Winning a Giraffe Called Geoffrey

by Hazel Edwards

  Then he heard a muffled whine. There was an old hut at the end of the track where a hermit used to live. But the old guy had died when Art was in Grade 3. No-one lived there now. Or did they? More whining. Art pushed the stop in India’s watch. He’d take some time out to check.

  When he pushed, the door creaked open.

  ‘WFFFF.’ Inside a dog was tied up. There was a blanket on the ground and a bowl of water.

  ‘Hey fella! What’s wrong? Who left you here?’

  Art came closer. He knew this dog. And he knew this rainbow coat. India would be very pleased he had tracked the dog down. But what was Tiny doing here, all tied up?

  Chapter 7

  Dog Napping

  ‘Here boy.’

  Art whistled. Then he clicked his fingers.

  Tiny sat there.

  ‘Come on Tiny. Here boy!’

  Tiny didn’t want to move. Art took off his sneaker laces and made a leash. He tied his laces to Tiny’s collar.

  Come on Tiny. The dog nappers might come back.’

  How long had Tiny been here? The food bowl was empty but Tiny ate a lot, so it was hard to tell. India hadn’t said anything at school today. And if your dog were stolen, you’d tell people. Like Mario did. But perhaps she didn’t know yet.

  Just then, Art heard a car start up.

  Between the trees there was a flash of pale blue. Was that Ernie’s car? He didn’t see the number plate. That would have told him.

  ‘Here’s Tiny.’

  ‘Thanks. I was just coming to look for him. Where was he?’ India looked a bit worried.

  ‘Tied up. Down near the creek. At the hermit’s old place. Did you know Tiny was missing?’

  India shook her head. She brushed the dirt from his rainbow coat.

  ‘Then who put him there?’ Art was puzzled.

  ‘I don’t know. We’d better find out.’

  So they did.

  On his way back from India’s place, Art jogged past the hermit’s hut. He wanted to check on something.

  Again a car was parked near the creek. Art read the number plate. CVD 345 He’d seen that before. He took a few steps closer.

  Mum had drawn a message on the fridge. It was a bus. On the side was written GREYHOUND. I saw a greyhound (bus) again today. Art grinned. He drew a dog. Then he wrote. ‘So did I.’

  ‘Where are my shorts? I need them for the cross country.’ Art burrowed into the pile of clothes on his bed. Five T –shirts. Nine different colored socks. One mouth guard and half a shin guard. But no shorts.

  ‘You haven’t lost them too!’ His Mum’s voice was tired. His pocket money was gone for the next hundred years paying for lost things.

  ‘Not lost, just somewhere else,’ said Art desperately.

  That’s what Mario might say about Grey Flash later in the day. Meanwhile, Mr. Douglas wouldn’t let him run without his school shorts.

  ‘Look in the laundry basket,’ yelled his Mum.’ Or they might still be on the line.’

  Thankfully, Art ripped the shorts off the line. Pegs flew in all directions. Maybe a giraffe could become a lost property holder? Then Art could hang anything likely to be lost on Geoffrey’s ears. Wouldn’t help much with a lost dog though. Grey Flash wouldn’t fit there. Unless he clung on Geoffrey’s back, like a jockey.

  Art did some warming up exercises. He stretched his arms. He did cross overs. He gave his puffer to Mrs. Tasker.

  ‘Take it with you,’ said Mrs. Tasker.

  Art shook his head. ‘Mum checked me on the peak flow meter. I’m fine today.’

  The puffer vanished into her left hand pocket. Something rather large filled her right hand pocket. ‘Okay. See you after the race.’ Mrs. Tasker looked across at Mario, then turned and winked at Art.

  Under the trees, students were laughing and fooling around. At Glenpark Primary, the cross country was important. So everybody pretended it wasn’t.

  Ever since he had been in Grade 1, Art had wanted to run in the cross country for the school. This was the only year he had been allowed to try. Today’s winners would represent the school in a few weeks’ time. He watched the muddy runners. They ran in their age groups, not their classes. Mario was in Under 11. Boys and girls started in different groups.

  ‘Are you wearing studs? It’s very muddy down there near the creek.’ The course went down the track at the back of the school. There was a creek at the bottom. Only one bridge went across the creek. Art remembered the map from the wall in his classroom. It was like a photograph in his mind. Even the colors were there. Today the creek was up. Grey-green water lapped at the edges of the mud. Today the ducks were hiding.

  ‘Is your name on the list?’ Mr. Douglas looked straight at Art. Which name? For a moment, Art had to think .Yes, for today’s cross country race he was Art. Later, he might be someone else.

  ‘Yes. Why is it called a cross country? ‘asked Art.

  When he was a little kid, he hadn’t understood some words. Because ‘cross’ meant getting mad, he thought the country was getting made because kids were running all over it.

  ‘I think ‘cross’ is probably short for ‘across’ the country,’ explained Mrs. Tasker patting her pocket.’ Is that right Mr. Douglas?’

  Quickly Mr. Douglas changed the subject. ‘Ar, have you got the whistle Mrs. Tasker?’

  Art could tell Mr. Douglas didn’t know either.

  ‘Choose your own route, but you must pass the checkpoints in order.’ Mr. Douglas behind the other kids, pointed to the map nailed on the tree. The children crowded round.

  ‘I’ll be the third checkpoint,’ said Mrs. Tasker. ‘I’ll be at the top of the track, near the bridge. You’ll be able to see the hermit’s hut. Did you hear that, Mario? As you pass, I’ll tick off your name. Art, I’ll have what you need.’

  Everybody thought she meant Art’s puffer.

  ‘I’ve got to be first today,’ said Mario.’ Grandad says I’m a loser. I’m no good at maths. And my school report’s bad. Our family will lose tonight’s race. And Grandad was expecting to win.’

  ‘Don’t give up yet,’ said Art quickly. ‘You might still find Grey Flash in time.’ He was glad he’d fixed things. Mario would get a shock.

  It was an old bridge. Running feet made the wood creak. Mario was desperately showing off. Instead of running across the bridge, he waded into the water. Splashing furiously he swam across. His head bobbed up and down.

  ‘Oh no! Said Art to himself. ‘He’ll mess things up if he doesn’t get to the hut in time.’

  So Art jogged across the bridge behind the other kids. He was over and running down the track as Mario staggered dripping out of the water.

  ’Did you leave your puffer with Mrs. T?’ India bent over him. ‘I’ll go and get it for you.’

  Art gasped for breath. Just near the hut, Mario had streaked in front of him. But the sound of a dog’s whining had stopped him. Mario darted inside.

  ‘You’re not dying, you’re just laughing.’ India was cross at first, and then she looked where he pointed

  ‘Sorry,’ wheezed Art

  From the hermit’s hut came the sound of whining. Then Mario came out, dripping. Tied on a long, long rope behind him was Grey Flash. Mario’s face was smiling like a toothpaste ad.

  ‘I found him!’

  Just then, Grey Flash took off. Startled by the running children, he streaked past, dragging the dripping Mario behind him.

  He ran round and round the tree, dragging the rope behind him. Mrs. Tasker was standing on the other side of the tree, waiting to check off the runners.

  She was tied to the tree by Grey Flash’s rope.

  ‘Wait!’ called Mario as he struggled with the knot around the dog’s collar. At last, he undid the knot.

  Then the dog took off, running for the Finish. Mario was dragged al
ong too.

  And Mrs. Tasker was left, roped to the tree.

  After the last cross country runner reached the Finish, Mrs. Tasker was untied and Mario had rung his Grandad, Art explained about the dognapping.

  ‘Early this morning, I found Grey Flash.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me then?’ Mario said in surprise.

  ‘I knew you’d run past the hut. And you’d find him yourself. Then your grandfather would be pleased with you,’ said Art.

  ‘Grandad is pleased. He’ll be here any minute. ‘Mario cuddled Grey Flash. ‘He says that sometimes I get things right now.

  ‘Tell them the rest,’ urged India.

  ‘Well, the dognappers took Tiny yesterday morning. Ernie and his mates were worried. They thought the Greyhound Cup officials might suspect something if only Grey Flash was missing. The thieves wanted Blue Diamond, the second favourite to win. Once the race was over, on Friday night, they were going to give Grey Flash back to Mario’s Grandad.’

  ‘Why did they take Tiny too?’ asked Mario.

  ‘They thought that if they took some other dogs, then no-one would suspect that they just wanted to keep Grey Flash out of the race,’ said Art. He was enjoying himself.

  ‘Where did they hide the dogs?’ asked Mrs. Tasker.

  ‘They were going to use the dog kennels behind Ernie’s house. But they got worried when I took Ernie’s photo. So they moved Grey Flash.’

  ‘Where to?’ asked Mario.

  ‘The rental kennels at the back of Snip-pets. Then when the news about Grey Flash got around, they moved Grey Flash to the hermit’s hut. And that’s where I found him late last night.’

  ‘After he brought Tiny back to me,’ explained India.

  ‘That’s right. I went back because of the car I heard. I remember numbers. And the number plate was the same as the one at the racing track. It was Ernie’s car. He was moving Grey Flash into the hermit’s hut.

  ‘But didn’t he expect to see Tiny there?’

  ‘He thought his mate must have moved Tiny. They got things mixed up.’ Art looked around the group of listening children. It was fun putting things together.

  ‘I thought Mrs.Tasker might have hidden Grey Flash in her pocket,’ said India quietly. But Mrs. Tasker overheard. She laughed.

  ‘Look what I’ve got in my pocket India.’ Mrs. Tasker put her hand inside. Was the pocket big enough for a greyhound? No. She pulled out a dog’s leash.

  ‘That belongs to Grey Flash!’ shouted Mario.

  Mrs. Tasker nodded. ‘Art told me that. He gave it to me for safe keeping until the cross country was over. He wanted you to be the one to find the dog hidden in the hermit’s hut. Then your Grandad wouldn’t be as cross with you.’

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ said Mario turning to Art.

  ‘But then you had to wade into the creek and go the wrong way! That made it hard,’ smiled Art.

  ‘But how did you find out all this? About Blue Diamond and all?’

  Art was a bit miffed. ‘I AM a part-time spy you know.’

  Later he might tell Mario about his undercover work at the race course. And how he asked lots of questions at ‘Snip-pets’. And taken photos of the kennels behind Ernie’s house. Or he might not tell him. There had to be a few secrets.

  Chapter 8

  Payback

  Art read down the list of names.

  India’s was there.

  But his name wasn’t.

  ‘I’m afraid you didn’t make the school cross country team,’ said Mr. Douglas as he put a hand on Art’s shoulder. ‘I know you tried hard. So we’re having something new this year. The team will need a manager-coach to look after the equipment and help with the training. Mrs. Tasker and I have talked about it. We’ve decided to invite you to be the manager of the school cross country team. Of course, the manager wears the school colours too.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Art. But being the manager wasn’t as important as running. When you want something so much, and you’re not good enough, it hurts. Should he pretend the cross country didn’t matter? No, that’s what Mario would have done. And being left out did matter to Art.

  ‘Can I try for the team next year?’

  Mrs. Tasker nodded. ‘I found you something. It’s called TRAINING FOR CROSS COUNTRY. Would you like to borrow it?’

  Art flicked through the pages. There were lots of pictures. ’Okay. I’ll have a look tonight.’

  After Geoffrey arrived, he’d share the training book with him. Geoffrey might be the first giraffe to run in the school cross country trials next year. There were no rules against having four feet.

  ‘Remember the dog race you were going to have with India?’ Art stacked up the chairs. Mrs. Tasker kept them in for ten minutes for mucking around in the playground with the dogs.

  ‘Yes,’ said Mario. ’Grey Flash would have won.’

  The pile of chairs came crashing down. One landed on Mario.

  ’Ow!’ Mario grabbed his foot.

  ‘Grey Flash might have won,’ agreed Art.’ But it wouldn’t have been a fair race.’ He picked up two chairs.

  ‘Of course not. Grey Flash is so good.’ Mario stood up.

  ‘Not just that. It’s Grey Flash’s job to run. He’s a professional running dog. He gets paid when he runs well.’

  ‘That’s right,’ agreed Mario.

  ‘But Tiny isn’t,’ said Art. ‘I rang up the Answer-back man and checked. Someone who is paid for running is not supposed to run against someone who isn’t paid.’

  ‘Tiny doesn’t get paid,’ said India’s voice from behind them. ‘Tiny just eats a lot.’ The boys turned around. Art tripped on his sneaker.

  ‘I didn’t think about that,’ said Mario. ’It was just Grey Flash against Tiny.’

  India nodded. ‘Your dog against mine.’

  ‘But Grandad didn’t see it like that. He chucked a mental. He said I shouldn’t have boasted about Grey Flash. But it was the championship. Grandad had been training Grey Flash for ages. He was expected to win. He was the favourite. There was a very big prize.’

  ‘What if Grey Flash was missing?’

  Mario looked puzzled. ‘Then he couldn’t run.’

  ‘Could Grey Flash be entered under another dog’s name?’ asked Art.

  Mario shook his head firmly. ‘No way. The dogs are kenneled a couple of hours before the race. Each one’s got a marking on its ear. The dogs are checked against their papers. Nobody could switch dogs.’

  ‘Instead of switching, what if Grey Flash just wasn’t there? Then the next favourite would win, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That was what Ernie planned.’

  ‘D’you think that Ernie owned the next best dog?’

  ‘No. But one of his friends did.’

  ‘How did they know Blue Diamond would win for sure?’

  ‘Because of his times. Ernie was feeding him special food.’

  ‘Were they going to give Grey Flash back to Grandad?’

  ‘I think so. Probably on Saturday morning. But if Grey Flash was the only dog missing, the officials might get suspicious. The officials might not let Blue Diamond have the prize money. So they stole Tony as well.’

  ‘Who’d want Tiny?’

  ‘I would,’ said India fiercely.

  ‘They took Tiny so that it would look like dog nappers. Not greyhound snatchers,’ explained Art.

  Chapter 9

  The Embarassing Bet

  ‘Were you spy training or cross country running?’ asked Mario curiously.

  ‘Both. I’m a good spy,’ winked Art. ‘And you bet me I couldn’t do it.’

  ‘Ah ha!’ said India in a loud voice. ‘Your turn Mario.’

  ‘My turn for what?’

  ‘Excuse me, Mrs. Tasker. Could I have Tiny’
s rubber ball?’

  Mrs. Tasker reached inside her large pocket.

  ‘Here you are.’

  Mario watched with dismay.

  ‘You made the bet,’ India was trying not to laugh.

  ‘All right. I’ll do it.’ He knelt down. He put his nose to the ground. He pushed the ball with his nose.

  Everybody laughed and cheered.

  ‘Good on ya, Mars Bar!’ cried Art.

  ‘On the oval,’ said India grinning. ‘ That was the bet.’

  But before Mario could get up, Tiny grabbed the ball in his mouth and ran across the oval.

  ‘Stop Tiny!’ called India, starting after her dog.

  Art smiled. He’d probably never have to worry about giraffe-nappers. Dogs were easier to hide.

  Chapter 10

  Competitionitis

  Someone knocked at the door.

  Art pretended not to hear. Perhaps they’d go away.

  Or perhaps they’d tie the giraffe to the letter box.

  ‘Hello. Anyone home?’

  It was the voice of Mr. Cookies, the man with the funny tooth. Art peered through the spy hole. He could see something orange with brown markings. India had told him about giraffes blending into the background. It must be Geoffrey.

  Slowly, Art opened the door.

  ‘Hullo Rick. Congratulations! Here’s your giraffe. We’d like to take a photo of you with the giant cookie.’

  Art stared in amazement at the three metre high giraffe.

  Geoffrey was a little different from what he had expected.

  Monday morning, play noises filled the schoolyard.

  ‘Hi India. Come over here.’

  ‘Why should I?’

  ‘I’ve got something for you.’ Carefully Art opened his lunch box.

  ‘Have a bite.’

  ‘What is it?’