The Dotty Dalmatian

by Anna Wilson

  Marble was hobbling up the drive behind Raphael, quite out of breath with the effort of keeping up with the postie. ‘My house! My house!’ she was yelling.

  Mrs Fudge had heard the racket and was at the door at once, with a still-bedraggled Kurt standing in her shadow.

  ‘I’ve been burgled!’ Marble shouted.

  ‘WHAT?’ cried Mrs Fudge and Pippa in unison.

  Marble’s puddingy face was as white as a white marshmallow and the top of her potatoey nose had gone bright red. She was flapping her hands and her bottom lip was quivering in distress. ‘My house, I tell you, has been burgled!’ she repeated uselessly.

  ‘Come in and sit down, both of you,’ said Mrs Fudge.

  The bewildered postie and the flustered Marble scurried into the kitchen. Marble wouldn’t stop babbling on the way, gesticulating wildly as she told her story of how she had been out for a walk with Snooks and had come back to find her house in a terrible state.

  ‘The back door was hanging off its hinges!’ she wailed, flopping into a rocking chair.

  ‘How on earth—?’ gasped Mrs Fudge.

  Raphael chipped in. ‘Marble had me fix her a cat flap in de back door – for Snooksie to come and go whenever he fancy,’ he explained to the puzzled onlookers. (You mean so that lazy Marble didn’t have to bother with letting him out, Pippa thought.) ‘I am tinkin’ de intruder is gettin’ in through dere,’ Raphael finished.

  ‘But what kind of an intruder could fit in through a cat flap?’ Pippa scoffed.

  ‘That is just de point – the intruder did not fit through! That be why de door is hangin’ off its hinges just like Marble tell you, man!’

  Marble was nodding. ‘It looks as though whoever it was misjudged the space, forced themselves through and ended up wrenching the door off in the process.’

  ‘Hold on a minute!’ interrupted Mrs Fudge, her hands in the air. ‘This is utter nonsense. What person in their right minds would think they could possibly fit through a cat flap?’

  As Mrs Fudge asked that last question, an idea flashed into Pippa’s mind. She thought about the things she had found in Minx’s bag and what she had deduced. She looked at Dash. I can’t wait for him to make up his mind, she thought. But Dash was looking at her too. They both had their eyebrows raised, and if you could have seen the inner workings of their brains, you would have noticed that they were both coming to the same conclusion in their minds

  Pippa nodded slowly, as if reading Dash’s thoughts, and Dash put his head on one side as if reading hers. Then, as one, they said: ‘Unless the intruder is not a person.’

  ‘What did you say?’ said Marble, peering at Pippa curiously. ‘I didn’t quite catch that because of that mutt’s barking.’

  Dash opened his mouth to bark some more, but even if he had been allowed to say what was on his mind, I couldn’t possibly tell you what it was, as it was decidedly rude. Luckily Pippa leaped in, raising her voice, and said, ‘I said, what if it wasn’t a person – who broke in, I mean?’

  Marble made a derisive snorting noise, but Raphael put a hand on her arm and said, ‘Wait a minute – what are you tinkin’, Pippa girl?’

  All eyes were on Pippa. She took a deep breath and twirled one of her long plaits as she thought for a moment, then glancing quickly at Dash (who gave a very slight nod to encourage her) she said, ‘What if it was a dog?’ She paused. ‘A very large, badly behaved dog.’

  Marble suddenly laughed aloud. ‘I’ve heard of a cat burglar, but really!’ she scoffed.

  ‘You mean,’ broke in Raphael, in hushed tones, ‘like a very large, badly behaved white dog . . . with black spots?’

  Pippa nodded. ‘The Dalmatian,’ she said.

  Raphael, Marble, Kurt and Mrs Fudge gasped in unison.

  ‘We need to follow that scent,’ said Pippa, taking charge.

  Dash barked in agreement. ‘Elementary, my dear!’ he said.

  18

  The Dotty Dalmatian

  ‘Marble, darlin’, said Raphael. ‘You is goin’ to have to take us to your house so we can gather de evidence. Hold on tight to Pippa and she’ll take you on her skateboard. I will carry Dash.’

  Pippa was rather indignant at the thought of carrying the heavy weight of Marble Wainwright along on her skateboard, but Raphael did not give her time to protest. He gathered Dash into his arms and set off, calling to Pippa to ‘hurry along now, girl!’

  Poor Pippa! It was certainly very hard work, skateboarding with Marble clinging on to her for dear life. But the thought of solving the mystery and catching the culprit (and thereby, she hoped, getting back into Mrs Fudge’s good books, not to mention getting to the bottom of what Minx was up to) was enough to spur Pippa on, and they reached Marble’s house in no time at all. Raphael and Dash were already there, taking a good look (and sniff ) around.

  The place was in an appalling state. The intruder had rampaged through the bushes, knocked over the flowerpots, crashed into the garden furniture and pushed over the bird table. The neatly tended lawn had great trenches gouged out of it, and when Pippa and Marble reached the back door Pippa saw that it was indeed hanging off its hinges and was banging against the door frame in the squally wintery wind.

  ‘Did you see what had been taken?’ Pippa asked her potato-faced neighbour.

  ‘I – I was too scared to go inside,’ Marble admitted, her bottom lip wobbling. ‘I had been out walking Snooksie, as I told you. I came home, saw that I had been burgled and ran straight next door to my neighbour to ask her to look after Snooksie for me. Then I saw Raphael, so I asked him to help. I must go and check on the dog, actually,’ she said. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’ And she scuttled next door to her neighbour’s, leaving Pippa with Dash and the postie.

  ‘I – I was too scared to go inside,’ Marble admitted, her bottom lip wobbling. ‘I had been out walking Snooksie, as I told you. I came home, saw that I had been burgled and ran straight next door to my neighbour to ask her to look after Snooksie for me. Then I saw Raphael, so I asked him to help. I must go and check on the dog, actually,’ she said. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’ And she scuttled next door to her neighbour’s, leaving Pippa with Dash and the postie.

  ‘Phew,’ said Pippa. ‘Now she’s gone, we can have a proper conversation.’ She tucked her skateboard under her arm in a business-like manner and turned to Dash. ‘Any more clues?’ she asked.

  Dash’s nose was so close to the ground he looked like a little red furry vacuum cleaner. His feathery tail was whirring round and round with enthusiasm; it definitely seemed as though he was on to something.

  Eventually he sat back on his haunches and said, ‘I can certainly pick up the same scent that I found at Raphael’s and I am sure it is not one of the dogs we know, so that would suggest that the Dalmatian could be at fault. But what I don’t understand is why a dog would commit a burglary. You have to admit it is rather strange.’

  Raphael was nodding vigorously. ‘It is to-tally bon-kers, man! What does a dog want with me post bag, I is askin’ you?’

  ‘It plainly did not want anything with it,’ Dash pointed out. ‘You say you found all the letters and parcels strewn around Marble’s garden. In fact, look! There’s another one,’ and he scampered over to a flattened rose bush that had a letter spiked on to one of its thorns.

  Pippa chewed her bottom lip. ‘Let’s take a look inside Marble’s house,’ she suggested.

  Once inside, it was clear that the intruder had ransacked the place. Every room looked as though a tornado had been through it – furniture was turned upside down, drawers were pulled out, clothes and jewellery were strewn around the place. The fridge had been raided, just as Raphael’s had been, but other than that, it was hard to see what had been taken.

  Pippa did not know what to think as she carefully picked her way through the debris, following Dash.

  When they came out into the garden again, Dash suddenly became extremely animated and went scooting off into the bushes at the far side o
f the lawn. He returned, ears flapping and tail wagging, carrying something in his jaws.

  ‘What’s the little fella got?’ Raphael said, peering at Dash.

  ‘Muffgfgfgule!’ said Dash, jumping up excitedly.

  Pippa bent down and took the item from Dash’s mouth. It was something black and white; a bit soggy and crumpled, but it was otherwise one hundred per cent immediately recognizable as . . .

  ‘Minx’s scarf!’ Pippa cried.

  ‘She must have been here,’ Dash said. ‘Maybe we have been barking up the wrong tree.’

  Pippa groaned. ‘No time for bad jokes, Dash.’

  ‘I wasn’t joking,’ the little dog protested. ‘What if Minx is the burglar and the dog isn’t anything to do with this?’

  Raphael’s features darkened. ‘No! That lovely little miss could never be a burglar,’ he said loyally. ‘Anyway – I don’t understand. You said you had picked up de scent! You said it was the Dalmatian everybody has been seein’ in the town,’ he blustered.

  ‘I had picked up a scent,’ said Dash, ‘and I still think the Dalmatian has been here. But the scarf most definitely is Minx’s,’ he insisted. ‘And the question has to be asked: what was Minx doing in Marble’s garden?’

  As if on cue, Marble appeared at the garden gate. ‘I don’t believe it!’ she cried. ‘The intruder has been through my neighbour’s garden too! The fence is broken and there’s mayhem all down the street! Poor Snooksie is so terrified he won’t come out.’

  Pippa, still clutching Minx’s scarf, hopped on to her skateboard and tore through the gate with Raphael close behind. Dash ran ahead, nose to the ground. They ran through the gardens, Dash hot on the trail. Each lawn they zipped across had been scuffed up and scratched at, each fence had been toppled or crashed through. It was tough going on a skateboard, so Pippa had to give up and tuck it under her arm again as she ran. (Fortunately for her she was as strong as she was fearless – remember I told you about the time she went creeping out of her house after dark to do some spying?)

  Flowers had been squashed, bushes had holes in, little fruit trees were swaying dangerously, clothes had been pulled from washing lines and flung around in a wild, frenzied fashion, decorating trees and shrubs with the neighbourhood’s pants and socks.

  Pippa couldn’t help thinking how funny it looked, in spite of the chaos. An underwear tree! she sniggered to herself.

  ‘We must be getting closer,’ Dash panted. ‘The scent is getting stronger and the trail is fresher.’

  They raced through six or seven gardens, but as they approached the next, Dash stopped abruptly, his ears alert, his nose in the air. Pippa ran into him and Raphael toppled into the back of her.

  ‘Shh!’ Dash hissed, cocking one ear in the direction of the next garden, which was enclosed by a high hedge. There was a hole in this hedge too and Dash seemed particularly interested in it. He padded silently up to the gap in the greenery and sniffed vigorously at it, then went up on to the tips of his paws and craned his neck to see. Tilting his head to indicate his friends should follow quietly after, he leaped daintily through the opening.

  Pippa and Raphael climbed through, their hearts thudding in their throats. They stood next to Dash and stared at the sight before them, hardly daring to breathe.

  There, sitting in the middle of the lawn, panting heavily, its long pink tongue lolling out of the side of its wide-open mouth, was an extremely large, long-legged white dog covered in black spots. Its eyes were big and shining as though dazed by the chaos left in its wake, and its huge paws were covered in mud and clumps of grass and leaves. But most bizarre of all was what it was wearing slung about its body.

  ‘That’s Minx’s bag!’ Pippa said out of the corner of her mouth.

  ‘And look at the collar,’ said Dash.

  Raphael squinted. ‘It – it be exactly like de necklace she wear,’ he whispered.

  Pippa nodded. ‘And it’s got the tag on that we found in the bag, Dash – look!’

  Dash crouched down to the floor and hissed to Pippa to stand back.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she muttered. ‘Lying down for a snooze isn’t going to achieve anything. We need to grab the animal before it hares off and causes more havoc!’

  ‘I am showing the dog that I mean no harm,’ said Dash through gritted teeth. ‘And if you would only shut up I can focus on the matter in hand.’

  Raphael put a hand on Pippa’s arm to restrain her. She rolled her eyes, but did as she was told.

  ‘Now listen to me,’ Dash was saying to the Dalmatian in a measured tone. ‘I am sure you’ve been through hell today. So have I, as a matter of fact—’

  ‘Da-ash!’ Pippa protested.

  The dachshund gave an irritable flick of his tail and continued talking to the Dalmatian. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. I mean, look at me! I’m under half your size. So why don’t you tell me what’s been going on and then Pippa and I can help you.’

  The Dalmatian cowered and Pippa saw that the poor thing was shaking. Honestly, that Minx has got a lot to answer for, she thought.

  Suddenly the Dalmatian let out an almighty wail, lifting its head to the skies and howling like a wolf. Raphael was the one who was shivering and shaking now.

  ‘D-D-D-ash,’ he said through chattering teeth. ‘I tink we should get out of—’

  But he didn’t have time to finish his sentence because it was the Dalmatian who decided to make the first move. It shot the friends a wild look and then with a final, desperate YOOWWL, it took off over the next fence.

  ‘Quick! Follow that dog!’ shouted Pippa, and leaped after the spotty pooch.

  Dash jumped into Raphael’s arms and the two of them were soon in hot pursuit as well.

  The fence belonged to the last of the long line of houses and as soon as the trio were over it they realized they were on the outskirts of Crumblyunder-Edge and in open countryside. A beautiful view of rolling green hills and patchwork fields and hedges stretched ahead of them for miles. As well as being a lovely sight, the lack of gardens and hedges certainly made the going easier for them. Unfortunately it made the going easier for the Dalmatian as well.

  Neither Pippa on her skateboard, nor Dash on his speedy little legs, nor Raphael on his rollerblades had a hope in heaven of catching up with the dynamo dog ahead of them. In fact, within minutes, the Dalmatian was so far ahead that it was difficult to make it out in detail. So difficult that when Dash said, ‘Hang on a sec! I could swear that dotty dog is wearing an orange hat – where did that come from?’ Raphael just laughed and told him he was ‘seeing things, man!’

  But Pippa had stopped trying to keep up and was staring after the crazy canine. Dash was right, it was wearing something orange on its head. And now its legs had changed from spotty all over to black all over. Maybe it’s just mud, she told herself.

  But when the dog seemed to get up on its hind legs and gradually become black from top to toe . . . and when it slung the Big Silver Bag purposefully over its shoulder . . . and when it scratched its right ear in a manner everyone recognized . . . and then when it turned and waved at them before disappearing over the hill . . .

  ‘Well, goodness to mercy me!’ cried Raphael, stopping in his tracks as well and staring ahead of him. ‘Am I seein’ tings too?’ He whirled round and looked at Pippa and Dash.

  No one knew what to say. It seemed as though the Dalmatian had turned into Minx before their disbelieving eyes.

  The Bit at the End Where Everything Is Sorted Out

  Minx never did come back to Chop ’n’ Chat to explain herself. But luckily for Pippa, Raphael and Dash she did write a letter, otherwise I doubt anyone in Crumbly-under-Edge would have believed what the friends had seen. Even Mrs Fudge had her doubts when they had told her.

  ‘People don’t turn into dogs, dears,’ she had said gently. ‘I think you must have been mistaken.’

  But when Raphael arrived the next day waving an envelope in his hand and smiling shakily, Mrs Fudge knew she had to
give them the benefit of the doubt.

  ‘I has an important bit of post for you today, darlin’!’ he cried, slamming the envelope down on the kitchen work surface.

  Mrs Fudge took off her halfmoon spectacles and cleaned them on the edge of her apron. The letter was decorated with black spots and on the back it said: ‘Sender: Ms Minx Polka’.

  The little old lady sighed and sat down. ‘I think I need an extra-strong cup of tea before I read this,’ she said to Pippa.

  ‘No problem, Mrs Fudge. I’ll grab some lemony biscuits too, in case you need sugar for shock. They always say that sugar is good for shock and we don’t want you suffering from shock now, do we, otherwise—’

  ‘Yes, dear,’ Mrs Fudge cut in on her babbling.

  Pippa hurriedly made the tea and handed round the biscuits. Raphael was so agitated he couldn’t sit down. Instead he drank his tea while circling the kitchen on his rollerblades. Even Dash was fidgety and couldn’t get comfy in his basket by the stove.

  ‘Please, everyone! You’re playing havoc with my nerves,’ said poor Mrs Fudge. ‘Sit still and I will read the letter out.’

  So they did. And she did. And this is what it said:

  Raaaoooooow!!!

  Well, you didn’t, Muffles. There’s no use in denying it.

  ‘Someone tell that feline to put a sock in it!’ Dash complained. ‘Go on, Mrs Fudge, do.’

  Mrs Fudge cleared her throat and read out the rest of the letter:

  Mrs Fudge put down the letter and shook her head in astonishment. ‘But, I don’t understand. How can a person be a dog?’

  ‘It explains why she understood us all so well,’ said Dash.

  ‘And I has heard o’ werewolves,’ said Raphael, ‘so I guess a were-dog isn’t sooooo crazy.’