by Ros Asquith
“Sorry, everyone’s out,” I mumbled.
“No, I’m not!” shouted Mum, rushing out into the hall.
“Oh…you must be Lady Goodchild…” she said, stopping in her tracks. I think even Mum was a bit taken aback, but she recovered and said, “Do come in. The puppies are all in the kitchen with their parents, so it’s perfect timing.”
Lady Goodchild swept through the hall, knocking things off shelves with her horrible red umbrella and her enormous bulbous red body and her disgustrous red dead ostriches. The horribleness of this Dragon gave me hope for a minute. I thought the puppies would be terrified of her, and with a bit of luck they’d bite.
Wrong again.
The faithless puppies, who didn’t know any better because they have been brought up to have good manners and be nice to people, swarmed all over the Red Dragon and even Harpo wagged her tail politely.
“Ohhh, they are deeevine, absolutely goooorgeous. Such magnificent fur! And such exquisite markings! Most unusual. Are they as soft as they look? May I pick one up?”
Now she’ll get it, I thought. No self-respecting puppy would want to be cuddled by this. But no. She picked up – I still can’t believe it, even now – she picked up BONZO and he looked absolutely thrilled, his little tail whirling like a windmill. He licked her! Traitor!
“EXACTLY what we’ve been looking for! Do you know, I’m tempted to buy them all,” she boomed. “It seems such a pity to separate the little darlings! And what a handsome father.”
Mrs Next-Door simpered and started one of her long drones about how many prizes Lorenzo had won and how it was lucky the puppies had so much of him in them…
“I can see he’s a lion,” interrupted Lady Dragon, leaving Mrs Next-Door’s mouth flapping open and shut like a fish. “And the mother’s deeeeevine too! The same sumptuous soft fur! I don’t suppose she is for sale as well?”
This was too much for me. I saw the Red Dragon’s eyes flashing with greed. I rushed into the kitchen and scooped up an armful of puppies.
“No! She is not! And neither are they! We’ve changed our minds! The vet says they’ve got a rare condition!”
“Really?” said Lady Dragon. “What’s that?”
“Dog flu!” I shouted. “They’ve been on Lemsip for weeks! All the rest of us have got it too. The doctor says we’re lucky to be alive. If you go now you might just escape it!”
“Dog poo!” shouted Tomato helpfully in the background.
Mum put an arm round my shoulder, but squeezed a lot tighter than you’d have known from the big smile on her face.
“Trixie’s devoted to the puppies, of course,” she told Lady Dragon. “It’s natural in a child her age. But the puppies are as fit as fiddles, and so are we, I can assure you.”
“I can understand it. I was the same myself,” Lady Dragon said. “I’m happy to wait a couple more weeks while Trixie gets used to the idea. I’ll need to make a few preparations before I can take them anyway. But I’m happy to pay you now.”
And then she mentioned a very large sum of money. My jaw dropped, and so did Mum’s.
“Are you sure?” said Mum. “That is very generous…”
“I assure you, pups like this are a once-in-a-blue-moon opportunity. It’s a very unusual cross, with such a fabulous father…” Mrs Next-Door preened and patted her hair, but I’m sure Lorenzo rolled his eyes. “I’ll write you a cheque which you can bank, and I’ll call you in a few days to let you know when I’m ready to collect them. Here’s my number in case you need to get in touch.”
“Well, I must say that is good news. It’s lovely they can all stay together, isn’t it, Trixie?”
“They’re all together NOW!” I shouted. “And this is their home!”
I grabbed Bonzo and raced upstairs, with Tomato running along behind.
“Whassa matter?” he cried.
“Oh, they’re going to sell the puppies to that woman,” I said. “She’s going to take ALL the puppies away!”
At last the penny dropped. “NOOO!” shrieked Tomato. “Howwid wed woman! No!” He hurled himself at me, struck down by grief. I was touched.
“Don’t worry, Tom-Tom,” I said. “We’ll save them somehow.”
Tomato looked at me smiling. “Clever Twix,” he said.
“That’s right,” I said.
We looked at each other for a bit. Then I remembered Mum had said the Red Dragon lived in Mandleton. Wasn’t that where the science lab was? The one where Chloe said they do animal experiments? The Shame of Bottomley?!
“What are we going to doooo?” I wailed, burying my head in Bonzo’s fur.
That night, I dreamt I was being kidnapped. I couldn’t see my attacker, but I was hauled out of bed and stuffed into a sack. I struggled and fought but I couldn’t escape and I could feel myself being dragged along for what seemed like hours.
Then I was pulled out by a pair of pink TROTTERS and found myself face to face with an enormous pig dressed in a chef’s hat and apron. Chloe was there too, trussed up like a chicken and terrified.
“This one’s ready,” said the pig, patting Chloe. “But this one needs fattening up,” and he poked me in the ribs.
“Yeah, put it in the pen and feed it up. It’ll be ready for Christmas,” snorted a pig in dungarees. “Be lovely with some mashed swedes and turnips.”
“Don’t! You can’t eat me! I’m a person!” I shouted.
“They all say that,” said the pig, sharpening his knife.
“But I’m a vegetarian!” I squeaked.
“Yum, organic. Makes no difference to me,” said the pig. And as he said it he picked up Chloe and chopped off her head.
I woke up screaming, “CHLOE!”
Some dreams stay with you all day and I couldn’t stop worrying that this one meant something bad would happen to Chloe, but when I told Dinah about it at school later that day she said it just meant I was worried about the puppies. Worried that the disgustrous Red Dragon would eat them or something.
So I told Chloe about the dream and she agreed. “This red woman sounds just like Cruella De Vil, that horrible woman who steals the puppies in 101 Dalmatians,” she said.
“Exactly,” I said, remembering with a shiver of horror the way she had gone on about their beautiful soft fur. “I’m scared she’s going to skin them for a coat or make them into pies.”
“Probably both,” said Dinah gloomily. “That’s why she doesn’t want to come and get them yet – so they’ll be bigger and fatter by then, with more fur and more meat!”
“Mmmm, lovely! Dumb animal stew and puppy-skin gloves!” Orson swaggered by with a gang of Year Sixes.
And, thanks but no thanks to Orson, that’s what gave me my Best Idea Yet. Not that I’d ever let on to him that he’d helped me. “I think your brother’s looking for you,” I told him wittily.
“Haven’t got a brother,” said Orson, falling into my tricky trap.
“You mean there’s another boy who looks like a dead goat wearing a bin bag in this school? Get that.”
Orson lunged at me. Dinah stuck her foot out and he crashed into the Nature Corner where Year Threes put out nice displays of leaves and twigs they’ve found on the way to school, along with rabbit droppings and bus tickets, that kind of thing. All the little exhibits went flying.
Me and Dinah zoomed off and hid in the toilet.
“Just because he’s a bully, you shouldn’t bully him back,” said Chloe.
“Serves him right,” said Dinah.
“Whatever. Now listen to my Big Idea,” I said. I could feel the light bulb of wisdom glowing in my brain. “That stuff about ‘dumb animals’. That’s what most people think, isn’t it? That animals don’t have lives of their own. They’re just there to be cooed over or dragged around or eaten by us horrible humans.”
“Well,” Chloe considered, “Animal Rights people don’t think that.”
“Yeah, but they still think animals need protecting. It’s still treating them as a lower
form of life,” I said, getting more excited by the minute. “Look, I think my dream was a message from the Animal Kingdom. The pig was trying to prove that animals are people too, that they don’t deserve to be eaten or mistreated any more than the rest of us. But there’s more to it than that, more than even Animal Rights people think.”
“Go on,” Dinah said.
“I’m going to prove to the world that animals are not dumb and they are probably just as clever as we are. MORE clever in fact, because they don’t have wars or need all the stupid stuff we need. Like mobiles and mops, and…and…pillows…and…pop music…and…pencils and diets and dentists and diaries, and…”
“All right, we’ve got the point,” Dinah said. “Or maybe we haven’t. What is it?”
“The point is that animals don’t go to school like we do, so they don’t have a chance to learn anything except smelling lampposts and barking and stuff. So you know what I’m going to do?”
Dinah and Chloe were looking at me in a goldfishy way. They shook their goldfishy heads from side to side. In fact, they were beginning to look like goldfish who had just met a very sad, wounded, lonely, tragic goldfish. But I carried on.
“I’m going to teach the puppies to read! Then Mum won’t be able to sell them. It would be like selling her own children!”
Dinah and Chloe didn’t say a word at first. Then Dinah got her breath back. “Look, Trix, don’t take this personally,” she said, linking arms with me, “but you’ve gone nuts. You’re talking out of your bottom. It’s the stress. But Chloe and me can help you through this. That’s what friends are for.”
“You don’t understand,” I said. “The only reason animals don’t do what we can do is that they are prisoners. Just like women used to be when they weren’t allowed to do anything except have babies and cry. If we MAKE THE EFFORT to teach animals, then they will learn.”
Chloe and Dinah were now smiling at me sympathetically, and nodding.
I carried on regardless. “Look, dogs understand simple commands, don’t they? Like ‘sit’ and ‘walkies’ and ‘fetch’? So why shouldn’t they learn to read words as well? It’s only because no one’s ever thought of teaching them.“
Chloe nodded again and Dinah rolled her eyes.
“I‘m sure it’s possible,” I went on. “You’ve heard those stories about kids being found in the jungle, brought up by wolves or gorillas. They’re not like humans. All they can do is grunt and scratch and stuff. So all animals need is to be brought up like babies are.“
Dinah and Chloe glanced at each other. The glance said Trixie Has Lost Every Single One Of Her Brain Cells And Needs To Go And Lie Down Somewhere Very Extremely Quiet For A Very Extremely Long Time.
“Wait,” I said. “I know I saw something about this on the Internet. I’m sure that someone somewhere has taught a chimp to read. All it takes is dedication.”
Dinah said I could try to teach the puppies astrophysics if I really wanted to, but count her out because she had more important things do.
“Like what?” I said, miffed. What was more important than the Greatest Breakthrough in Life On Earth since the dinosaurs got hit by the asteroid?
“Can’t tell you,” Dinah said.
“What, what?” coaxed Chloe.
“Oh, all right. I’m going to find a way to meet Vera the Vegetarian Vampire.”
Looking at Dinah, I could see this wasn’t a joke. Now it was my turn to look as if she was mad. Vera the Veggie Vampire is the star of a TV series everybody watches. Dinah’s been obsessed with her for a year and spends ages acting it out. She does all the voices, even the weird whine of Wendy Watercress, always boasting about how healthy she is. Dinah’s brilliant at it, but it can drive you mad sometimes.
“Dinah, don’t be daft. How could you get to meet Vera? She’s a mega-star.”
“I’m going to persuade her that she needs to talk to real kids, to keep in touch with her audience.”
“Well, I think it’s a great idea,” said Chloe encouragingly, “Look, Trixie, it’s not that we really think you’re crazy about animals reading—”
“It’s not?” squawked Dinah.
“But Dinah’s right. We’ve all got other things to do – like investigate the lab in Mandleton, to see if any evil testing is going on. That’s going to be a big task.”
“Of course,” said Dinah, “we could always do that and help poor Trix out at the same time. We could spy on the Lady Venus Goodchild to find out if she’s doing horrible experiments on animals. Might end up being a way of getting the puppies back.”
Chloe nodded. “I think there’s even a clue in her name. She’s trying to sound good; the opposite of Cruella De Vil. Venus, is a Roman Goddess, or is it Greek? Anyway, it’s the opposite of devil. And GOOD child is the opposite of cruel.”
“That’s a bit random,” I said.
“Random? Says someone who thinks puppies can act Shakespeare,” said Chloe huffily.
“I did NOT say they could act Shakespeare,” I said. “But, come to think of it, why shouldn’t they? It’s worth a try…”
Dinah and Chloe went off shaking their heads.
I went home and logged on.
I couldn’t find any stuff on the web about animals learning to read, but I was convinced that that was just because nobody had ever tried to do it. But finally I found a true story about a bloke who had taught a chimp called Washoe to understand sign language. Washoe learned more than a hundred words! She even managed to produce simple phrases like “more fruit”, “gimme tickle” and, best of all, she signed “open food drink” to get someone to open the fridge.
At about the same time as Washoe was learning sign language, two other scientists taught a chimp called Sarah to use plastic shapes to communicate! I found this Very Extremely amazing description:
Sarah eventually managed to produce more complicated sentences like, “If Sarah put red on green, Mary give Sarah chocolate.”
I even found a thing on the BBC website about haddocks singing love songs.
There! I was right! Fish sing, chimps chat, probably puppies COULD act Shakespeare. Animal Liberation, like Women’s Liberation, is Only a Matter of Time. And I, Trixie Tempest, will be a campaigner in this great cause…
I spent the rest of that evening figuring out ways to teach the puppies. Since my two so-called best friends didn’t believe in my plan, I decided my best helpmate was going to be Tomato. He was learning to read and could probably give me some tips. I lured him into my room with marshmallows.
“Right, Tomato, we’re going to do a secret project but you’ve got to keep it under your hat.”
Tomato zoomed out of the room and came back with his woolly bobble hat, his cowboy hat, his Batman hood and his new baseball cap. “Which one?” he asked.
“Keeping it under your hat’s just a grown-up saying, Tom-Tom,” I explained. “It means keeping something Very Extremely Secret. If we want the puppies to stay here, we have to teach them to be Very Extremely Clever, so that Mum wants to keep them just as much as we do. But you can’t tell Mum what we’re doing.”
Tomato danced a little jig. He does care about the puppies almost as much as I do really. It’s just that his attention span is very short, so if it’s a choice between puppies and pasta, I know which he’d choose.
“Tom-Tom, what are your favourite books?”
He fetched a Batman magazine, The Beano and a little plastic bath book called Danny Duck from his room.
I knew he couldn’t read Batman or The Beano, but just liked the pictures. I asked if he could read Danny Duck and he proudly recited:
Danny duck is a happy duck.
He swims and swims all day.
Danny duck is a happy duck.
What does Danny say?
QUACK QUACK QUACK!
Connie cow is a happy cow.
She’s in her field all day.
Connie cow is a happy cow.
What does Connie say?
MOO MOO MOO!
It flashed across my mind that maybe I wouldn’t have the patience for this teaching stuff, but I summoned up the vision of the digustrous Red Dragon, Lady Goodchild, and told Tomato how clever he was.
“How long did it take you to learn to read that book, Tomato?”
But Tomato didn’t know.
“Let’s see if we can teach it to the puppies. We’ll start on Bonzo.”
We tempted Bonzo into my room with a juicy Fidoburger.
Tomato held the book open and I pointed to Danny Duck. “Look, Bonzo. DUCK.” I said.
Then I pointed to Connie Cow. “Look, Bonzo. COW.”
Bonzo looked.
“Now, Bonzo, listen. I’m going to hold up a picture. If I show you a duck, wag your tail, but if I show you a cow, don’t wag your tail. OK?”
I held up the duck picture and Bonzo drummed his little tail against the floor.
“Clever boy!” and I gave him half the Fidoburger.
Then I got Tomato to do the same. Except that he pointed to the word DUCK and said “COW”. And Bonzo just wagged his tail all the time whichever picture it was.
“Tomato, you’re confusing him. Why’d you say cow instead of duck?”
Tomato went redder than ever, which is Very Extremely red indeed, and the truth dawned. He wasn’t reading it at all. He just knew it by heart.
I decided to find out more about teaching reading and who best to ask? Mum of course! Here I was, living with a teacher under my very own roof.
“Do you realise Tomato isn’t reading a word of that Danny Duck book?” I asked her. “He just remembers it. Don’t they teach kids anything these days?”
“Of course he isn’t reading it yet. He’s only four,” said Mum. “All kids start off learning things by heart, like nursery rhymes.”
“Did I do that?”
“Hmmm. As I recall, you used to correct me every time I got a word wrong when I read to you…”
