Dog Stories Read online

  About the Book

  BARKTASTIC TALES

  Magic dogs, robot dogs, invisible dogs, hacker dogs, plain old naughty dogs and more! There’s a story inside this book for every dog-lover. Woof!

  Featuring stories by bestselling Australian children’s authors, including Tristan Bancks, Aleesah Darlison, Jacqueline Harvey, Nick Falk and R.A. Spratt.

  CONTENTS

  COVER

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  TITLE PAGE

  1. A DOGGY TALE

  BY NICK FALK

  2. BAD BUSTER

  BY SOFIE LAGUNA

  3. THE DOG KISSER

  BY TRISTAN BANCKS

  4. MR PUFFLES

  BY CRISTINA BRIONES

  5. THE CASE OF THE MISSING HOMEWORK

  BY R.A. SPRATT

  6. SUZIE THE WONDERDOG

  BY JACQUELINE HARVEY

  7. DOGGONE

  BY MARTIN CHATTERTON

  8. MANY DOGS, ONE BONE

  BY GEORGE IVANOFF

  9. THE MAGIC PIDDLE

  BY BRONWYN O’REILLY

  10. THE DOG WHO FORGOT

  BY RAE MURDIE

  11. HOT DIGGITY DOG

  BY ALEESAH DARLISON

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR

  CAT STORIES

  COPYRIGHT NOTICE

  A DOGGY TALE

  BY NICK FALK

  ‘Do you want to know why they do that?’ asks Grandad.

  ‘Why they do what?’ I reply.

  Me and my grandad are sitting on his favourite park bench watching people walk their dogs.

  ‘Why they sniff each other’s bottoms,’ says Grandad.

  This is very embarrassing. Grandad speaks VERY LOUDLY. This is because he is deaf and his hearing aids don’t work. And it means everyone else can hear. Literally everyone. They can probably hear him all the way in China.

  ‘Shall I tell you why they sniff each other’s bottoms?’ asks Grandad, speaking even louder.

  A tall posh-looking woman turns around to stare at us. She doesn’t seem amused. She’s walking a tiny, very fussy-looking Chihuahua. It’s the kind of dog that probably never sniffs bottoms. Except it just did. It sniffed a Great Dane’s bottom. It had to stand on its back legs to reach.

  ‘Yes, Grandad,’ I say, blushing a little beneath my cap, ‘please do tell me.’

  Grandad settles himself in his seat and clears his throat. Loudly. Grandad does everything loudly. Once he farted so loudly on the bus a man fell over. It was the shockwaves.

  ‘Once, many years ago,’ says Grandad, beginning his story, ‘the dogs held a meeting.’

  ‘Are you talking about normal dogs, Grandad?’

  ‘Of course I’m talking about normal dogs,’ he snaps. ‘What do you think I’m talking about? Pretend dogs? Ridiculous boy. You’ve got less sense than a bag of beans.’ He clears his throat again. ‘Now, as I was saying. Once, long ago, the dogs held a meeting. Lord Gruffle snuff sent a message by growl mail to all the other dogs, inviting them to a meeting at Snouthound Hall.’

  ‘Is this a true story, Grandad?’ I ask.

  ‘True? Of course it’s true. Bottom-sniffing, my boy, is a very serious business.’ He gives me a stern look, his bushy eyebrows hovering over his wrinkly eyes.

  Everyone in the park is listening to him now, even the dogs.

  ‘As I was saying,’ says Grandad, ‘all the dogs were invited to a meeting. You see, they had to do something about the cats! Pesky things, cats. Always playing tricks. Putting mustard in dog food, sprinkling itching powder on blankets, tying knots in waggy tails, that sort of thing. “Something must be done!” declared Lord Grufflesnuff, and so the meeting was arranged.’

  ‘Are you sure this is a true story, Grandad?’

  ‘Look here!’ splutters Grandad, dislodging his false teeth. ‘If I say I’m telling you a true story about bottom-sniffing, then that’s precisely what I’m doing. Do you want to hear why dogs snuffle each other’s bottoms or not?’

  ‘Sorry, Grandad, I won’t interrupt again.’

  ‘See that you don’t!’ he says, replacing his slippery gnashers. ‘Now, where was I?’

  ‘The meeting,’ says the posh woman. ‘Lord Grufflesnuff’s meeting.’

  ‘Ah, yes. The meeting! The dogs travelled from far and wide. Sausage dogs from Hamburg. Hamburger dogs from Sausage. Huskies from the frozen North. Racing dogs from the steaming South. Wolfhounds, foxhounds, musk-hounds, bloodhounds, big hounds, jig hounds and silly-wig hounds. From every corner of the world they came.’ Grandad leans forward. ‘But all of them were tricked. The cats knew the meeting was being held. They had spies in the kitchens in Snouthound Hall. A sly Siamese stirring the soup! And those scheming felines had a nasty surprise waiting for our floppy-eared friends.’

  ‘What sort of surprise?’ asks a man walking a squashy-faced pug.

  ‘NOW, LOOK HERE!’ barks Grandad. ‘That’s quite enough questions. You’ll all just have to be patient and wait for me to get to the end!’

  ‘Sorry,’ says the man, looking sheepish. The pug looks sheepish too. Its snout goes even squishier.

  ‘The dogs arrived in all manner of transports,’ continues Grandad. ‘Carriages for the richer dogs. Bicycles for the strays. Some arrived by train, some by plane and some by hot-air balloon. It was the grandest snouting snufflefest the world has ever seen!’

  ‘Gosh,’ remarks an old woman walking an Alsatian.

  ‘Gosh indeed!’ confirms Grandad. ‘Now, before every dog entered the Great Hall, they had to hang their bottom on a coathook in the Grand Corridor.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ remarks the posh lady, eyebrows raised.

  ‘Well, I don’t beg yours!’ barks Grandad. ‘Have you ever smelt a dog’s bottom, young lass?’

  ‘Er …’ stammers the posh lady, going beetroot-red. ‘No … erm … no, I have not.’

  ‘I’d have thought not too!’ snaps Grandad, waving his walking stick. ‘Because they stink, madam. They reek. Few things in the world smell worse than a hairy dog’s bottom.’

  ‘Then why do they sniff each other’s bottoms?’ I ask Grandad.

  ‘Precisely the point I am getting to!’ shouts Grandad, thumping his stick on the bench. ‘They do not sniff each other’s bottoms because they want to, they do it because they have to. Do you want to hear why or not?’

  ‘Yes!’ confirms everyone in the park.

  ‘Good, then stop interrupting!’ Grandad clears his throat again. ‘Now, as I was saying, every spaniel, terrier and hound hung their stinky bottom on a hook before entering the Great Hall. And with bottoms hung, they filed in. Ah, the Great Hall … What a Great Hall it was. Grander than Buckingham Palace. More splendid than the Sydney Opera House. There was no hall greater than Snouthound Hall.’

  ‘Is it still there, Grandad?’ I ask.

  ‘No. Sadly, it was destroyed.’

  ‘How?’ asks a man in a bowler hat walking a basset hound.

  ‘Well, that’s precisely what I’m about to tell you, you bowler-headed buffoon,’ snaps Grandad. He looks disapprovingly at basset and owner.

  Dog and man lower their snouts in shame.

  ‘As I was saying,’ continues Grandad, ‘the dogs entered the Great Hall. They filed down the galleries and waited on the polished wooden benches. There were respectful muffled wuffles as Lord Grufflesnuff strode to the stage. Standing on his hind legs, he put his front paws on the podium, lowered his spectacles, cleared his throat and … “FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!”’

  The dog walkers duck their heads.

  ‘Are we under attack?’ squeals the posh lady.

  ‘No, you idiots,’ booms Grandad, ‘it was what one of the dogs started shouting. Right at t
he very second Lord Grufflesnuff was about to speak, a tiny Maltese shouted “FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!”. All the dogs craned their muzzles to look. And by George, she was right. Smoke was billowing from the kitchens. Snouthound Hall was in flames!

  “RUN!’ roared Lord Grufflesnuff. “RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! GRAB ANY BOTTOM YOU CAN!”

  ‘And run the dogs did. They scampered, they scurried, they flustered, they flurried. Fire nipped at their paws, flames tickled their tails. Out of the Great Hall they raced, down the Grand Corridor and through the Royal Gardens. And as they ran, they snatched the nearest bottom they could see and fled howling into the night.’

  The audience is silent by this stage, hanging on Grandad’s every word.

  ‘And did they ever go back and find their own bottoms?’ I ask.

  Grandad leans forward. ‘They did not,’ he says. ‘The fire was too terrible. The dogs were scattered to the four winds. And that is why they sniff each other’s bottoms. Every backside they meet – every tufty buttock – they raise their wet noses and snuffle, hoping and praying that one day they just might find their very own bum.’

  He leans back again and straightens his hat.

  ‘What did they do about the cats?’ asks the posh lady, eager to hear more. ‘Did they get their revenge?’

  ‘Well,’ replies Grandad, ‘we don’t have time for another story, but I will say this: have you ever noticed how cats lick themselves clean with their own tongues?’

  ‘Yes,’ says a hairy man walking a collie, ‘I have.’

  ‘And would you like to lick yourself clean with your own tongue?’ asks Grandad.

  ‘No,’ says the hairy man, ‘I would not.’

  ‘Well, neither do the cats!’ announces Grandad.

  Everyone waits for him to say more.

  ‘So,’ asks the posh lady, after a pause, ‘are you saying the dogs make them do it?’

  ‘Ah,’ replies Grandad, smiling a secret smile. ‘That, young lady, is a tale for another day.’

  BAD BUSTER

  BY SOFIE LAGUNA

  1 – Buster comes to Town

  Nobody was better at being bad than Buster Reed.

  Being bad was what Buster did best.

  When Buster first came to town with his family, it didn’t take long for everybody to find that out.

  Buster Reed flicked paint … said rude words to girls … stuck chewing gum under the seat … wore the same socks every day for a month … and wrote his name on the desk with a crayon.

  When the teacher in class said, ‘Buster Reed, do you know the answer?’ Buster just poked out his tongue and said, ‘No!’

  Buster was so busy being bad that he was having a bit of trouble making new friends. Nobody seemed to want to play with him.

  Buster pretended he didn’t mind being on his own. But he was only pretending. Buster minded very much. He wished he had a friend to play with.

  2 – A Ride on Roger’s Harley

  Buster’s mum, Vee, was bad too. Everyone knew she had a big skull and crossbones tattoo on her bum (Miranda Morell saw it when she was getting changed in the swimming-pool change rooms). Vee Reed was always late for parent–teacher meetings. When Vee worked in the canteen she got everybody’s orders mixed up. It made the other mums cross. Sometimes she gave all the kids free icy poles when she wasn’t supposed to.

  Buster’s dad, Roger, was even badder than that! You could see all his tattoos and he never even made it to the parent–teacher meetings.

  Roger always made a lot of noise on his motorbike when he dropped Buster off at school in the morning. Sometimes he took the car spot of the principal, Mr Meed. It made Mr Meed cross.

  Roger Reed spent his time working on his Harley and carving sculptures out of old tree stumps. He used a chainsaw!

  One Friday afternoon Buster came home from school with a letter to show his dad. It was the third letter from school in a week saying he’d been bad.

  Roger stopped work on his Harley, read the note, scratched his beard and said, ‘Buster, I think it’s time we found something to keep you out of trouble.’

  The next morning Roger took Buster for a ride on the Harley.

  3 – Finding a Friend

  Soon they came to a big brick building with a sign over the gate. The sign said:

  HOME FOR LOST AND

  UNWANTED DOGS

  Roger Reed rang the bell in the office and a grey-haired lady wearing orange overalls and a big straw hat came to the desk.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, ‘how can I help you?’

  ‘I’m Buster Reed,’ said Buster, ‘and I’m looking for something to keep me out of trouble.’

  ‘I’m Rhonda,’ said the lady, ‘and it sounds like you might be looking for a dog.’

  Rhonda introduced Buster to the most lost, most unwanted, baddest bunch of dogs he had ever seen.

  Buster liked the dogs very much.

  Rhonda could see that Buster was having a bit of trouble deciding which one he wanted for a friend.

  ‘If you like,’ she said to him, ‘you can come back after school and spend some more time with the dogs. That might help you to decide which one you like the most.’

  And so, on his way home from school on Monday, Buster dropped into the Dogs Home … and the next day after that … and the next day after that too. Buster and the dogs got along very well.

  4 – Buster and the Dogs

  When Harry, the boxer, snarled at Buster, Buster just snarled right back. Soon Harry wagged his tail instead.

  When Chester, the grumpy sausage dog, turned his back on Buster, Buster rubbed him under his tummy and said, ‘Come on, Chester!’

  Soon Chester jumped up and ran in circles whenever he saw Buster coming.

  When Shirley, the three-legged poodle, snapped at Buster, Buster just snapped right back. Soon Shirley licked Buster instead.

  When Lenny, the one-eyed heeler, looked too unhappy, Buster put on his unhappiest face and tickled Lenny under the chin. It made Lenny grin and they both felt better.

  When Linda, the postman-chasing doberman, tried to chase Buster, he just stood very still and looked at her. Soon Linda began to love chasing the sticks Buster threw for her instead.

  Buster spent lots of time trying to train the dogs. He took them to the park and tried to train them to come when he whistled. He never had much success but it was lots of fun practising. Sometimes he threw the ball for them. They didn’t bring it back very often.

  Buster had to go and get it himself. Buster didn’t mind. The dogs made him feel happy.

  Buster liked Rhonda too. She didn’t care about his grubby face and scabby knees and she never seemed to notice his smelly socks. She was a bit smelly herself from spending so much time with the dogs.

  Buster liked to help Rhonda with the dogs. Together they cleaned out the cages … did lots of washing and brushing … gave the dogs food and water … and took them on big walks in the park.

  Sometimes, after they’d finished work, Rhonda took Buster over to her cottage next door. She showed him all her dog books while they ate chocolate cake and drank tea from her best china tea set.

  Rhonda always gave Buster as much chocolate cake as he wanted. He always looked very happy when Vee and Roger came to pick him up.

  At school Buster Reed forgot to be so bad. He stopped flicking paint. He stopped saying rude words to girls. He forgot to chew gum or write his name on the desk with a crayon.

  But everybody else remembered. Buster still didn’t have anyone to play with.

  5 – Buster gets a Feeling

  One Thursday afternoon, with fifteen more minutes of school to go, Buster got a feeling about Rhonda and the Dogs Home. It was a very strong sort of quivery feeling deep in his tummy.

  The feeling told him that Rhonda and the dogs needed him right now! Buster watched the hands of the clock and waited for the end-of-school bell to ring.

  At last!

  Buster ran as fast as he could. When he got to the Dogs Home all the dogs
were barking and howling and scratching at their cages. He ran through the gate to check on the dogs.

  Harry was snarling. Chester was covering his eyes with his paws. Shirley was snapping. Lenny looked angry. Linda was running round in circles. Something was wrong.

  Where was Rhonda?

  Buster heard strange bumping noises coming from inside her house. He ran to the front door and knocked very loudly.

  ‘Rhonda!’ he called. ‘Rhonda!’

  Nobody came. Buster decided to have a look through the kitchen window. He stood on tippy toes and peered into Rhonda’s kitchen. He couldn’t see anyone. Buster ran round the other side of the house. He climbed up the drainpipe and looked through Rhonda’s living-room window.

  There were two masked burglars in Rhonda’s living room!

  6 – Buster and the Burglars

  Buster had to think fast. He climbed down the drainpipe as quickly and quietly as he could. Next he raced round to the dogs’ kennels and opened all the gates. He was going to need the dogs’ help.

  Buster ran back to the house with the dogs following him. The two burglars were climbing out of the living-room window.

  They were carrying Rhonda’s television and her best china tea set!

  ‘Hey, you! Stop!’ shouted Buster.

  ‘You can’t stop us, little kid!’ the burglars shouted back, their mouths full of Rhonda’s chocolate cake.

  ‘No,’ said Buster, ‘but they can!’ Buster gave his loudest whistle, and this time all the dogs came running.

  The burglars tried to run away. They ran round the back of the house. The dogs chased them back. They ran down the side of the house but the dogs cut them off. They ran down the other side of the house and again the dogs stopped them.

  ‘Quick!’ shouted one of the burglars. ‘Up the tree!’