by Duncan Ball
Meanwhile Willy and Billy had finished their lunch and were running round the Trifles’ house. ‘Where’s that stinky doggy? ‘Willy yelled.
‘If you mean Selby,’ Mrs Trifle said, ‘I don’t know. He does have a way of disappearing just before you boys appear. Sometimes I think he knows you’re coming.’
‘Look!’ Billy screamed as Dr Trifle came through the door. ‘It’s a Easter … a Easter …’
‘An Easter bunny,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Only this one came out a bit wonky.’
‘It looks like a doggy! ‘Willy screeched. ‘Can we eat him? Can we? Can we? Can we?’
‘Settle down,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Take the bunny out to the backyard and you may each have a bit. I don’t want you eating too much or you’ll make yourselves sick. And don’t make a mess — do you hear?’
‘Yes, Auntie,’ the boys both said at once.
Selby looked out through the eye holes as Willy and Billy carried him away.
‘How am I going to get out of here without anyone noticing?’ he thought. ‘What am I saying? How am I going to get out of here at all!’
For the next few minutes, Selby could feel bits of chocolate being broken off him.
‘Eat more, kids,’ he thought. ‘Come on.’
‘Hey, Willy,’ Billy said. ‘Do bunnies have tails?’
‘Of course they do, Billy.’
‘I know that, Willy, but do they have big long ones? Cos this one has a big long tail.’
‘That’s not a tail, dummy.’
‘Yes, it is! It’s coming out of his bum, see? And don’t call me a dummy, you stupid-head!’
‘I’m going to kill you, you stink-face!’
‘And I’m going to kill you, too, dumbo!’
Selby listened as Willy and Billy chased each other all around the backyard. And as they did, he could feel his chocolate coating getting softer and softer in the sun. He took a deep breath and then let it out again.
‘It’s no good. The chocolate won’t break. It’s still too hard. I’ll just have to wait till it melts some more.’
‘Hey, Billy! ‘Willy said. ‘Let’s push the bunny in the pool.’
‘Okay, Willy.’
Willy and Billy dragged Selby towards the swimming pool.
‘They’re going to drown me!’ Selby thought. ‘I’ve got to get out of here!’ He started yelling. ‘Let me go, you brats! Don’t you dare throw me in the pool!’
With Selby right at the edge of the pool, Willy and Billy suddenly stopped.
‘Do Easter bunnies talk, Willy?’
‘No.’
‘This one talked, Willy.’
‘Did not.’
‘Did so.’
‘Didn’t!’ ‘Did!’
‘You’re stupid!’ Willy screamed.
‘No, I’m not! You are!’ Billy screamed back.
Just then Selby took his deepest breath ever, breaking the chocolate around him into hundreds of pieces. Willy and Billy stopped screaming.
‘It’s the dog!’ Willy cried. ‘It’s him! Auntie! Come quick!’
‘What are you boys talking about?’ Mrs Trifle said, walking out into the yard. ‘Look at the mess you’ve made! You’ve spread chocolate all over the yard! And you promised you wouldn’t!’
‘We didn’t do it, Auntie — it was him! ‘Willy said, pointing to Selby.
‘And look what you’ve done to poor Selby! You’ve put chocolate all through his fur. That was cruel!’
‘It’s not my fault! ‘Willy bawled.
‘I didn’t do it!’ Billy cried. ‘The doggy did it! He was in the chocolate! Honest!’
‘You’re very naughty boys,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘I’m going to ring your mother right now and she can come and take you home.’
‘Isn’t life wonderful?’ Selby thought. ‘The brats got the blame for something they didn’t even do for a change.’ He wandered over to a bush and settled down for a well-earned nap. ‘Mrs Trifle was right. Chocolate is dangerous for dogs — well, it was for this dog, anyway.’
Paw note: It’s true. Never give your dog or cat chocolate.
S
Paw note: See the first story, ‘Selby’s Secret', in the book Selby’s Secret.
S
The Shemozzle Bird
Of all the birds of which I’ve heard,
The worst is the Shemozzle Bird.
Even scientists confess —
This bird is a disgusting mess!
Its head is bald, its feathers tatty,
Everything about it’s ratty,
It picks up garbage all day long,
While giving off an awful pong.
It fills its nest with vile scum,
Like chunks of spat-out chewing gum,
A rotting fish, some hair, a caper,
And even pre-owned toilet paper.
Most birdies like to sing and chirp,
But this one likes to sit and burp.
While other birds have gone extinct,
Forget the ex — this bird just stinks.
So if you ever hear its cry
Above you on a branch nearby,
Don’t stick around, don’t hang about,
And don’t look up — just get out!
Sylvia’s Secret
‘That must be a very funny book,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘You’ve been giggling away for ages.’
‘It is,’ Mrs Trifle said, wiping away her tears. ‘It’s a children’s book called Sylvia’s Secret. It’s about a cat that can talk but she’s keeping it a secret.’
Selby’s ears shot up.
‘It sounds a bit like those books about what’s-his-name, the talking dog,’ Dr Trifle said.
‘More than just a bit,’ Selby thought. ‘Sylvia’s Secret sounds exactly like the books about me!’
‘Only this cat lives with the author and talks to her all the time,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘That’s what she claims, anyway.’
‘Hmmm,’ Dr Trifle hmmmed. ‘So why are you reading it?’
‘Because the author of the book, Fiona Fullstop, has asked me to launch it.’
‘Launch it? Will it float?’
‘No, no — a launch is just a party they have when a book is published. This launch is going to be at the Bogusville Bijou Theatre and I’ve been asked to talk about the book.’
‘I’ve never heard of the author.’
‘She lives in the city, but she came to Bogusville once and loved it. She said that we’re warm and friendly people.’
‘Well, that’s true.’
‘There are going to be newspaper, radio and TV people from all around the world at the launch because Fiona is going to bring her talking cat with her.’
‘She is?’ Selby thought. ‘A real talking cat?’
‘She is?’ Dr Trifle asked. ‘Is that possible?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Mrs Trifle. ‘I suspect she just said it to get the press to come along. When the cat doesn’t talk Fiona will say that Sylvia is just too shy today. She’ll say, “What’s wrong, Sylvia, has the cat got your tongue?” and make a joke of it.’
‘Or maybe,’ Dr Trifle added, ‘she’ll say that Sylvia can’t talk right now because her throat’s sore from talking too much.’
‘It doesn’t really matter,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘It’s just a bit of harmless fun to get publicity for the book.’
As soon as the Trifles were out of the house, Selby picked up the copy of Sylvia’s Secret.
‘Harmless fun, my paw,’ he thought. ‘The woman’s a copier. And that cat is a copycat cat. She’s just trying to get the kids to read her books instead of mine!’
Selby opened the book to a scribbly page at the beginning. It said:
Hi, my gorgeous and cute little readers. Guess who is writing these words? It’s me, and — would you believe it? — I’m a cat! A real, live honest-to-goodness talking and reading and writing cat. My owner, the wonderful and beautiful Fiona, and I have been keeping it a secret that I know how to talk. I tell her my st
ories and she writes them down. But you’re allowed to know — just you.
I’ve had lots of great adventures and they’re all in this book. But my best times are when Fiona makes me my favourite food — prawns cooked with cashew nuts — and we just sit around watching DVDs and talking. Happy reading from your favourite little kitty witty, Sylvia.
‘What a rip-off!’ Selby said. ‘And I’ll bet the stories are rubbish. They’re just made-up stories, not like my real ones.’
Selby read the first story. In it Sylvia went on a bus trip by herself wearing her disguise, a cat suit.
‘That was a good one,’ Selby admitted. ‘I liked the bit where someone stepped on the tail of the cat suit and it ripped open and nearly gave away her secret.’
In the next story Sylvia drove a tank and almost started a war. And in the third one Sylvia took cooking lessons but she burnt the toast and the building caught fire.
‘Hey, that last one was really funny. I loved the way she had them throw custard pies on the fire to put it out. This little kitty witty is a very witty little kitty. The book may be a rip-off but at least it’s a good rip-off.’
Selby read on till he’d finished the book.
‘The best story of all,’ he thought, ‘was the one where she feels lonely and she falls in love with another cat — only it turns out to be a robot cat. Poor Sylvia. That really made my little heart go pitter-patter. She sounds lovely.’
Selby lay there trying to imagine what it would be like if Sylvia lived with him and the Trifles.
‘We could keep it a secret and only talk when they were out of the house,’ he thought, ‘or when we went on long walks together. And we could listen to my The Screaming Mimis CD and watch the DVD of Hearthwarm Heath. Hey, and I could teach her salsa dancing! It’s so sad that she’s not real.’ Selby blinked back a tear as he looked at the cartoon picture of Sylvia on the cover of the book.
He puckered up and gave her a big kiss.
‘Now, hang on!’ he thought. ‘Why do I think she can’t be a real talking cat? I mean, I’m a real talking dog. Oh, Sylvia, I’ve got to know if you’re real!’
* * *
It was a light-footed dog that tiptoed into the back of the Bogusville Bijou Theatre and hid behind a rack of clothes in the dressing room. Sitting in front of a mirror was a blonde woman powdering her cheeks.
‘That’s her!’ Selby thought. ‘That’s Fiona Fullstop, the author. She’s not nearly as pretty as the picture in the book, but I can still tell it’s her. So where is Sylvia?’
Sitting next to Fiona was a short, plump woman.
‘Are you nervous?’ the woman asked.
‘Of course I’m nervous, Davina. I hate these things. I’m a writer, not a talker. By the way, where is everyone?’
‘Most of Bogusville is out there and the mayor is on her way.’
‘Forget them — I want TV cameras! I want reporters from newspapers and magazines from around the world! This should be huge!’
‘Well, we do have a reporter from the Bogusville Banner.‘
‘The Bogusville Banner?!’ Fiona cried. ‘I’ve never heard of the Bogusville Banner!’
‘And there’s someone from Radio OK4U.’
‘Radio OK4U? Is that a joke? I’m about to show off a real talking cat! The whole world should be here! What kind of a shemozzle is this?’
‘I’m sorry, Fiona, but I did tell them. Maybe they just didn’t believe it.’
‘WHAAAAATTTT?’ Fiona Fullstop shrieked. ‘Are they calling me a liar? You believe me, don’t you?’
‘Well, yes, of course. I do love your book. It’s just that … you know … I’ve never actually heard Sylvia speak. No one’s ever heard her except you. And, quite frankly, some people think you just got the idea from the books about Selby, the talking dog.’
‘Selby? But he’s just a made-up dog!’ Fiona cried. ‘A dog could never talk! Dogs are stupid. Cats are smart.’
‘I could tell you a thing or two,’ Selby thought. ‘Now where is this Sylvia? Where are you hiding her?’
‘Don’t you worry, Davina,’ Fiona said, ‘Sylvia will talk today — although she is feeling a bit low. And her throat is very sore from talking so much recently. By the way, where have you put her?’
‘She’s just in the next room.’
Selby crept out from between the hanging clothes and into the room next door, quietly closing the door.
‘What an awful woman! Hey, there’s Sylvia,’ he thought, seeing the small cat box on the floor. ‘She’s gorgeous! Such silky fur and what a delicate face. And those big eyes. Just looking at her makes my legs go all rubbery. I’ve got to make sure I don’t scare her.’
Selby moved closer to the cat box.
‘Hi, Sylvia,’ he whispered. ‘Please don’t be frightened. I’m not going to hurt you. I think you know me — my name is Selby. You’ve read the books about me, haven’t you?’
Sylvia stood up and rubbed against the bars of the cage. Selby could feel his heart beating faster at the sound of Sylvia’s purring.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not a trick dog or a robot like the one in your book. I’m the real thing,’ he said. ‘You understand me, don’t you? Here, have a sniff and you’ll know I’m not just a toy.’
Selby pressed his face against the bars. Sylvia purred louder and then gave him a big lick that sent shivers up his spine.
‘Oh, you are sooooooo gorgeous,’ Selby sighed. ‘I’ve read Sylvia’s Secret. It’s a wonderful book. I just loved everything about it. By the time I finished reading it, I knew that it was all true and that you were a real talking cat. I just had to find you.’
Selby pushed against the bars again and felt the warmth of Sylvia’s soft fur. He thought of the times he and Sylvia would have together, talking and laughing together and comparing peanut prawns and cashew prawns.
‘I’ve never had cashew prawns,’ Selby said, ‘but if you like them I know I’ll love them. Have you ever tried peanut prawns?’
Selby waited for an answer, but Sylvia was silent.
‘Trust me, Sylvia,’ he said. ‘And let me warn you about talking to everyone here today. It could be the biggest mistake you ever make. I haven’t told anyone about my secret because I’m afraid that if it gets out it would ruin my life forever. I think you ought to think very carefully about this too.’
Another tingle went through him as Sylvia’s eyes met his.
‘People with cameras will be poking them in the windows of your house,’ Selby warned. ‘They’ll be knocking on your door in the middle of the night to get your autograph. And you’ll have to be very careful that no one catnaps you.’
Sylvia sat staring silently at Selby. She opened her mouth, as if about to speak, only to close it again.
‘I know it’s hard when you’ve only ever talked to Fiona,’ said Selby, ‘but you can trust me. Honest. And I’ve got a plan, Sylv. I’m going to open your cage and we will go away together. What do you think?’
‘Miaow.’
‘Oh Sylvie, Sylvie, Sylvie,’ Selby pleaded. ‘Please don’t do this to me. We can both speak our own languages — we know that. But if we’re going to make this friendship work, we’ll have to talk people-talk. Say something. Give me a sign, any sign.’
‘Miaow miaow,’ Sylvia miaowed, this time more softly than ever.
Selby felt his legs begin to buckle under him as he looked at the beautiful creature in front of him. Then suddenly he remembered when he’d fallen in love with Lulu and how he’d been fooled by a robot. And he remembered the disaster that happened when he fell in love with the famous actress Bonnie Blake. And then the disappointment when he fell in love with the beautiful Afghan Equity.
Suddenly Selby straightened up.
‘Okay, Sylvia, I can see you’re not going to talk to me. Maybe you don’t trust me or maybe you’re shy. Or maybe your throat is too sore from lots of talking. But I have to know if you can understand me, so I’m going to tell you a joke. If you understand it, you
’ll laugh. You won’t be able to stop yourself. Here goes … Okay, so there was this elephant and this mouse walking along the street one day and …’
Selby went on and on telling his killer joke to Sylvia. Finally he got to the punchline.
‘Then, with a twinkle in his eye the elephant said to the mouse …’ Selby stopped and looked at Sylvia. ‘Are you ready for this?’ he asked.
‘Yes, of course. Keep going,’ a voice said.
Selby looked down at Sylvia in amazement, but before he could say anything, a voice behind him said, ‘Well, go ahead!’
Selby spun around to see the two women standing in the doorway.
‘I don’t believe it!’ Fiona cried. ‘A real, live talking animal!’
‘I don’t believe it either!’ Davina cried. ‘I thought you’d just made it all up about animals talking!’
‘I thought I had too!’ Fiona said.
‘Gulp,’ Selby gulped, and he could feel the sweat starting to pour off him. ‘I’ve been caught red-mouthed. They know my secret! Maybe if I tell them the punchline, they’ll laugh so hard I’ll be able to get away. No, that’s no good, because they probably didn’t hear the joke from the beginning. Besides, they’ve seen what I look like now. Bogusville is a small town. They’re sure to find me. I guess I’ll just have to confess.’
‘Come on now, talk!’ Fiona Fullstop said, bending down. ‘We heard you do it! Come on, Sylvia, talk!’
‘Sylvia?’ Selby thought.
‘Yes, talk, Sylvia!’ Davina demanded.
‘This cat is a goldmine!’ Fiona said, pushing Selby out of the way to get to the cat box. ‘I’m going to sell this story for millions and billions of dollars! Hey! Who let that dog in here?! Out of the way, you!’
Selby watched as Fiona Fullstop grabbed the cat box and barged out the side door of the theatre with Davina close behind. In a second they’d sped away.
‘It was all a bit of a shemozzle,’ Mrs Trifle said to Dr Trifle when she got home. ‘The book launch was cancelled. By the time I got there the author had run off, taking her cat with her.’
‘She probably just didn’t want to be embarrassed when her cat didn’t talk,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Everyone knows that animals can’t talk.’
