried to shove the piece of paper at Olivia, but her human ignored her completely. Instead Olivia started fussing over the dogs: making Ruffster sit next to Honey; picking up Tyson and setting him between her front paws; getting Biscuit to sit on the other side and Suka lying next to him. And plonking a Santa hat on each of their heads. Finally, she stood back with a satisfied smile and grabbed her camera. The other humans started to gather around as well, laughing and clasping their hands and cooing, “Oh, adorable!”
Uh-oh. When humans started saying things were “adorable”, that’s when dogs had to worry.
“Ticks! Not another Christmas photo shoot,” moaned Ruffster.
“Humans are obsessed with putting things on our heads,” growled Tyson as his Santa hat slid down to cover his face. The humans erupted in laughter as Tyson shook his head blindly, trying to shake the Santa hat off.
Honey looked up hopefully as Olivia came over to rearrange her Santa hat and tried once again to thrust the note at her human.
“Oh, Honey, take that rubbish out of your mouth. It’s going to ruin the photo.” Olivia grabbed the paper and tossed it aside.
Honey watched in dismay as the scrap of paper fluttered to the ground a few feet away.
“I can reach it,” said Biscuit, starting to get up. But Olivia immediately pushed him back down.
They all followed the paper with their eyes. It drifted along the floor a bit, caught in a draught, then a shoe came down over it... and then it was gone, stuck on the underside of the shoe as the human walked back across the room to the trestle tables.
“Noooo!” cried Suka. “We’ve got to get it back!”
––––––––
IT TOOK TWENTY-TWO photos before Olivia was satisfied and let the dogs go. They shook off the Santa hats with relief and hurried over to the other side of the room. Hovering by the trestle tables, they scanned the group of humans there for the one who had stepped on the note.
“There she is!” hissed Suka, eyeing a woman in a blue top and flowered skirt.
“I think we have to wait until she sits down,” said Honey. “Humans like to cross their legs. That will lift the shoe up and give us a chance to get to the note.”
As they watched, the woman talked and laughed with others on the other side of the trestle tables, while she busily filled little bags with sweets and tied ribbons around them. She arranged them in neat little rows before her. Two. Four. Six. Eight. Ten. Twelve. Fourteen. Sixteen...
“We could be waitin’ for ages,” grumbled Ruffster.
Suka yawned and shifted her weight on her paws. Then her ears perked up. “Wait, look—!”
The woman said something with a chuckle, then pulled out a chair at the table and sank into it gratefully. The other women at the table followed suit.
“C’mon!” Ruffster dived under the tablecloth, followed by Tyson and Biscuit. Honey looked at Suka hesitantly. Both of them were much bigger and wouldn’t fit under the trestle tables so easily. In fact, Honey wondered if she would fit at all. She didn’t want to be left out, though. Taking a deep breath, she ducked her head and crawled under the tablecloth. Suka followed her.
Under the table, it was like being in a rectangular tunnel with a flat wooden ceiling. Light filtered through the tablecloth hanging down on either side. They had crawled under at the top end of the table and they could see a forest of legs down at the other end. Ruffster, Biscuit, and Tyson had started inching forwards on their stomachs and Honey and Suka tried to follow suit. Thank goodness the trestle tables were fairly wide, but Honey still bumped some of the table legs as she squeezed past down the centre between them.
“Shh!”
“Sorry,” Honey panted, starting to drool from the effort. Crawling was tough for a Great Dane with her long legs and deep chest—she couldn’t slide along the ground like the smaller dogs but had to sort of hump along like a tortoise. She bumped one of the table legs again and the table squeaked. But luckily the noise of the humans talking and laughing above them drowned the noise out, as well as the music which was now thumping rhythmically as a woman sang about a little drummer boy.
Honey heaved a sigh as she finally reached the other dogs. They were huddled together next to the cluster of chairs and legs.
“Which one is it?” whispered Ruffster.
“That one,” said Suka decisively, pointing her nose at a pair of legs that jutted out from beneath a long flowered skirt. As Honey had predicted, the woman had crossed her legs and they could see the sole of the shoe that was raised.
The scrap of paper wasn’t there.
“Oh no! It’s gone!” Biscuit whimpered.
“Reckon it’s on the other shoe?” Ruffster asked.
They waited tensely. After about five minutes, the legs uncrossed and then recrossed again, this time with the other shoe raised. They all leaned forwards eagerly...
It was there. Stuck to a pale pink blob on the sole of the shoe.
“Quick!” said Ruffster, starting forwards.
“Wait, let Tyson do it,” said Honey. “He’s a lot sma—er—I mean, he’s more nimble.”
The Jack Russell gave a grunt and crawled forwards. He wriggled his body until he was angled right under the raised shoe and then carefully reached upwards. Honey watched him anxiously. The paper seemed to be stuck fast, with no loose edge to grip. How was Tyson going to pull it off? As she watched, he raised his lips and nibbled the edge of the paper with his front teeth.
A corner came unstuck.
They all held their breath as he gripped the raised corner and gave a gentle tug. The woman’s leg twitched as she felt the pressure and a hand came down to brush her leg. Tyson let go and ducked down, barely avoiding the hand. The leg swung, then stilled, and the hand disappeared. Tyson slowly reached up and gripped the corner of the paper with his teeth again.
“Careful! Don’t rip it!” Ruffster hissed.
Tyson paused and gathered himself, then gave his head a sharp twist, yanking the paper at the same time. It came away suddenly, with pink goo still attached, stretching back to the underside of the shoe. Tyson backed away, still pulling, and the sticky pink strands stretched longer and longer... then broke.
“What’s that?” Biscuit wriggled eagerly over to Tyson and sniffed the remaining pink strands stuck on the piece of paper. “Ooh... smells like strawberry!” And before anyone could stop him, he began eating the pink blobs off the scrap of paper.
“Biscuit!”
“Mm-mmf?” Biscuit looked up, his mouth covered in pink goo. He worked his jaw spasmodically. “Shtuff... awpul... shewy... can’t geddit... offa... my... teed...”
“It’s gum, mate,” said Ruffster, his eyes wide. “You gotta spit it out.”
Biscuit gagged and stuck his tongue out, pushing against the sticky pink strands. “Mm... can’t...” His eyes rolled wildly and he started to pant.
“That’ll teach ya to eat things ya don’t know,” growled Tyson.
“Spit it out! You need to spit it out!” urged Suka.
“It’s all right, Biscuit,” said Honey gently. “Just try and spit it out.”
Biscuit worked his jaw again, then spluttered and spat. “Pffft... Pffft!”
An enormous pink bubble suddenly formed in front of his nose. It grew bigger and bigger and popped right in Honey’s face. She yelped and jerked upwards, smacking her head into the underside of the table. There was a rattle and crash and human voices shouted from above. Then the side of the tablecloth was lifted and several human faces peered at them.
“Biscuit!” came the exasperated female voice again.
A hand reached in and hauled the Beagle out from under the table. The other dogs scrambled out after him and Honey saw several of the humans staring at them in surprise. Biscuit struggled as his Missus held him firmly with one hand and scooped wads of pink gum out of his mouth with the other. The crowd around them snickered.
“Argh! I don’t know what I’m going to do with this dog!” Biscuit’s Missus shook her head as she let him go. She wiped her hands clean on a tissue and glowered at all the dogs.
Honey hung her head and put her ears back, trying her best to look sorry. Next to her, Suka gave a pleading wag of her fluffy tail while Ruffster did his best Sad Dog Eyes. Even Tyson raised a sheepish paw. Biscuit skulked behind them, still probing his teeth gingerly with his tongue.
His Missus heaved a sigh. “That’s it! Out—the whole lot of you! Out!”
She hustled them to the double doors of the school hall, opened one and shoved them out. The door slammed shut after them. Honey looked around. They were alone in a long corridor running past the school hall. Double swing doors sealed the corridor at either end.
“Festerin’ fleas, Biscuit, now look what you’ve done!” growled Ruffster.
“It smelled really good...” Biscuit protested weakly.
“What are we going to do now? How are we going to help that child?” asked Suka.
Honey’s tail drooped. “Without the note, we haven’t—”
“I’ve got the note,” said Tyson, showing them the piece of paper he held in his mouth.
Suka gave a squeal of delight and Tyson reeled back as Honey gave him a slobbery lick in the face. Ruffster bounced around excitedly and even Biscuit began to wag his tail. They all crowded around the note again. There were still bits of pink gum clinging to the paper, but they could read the message:
“THAT LAST BIT... Rangifer tarandus... what does that mean?” asked Ruffster. “Sounds like gibberish.”
“I think it’s a name,” said Suka slowly.
“A name?”
“Yes, I’ve seen words like that before. In one of my Boy’s books about animals. It’s called Latin. My Boy says it’s called the ‘scientific name’, like... sort of like your fancy name.”
“You mean, like my pedigree name?” asked Honey.
“No, it’s not your name—it’s the name of your kind. Like for all dogs. Or cats. Or horses. Or whatever. I saw the one for dogs; it’s Canis lupus familiaris.”
“Eh? Canny, loopy what?” said Ruffster.
Honey looked down at the note again. “So what’s the animal for this name?”
“I don’t know...” Suka sat up suddenly, her blue eyes bright with excitement. “But I know where we can find out!”
“Where?”
“The place where my Boy says you can find the answers to everything. Come on!” Suka sprang up and started towards one of the double doors at the end of the corridor.
“Where are we going?” Honey asked as they rushed to keep pace with her.
Suka gave a big Husky grin. “The school library.”
––––––––
THEY CREPT DOWN THE long, empty corridors, with Suka leading. She had been in the school before, when her Boy had brought her into class for Show & Tell, and she had no trouble finding her way around.
“I never realised schools were so creepy,” muttered Biscuit, looking around warily.
With the lights off and only the green glow from the “Emergency” signs above the double swing doors, the corridor was steeped in shadows. Posters with painted words and figures lined the wall on one side of the corridor. The other wall was interspersed with doors, each bearing a letter and a number. 4C. 5A. 6B... They were all shut, except one which showed an empty classroom filled with desks and a table by the blackboard.
“That’s my Boy’s classroom,” said Suka as they passed a door labelled 5B. She quickened her steps. “Come on! We’re almost there!”
At the end of that corridor Suka pushed through the double swing doors, but instead of continuing down the next corridor, she turned sharply to the right where a side corridor led off from the main one. It also ended in a set of double doors, this time with the letters L-I-B-R-A-R-Y stencilled in an arch across it.
Suka nudged the double doors with her nose. They didn’t budge. Honey came up next to her and shoved with her nose as well. The doors creaked slightly. Honey pushed again with all her might, digging her weight into her front paws and throwing her full 150 lbs forwards. There was a sucking sound and then, suddenly, the doors swung inwards with a whoosh!
Honey and Suka nearly fell into the library. Ruffster, Biscuit, and Tyson followed them hurriedly and the double doors swung shut behind them. Honey looked around. In the dim light, she could see books everywhere. Books in rows upon rows of shelves along the walls, books displayed on racks in the corners, books stacked haphazardly on a trolley by the door, books teetering in tall piles on the librarian’s desk. She had never seen so many books in one place in her life.
Ruffster looked around, his nose twitching. “There’s somethin’ in here...” he muttered, his hackles rising slightly. “I know that smell...”
Honey raised her own nose and sniffed the air. At first, all she could smell was a sweet, musty fragrance tinged with an oily, inky scent—the smell of books—but after a while, she realised that Ruffster was right. There was a faint odour of something familiar as well, but she couldn’t quite put her paw on it. She glanced at Biscuit. The Beagle had the best nose of any of them—there wasn’t a smell yet that he couldn’t identify. But Biscuit was busily snuffling in a pile of cushions in the corner, where children sat to read their books. Probably looking for dropped snacks and forgotten sweets...
“Come on, we haven’t got much time!” Suka called from the other side of the library.
They hurried over to join her, with Ruffster still sniffing the air and looking around uneasily.
Honey looked at the bookcases around them. “How are we ever going to find anything in here?”
“It’ll be in a book about animals,” said Suka confidently. She led the way amongst the bookcases until she came to a shelf filled with tall, hardback books. A label underneath the shelf said: ANIMALS.
Tyson dropped the note he’d been carrying and jumped up on his stubby hind legs, putting his front paws on the shelf and sniffing each of the spines.
Ruffster groaned. “It’ll take us all day to look through all o’ these.”
“Let’s start with this one,” said Suka, pawing at the spine of a thick book. It was wedged quite tightly, but it tilted slowly outwards under her persistent pawing. Finally, it flipped and thumped onto the floor. They all looked down at the glossy front cover. A picture of a parrot with a sapphire blue head and a bright orange chest looked back at them. Above the parrot were the words: Birds of the World.
Honey looked back at the shelf. There was a gap now, where the Birds book had been, and the other books sagged into the gap. She grasped one carefully by its spine with her front teeth and dragged it out, dropping it on the floor as well. This one said The Secret Life of Invertebrates and showed a picture of six hairy legs and two bulging eyes.
“Ugh,” said Ruffster. “I ain’t lookin’ through that one, mate.”
One by one, other dogs each dragged a book off the shelf and spread them open. Suka had spent hours with her Boy reading books and she showed them how to flip the pages by sliding their paws. Tyson nudged the note into the middle so they could all see the word they were looking for and, for a while, there was no sound but the snuffling of noses and the rifling of pages.
Honey went through hers slowly, her eyes widening in dismay at the huge tracts of words covering the pages. Her book seemed to have fewer pictures than the others. How was she ever going to find those two words, Rangifer tarandus, in the middle of this black jumble? She furrowed her brow, trying to concentrate, and didn’t notice that she was drooling until a long, slimy trail of white dangled down from her jowls and plopped onto the page.
Ticks.
Honey glanced hastily around. None of the other dogs had seen what happened yet. They were all engrossed in their own books. She leaned down and quickly tried to lick up the slobber, but all she managed to do was smear it even more across the page. The words were not only jumbled up now but a big, blurry mess. Honey moved her paw surreptitiously, flipping the page over to the next one. There was a squelching sound as the two previous pages stuck together. Her heart sank. This was going from bad to worse. She flipped the book shut, deciding that the secret life of invertebrates could include some secret drool in the pages too.
“I...I’m finished with that one,” she said quickly.
Suka sighed and sat back on her haunches. “I’m finished too. But Ruffster’s right. This is taking too long.” She thought for a moment then said, “I know! What we need is a special kind of book. An encyclopaedia!”
“I saw one of those when I was checking out the librarian’s desk,” Biscuit spoke up. “A big, thick one.”
They all trooped back to the front of the library and surrounded the librarian’s desk. There, at the very top of a pile of books that towered above their heads, was a big, thick volume with the words Encyclopaedia of Animals in gold letters along its spine.
And lying on top of it was the source of that faintly familiar smell.
A cat.
––––––––
IT WAS AN ENORMOUS, ginger feline with a wide face and bushy tail. The library cat.
“Oh!” Honey breathed in sharply and took a few hasty steps back, her eyes terrified. The strong tang of Kitty Odour filled her nostrils, making her skin prickle with dread. She ducked her head, embarrassed—no one could ever understand how a dog as big as she was could be scared of cats—but she couldn’t help herself.
Ruffster didn’t have any such fears. In fact, cat-chasing was his favourite hobby. His eyes popped out of his head as soon as he saw the cat and a fierce growl erupted in his throat. He rushed at the stack of books, lunging and barking and jumping in the air.
The cat at the top looked down at him disdainfully.
“Shhh! Ruffster, quiet!” hissed Suka, trying to shoulder him away. “You’ll bring all the humans running.”
“MANGY HAIRBALL-BRAIN!” yelled Ruffster as he was pushed away, his eyes still on the top of the stack. “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, YOU FAT FLEA BAG!”
The cat licked a paw, twitched its whiskers, and yawned.
Suka went up to him, wagging her tail hesitantly. “Um... we really need to look at that book you’re lying on. Can you just get off it for a minute?”
“No.”
“I can bring you a cushion to lie on,” offered Biscuit, eyeing the pile of cushions in the corner of the library.
“No.”
“This is really important,” pleaded Suka. “We just need to have a quick look.”
“No.”
Tyson growled. “Just shove him off.”
The cat turned its head and fixed Tyson with its yellow-eyed stare. Then, very deliberately, it unsheathed its claws and flexed them.
“Try.” The voice was a silky purr, but there was no doubting the menace behind it.
Honey shivered, staring at the sharp claws, and took another step back. She could feel drool dribbling from her jowls again. Stress drool.
“I ain’t scared of you!” snarled Ruffster, lunging at the stack of books again. “Get off that book! Move your fat kitty bum or you’ll be sorry!”
The cat looked calmly at Ruffster and flicked its tail. “Ask me nicely.”
Ruffster stopped in his tracks. The other dogs looked at him.
“Ruffster... just try to humour him,” whispered Suka.
Ruffster wrinkled his muzzle, looking like he had tasted something disgusting.
“Ruffster, please.”
Ruffster took a step back, then lowered his head and muttered through gritted teeth, “Can you get off the book, please?”
The cat smiled at Ruffster.
“No.”
“Aaaarrrggghhhh-grrrrrrrr!” Ruffster threw himself at the stack of books, snapping at the air. The cat hissed and lashed out with one paw. There was a yelp and Ruffster scrambled backwards. Honey saw three parallel red lines appear on Ruffster’s snout. He whimpered and pawed his nose, wincing in pain. The other dogs looked from him to the cat and took a step back, uncertain.
Honey paced around in desperation. Fighting and threats weren’t going to work. Then she had an idea. Maybe there was another way...
Steeling herself, she stepped up closer to the cat. It narrowed its eyes at her and hissed again, its claws extended and ready. Honey flinched, but she stood her ground. Then she gathered herself and shook her head as hard as she could. Her ears and jowls flapped crazily. Drool flew from her baggy lips in all directions.
“Miaaaaaaooooow!”
The cat reeled backwards as it was smacked in the face by a big gob of slimy saliva. It hissed and arched up, its tail like a brush. Yowling again, it pawed frantically at its face, but it was no match for Dane slobber. With another angry hiss, it leapt off the stack of books and shot out of sight.
“Honey! You did it!”
“What a brilliant idea!”
“Pawsome, mate!”
The other dogs barked in delight and jumped around as Honey carefully grabbed the thick spine of the encyclopaedia in her mouth and lifted it off the top of the stack. It was really heavy and her head nearly got yanked down by the weight of the book. She dropped it carefully on the floor by the librarian’s desk. It fell open at a page full of words again. There were a few pictures here and there, but it was mostly covered with letters. Honey stared at it in dismay—this was even worse than the book she had been looking at earlier!
Suka seemed undaunted, though. “It’s alphabetical,” she explained. “We just have to find R in the book and then we can look for our word.”
They watched as she nosed her way past H, K, M, O, and P then finally R. She spread her paws on the double pages and peered at the words.
“What’s the word again?” she asked.
Tyson pushed the note towards her with his nose. Suka looked at the scrap of paper, then back at the encyclopaedia, then at the note again, then back to the encyclopaedia.
“Here! Found it!” She jumped up, wagging her tail.
They crowded around her and read the entry:
Rangifer tarandus—the Latin name for “reindeer”—is a species of deer native to Arctic and Subarctic regions. Both sexes grow antlers and the different sub-species vary considerably in size and colour. Man has domesticated the reindeer and uses them for meat, hide, antlers, milk, and transportation. The reindeer is well known in folklore due to Santa Claus’s sleigh being pulled by flying reindeer and they are a popular icon of Christmas.
“Reindeer, huh?” said Ruffster.
“It’s a clue,” said Honey excitedly. “The note says: ‘look for... Rangifer tarandus’—which must mean, look for reindeer.”
“But we aren’t in the Arctic,” said Biscuit. “There aren’t any reindeer here.”
“Maybe it’s something to do with reindeer,” Honey suggested. “I don’t know... I think we just need to try and look.”
“So where do we start lookin’?” Ruffster asked eagerly.
“Most of the classrooms will be shut...” said Suka.
“Outside,” growled Tyson.
“Yes, I think Tyson’s right,” said Honey. “We should look outside. I remember Jones wearing heavy black boots that left wet marks on the floor when he brought the box to Olivia, so he must have come in from outside.”
Ruffster grabbed the note and trotted over to the library doors. Looking back over his shoulder at the other dogs, he barked, “C’mon, then! What are we waitin’ for?”
––––––––
IT HAD STARTED TO SNOW outside—a light, feathery snow that dusted the tops of their heads and tickled their noses as they walked through the school playground. The sun had nearly set and the light was fading fast; they had to squint to see through the hazy dusk. All around them, the playground equipment stood like the skeletons of metal monsters, frozen in time. It was eerily silent, except for the faint whisper of falling snow.
Biscuit was walking ahead, his nose to the ground with his tail waving briskly as he stopped, started, stopped again, ran in a circle, doubled back, then continued his weaving way across the playground. Honey didn’t know what he was tracking since none of them knew what a reindeer actually smelled like. If they were looking for a reindeer at all...
“I’m freezin’ my paws off,” Ruffster grumbled as he trotted next to her.
“Maybe we should go back,” Suka panted next to them. “The humans are probably looking for us by now. My Boy might be worried about me.”
Ahead of them, Biscuit suddenly stopped, one front paw raised. He turned his head from left to right, his nose twitching.
“Biscuit! Find somethin’?” Ruffster asked eagerly.
The Beagle didn’t answer, but dived towards the right, crawling under a snow-covered see-saw. The other dogs watched hopefully. A minute later, he wriggled back out and stood up, holding something in his mouth.
Honey’s ears dropped in disappointment. It was a wrinkled foil packet. The vinegary, salty smell of potato crisps wafted towards her.
“Biscuit!” Ruffster shook his ears in exasperation. “Thought you were lookin’ for the clue, mate!”
“I was,” said Biscuit defensively. “That could be a clue.”
Suka rolled her eyes while Tyson turned away in disgust. Honey sighed. She was beginning to think that Suka was right and they should return to the school hall when she froze, her eyes fixed on something in the distance.
“Wait—” She stretched up on tiptoes, craning her neck to get a better view. “Do you see that in the distance?”
The others tried to follow her gaze, but none of them was tall enough to see. Honey blinked, wondering if her eyes were deceiving her, but when she looked again, it was still there. Over the tops of the trees surrounding the playground, she could see a plume of smoke rising from a chimney next to a thatched roof. And on the sloping side of the roof were five figures. They had long, slender legs and sweeping antlers sprouting from their heads, and behind them on the roof was mounted a red sleigh.
“Santa’s reindeer,” breathed Honey.
“What? What do you see?” asked Ruffster, bouncing up and down in a vain effort to see.
“I think we’ve found the clue,” said Honey. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
She led the way around the trees surrounding the playground and into the grounds at the back of the school. As the bushes parted before them, a cottage came into sight. It had pale grey stone walls and a dark thatched roof which was just beginning to be covered by a fine layer of snow. Multi-coloured Christmas lights were strung from the cottage eaves and a wreath with a red ribbon hung from the doorway.
They looked up. They could see the reindeer clearly now—plastic models with brown spotted coats and legs crooked and raised, as if running, attached to a red plastic sleigh by a glittering harness. Four of the reindeer were placed in pairs and the fifth was at the front, its mouth open in a wide grin. They looked a bit old and faded, though. Honey could see the paint chipping and peeling from their plastic bodies and the lead reindeer seemed to have something wrong with its nose. In fact, now that she looked again, she could see that the Christmas lights on the cottage had several bulbs missing and the wreath looked quite limp and scraggly.
“What is this place?” whispered Ruffster, looking warily around them.
Honey followed his gaze and noticed the dark shapes in the garden around the cottage: a giant owl, a spiral pillar, an elephant with a raised trunk, a unicorn, a giant teapot, and something with scales and wings. All pruned from bushy leaves and branches.
Suka looked at the carefully trimmed hedgerow-dragon next to her. “This is where Jones lives.”
“We’ve got to look inside,” said Honey. “Maybe the child is trapped in there.”
She took a deep breath and started slinking towards the cottage. The others hesitated for a second, then followed her. Honey crept close to one of the front windows and tried to peer in, but it was set too high, even for a Great Dane.
“How about standin’ up on your hind legs?” suggested Ruffster.
Honey looked at the window doubtfully. It didn’t have an outer ledge so she would have nothing to hook her front paws on to. Would she be able to support her weight up there? Still, it was the only way she could have a chance of looking inside...
She took a step back, gathered herself and reared up, throwing her front paws out. They struck the side of the window, making a loud bang against the glass, and Honey scrabbled frantically to find some hold while she teetered on her hind legs. Her paws jammed against something—the edge of the windowsill—and she sagged in relief, letting her weight settle onto her front paws. She peered through the window...
A large room with dark wooden beams across the ceiling and an orange glow at the fireplace.
A faded sofa in one corner and an old wooden table at the other end.
And a little girl sitting at the table.
She was looking up—probably because she had heard the bang from the window—and now her big brown eyes stared in surprise at Honey through the glass pane.
Then Honey’s paws slipped.
“Oomph!” Honey lurched forwards, smacking her chin on the windowpane, and fell to the ground in a tangle of legs and paws.
“You all right, mate?” Ruffster hovered over her. “What did you see?”
“A little girl,” gasped Honey, struggling to get back to her feet. “There’s a little girl inside—“
There was a creak next to them. They all whipped around. The front door of the cottage swung open.
––––––––
THEY FROZE, EXPECTING Jones to come looming out of the doorway but what stepped out was hardly taller than Honey. It was the little girl.
“Oh!” She beamed in delight as she saw the dogs. “Hi!”
Honey and the other dogs looked at each other quizzically. Was this the trapped child prisoner? She looked so... happy. She clapped her hands and patted her knees, bending over and calling to them. Honey and her friends hesitated. Then they heard another voice calling.
“Suka! Suka!”
“That’s my Boy,” said Suka, pricking her ears and looking back towards the main school buildings. “He must have come looking for me.”
The next moment, a young boy emerged from between the hedgerow shapes. It was Suka’s Boy. His face lit up when he saw Suka and he rushed over to them.
“Suka! You naughty girl! I’ve been looking for you everywh—” He broke off as he saw the little girl standing next to the dogs. “Oh. Hullo.”
She smiled shyly. “Hello.”
“Are you... is this your house?”
“Yes. Well, actually, it’s my Grandpa’s house. But I’m staying with him.” She looked at him curiously. “Are these your dogs?”
“The Husky’s mine. Her name’s Suka. It means ‘fast’ in Eskimo. She’s really fast when she runs. Those are her friends. The big one’s called Honey—watch out, she drools an awful lot—and the Beagle’s called Biscuit; the little terrier there is called Tyson and this one’s called Ruffster. He’s a rescue mutt.”
“Wow.” The little girl’s eyes were envious. “I wish I could have a dog. But my mum and dad won’t let me. My Grandpa might... but I don’t usually live with him.”
“Where do you live?”
“In Oxford. We just moved there. But I’ve been staying with my Grandpa for the last few weeks. I’ve had glandular fever, you see. So I’ve had to miss school most of this term.” She smiled shyly again. “It’s been awfully lonely by myself in Grandpa’s cottage. All my friends are back in London. I don’t know anybody here. I was really glad to see the dogs. And... and you.”
Suka’s Boy grinned. “My name’s Tommy.”
“I’m Polly. Do... do you want to come in?” She held the front door open.
“Can the dogs come too?”
Polly hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, come on! My Grandpa’s not home anyway.”
They all trooped into the inviting warmth of the cottage. It was even more cosy than it had looked from the window. Honey hovered appreciatively by the crackling fire. She hadn’t realised how cold she had become standing outside. Now, her nose and paws were tingling.
“Hey, Honey! Come look at this!” Suka was standing by the old wooden table, peering at something on its surface. Tyson and Biscuit both hopped onto the chair by the table to look and Ruffster jumped up on his hind legs and put his paws on the edge of the table to see.
Honey walked over and stared. Scraps of paper covered the whole table, next to several books and a box of coloured pencils. The pieces of paper had black marks on them which looked familiar. Writing. She’d seen writing like that before.
“Holy liver treat, they... they’ve all got the same writin’ as the note we found!” said Ruffster.
He was right. Honey looked in bewilderment at the scraps of paper before her, each one displaying almost the same message:
SOME OF THEM HAD WORDS crossed out and written again. Some were written more clearly than others. Honey began to feel stupid as it dawned on her what the notes were. “She was practising... that’s why she wrote it so many times. These are all copies of the same letter.”
“Yes, a letter to Santa,” said Suka slowly. “My Boy’s done one of those too. He asked for a new football. But he had to copy it out in his best handwriting before my Boy’s Mother would post it.”
“Huh?” Ruffster looked lost. “But... I thought... what about the note askin’ for help?”
“That was just half the message. The scrap we got must have been from a copy that got torn in half and we only saw half the message. Look, see?” Honey nudged the note closest to her. They could see that if it was torn in half, the first part of each sentence would match the scrap of paper they’d found.
Honey hung her head, shamefaced. She’d always laughed at Suka for having an overactive imagination, but it was her own imagination that had taken them on a wild goose chase this time.
“But... but what about the clue?” insisted Ruffster. “The Latin name for reindeer?”
Honey looked at the piece of paper closest to her again. “Look—this one has some words written at the bottom too, under the message. See? Vulpes lagopus, Ursus maritimus... and here, Rangifer tarandus again...” Honey looked at the other scraps of paper on the table. Some of them had the same Latin words scribbled on them in the corners too.
“I think she was practising writing them too,” said Suka, her eyes going to a book lying open on the table. The title across the top of the page said Animals of the Arctic and several photos below showed various creatures wandering in a white wonderland.
Next to the book was an open notebook covered in childish handwriting. Sandwiched between the words were drawings that looked like the animals in the book. Honey recognised one of a reindeer with the words Rangifer tarandus carefully printed underneath in the same thin, squiggly writing. Next to it was a drawing of a big white bear with the words Ursus maritimus written next to it.
“It’s some kind of school work,” said Suka. “It looks like the stuff my Boy does sometimes. Like a school project. She was probably practising writing the words out on the scraps of paper before writing it properly in her notebook. The note that we found just happened to have Rangifer tarandus on it.”
Suddenly, they heard a loud rustling behind them. They turned back to see that Biscuit had climbed onto the middle of the wooden table and now had his head and shoulders deep inside a plastic bag.
“Biscuit!” Tommy ran over from across the room and yanked the Beagle out of the bag. He looked apologetically at Polly. “Sorry. He’s... he’s a bit of a pig, this one.”
“Oh, those are the Christmas treats my Grandpa bought,” said Polly. “I hope he hasn’t eaten them all. Some of them are supposed to be for the Christmas Fair tomorrow.”
“Hey... you know, I’ve been helping to decorate the school hall for the Christmas Fair,” said Tommy. “My mum’s probably wondering where I am now. D’you want to come back with me and help too?”
“Oh, can I?” Polly gave a delighted smile. “Yeah!”
The two children headed for the front door. Honey gave the scraps of paper on the table one last look, then turned to follow them. She had barely taken a few steps, however, when she heard a retching sound behind her. She turned to find Biscuit hunched over, gagging.
“Biscuit?”
Honey had seen Biscuit puke lots of times before. Regurgitating was a part of life when you were a dog. But this was different. Biscuit looked sick. He was panting and gasping and his tongue was lolling out. He heaved again and vomited a yellowish puddle onto the floor.
“Biscuit? What’s wrong?”
Honey rushed back to him. The others gathered close, nosing the shivering Beagle anxiously. Honey looked worriedly around, then her eyes fell on the plastic bag on the table.
“Is it something he ate? What was in that bag?” she asked.
Tyson jumped up onto the chair and climbed onto the table. He poked his nose into the bag and sniffed around, then drew his head out, his face grim.
“Chocolate,” growled Tyson. “Biscuit’s eaten chocolate.”
Honey’s heart lurched. Chocolate was poisonous to dogs. If they didn’t get help, Biscuit could die.
––––––––
“QUICK! DO SOMETHING!”
Suka started barking frantically and Ruffster and Tyson joined in. The children turned around in surprise, then their eyes widened as they saw Biscuit. They rushed back and knelt down next to him, stroking him and making worried noises, but they didn’t seem to realise what was wrong with him.
“This is no good,” said Honey, pacing on the spot. “Children probably don’t know about chocolate being poisonous to dogs. We have to get an adult human!”
She whirled towards the front door and was relieved to find it ajar. The children must have opened it. She pushed her way out. A blast of cold air hit her in the face as she stepped onto the garden path, but she didn’t hesitate. Blinking against the falling snow, she raced past the hedge creatures, across the playground, and back into the main school building. The empty corridors echoed with the pounding of her paws as she galloped past the classrooms and finally skidded to a stop by the double doors to the school hall.
One of the doors opened and Olivia poked her head out. “What’s that racket?” Her face brightened as she saw Honey. “Honey! Where have you been? Where are the others?”
Honey looked at her, panting and trying to catch her breath. Drool was foaming at her mouth and hanging in long strings from either side of her jowls. She whined and turned back the way she had come, hoping that Olivia would understand to follow her.
Instead, her human made a face and said, “Look at all that drool, Honey! Disgusting! Let me get something to wipe your mouth.” She disappeared back into the school hall.
No. No. No! There’s no time!
Honey hurried into the room after her human. There seemed to be even more people in the school hall now, the place buzzing with laughter and conversation. Music blared in the background, a man’s voice singing along to the chiming of sleigh bells. Honey looked wildly around. Olivia was nowhere to be seen, but several of the other humans had turned towards her with smiles on their faces.
“Oh, it’s Olivia’s Great Dane!”
“She’s enormous!”
“You could put a saddle on her... Ha! Ha!”
“Aw, she’s gorgeous. What’s her name?”
“Look at the size of those paws!”
Where was Olivia? Honey whined and paced around the crowd, searching for a familiar face. Maybe Suka’s Boy’s Mother... or Biscuit’s Missus... or Ruffster’s Guy... or anyone, she thought desperately, trying to catch the attention of any human in the room. Trying to get them to follow her. But they all just laughed and patted her and chattered to each other. Honey wanted to howl with frustration. Every minute that passed was a minute that Biscuit could be getting worse...
Then somebody blocked her way. She looked down and saw a pair of heavy, black boots. She recognised those boots. She raised her head, her heart sinking, as she looked up at an old man with grey hair and scowling face.
Jones.
Honey gulped and scrambled backwards, trying to get away, but he reached out one large hand and took hold of her collar in a firm grip. Honey whimpered and squirmed. No! No! Let me go!
“What’s wrong, pup?”
The voice was surprisingly gentle and Honey stopped struggling in bewilderment. She looked up at Jones again and was even more surprised to see the scowl gone, replaced by gentle concern in his black eyes. Hope rose in her chest. She whined again, softly, then turned her head towards the door.
Jones let go of her collar and took a step towards the door. “Show me.”
Honey had never run so fast in her life as she led the way back to Jones’s cottage. They burst through the front door to find the children and the other dogs crouched around Biscuit, who had collapsed on the floor. His eyes were glazed and he was still retching. Polly was crying and Tommy was frantically calling Biscuit’s name.
Jones took one look at the situation and scooped Biscuit up in his arms. “This dog needs to get to a vet.” His eyes swept the room and fell on the plastic bag on the table. “Polly—did he eat the chocolates I bought you?”
“I... I... I don’t know.” Polly hiccupped, wiping her eyes. She went over to look in the bag. “Yes, Grandpa... I think so.”
“Then we have no time to lose.”
He kicked the front door open and carried Biscuit out into the snowy night.
––––––––
THE SCHOOL HALL LOOKED amazing. Tinsel and fairy-lights festooned the ceiling, interspersed with garlands of silver stars and white snowflakes. Giant red and white stockings hung on the walls and holly leaves framed the doorway. The trestle tables in the corner were brimming with all sorts of Christmas goodies: mince pies glittering with sugar frosting, gingerbread cookies in a variety of shapes and sizes, chocolate pretzels and cinnamon cupcakes, and a darkly moist Christmas pudding, bursting with raisins.
All around the sides of the room were little tables where people had set up their stalls, selling things like home-made cakes, giant candy canes, knitted snowmen, and handmade Christmas cards. And in the pride of place in the centre of the room was the Christmas tree, glowing softly with dainty ornaments and sparkling baubles.
Honey sat by Olivia’s stall, where her human was taking photos of people in Santa hats, and looked around. It was heaving with people—talking, laughing, checking out the stalls, and humming along to the Christmas music playing in the background. Tommy and Polly were giggling next to the Christmas tree as they tried to pull a cracker, with Suka jumping around them, trying to help. Across the room from them, Honey could see Tyson lying with his head on his paws as he waited next to his people, who were doing face-painting for children.
“Any news, mate?”
Honey turned to see Ruffster standing next to her. In the stall, she could hear squealing and laughter as Ruffster’s Guy put on a Santa hat and made funny faces at Olivia.
She shook her head. “No. But I think he’s OK. I heard Olivia talking to Tyson’s folks earlier. They said—”
There was a commotion at the door and Honey turned eagerly. Jones walked through, followed by Biscuit’s Missus. And in Jones’s arms was Biscuit himself. Everybody cheered as Jones set the Beagle down onto the floor. He might have looked a bit subdued and his podgy tummy might have been a bit smaller, but otherwise he looked like the same old Biscuit. The same old Biscuit who immediately raised his head, his nose twitching, as he eyed the trestle table crammed with food.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Biscuit’s Missus said firmly as she shooed him away. “No more Christmas treats for you!”
Honey and the other dogs hurried across the room to greet their friend.
“Biscuit!”
“How’re you feelin’, mate?”
“What did the vet do?”
Biscuit made a face. “He made me eat this black stuff. Charcoal. It sticks to all the poisons in the stomach. And he made me puke. Lots.” He flattened his ears and added in a small voice, “He said I could have died—I was lucky I got to the vet hospital so quickly.”
“Ya got to thank Honey for that,” growled Tyson
“And Jones,” said Honey, looking across the room to where the old man was talking to Polly and Tommy. She felt ashamed for growling at him now. “He saved Biscuit’s life. I shouldn’t have jumped to think bad things about him the first time I met him.”
As if he knew that they were talking about him, Jones looked up and smiled at the dogs. He patted his knees and called to them—and they all went over to join him and the children by the Christmas tree. Polly bent down to pat Biscuit, but stopped as her foot knocked against something on the floor. She looked down. The dogs all looked down. It was the strange bauble. It had been forgotten in the hall yesterday and must have rolled under the tree.
“Oh!” Polly stooped down to pick up the faded red ball. “I thought this was lost!” She turned to Jones. “Look, Grandpa! How did this end up here?”
“What is it?” asked Tommy.
Polly smiled at him. “It’s Rudolph’s nose. From our roof. Rudolph’s the reindeer at the front of the sleigh. His nose broke off and Grandpa was going to get some special glue to fix it back on, but then he got busy fetching the decorations for the school tree.”
“I thought I left it on the table in the cottage,” said Jones, frowning. “What is it doing here?”
Because it got put into the box of decorations by mistake, thought Honey. She sighed as she realised the truth. “The whole thing was a mistake,” she said, sitting back on her haunches. “That scrap of paper—the torn half of the note—must have gotten stuck in the hole on the side of the red nose when it was on the table. And then the nose got put into the box and brought here, where Olivia found it... and I thought it was a strange bauble with a hidden message. It wasn’t a bauble at all... or a secret message either.”
“So the clue was just a mistake too?” demanded Ruffster. “It didn’t mean anythin’ at all?” He groaned. “Festerin’ fleas, so I got scratched by some Psycho Kitty for nothin’?”
Honey thought back to the message on the note again. “I wish I could find a new friend.” Then she looked up at Polly who was talking and laughing with Tommy. She wagged her tail at the other dogs.
“No, it wasn’t for nothing,” she said. “I think we helped make a Christmas wish come true.”
––––––––
THE END
