by Alan Nolan
She reached out to her beside table for her glass of water. Hmm. She must be sleepier than she thought – the glass was difficult to pick up. She put the glass to her mouth and, with half-closed eyes, drank deeply. Some of the water dribbled onto her pyjamas top. Oooh, cold. She opened her eyes and saw her reflection in the water glass.
Oh no.
Still a dog.
She had hoped against hope that she would have woken up and been Sam again, with her fur-free face and her ginger hair tied up in two ball-like buns, but here she was, sitting up in bed, covered in thick, shaggy dog hair. Great, she thought, I’m stuck as Barker for four days … and I bet she has fleas.
After Ajay had gone home yesterday, Sam had spent most of the night hiding in her bedroom. She didn’t want to have to explain herself to Nanny Gigg, and she didn’t want to be laughed at by Bruno, so she shouted down the stairs that she didn’t want any dinner, locked the door and, for the most part, stayed put.
She had tried to read, but her doggy paws found it hard to turn the pages. It was the same when she tried to brush her teeth – it took her fifteen minutes because she kept dropping the toothbrush, and she used up nearly half the tube of toothpaste because her new teeth were four times the size of her usual ones.
The only time she left the room was to creep downstairs to the sitting room to check that her human body hadn’t been discovered and to check the readout on the Brain Swap 3000. By ten o’clock that night, it was still only up to 2% power.
Her mobile phone beeped and she took it out from under her pillow. It was Ajay.
Morning, doggy pal! the text message read. Have you figured out what to do about the dance competition this morning? My dad is bringing us. There by 9.30.
As it happened, Sam had figured out what to do about the dancing competition. She had practised dancing the night before after Ajay had gone home. She wanted to see if her new doggy body could do it, and, if anything, her legs were even springier now that they were dog legs. She was able to kick faster and bounce even higher than before.
She was going to the competition, and she had a plan to explain her dogginess. It would work. At least, she hoped it would work.
Sam got dressed as best she could, putting on her Irish dance dress and fixing the tiara in her hair. She got her socks on easily enough, pulling them up with her big canine teeth. Her shoes were trickier – there was no way she could lace them up with her paws. She’d have to get Ajay to do them in the back of the car.
Sam crept downstairs and peeked into the kitchen. Nanny Gigg was in there at the sink, her back turned to the doorway.
‘Is that you, Sam?’ Nanny Gigg asked, without turning. ‘Are you hungry? I can put some more pancakes on for you, but I’m afraid we’re all out of ketchup, love.’
‘That’s okay, Nanny Gigg,’ said Sam. ‘I don’t fancy pancakes this morning.’ Sam actually fancied something else. She started thinking about dog biscuits and her mouth began to water. She wondered if Bruno still had that packet of Jolly Rogers in his room, the one he had held her down and fed to her. Hold on! she thought, as a terrible notion came into her head. I’m a vegetarian – I can’t eat dog biscuits, I have no idea what goes into them! She guessed that as well as the biscuit bit, there was probably meat in them too. They were, after all, made for meat-eating dogs, not for vegetable-eating humans. Mmmmm, she thought, unable to help herself, meat …
She shook herself and readjusted her tiara. I may look like a dog in an Irish dancing dress, she said to herself, but I am human!
Nanny Gigg turned around from the sink. Her eyes widened. ‘Ohh!’ she said. ‘Don’t you look lovely in your Irish dancing gear!’ She pulled off her rubber gloves and walked over to Sam. She picked some lint off Sam’s dress. ‘You know, I used to love the Irish dancing when I was a girl. I wasn’t like you, though – I was terrible at it. Gruesome Gigg, the other girls used to call me because I was so rubbish at the dancing. At least I think it was because I was so rubbish at the dancing …’ Nanny Gigg trailed off, lost in her own thoughts of long ago. ‘But you’re going to do great today,’ she said suddenly, giving Sam a hug. ‘You’ll make the rest of them girls look like bandy-legged eejits!’
She started to roar laughing (Nanny Gigg’s laugh sounded a bit like the hee-haw of a donkey) and turned back to the washing-up in the sink. ‘Break a leg, luvvy. I’ll have something to eat ready for you and Ajay when you get back.’
Sam couldn’t believe it. She knew her granny was bonkers, but Nanny Gigg still hadn’t noticed that Sam was a dog! She gave me a hug and everything, thought Sam.
Just then the bell rang and Sam ran to open the door. She had a little trouble with her paws, but, to be honest, the door was difficult to get open at the best of times. The problem was, the whole of Clobberstown Lodge seemed to be leaning slightly to one side, which made for wonky walls, skew-ways skirting boards and dodgy doors. One Hallowe’en they couldn’t manage to get the front door open at all and when trick-or-treaters came around in their costumes, they had to pass the sweets out of the sitting-room window.
With a bit of a push from Ajay on the other side, the door opened. Ajay looked Sam up and down, from the furry ears that perked up at either side of the tiara right down to the hairy legs that poked out from the skirt. ‘We have a problem,’ he said. ‘Your tail! When you dance, it’s going to wag around behind you.’
‘I was thinking the same thing,’ said Sam. ‘I’ll have to do my best to keep it under control. Just do me a favour: don’t tell me any jokes. If I laugh, that’ll make me happy, and if I’m happy, my tail will wag. I won’t be able to help it!’
‘No jokes. No problem,’ said Ajay. ‘Come on, Dad’s waiting in the car.’
Sam randomly grabbed one of Nanny Gigg’s hats from the rack beside the front door and jammed it on her head. It was a big red beret and it covered her hairy ears and most of her head. Ajay helped her put on one of Nanny Gigg’s big beige raincoats and they walked down the garden path to Ajay’s dad’s car. Sam scampered in and Ajay helped her with the safety belt, shoved his accordion to the middle of the back seat and put a little plastic cage into the front. ‘That’s Tadhg in there,’ said Ajay. ‘He’s a sick little tarantula – right off his grasshoppers – so Dad said he’d look after him today.’
Mr Patel let out a big sigh but didn’t turn around. ‘So, where are we going, Ajay?’ he said. ‘You know, you treat this car as if it were a taxi.’
‘But it is a taxi, Dad,’ said Ajay. ‘And you’re a taxi driver – that’s your job.’
‘This is true,’ said Mr Patel. He looked in the rear-view mirror. ‘Good morning, Samantha,’ he said cheerily. ‘I like your lovely red hat.’
Sam pulled the hat lower on her head. ‘Thanks, Mr Patel,’ she said. ‘I like your, em, taxi.’
Sam liked Ajay’s dad. He was a bit cranky but very good natured, and, like her and Ajay, he loved animals. His favourite animals were huge ones like elephants, hippos and rhinos, mainly because they reminded him of dinosaurs. He had a family season ticket for Dublin Zoo and he loved to bring Ajay and Sam with him – they’d run around from enclosure to enclosure, looking at all the animals, while he’d spend a whole hour staring at a hippo. Sam was very fond of Mr Patel, but she wasn’t fond of being called Samantha. She liked the Sam bit, it was the antha bit she had a problem with.
‘I ask again, where are we going today, children?’ said Mr Patel.
‘Father Everett Hall,’ said Ajay.
‘That is the other side of Cairnbrook, yes?’ asked Mr Patel. Except he wasn’t really asking. Ajay’s dad had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the suburbs of Dublin – he was a walking satnav. He just wanted to make a point. ‘That is a long way from here, Ajay,’ he said. ‘I will expect you to wash the car for me this afternoon.’
Ajay rolled his eyes. He washed the outside of the car and vacuumed the inside every weekend, whether or not his dad was on driving duty during the week. ‘Yes, Dad,’ he said, shaking his head an
d looking at Sam, who giggle-barked.
‘Oh, Samantha,’ said Mr Patel, his eyes on the road. ‘Have you a bit of a cough? Your voice sounds a little husky.’ Sam supposed she was more of a sheepdog than a husky, but either way, she couldn’t control herself – her giggle-bark turned into full-blown guffaws. ‘You should get a cough bottle, my dear, it sounds quite barky.’
Sam kept Nanny Gigg’s long coat on as she and Ajay entered the Father Everett Hall.
The girls from the Cú Chulainn Academy were already there, sitting in a couple of rows of plastic seats at the back of the hall. They were all in their Irish dancing finery – dresses with plaited skirts and Celtic patterns, their hair primped and curled – sipping from plastic bottles of water. Ms Clancy, their dance teacher, was very big on hydration and insisted they bring at least four bottles each to every competition. This was fine in theory, but in practice it meant that at any given time during the day at least two or three girls would be in the loo.
The loo in Father Everett Hall was right beside the entrance where Sam and Ajay were standing, unsure of how to approach the crowd of girls. Suddenly the toilet door swung open violently, clipping Ajay’s elbow. Ajay didn’t even have time to say OW before Martha Maguire stormed through, adjusting her tiara and clip-on curly hair extensions. Martha’s eyes bounced off Ajay like rubber balls and landed on Sam’s hairy, canine features. ‘Holy Mother of Molly!’ she exclaimed loudly. ‘Sam Hannigan, you’ve let yourself go! I know it’s you, I recognise the old, worn-out dress!’
She reached out for Sam’s hairy dog whiskers and pulled at what she thought was a mask. ‘OW! Gerrof!’ hissed Sam. Of course the furry face didn’t budge – it wasn’t a mask, it was the real thing.
‘Ms Clancy!’ shouted Martha. ‘Samantha Hannigan is wearing a mask.’
Sam let the coat drop to the floor. Her hairy arms stuck out of the shoulder holes and her furry dog legs came out from under the skirt. ‘Ah janey, Ms Clancy,’ said Martha. ‘She’s dressed up like a dog.’
Ms Clancy sprung out of her seat and the rest of the girls gathered around Sam. ‘Samantha Hannigan,’ said the teacher crossly, ‘what are you playing at? Why are you dressed like that? We’re dancing in ten minutes!’ Sam gulped.
Ajay pushed through the crowd. ‘Excuse me, Ms Clancy, if you will allow me to explain?’ Ajay knew this was going to happen and had spent the night before coming up with a whole range of explanations, before hitting on one that he thought was the most plausible. He took a deep breath. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘You know the way Sam loves animals?’
Ms Clancy nodded, her face like thunder.
‘Well,’ Ajay continued, ‘she has decided to dress up as a dog for four whole days to raise money for an animal charity. Called the, um …’ This was the bit that he hadn’t quite had time to think through. ‘Called …’ He was racking his brains.
‘Dinners for Dogs!’ shouted Sam.
‘YES!’ said Ajay, ‘Doggie Dinners!’
‘Yes,’ said Sam, ‘I am. And I’m taking donations, so if anyone has spare change please give it Ajay.’
‘Hold on,’ said Martha. ‘Is this charity called Doggie Dinners or Dinners for Dogs?’
Ajay ignored her. ‘And the best thing is, we are called the Cú Chulainn Academy. We are named after the most famous hound in Irish mythology. Dressing up as a dog for Irish dance competitions makes perfect sense!’
‘Hmmm,’ said Ms Clancy. The angry look was slowly sliding off her face like ice cream off a cone on a sunny day. ‘Hold on a minute.’ She strode over to where the judges sat and a whispered conversation ensued. A couple of minutes later she sauntered back. ‘Right so,’ she said to Sam, ‘I’ve checked with the judges and there’s no rule against dancing in a dog costume. As long as you’ve the regulation dress, socks and shoes, we’re good to go.’ She winked at Sam. ‘In fact, they think it’s a great idea, and so do I – the dog angle may give us just the edge we were looking for against the Clontipper girls.’ She squinted her eyes towards the group of girls at the front of the hall. ‘I never liked their teacher, Ms Ní Ghúna, anyway.’
Clontipper Academy had beaten Cú Chulainn in five out of the last six competitions, and while the two sets of girls were friendly enough – they mostly all went to Sam and Ajay’s school, St Gobnet’s – their dance teachers didn’t like each other at all.
‘Oh,’ said Ms Clancy, ‘by the way, Sam, the judges gave me some donation money for you. Remind me to give it to you at the end. And dig deep yourselves, girls. Dinners for Doggies sounds like a great cause!’
‘Doggie Dinners,’ said Sam.
‘Heh, Meals for Mutts, more like,’ said Martha, giving Sam a dirty look.
Ajay sat down beside Alfie Byrne, Cú Chulainn’s fiddle player, as the Cú Chulainn girls ooh-ed and ahh-ed over Sam’s ‘costume’.
The competitions went on late into Sunday afternoon, with Cú Chulainn and Clontipper both outshining all the other competing teams, until they were neck and neck in the medals stakes. Sam performed even better than she usually did, despite being a dog – she took her usual spot, front and centre of the troupe, and her paws never missed a step and kept perfect time with Ajay and Alfie’s music.
Martha Maguire, in her usual position directly behind Sam, stared suspiciously at the long, furry tail that stuck out of Sam’s skirt and seemed to be wagging for joy as she danced. The crowd, which was mostly mums, dads, grannys, aunties and uncles, cheered hard for Sam every time she took the stage with the Cú Chulainn troupe and gave her cash after each competition for Doggie Dinners, which Ajay put into his accordion case for safekeeping.
The last dance of the day was the solo soft shoe slip jig, and Sam was up against Clontipper’s best dancer, Rachel McGrath. Ajay and Alfie played ‘Rocky Road to Dublin’ while Sam danced her paws off, bouncing high and kicking in perfect time to the music. Although her rival danced brilliantly, the judges gave the higher points to Sam.
‘Well done, Sam, you were awesome,’ said Rachel. ‘I LOVE the dog costume!’ Sam smiled a big doggy smile. ‘And that mask is just SO realistic!’
Ms Clancy was delighted. ‘I knew that costume would give us an edge over Clontipper,’ she said, throwing a dirty look at the other team’s coach. ‘C’mon girls, let’s pack up.’
The dancers started to gather their things and stuff them into backpacks, eager to enjoy what was left of their Sunday afternoon. Ajay was packing away his accordion when Sam came over to him. ‘I’m absolutely starvin’, Marvin,’ she said.
Ajay looked up. ‘I think I have a sandwich in my accordion case, if you’d like it?’
‘No thanks,’ said Sam. ‘I’ve brought my own food. Cover me!’
Sam looked around and, to Ajay’s surprise, pulled a packet of Jolly Roger Dog Biscuits from her backpack, took one out with her hairy paw and started to chow down. Dog biscuit crumbs flew everywhere. ‘Mmmm,’ said Sam, licking her lips, ‘these are delicious!’
‘Are you SURE you should be eating those, Sam?’ asked Ajay, looking at the packet. ‘I think there may be meat in those biscuits, and you’re a vegetarian.’
‘But they’re just SO yummy, Ajay,’ said Sam. ‘I can’t help myself!’ She reached into the box for another, but her paws, clumsier than her normal human hands, fumbled the box and it fell to the floor with a clatter in the emptying hall, sending dog biscuits sliding in all directions across the shiny wooden floor.
Martha Maguire bent down to see what had bashed against her dancing shoe. It was light brown and bone-shaped. She held it up to her nose and sniffed. A DOG biscuit? Martha narrowed her eyes and stared over at Ajay and Sam in her dog costume. There was something decidedly dodgy about all this …
Chapter Five
Too Drool For School
Sam woke up with a jolt. She raised her paws to her face. Still hairy. Still a dog. Ah well.
What time is it? she wondered, sleepily looking around the room for her alarm clock. Oh, that’s right, I threw it at Bruno and
it got smashed. The day before yesterday. Saturday.
The day before yesterday? But that meant that today was Monday! And that meant … SCHOOL. Sam thought briefly about pretending to be sick, but she didn’t like to lie to Nanny Gigg. As well as that, she figured, by this stage Martha Maguire will have spread the word all around Clobberstown – everyone at St Gobnet’s National School will know that Sam Hannigan is a dog.
Or at least they will think that Sam Hannigan is dressed up as a dog for charity. She sat up in bed. This is do-able. I can be a dog at school for a couple of days. No problem. Sam stood up and looked at her furry face in the small bedroom mirror. Holy moley. Let’s get this over with.
She had her shower, tried to put on her school uniform, gave up and put on her school tracksuit (which was easier as it had no buttons), and went downstairs to the kitchen. The tracksuit covered more of her body, anyway – you couldn’t even see her hairy, doggy legs.
Bruno took one look at Sam and started to laugh uproariously, his body twisting into knots and kinks with glee. ‘Shut up,’ said Sam. ‘This is kind of your fault.’ She looked around the kitchen. ‘Where’s Nanny Gigg?’
‘Sculpture class,’ spat out Bruno, between giggles, laughs and chortles.
‘Sculpture class?’ said Sam. ‘But that doesn’t start until nine thirty.’
‘It’s five to nine now,’ said Bruno, standing up and slinging his schoolbag on his back. ‘Why are you so late getting up? Isn’t your alarm clock working?’ He left the kitchen on a mini tidal wave of his own giggles, titters and guffaws.
Five to nine? thought Sam. No time for breakfast, I’m late! She grabbed her schoolbag and trotted doggily after Bruno.
