Paws and Whiskers Read online

  No dog sends that signal unless the need is desperate. And no dog who hears it ever fails to respond.

  Within a few minutes, the news of the stolen puppies was travelling across England, and every dog who heard at once turned detective. Dogs living in London’s Underworld (hard-bitten characters; also hard-biting) set out to explore sinister alleys where dog thieves lurk. Dogs in Pet Shops hastened to make quite sure all puppies offered for sale were not Dalmatians in disguise. And dogs who could do nothing else swiftly handed on the news, spreading it through London and on through the suburbs, and on, on to the open country: ‘Help! Help! Help! Fifteen Dalmatian puppies stolen. Send news to Pongo and Missis Pongo, of Regent’s Park, London. End of Message.’

  Pongo and Missis hoped all this would be happening. But all they really knew was that they had made contact with the dogs near enough to answer them, and that these dogs would be standing by, at twilight the next evening, to relay any news that had come along.

  One Great Dane, over towards Hampstead, was particularly encouraging.

  ‘I have a chain of friends all over England,’ he said, in his great, booming bark. ‘And I will be on duty day and night. Courage, courage, O Dogs of Regent’s Park!’

  It was almost dark now. And the Dearlys were suggesting – very gently – that they should be taken home. So after a few last words, ‘What about coming home, boy?’ For the first time in his life, Pongo jerked his head from Mr Dearly’s hand, then went on standing stock still. And at last the Great Dane spoke again, booming triumphantly through the gathering dusk.

  ‘Calling Pongo and Missis Pongo. News! News at last! Stand by to receive details.’

  A most wonderful thing had happened. Just as the Great Dane had been about to sign off, a Pomeranian with a piercing yap had got through to him. She had heard it from a Poodle who had heard it from a Boxer who had heard it from a Pekinese. Dogs of almost every known breed had helped to carry the news – and a great many dogs of unknown breed (none the worse for that and all of them bright as buttons). In all, four hundred and eighty dogs had relayed the message, which had travelled over sixty miles as the dog barks. Each dog had given the ‘Urgent’ signal, which had silenced all gossiping dogs. Not that many dogs were merely gossiping that night; almost all the Twilight Barking had been about the missing puppies.

  This was the strange story that now came through to Pongo and Missis: some hours earlier, an elderly English Sheepdog, living on a farm in a remote Suffolk village, had gone for an afternoon amble. He knew all about the missing puppies and had just been discussing them with the tabby cat at the farm. She was a great friend of his.

  Some little way from the village, on a lonely heath, was an old house completely surrounded by an unusually high wall. Two brothers named Saul and Jasper Baddun lived there, but were merely caretakers for the real owner. The place had an evil reputation – no local dog would have dreamed of putting its nose inside the tall iron gates. In any case, these gates were always kept locked.

  It so happened that the Sheepdog’s walk took him past this house. He quickened his pace, having no wish to meet either of the Badduns. And at that moment, something came sailing out over the high wall.

  It was a bone, the Sheepdog saw with pleasure; but not a bone with meat on it, he noted with disgust. It was an old, dry bone, and on it were some peculiar scratches. The scratches formed letters. And the letters were S.O.S.

  Someone was asking for help! Someone behind the tall wall and the high, chained gates! The Sheepdog barked a low, curious bark. He was answered by a high, shrill bark. Then he heard a yelp, as if some dog had been cuffed. The Sheepdog barked again, saying: ‘I’ll do all I can.’ Then he picked up the bone in his teeth and raced back to the farm.

  Once home, he showed the bone to the tabby cat and asked her help. Then, together, they hurried to the lonely house. At the back, they found a tree whose branches reached over the wall. The cat climbed the tree, went along its branches, and then leapt to a tree the other side of the wall.

  ‘Take care of yourself,’ barked the Sheepdog. ‘Remember those Baddun brothers are villains.’

  The cat clawed her way down, backwards, to the ground, then hurried through the overgrown shrubbery. Soon she came to an old brick wall which enclosed a stable-yard. From behind the wall came whimperings and snufflings. She leapt to the top of the wall and looked down.

  The next second, one of the Baddun brothers saw her and threw a stone at her. She dodged it, jumped from the wall and ran for her life. In two minutes she was safely back with the Sheepdog.

  ‘They’re there!’ she said triumphantly. ‘The place is seething with Dalmatian puppies!’

  The Sheepdog was a formidable Twilight Barker. Tonight, with the most important news in Dogdom to send out, he surpassed himself. And so the message travelled, by way of farm dogs and house dogs, great dogs and small dogs. Sometimes a bark would carry half a mile or more, sometimes it would only need to carry a few yards. One sharp-eared Cairn saved the chain from breaking by picking up a bark from nearly a mile away, and then almost bursting herself getting it on to the dog next door. Across miles and miles of country, across miles and miles of suburbs, across a network of London streets the chain held firm; from the depths of Suffolk to the top of Primrose Hill – where Pongo and Missis, still as statues, stood listening, listening.

  ‘Puppies found in lonely house. S.O.S. on old bone–’ Missis could not take it all in. But Pongo missed nothing. There were instructions on reaching the village, suggestions for the journey, offers of hospitality on the way. And the dog chain was standing by to take a message back to the pups – the Sheepdog would bark it over the wall in the dead of night.

  At first Missis was too excited to think of anything to say, but Pongo barked clearly: ‘Tell them we’re coming! Tell them we start tonight! Tell them to be brave!’

  Then Missis found her voice: ‘Give them all our love! Tell Patch to take care of Cadpig! Tell Lucky not to be too daring! Tell Roly Poly to keep out of mischief!’ She would have sent a message to every one of the fifteen pups if Pongo had not whispered: ‘That’s enough, dear. We mustn’t make it too complicated. Let the Great Dane start work now.’

  So they signed off and there was a sudden silence. And then, though not quite so loudly, they heard the Great Dane again. But this time he was not barking towards them. What they heard was their message, starting on its way to Suffolk.

  JUST WILLIAM

  by Richmal Crompton

  I’ve always loved reading aloud. When my daughter Emma could easily read for herself, we still carried on our special reading-aloud sessions, working our way through many wonderful children’s classics. The William books were always a great success. They’re a joy to read aloud because they’re so funny – William’s speeches are all fantastic. I pride myself on my eleven-year-old boy impersonation!

  The following chapter is the memorable story of how William acquires his dog Jumble – an animal with almost as much personality as his owner.

  JUST WILLIAM

  Jumble

  William’s father carefully placed the bow and arrow at the back of the library cupboard, then closed the cupboard door and locked it in grim silence. William’s eyes, large, reproachful, and gloomy, followed every movement.

  ‘Three windows and Mrs Clive’s cat all in one morning,’ began Mr Brown sternly.

  ‘I didn’t mean to hit that cat,’ said William earnestly. ‘I didn’t – honest. I wouldn’t go round teasin’ cats. They get so mad at you, cats do. It jus’ got in the way. I couldn’t stop shootin’ in time. An’ I didn’t mean to break those windows. I wasn’t tryin’ to hit them. I’ve not hit anything I was trying to hit yet,’ he said wistfully. ‘I’ve not got into it. It’s jus’ a knack. It jus’ wants practice.’

  Mr Brown pocketed the key.

  ‘It’s a knack you aren’t likely to acquire by practice on this instrument,’ he said drily.

  William wandered out into the garden and