by Duncan Ball
‘That’s really interesting,’ the man said. ‘And trust me, I won’t give away your secret.’
‘You won’t?’
‘I would but nobody would believe me.’
‘They wouldn’t?’
‘No, because I’m a liar. I’ve been a liar all my life. From when I was a little kid I never ever told the truth,’ the man said. ‘Hey, I like you, dog. What’s your name?’
‘Selby,’ Selby said.
‘Call me Tats,’ the man said. ‘So how long are you in for?’
‘I’ll find out tomorrow. Ten years, I think.’
‘Wow! That’s a long time in a dog’s life. What was the evidence?’
‘A photo of me running through Poshfield without a leash.’
The man gave a long, low whistle.
‘It’s hard to argue with a photograph,’ he said. ‘Did you realise you were set up?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It wasn’t a coincidence that the mayor’s poodle chased you into Poshfield. This mayor guy would have been spying on you. Then one day you were out near Poshfield and he had his mutt chase you over the line. Was there a car behind you?’
‘Come to think of it, I think there was.’
‘That was the mayor. He let his dog out of the car and then took pictures when you got into Poshfield. That’s what I reckon.’
‘But that’s sooooooooo unfair!’ Selby wailed. ‘I’m going to tell the judge everything.’
‘It’ll be your word against that mayor guy. And he’s got a photo. Besides, if you talk, your life will be ruined forever. You said that yourself.’
‘It’s already ruined.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Tats said. ‘How about escaping?’
‘Escaping? Sure — but how?’
Tats grabbed one of the window bars. He slid it up easily and then took it out.
‘Can you fit through there?’
‘How’d you do that?’ Selby asked.
‘Years of work. Last week I finally got it loose. But now I don’t need to escape because they’re letting me out next month. Come on, off you go, little guy.’
Selby climbed up onto the windowsill.
‘Thank you so much,’ he said as he jumped down to the ground.
‘Pssst!’ Tats pssst-ed. ‘Where will you go?’
‘Home,’ Selby whispered back.
‘But you can’t. Sooner or later the cops will get you. You can’t go home ever again. Go as far away as possible. Someone will take you into their home.’
‘But I don’t want anyone else. I only want to live with the Trifles. They’re the most wonderful people in the world.’
‘Selby, take it from an old crim: you need a plan. Everyone needs a plan. Forget these owners of yours and work out a plan for the rest of your life. Now go!’
Selby dashed across the road and through the darkened streets of Poshfield.
‘It’s nice to be free,’ he thought, ‘but what good is freedom when I can’t (sniff) live with the Trifles? And it’s all because of that horrible
Denis Dorset and that bloodthirsty dog of his. If I ever see him again I’ll bite him into next year!’
Suddenly Selby caught sight of Poshfield Manor, the mayor’s mansion.
‘Hey, hang on,’ he thought. ‘What was it Tats said? “It’s hard to argue with a photograph.’”
In a second, Selby was through the gate and peering through the windows of Denis Dorset’s house. Soon he was looking into the mayor’s study.
‘The laptop!’ he thought, as he quietly raised the window and climbed in. ‘It’s sitting right there. Oh boy, oh boy.’
Selby turned on the computer.
‘And there’s the photo.’
Selby was about to hit the DELETE button when he had a second thought.
‘I’d better check to see if there are other copies saved somewhere.’
Selby clicked his way through the computer files, looking for copies of the photo until suddenly —
‘Whoa!’ he cried in his brain. ‘He took stacks of photos! Me walking along. Me walking along some more. Powderpuff chasing me into Poshfield.’
Suddenly Selby heard the unmistakable sound of Powderpuff’s claws clicking down the hall outside the study. In a second the dog was standing in the doorway, his fangs dripping with saliva.
‘Hey, Powderpuff,’ Selby whispered. ‘Have you ever seen a dog disappear? Watch me!’
Selby dived out the window and was running again.
‘That’s two escapes in one night,’ he thought. ‘And now for one more. Only this’ll be an inscape instead of an e-scape.’
And it was a startled Tats who woke up the next morning and looked over at the other bed.
‘Selby!’ he said. ‘You’re back!’
‘Yes, I’m back,’ Selby said. ‘And I have a plan.’
‘This court is now in session,’ the judge said, banging his hammer. ‘Now to sentence Selby Trifle to prison.’
‘One moment, please,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Could we see the evidence again?’
‘I can’t see that it will do any good,’ the judge said, ‘but all right.’
Denis Dorset again opened his laptop and showed the photo of Selby on the screen.
‘I think that’s proof enough,’ he said. ‘Now, Mrs Trifle, have you considered our little proposal? It’s still possible to get your dog off.’
‘I love Selby,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘He’s the most wonderful, kind and loving dog in the whole world and I will miss him. I’ll visit him every day in prison and bring him lots of those Dry-Mouth Dog Biscuits that he loves so much. But I can’t let Bogusville be ruined by you!’
‘Poor Dr and Mrs Trifle,’ Selby thought, his eyes filling with tears.
Suddenly Mrs Trifle reached over to Denis’s laptop and clicked the mouse. The photo on the screen changed. There was Selby walking along. Another click and there was Powderpuff chasing Selby.
‘What are you doing?’ Denis yelled. ‘Leave my computer alone!’
‘Stay away from me, you … you … you worm!’ Mrs Trifle yelled back.
There was a gasp in the courtroom as the photo came up of Selby being chased past the sign that said: ENTERING POSHFIELD.
‘Denis Dorset, you are a sneak and a scoundrel!’ Mrs Trifle cried. ‘You planned all this just to get your grubby hands on Bogusville.’
‘I-I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Denis Dorset said.
‘Well I do,’ the judge said. ‘And it is clear that Selby is innocent …’
The police undid Selby’s paw-cuffs and Selby bounded across the courtroom and into the Trifles’ arms.
‘… and,’ the judge continued, ‘that you are guilty, Denis Dorset.’
‘Of what, you silly man?’ Denis said. ‘There’s no law against chasing dogs.’
‘But there is a law against dogs being out without a leash in Poshfield. I believe you and your council wrote that law. And your dog Powderpuff was running down the street in Poshfield without a leash. Look at your own photos.’
‘This isn’t fair!’
‘Oh, yes it is! Now which will it be: ten years in prison for the dog or a ten thousand dollar fine for you?’
‘I’m thinking, I’m thinking,’ Denis said, sheepishly. ‘Oh well, I guess I’ll pay the fine. I
wouldn’t feel right about little Powdie going to Jail.’
‘That was brilliant!’ Dr Trifle said to Mrs Trifle when they got home. ‘How did you know to click the mouse on the laptop?’
‘I got an email last night telling me to do it,’ Mrs Trifle said.
‘So who sent the email?’ Dr Trifle asked.
‘I don’t know. There was no name on it. The funny thing was that it had Denis’s email address on it. He obviously didn’t send it. I guess I’ll Just have to say that a little birdie told me.’
Dr and Mrs Trifle laughed. Selby looked up at them.
‘But it wasn’t a little birdie that told her,’ Selby thought, ‘it was
a little doggy — little old me.’
Paw note: To see exactly how this happened read the story ‘Selby’s Secret’ in the bookSelby’s Secret.
S
Paw note: I told him my real honest and true name but I can’t tell you. (Sorry.)
S
‘SELBY, TELL ME!’
It all began with an email. It was like so many emails that Selby had answered before. It said:
DEAR SELBY,
MY NAME IS FLEUR. I’LL BE TEN YEARS OLD NEXT WEEK ON APRIL 1ST. APRIL FOOLS’ DAY. I JUST LOOOOOOOOOVE YOUR BOOKS! I’VE READ EVERY SINGLE ONE EXCEPT MAYBE THREE OR FOUR OF THEM. PLEASE, SELBY, TELL ME YOUR REAL NAME. I PROMISE I WON’T TELL ANYONE — EVER! CROSS MY HEART AND HOPE TO DIE, STICK A NEEDLE IN MY EYE.
YOUR NUMBER ONE FAN,
FLEUR
‘Hmmm,’ Selby hmmmed. ‘Why do kids always want to know my real name? I guess they’re just curious.’
HIYA FLEUR,
THANX FOR YOUR EMAIL. HAPPY BIRTHDAY FOR NEXT WEEK! I HOPE YOU GET LOTS OF GREAT PRESSIES. I’M SO GLAD THAT YOU LIKE MY BOOKS. I’M REALLY SORRY BUT I CAN’T TELL YOU MY REAL NAME. I NEVER TELL ANYONE SO DON’T TAKE IT PERSONALLY.
CYA,
SELBY
DEAREST SELBY,
PRETTY PLEASE WITH SUGAR ON TOP TELL ME YOUR REAL NAME. I JUST HAVE TO KNOW. I WON’T READ YOUR BOOKS ANYMORE IF YOU DON’T TELL ME.
YOUR BESTEST FRIEND,
FLEURINA
HIYA FLEURINA,
YOU WON’T READ MY BOOKS ANYMORE? NOW YOU’VE HURT MY FEELINGS.
CYA,
SELBY
DEAREST SWEETEST SELBY THE MOST WONDERFUL DOG IN THE WORLD,
I’M SO SORRY. I WAS JUST KIDDING. I WILL ALWAYS READ YOU BOOKS EVEN WHEN I’M TOO OLD FOR THEM. HONESTLY YOU ARE MY VERY FAVE DOG IN THE UNIVERSE AND I JUST HAVE TO KNOW YOUR REAL NAME. I PROMISE, PROMISE, PROMISE I WON’T TELL EVEN IF THEY HOLD ME DOWN AND TICKLE ME TO DEATH.
ILYH (I LOVE YOU HEAPS),
FLEUR
HIYA FLEUR,
SORRY BUT THE ANSWER IS STILL NOPE.
CYA,
SELBY
DEAREST WONDERFUL SELBY,
WHY NOT? IT’S ONLY LITTLE ME AND I WON’T TELL A SINGLE-BINGLE SOUL.
YOUR BEST FRIEND, HONEST FLEUR
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
HIYA HONEST FLEUR,
HERE’S MY PROBLEM: IF I TELL ANYONE MY REAL NAME THEN THEY MIGHT TELL SOMEONE ELSE. AND THAT SOMEONE ELSE WILL TELL SOMEONE ELSE. SOONER OR LATER SOMEONE WILL SAY, ‘HEY, THERE’S A DOG WITH THAT NAME LIVING IN MY TOWN’. BEFORE I KNOW IT THERE WILL BE HUGE CROWDS OUTSIDE MY HOUSE TAKING PICTURES OF ME AND TRYING TO GET ME TO TALK. MY LIFE WOULD BE RUINED!BESIDES, THE TRIFLES MIGHT MAKE ME WORK AROUND THE HOUSE. I DON’T WANT TO BE THEIR SERVANT. I JUST WANT TO BE THEIR PET.
CYA,
SELBY
DEAR SELBY,
DON’T WORRY! I ABSOTIVELY POSILUTELY WON’T TELL ANYONE!!!!!!!!!!!!! DON’T YOU TRUST ME? DO YOU THINK I’M NOT JUST A LITTLE GIRL BUT REALLY SOME SORT OF RICH AND POWERFUL EVIL GENIUS WHO LIVES IN THE TALLEST BUILDING IN THE BIGGEST CITY IN THE WORLD AND OWNS LOTS OF TV STATIONS AND WILL FIND YOU AND MAKE YOU TALK ON TV AND MAKE HEAPS AND HEAPS MORE MONEY? IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK? HOW COULD YOU POSSIBLY THINK THAT?
LOVE FROM THE GORGEOUS, WONDERFUL, BRILLIANT, AND TALENTED
FLEURINA, THE GIRL WHO IS GOING PLACES (BUT NOT TO BOGUSVILLE SO DON’T WORRY.)
Selby paced around the trifles’ study.
‘I Don’t want to hurt her feelings,’ He thought. ‘She sounds like a nice kid. How can i make her understand that if i tell anyone my real name I’ll never feel safe again? that every time a car door opens in the middle of the night I’ll wake up in a panic? that I’ll never be able to go out without looking at people and wondering if they’re about to dognap me?’
HIYA FLEURINA,
OF COURSE I TRUST YOU AND OF COURSE I DON’T THINK YOU’RE AN EVIL GENIUS WHO OWNS TV STATIONS AND WANTS TO MAKE HEAPS MORE MONEY BY TELLING THE WORLD MY SECRET. BUT WHAT IF I TOLD YOU MY NAME AND OKAY YOU DIDN’T MEAN TO TELL ANYONE BUT YOU TALKED IN YOUR SLEEP AND SOMEONE HEARD YOU? THEN MY SECRET WOULD BE OUT. SO PLEASE DON’T ASK ME AGAIN BECAUSE I REALLY AND TRULY CAN’T TELL YOU. AND THAT’S FINAL.
CYA,
SELBY
‘There are times when I just have to be firm,’ Selby thought. ‘Oh, no, she’s written back already.’
DEAR HANDSOME, BEAUTIFUL (IN CASE YOU’RE
REALLY A GIRL-DOG AND YOU’RE JUST FIBBING ABOUT BEING A BOY-DOG) SELBY, I DON’T TALK IN MY SLEEP, I PROMISE. I KNOW BECAUSE MUM SAYS I DON’T. AND I’M REALLY REALLY GOOD AT KEEPING SECRETS LIKE TWO YEARS AGO I BROKE THE BIG FRONT WINDOW IN OUR HOUSE AND I NEVER TOLD MUM AND DAD I DID IT. BUT IT’S OKAY IF YOU DON’T TELL ME. I UNDERSTAND. I GUESS I WOULDN’T TELL ME EITHER IF I WAS YOU. ANYWAY, I’M FEELING REALLY REALLY SAD BECAUSE GREENIE, MY BUDGIE, DIED LAST WEEKEND. AND NOW BLUEY, MY OTHER BUDGIE, IS ALL ALONE. GREENIE USED TO PECK AT HIM ALL THE TIME BUT I THINK HE LIKED IT. JUST WATCHING BLUEY NOW MAKES ME CRY AND CRY AND CRY BECAUSE HE’S SO SO LONELY.
YOUR VERY VERY TERRIBLY SAD AND UPSET NO. 1 BEST FRIEND IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD.
LOVE,
FLEUR
‘Poor Fleur,’ Selby thought. ‘It’s tragic when a pet dies. I wish I could cheer her up. Maybe I should tell her my name after all. What harm could it do? Hmmm, I’d better think about it.
I think it’s time for a good long thinkingwalk.’
Selby turned off the computer and started walking. He walked and he walked and he walked and as he walked, he talked and talked to himself.
It went something like this:
‘Okay, let’s just say that I tell Fleur my name and she tells her parents.
Hey, Mum, Dad, guess what? Selby is a real dog! I emailed him and he told me his real name!
Her mother would say,Don’t be silly. He’s a made-up dog. There’s no such thing as a talking dog.
But, Mum, there is! Selby rings up Duncan Ball and tells him his stories. Duncan writes them down. The books are true!
If you say so, dear.
He lives in a country town here in Australia. Now that I know his name we could find him.
Do you know how many towns there are in Australia? There must be thousands of them. Even if he really did exist and you did know his name it could take years to find him.
We could pay a private detective. Selby’s real name is kinda weird. A detective could find him, I’m sure.
Do you know how much private detectives charge, Fleur? her dad would say.And it could take months, or even years. Then what if this Selby doesn’t really exist?
Oh, I guess you’re right. Maybe we shouldn’t look for him.
‘No grown-up is going to believe a kid when she says that I’m a real talking dog,’ Selby thought. ‘Even her friends won’t believe her.’
Selby turned and started for home. He chuckled to himself as he thought of the evil genius who Fleur had made up, the one who owned lots of TV stations. Selby pictured an old man sitting at a huge desk, running his bony fingers through his long, grey hair and staring at his computer. He pictured the man cackling as he pretended to be a little girl in order to get Selby to tell him his real name.
‘I love kids,’ Selby thought. ‘They have such great imaginations.’
That night when the Trifles were sound asleep, Selby sneaked into the study and turned on the computer once again. And this is what he wrote:
HIYA FLEUR,
I’M SO SORRY THAT GREENIE DIED. MAYBE YOU COULD ASK FOR ANOTHER BUDGIE FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY. NOW LISTEN, I’VE DECIDED TO TELL YOU MY REAL NAME. ARE YOU READY FOR THIS? MY REAL NAME IS ACTUALLY SELBY. BUT REMEMBER, YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO TELL. ANYONE. EVER. NO. MATTER. WHAT.
Cya,
Selby
‘Phew!’ Selby phewed. ‘I feel good now. I hope that cheers her up. And it was really so easy.’
DEAREST DARLING SELBY,
OH, YOU DEAR DEAR WONDERFUL DOG, YOU! THANK YO
U! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU ARE SUCH A FANTASTIC DOG! I LOVE YOU TO DEATH! MY LIPS ARE SEALED. MMMMMMMMMMMMM.
LOVE AND HUGS AND KISSES,
FLEUR, THE TIGHT-LIPPED TERROR
Meanwhile, somewhere at the top of the tallest building in the biggest city in the world an evil genius sat behind his enormous desk. He stared at a computer screen and he cackled as he ran his bony fingers through his long, grey hair.
‘Sucked in!’ he cried. ‘Dead budgie. Sad little Fleur. What a mug that mutt is. I practically told him who sad little “Fleur” really was — me! I even mentioned April Fools’ Day, for pity’s sake. Now who’s the April fool? You stupid dog! I’ll teach you to match wits with a rich and powerful genius.’
The old man pushed a button on his desk and a beautiful young woman appeared in the doorway.
‘You seem very happy, sir,’ she said.
‘Yes, Olivia, I’ve just got myself a dog.’
‘But you hate dogs, sir.’
‘This is no ordinary dog. This is the most extraordinary dog in the world. And he is about to make me very very rich.’
‘But you’re already very very rich, sir.’
‘True, but I am only the second richest person in the world. This dog is about to make me the richest. Get me a team of private detectives — get a hundred of them. Make that a thousand. See if the police will get involved. There’s no time to waste. We’re going on a dog hunt.’
‘Do you mean you don’t know where this new dog of yours is?’
‘I know that he lives in a country town somewhere in Australia. His name is Selby — a very unusual name. We’ll soon find him and get him to talk. And when he talks, everyone in the world will be watching him on my TV stations.’
‘This dog talks?’
‘Oh, yes,’ the old man said. ‘He certainly does.’
A few days later Mrs Trifle came home late from work after a long meeting.
‘Have you heard the news?’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Something very exciting is happening!’
‘What is it?’
‘Do you know the dog in those books? Selby, the talking dog?’
