The Smug Pug

by Anna Wilson

  Tallulah coughed politely and said, ‘May I suggest that we need to make a few contingency plans?’

  ‘What?’ said Pippa.

  ‘We simply need to think ahead more,’ put in Smug. ‘The bookings should be better organized. For example, if you gave priority to the Crumblies, as a gesture to show how you appreciate their loyalty, then people from outside will have to understand that they cannot be slotted into the diary at the last minute.’

  ‘But I can’t turn anyone away!’ exclaimed Pippa. ‘Mrs Fudge has left me in charge this weekend. If I turn people away, she will get a bad name for herself and she will be upset with me.’

  ‘Do not distress yourself,’ said Smug. He rubbed his velvety-soft head against her legs. ‘We can make a couple of simple adjustments here and there and you will find you can send twice as many clients through the machines as you have so far.’

  Pippa immediately looked hopeful. ‘Are you sure?’

  But Dash was snarling gently. ‘Pippa,’ he said, ‘have you not considered that speed is not always the answer? The reason this hair salon has been the success it has is that Mrs Fudge has lavished her time and energy on her clients. The very name of the salon, “Chop ’n’ Chat”, says it all. People have been coming here for company and conversation just as much as they have for hairdressing and dog grooming.’

  ‘What are you saying, Dash?’ Pippa asked irritably.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ said the miniature dachshund with a sigh. ‘The machines do a marvellous job, granted. But that is the only thing they do. They don’t listen to Millicent Beadle when she wants to talk about her aches and pains, do they? And they don’t provide tea and sympathy when that poor harassed mother comes in with her naughty twin boys and needs more than five minutes’ peace while you do their hair. Now she barely has time to sit down before the twins are done and dusted and out of here. Mrs Fudge used to provide so much more than a service. She was everyone’s friend.’

  ‘Oh, really,’ put in Smug. ‘I do think Dash is overreacting. Have any of your customers complained that Mrs Fudge is not chatting to them as much as she used to?’ he asked.

  Pippa shook her head firmly. ‘No one has.’

  ‘You see?’ said Smug, smiling benignly at Dash. ‘How about if we trial the idea of a faster setting while the girls are here to help? Then if Mrs Fudge feels up to it after her rest, she can sit and chat to people who are waiting – we could open up the garden as well and serve tea outside. It will lend the place a cafe atmosphere.’

  Pippa thought this was an excellent idea. ‘Yes!’ she said, clapping her hands in delight. ‘I like the sound of that.’

  Smug turned and gave Dash a look that was part way between a sneer and a smile. ‘We will take the machines home with us tonight then,’ he said to Pippa. ‘I am sure I can make the adjustments in no time.’

  Foiled again, thought Dash. But not for much longer. I’ll show this hound up for the nasty bit of work he really is. Why is that mind-reading machine in the Foghorns’ place? And what was that coded note all about? What if they are spying for a rival hairdresser? Or what if they are spying for something much, much worse? He went cold as the thought took root in his mind. He swallowed hard. It’s up to me, he decided. Pippa is not going to listen, so I must continue my detecting solo.

  Poor Dash did not get very far however. He waited until the crazy duo had left Chop ’n’ Chat and were well out of sight, and then he ran at top speed to their house, making sure he used bushes and shrubs as cover so that he would definitely not be spotted. But by the time he arrived at the Foghorns’ residence, he found the cat flap securely fastened and the windows blacked out. He put his ear to the wall and heard all manner of peculiar noises from inside, which made the fact that he could not get in all the more frustrating.

  ‘That surely proves they are up to no good!’ he muttered. ‘Why else would they make the place so secure?’

  Dash had to wait a full twenty-four hours to find out what the Foghorns had been up to. He hardly slept a wink and paced up and down the kitchen so much that Mrs Fudge shut him out at one point, saying if he went on like that he would ‘wear out the floor tiles’.

  At last Tallulah and Smug arrived with the adjusted machines in tow.

  ‘I have been giving some thought to what you said, Dash, about people coming with aches and pains and problems and so on,’ Smug said. ‘And I thought, why not add in a treatment which will completely distract the customer from their woes? Then they won’t feel the need to talk about them.’

  ‘Why not get rid of you for a start?’ muttered Dash. ‘That would get rid of my woes, I can tell you.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Smug asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Pippa quickly, glaring at Dash. ‘Tell us about your distraction idea.’

  ‘Well, I’ve added a few relaxation options to the settings available,’ said Smug, nodding to some new levers and cogs on the machines. ‘Your customers can now have mini back massages and reflexology while they have their hair styled. And what’s more, I’ve adapted things so that the machines can do more than one client at a time—’

  ‘Er, what is re Flox elegy?’ Pippa cut in.

  ‘Re-flex-o-logy,’ Tallulah corrected her. ‘It’s a kind of special foot massage – it can cure all sorts of aches and pains. It’s miraculous.’

  ‘Oh, Smug, you are clever!’ cooed Pippa.

  ‘No, he’s not!’ Dash yelped. ‘Listen to me, these machines have a dangerous side to them. I’m telling you – I know all about it because . . .’

  But no one was listening to him. It was as if his ability to communicate with humans had been turned off with the flick of one of Smug’s infernal switches, he thought.

  ‘Ah, but wait for the next bit,’ Tallulah was saying, wiggling her eyebrows. ‘I think you’ll find Smug has surpassed himself this time. Not only has he invented relaxation treatments for the human clients, he has also created them FOR THEIR DOGS!’ she finished. She swept her arm dramatically to gesture to Smug, who smiled primly and bowed.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Paw massages or reflexology for dogs, if you will. Although I prefer to call it “pawology”.’

  Dash spluttered: ‘Massages and paw rubs for dogs? Have you gone mad? Just because you like wearing spectacles and sitting up at table like a human, doesn’t mean the rest of our species has gone raving bonkers like you.’

  ‘Perhaps you would care to try the new functions before criticizing, Dash?’ said Smug. He put his head on one side. ‘I can assure you both the massage and the paw rub are a wonderful cure for stress. You will find that it simply flows out of you.’

  ‘You are not getting me to sit in that machine,’ Dash snapped.

  ‘I think you’ll find that you will feel decidedly less tetchy,’ said Smug. He wrinkled his nose so that his spectacles rose and fell. Then he leaped forward and gave Dash a quick push towards the dog-grooming machine, flicking a switch with his nose as he did so.

  ‘NO!’ shouted Dash, wriggling and writhing. ‘I’ve been here before. I know the mischief your inventions can wreak!’ But he could not escape: he found himself held in place by the gloved hands, and he looked up in horror at the familiar sink-plunger attachment, which lowered and clamped itself to his head.

  ‘No!’ he cried in alarm. ‘Don’t let that thing near me!’ But then the hands, which were holding him on the chair, softened and began to push and prod his back very, very gently. Oh, if only I could have some peace and quiet away from these two, he wished. I just want to curl up in my basket and forget all this.

  A clicking noise started up behind the machine the very moment that Dash had these thoughts, and a long sheet of paper fell on to the floor, displaying the words ‘Just want to curl up in my basket and forget all this’.

  But Dash did not see this as he was already feeling as though something had taken all the tension he had been holding right out of him. ‘Ooooh,’ he said as he began to relax. ‘Actually, that’s very . . . right a
bit . . . aah, that’s it . . . left a bit . . .’

  The dachshund closed his eyes and his lips turned up in a dreamy smile. Then, just as he was getting used to the sensation, he was pushed gently back into a cushion, which had appeared behind him, and yet another pair of hands emerged. Each took a firm hold of Dash’s paws and began to rub and pull at his toes and claws. Dash gave a funny little yipping noise and his face creased up. ‘Oh! No! Stop! That tickles!’ he squealed, and the hands adjusted their movements to a gentler, more soothing rhythm. Dash took a deep shuddering breath and stopped wriggling. In fact, he was soon fast asleep. He did not move a muscle as the hands stopped their massaging and gently lifted him down, still on the cushion, and placed him on the floor at Pippa’s feet.

  Her jaw dropped in astonishment.

  ‘Incredible, isn’t it?’ said the pug, seeing Pippa’s expression.

  ‘Amazing!’ cried Pippa. She stooped to pick up the printout of Dash’s thoughts. ‘Smug, you are a genius. This machine can read our customers’ minds.’

  17

  Da Da Daaaaaaaa! Disaster!

  Within minutes of Smug’s pawology demonstration, Penelope Smythe was at the door, looking breathless.

  ‘I’m so sorry I’m late,’ she said, as she plonked her shopping bags down on the salon floor. ‘Sukie was giving me the runaround in the park! I didn’t think I was going to be able to catch her. Oh my, I do feel rather stressed. Could I sit down for a moment?’

  Tallulah wiggled her eyebrows at Pippa and said, ‘Our first reflexology customer, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Stressed out and exhausted from chasing a doolally saluki,’ said Smug, making a couple of discreet notes on his little pad. ‘I think our machine will know exactly what to do.’ He glanced quickly in Dash’s direction, but the miniature dachshund was deeply asleep by now and was snoring contentedly.

  Pippa followed Smug’s gaze and laughed. ‘If you can make Dash relaxed after the mood he’s been in recently, I’m sure you can help Penelope.’ Then turning to Penelope she said, ‘We’ve got just the thing to make you feel better.’ And she explained about the newly adapted machines.

  ‘It does sound marvellous,’ Penelope said. ‘I could do with a massage.’ She rolled her neck to show how stiff she was feeling.

  ‘You will go all sleepy,’ Pippa promised, showing her to the chair. ‘It’s lovely! You’ll soon forget about the stressful morning you have had.’

  Penelope had just got comfortable and was ready for the treatment to begin when the doorbell went again.

  ‘Oh dear, I think our appointments schedule has got messed up,’ said Pippa. She leafed quickly through the large black ledger where all the appointments were written. ‘Great,’ she sighed. ‘Marble is due now. I expect even the machine’s marvellous makeover has worn off already. It would be her, wouldn’t it?’

  ‘Never mind,’ said Smug. He pushed his spectacles up his flat little nose. ‘We can do them both at once, thanks to my adjustments. Tally and I will get Sukie ready while you go and answer the door to Marble.’

  Pippa skedaddled down the hallway in answer to the ever more persistent ringing of the doorbell.

  ‘About time too,’ said Marble Wainwright, her potatoey face scrunched up into a sour sneer of disapproval. ‘It’s not very professional to keep your customers waiting, young lady.’

  Pippa fixed a fake smile on to her face and said, ‘Come in.’

  If anyone could do with being sent to sleep by the new machine, it’s Marble, she thought, as she led her into the salon. It would shut her up so I wouldn’t have to listen to her moany old voice, for one thing.

  ‘My, my,’ said Marble sarcastically. ‘We are going to town on the whole technology thing, aren’t we?’

  ‘Yes, we are,’ Pippa snapped. And seeing as how you were so happy last time, I can’t see that you have anything to complain about, she thought. But fixing the fake smile back on to her face she said, ‘Please do take a seat next to Penelope, Marble.’

  ‘Don’t you want to know what style I want?’ said the sour-faced lump.

  Pippa nodded to Smug and said to Tallulah, ‘I’ll just get Snooks settled with Sukie. If you two – I mean, could you help make sure the two ladies are ready, Tally?’

  ‘Certainly,’ said Tallulah. And she flicked a switch.

  The white-gloved hands shot out and began kneading Marble’s knobbly old shoulders.

  ‘Harrumph,’ snorted Marble. ‘Well, it’s quite nice, I suppose. I hope this thing is not going to massage my feet though,’ she added crossly. ‘I can’t stand anyone touching my feet.’

  Pippa eyed the grumpy woman’s lumpy black shoes and thought, if Marble’s feet are anything like as potatoey as her face, I don’t think anyone would want to massage them.

  But soon the machine was working its magic and Marble was smiling dreamily. ‘I – oh, that’s a bit better . . . Hmmm,’ she said.

  ‘Ahhh,’ sighed Penelope, as she too began her treatment.

  ‘Oooow!’ Snooks whined, as he looked up in alarm at the sink plunger which was descending towards him.

  ‘Rufff!’ agreed Sukie, as the sink plunger seemed to sprout a twin which made its way to her silky head.

  But even they were soon almost purring with pleasure as their pawology sessions began.

  In fact, everyone in the room was so content that that is quite probably why no one was prepared for what happened next.

  WHOOSH! BELCH! BLEURGH!

  There was an explosion of the most worrying noises, followed by an eruption of paper which shot out of the machines, hitting the ceiling like fireworks and falling in a cascade so that everyone could plainly read the words which streamed over the surface of the printout.

  ‘Oh no!’ cried Pippa, as she realized what the words said. ‘Can’t you stop it?’

  But it was too late! Penelope’s thoughts were there in large type for everyone to read:

  ‘WHAT? How dare you –!’ shrieked Marble, as she read the words falling in front of her eyes.

  ‘Smug?’ said Tallulah, a note of panic rising in her voice. ‘I think something’s gone wrong.’

  ‘Dash! Dash!’ cried Pippa, shaking the little dachshund. ‘I need your help.’

  But Dash could not be woken.

  ‘What have you done to him?’ Pippa shouted at Smug. She was beginning to see that her poochy friend must have been right about the machines all along. ‘Oh, Dash,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry! I should have listened to you!’

  ‘Don’t panic,’ the pug yelped, running round and round the machines, flicking switches and pulling levers. ‘Don’t panic!’

  ‘Why don’t you take your own advice and stop and think about what you’re doing?!’ Pippa yelled.

  Next, to add to the confusion, Sukie and Snooks had started up an alarming racket too. Pippa rushed to their sides just as more paper was catapulted out of the printer. The thoughts of Sukie and Snooks, and unfortunately Marble too, were now pouring out in huge letters, there for all to see:

  ‘Well!’ cried Penelope indignantly. ‘That’s ripe, coming from you!’

  ‘Let me at her!’ growled Marble, struggling to reach Penelope.

  ‘SMUG, DO SOMETHING!’ yelled Pippa at the top of her lungs.

  And then lots of things happened at once.

  Smug was grabbed by yet more mechanical hands, which had appeared seemingly from nowhere, and was thrown right out of the window; Penelope’s head was held in a vice-like grip while the hands which had been massaging her began rubbing vigorously at her face (to wipe the smile off presumably) and Marble was lashed to her seat with a long length of rope and an entire bottle of shampoo was dumped on to her head in one go!

  Pippa felt her chest tighten as she watched.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she cried above the screaming and the shouting and the clanking of machinery. She knew she should do something, but she could not think what. Her brain had frozen and her legs and arms had turned to lead. She was rooted to the
spot.

  Where was Tallulah? Pippa whirled around to find her friend among the chaos, but all she could see was whirring machinery and frenzied customers shrieking and wailing as they were pummelled and pushed and thumped around by the monstrous inventions.

  Then, just as suddenly as the commotion had started, it all stopped. The white-gloved hands dropped limply to the sides of the machines, the flashing lights were extinguished and the horrible noises ceased. Pippa could hear her heart banging against her ribs. Marble and Penelope had both fainted and the dogs were simply whimpering softly, cowering in their places on the dog-grooming machine. The eerie calm was suddenly broken by a loud yawn from somewhere near Pippa’s feet.

  ‘Yaaaaawwwn! Ah, that’s better,’ said a familiar voice. ‘I must say, one does feel so much better after a good kip.’

  ‘Dash?’ whispered Pippa, crouching down to her old friend. She held out her arms and the little dog jumped into them.

  ‘Hello!’ he said cheerily. Then, ‘Oh. My. Goodness!’ he yelped, as he took in the scene of devastation. ‘What on earth has gone on here?’

  ‘That’s just what I was going to ask,’ said another familiar voice. It was Mrs Fudge, who had been woken up from her nap by all the fuss.

  ‘Oh, Mrs Fudge . . . Dash . . . I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!’ wailed poor Pippa. She put her face in her hands and wept. ‘I should have listened to you. I should never have used these machines—’

  ‘You’re telling me, young lady!’ said a deep, gravelly voice.

  At that, everyone spun around. Standing in the door behind Mrs Fudge was a very tall, spindly old man with a round red-bearded face which was crowned with crazy, bouncy, fluffy red hair, in which were nestled several pairs of black-framed spectacles. The man was wearing a white coat of the sort hospital doctors have, except that his was covered in pockets, which were stuffed full of notebooks, pens, pencils and rulers. Pippa realized she knew exactly who he was.