Werepuppy and the Werepuppy on Holiday Read online

  Wolfie went scampering across the kitchen and straight out the door.

  ‘Come back!’ Micky shouted, picking himself up and starting to run.

  Wolfie stayed. There was a sudden savage growl and a heavy thud as Wolfie pounced on something.

  ‘Oh goodness,’ said Micky, charging into the living-room.

  Wolfie was violently attacking a large sheep, going straight for its throat. He growled excitedly but the sheep didn’t even emit one baa. Micky blinked and realised it was only the furry hearth-rug. He breathed a shuddering sigh of relief – and then gasped again as Wolfie ripped the rug into ribbons.

  ‘No! Stop it, you awful animal! That’s Mum’s and she’ll be so cross. She’ll send you back to that shelter, you silly dog. Oh please, Wolfie, do try to see sense.’

  The moon suddenly went behind the clouds again. Wolfie couldn’t see anything, let alone sense. He coughed in a confused manner. Micky felt his way to the wall and switched on the light. The hearth-rug was in shreds. Wolfie whimpered amongst the strands of wool, furry balls caught in his sharp little claws. His fur was dark grey again, although covered in a positive cardi of white wool. His eyes had lost their golden glint. They were a clear amber and they clouded with fear as Micky marched up to him.

  ‘Yes, you’ve been very very bad,’ said Micky. ‘But don’t look so worried. I know you couldn’t help it. Not really, anyway. But you’re going to have to learn somehow or other. Now, how about helping me clear up some of this mess, eh?’

  Wolfle trotted about as helpfully as he could, but he simply trod milk and sugar all over the carpet and spread the woolly balls back into the kitchen. Micky wasn’tmuch more successful either, though he did as much mopping and sweeping as he could. He was tired out by the time he’d finished trying to set the rooms to rights.

  ‘It’s bedtime now. You in your bed here. Me in mine upstairs,’ said Micky.

  Wolfie shook his head determinedly. He leant against Micky, whimpering winningly.

  ‘You can’t come upstairs with me. Mum’s going to kill me as it is,’ said Micky. ‘So it looks as if I’ll have to snuggle up somehow with you, Wolfie, doesn’t it?’

  Micky climbed resolutely inside the cardboard box, hunching up on the blanket, his knees digging into his chin. Wolfie jumped in readily enough, panting happily.

  ‘Don’tbreathe rightin my face, Wolfie, it tickles,’ said Micky.

  Wolfie licked instead.

  ‘Old slobbery! Now come on, we’ve got to go to sleep,’ said Micky, glancing up at the window, hoping the moon stayed well hidden. He put his arms firmly round Wolfie and they both shut their eyes and went to sleep at last.

  7…

  They were woken by Mum’s screams in the living-room when she came downstairs in the morning and saw the shredded state of her hearth-rug.

  Micky crawled out of the cardboard box. Wolfie bounced out, not in the least concerned.

  ‘Micky!’ Mum shrieked.

  ‘We’re in here, Mum,’ Micky mumbled.

  Mum came rushing into the kitchen. She pulled up short when she saw the state it was in. She went as white as the spilled milk.

  ‘I’m dreaming,’ she croaked. ‘Please let me be dreaming. First my lovely hearth-rug — ’

  ‘Perhaps we could sew it together again?’ Micky suggested in a small voice.

  ‘Ha! And now look at this chaos! Tell me this is all a terrible nightmare and any minute I’m going to wake up and find we never took that wicked grey mutt into our house. Take him out of my sight, Micky, before I lose all control and shove him in a saucepan and serve scrambled dog for breakfast.’

  ‘Yes, Mum. Sorry, Mum. And Wolfie’s sorry too,’ said Micky, trying to grab hold of him.

  ‘Oh yes, he looks sorry, doesn’t he? He’s running around with a great grin on his face,’ said Mum. ‘Micky? Why are you all bent over? What’s happened to your back and your legs? Micky, I think I’d better call the doctor.’ Mum’s voice was starting to get shrill.

  ‘It’s OK, Mum. I’m just a bit stiff. I spent the night curled up with Wolfie, you see.’

  ‘I told you not to take him into your bed!’ Mum shouted, her concern congealing.

  ‘I didn’t!’ said Micky indignantly, lumbering about. ‘I slept in Wolfie’s bed. You didn’t ever forbid me to do that. So it seemed like a good idea. At the time.’

  ‘Oh, Micky. You silly litde boy. You slept the entire night in a cardboard box?’ said Mum.

  ‘Well, some of the time I was awake.’

  ‘Micky! Go and have a hot bath this minute. That’ll ease some of the stiffness. And you’d better bath that bad puppy too, look at him, he’s rolling in the milk! Go on, both of you. Shoo!’

  The bent-over boy and the milkshake puppy disappeared. They returned in half an hour, upright and thoroughly scrubbed, surrounded by several aggravated sisters.

  ‘Mum, it’snotfair, itwas my turn in the bathroom and Micky hogged it, and then when they came out at last Meryl jumped in front of me!’

  ‘And I wish I hadn’t because there were foul grey dog hairs all over the bath. Mum, he mustn’t ever take that puppy in the bath like that, it’s positively disgusting and we’ll probably all end up with rabies.’

  ‘I think I’ve got rabies already. My bite’s still ever so sore. I think that stupid puppy should be put to sleep.’

  ‘I wish he’d slept a bit last night. All that scrabbling and howling! Couldn’t you shut him up, Micky?’

  ‘You can all shut up for the moment and eat some breakfast,’ said Mum. ‘Come on, you’re all going to be late for school.’

  Dad was rushing round too, in his suit and his socks. He was holding one shoe in his hand and he looked distracted.

  ‘Why don’t you put your shoes on, dear?’ said Mum.

  ‘How can I put my wretched shoes on when that daft dog’s chewed this one to a pulp?’ Dad shouted. ‘What are you playing at, Micky? I thought you could keep him under control?’

  ‘Sorry, Dad. I think he’s teething.’

  ‘Well, I hope he’s not getting any more teeth,’ said Dad. ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘Um. He was here just a minute ago,’ said Micky.

  ‘You’ve got to keep your eye on him!’ said Dad.

  Micky heard a proud little woof out in the hall. He ran to investigate. The morning paper was on the doormat. And Wolfie had performed right on top of it.

  ‘My paper!’ Dad bellowed.

  ‘Well, you told him what to do, Dad. He’s only trying to do as he’s told. He’s not to know it’s the newspaper that you haven’t read yet,’ said Micky.

  ‘Don’t you take that tone of voice with me, Mr Smarty-Pants,’ said Dad, and he brandished the chewed shoe as if he was going to use it to spank Micky.

  Wolfie growled. Micky caught his breath. But then he looked Dad straight in the eyes and saw he wasn’t being serious. Micky laughed, a little too loudly. Wolfie barked. And Dad gave them both a pat on the head and went off to work in his chewed shoe, minus his newspaper.

  Meryl and Mandy and Mona went to school, some of them still unwashed. And Mum took Micky and Marigold to school.

  ‘ButwhataboutWolfie?’ Micky said. ‘Oh, Mum, I don’t think I can go to school. Not just yet. Not till Wolfie’s a bit bigger.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Micky. I’ll lookafter him foryou.’

  ‘Actually, Mum, I don’t feel very well. I still feel stiff. Ever so. I don’t think I’ll be able to put my head up to see the blackboard. Maybe I’d better stay home just for today,’ said Micky, contorting himself into a weird hunch.

  ‘Micky! Stop playing up. Run into school now. Don’t forget your moon picture for Miss Monk.’

  Micky gave Wolfie many passionate hugs and kisses. Wolfie nuzzled him pathetically, whimpering.

  ‘Oh, Mum! I can’t go. Wolfie needs me!’

  Micky found that he needed Wolfie too. He felt so little and lost without him. He kept reaching out for Wolfie and then finding he was patti