Dog Stories Page 3

  ‘My assignment. It’s worth 80 per cent of my final mark for the year,’ said Parker. ‘And someone stole it. I think it was –’ he leaned in close ‘– the swamp yeti.’

  ‘Intriguing,’ said Friday.

  ‘Why would the swamp yeti want your assignment?’ asked Melanie.

  ‘He ran away from being in Year 7, didn’t he?’ said Parker. ‘So perhaps he’s tired of living in the swamp with all the mosquitos and stinky mud and he’s trying to catch up on the coursework so he can get back in.’

  ‘We shall investigate,’ announced Friday.

  Friday and Melanie went with Parker back to his room. It was just like their own, except that it smelled bad because two boys lived there, and there were lots of dirty sports equipment littered about. (Friday and Melanie did not approve of sports equipment. If they were forced to own any, they usually shoved it as far back underneath their beds as possible so they would never have to look at it.)

  ‘Talk me through what happened,’ said Friday.

  ‘I was sitting here doing my chemistry assignment,’ said Parker. ‘It was really hard. It took me forever. I’m not very good at understanding valencies. I know the teacher said it had something to do with oranges and a cricket ground but, honestly, I couldn’t follow what the fellow was saying.’

  ‘So it took you a while?’ asked Friday.

  ‘Hours and hours,’ replied Parker. ‘My roommate, Nigel, had to go and get me a plate of dinner so I could work right through.’

  ‘It was shepherd’s pie last night,’ said Melanie. ‘You wouldn’t want to miss that. It’s the best dinner of the week.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ agreed Parker. ‘But I couldn’t afford time away from my desk. It’s due tomorrow and I just had to get it done.’

  ‘Couldn’t you ask for an extension?’ asked Friday.

  ‘Normally I would,’ replied Parker. ‘But Mr Spencer would never do that. He hates me.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Friday. ‘It seems very unscientific to be so emotional.’

  ‘Because in the last practical exam, when we had to identify which beaker contained acid and which contained an alkaline, I forgot how to do the proper tests with that litmus stuff, so I worked it out by sticking my finger in each beaker and licking it.’

  ‘Oh, I remember that,’ said Melanie. ‘You had to spend a week in hospital, didn’t you?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Parker. ‘It was an awesome week. I got to lie in bed all day watching television. And the skin grew back eventually, so all in all it was a win for me.’

  Friday peered at Parker’s desk, and then the window next to it. ‘How was it that your homework came to be missing?’ asked Friday.

  ‘I was struggling with a particularly difficult problem and eating the first bite of my shepherd’s pie when Portelli knocked on the door,’ explained Parker. ‘He said they’d tied a Year 7 to a desk leg by his tie and did I want to go and have a look.’

  ‘And you did?’ asked Friday.

  ‘Of course,’ said Parker. ‘It sounded like a laugh. So I popped out for a quick peek. I was only gone 60 seconds and when I came back it was gone!’

  ‘Someone had taken your homework?’ asked Friday.

  ‘Yes, and to add insult to injury they took my dinner as well,’ said Parker.

  ‘They ate your dinner?’ asked Friday.

  ‘Yes,’ said Parker.

  ‘Did they take the plate?’ asked Friday.

  ‘What difference does that make?’ asked Parker.

  ‘I’m not sure yet,’ said Friday. She was clearly lost in concentration.

  ‘No, they left the plate, but ate every last scrap of the dinner,’ said Parker. ‘It’s a good job I had a stash of potato chips hidden under the floorboards or I would have starved.’

  Friday looked about the room then walked over to the open window, took out a magnifying glass and closely inspected the frame.

  ‘Hmm,’ she said.

  ‘A clue?’ asked Parker.

  ‘A footprint,’ said Friday.

  ‘Whose is it?’ asked Parker. ‘It’s the swamp yeti, isn’t it?’

  ‘No,’ said Friday. ‘Swamp yetis don’t exist.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Parker. He was clearly disappointed.

  Friday leaned out the window, looking first one way, then the other. On one side she could see the cricket pitch in the distance. On the other side she could see boys coming out of the dining hall, laughing among themselves and throwing a few scraps to Fudge, the school’s overweight dog.

  ‘Then do you know who did take my homework?’ asked Parker.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ said Friday. ‘The problem will be proving it. How much cash have you got on you?’

  ‘Umm,’ said Parker as he checked his pockets. ‘I’ve got 80 … no, $90.’

  ‘That ought to do it,’ said Friday taking the money out of his hand. ‘What time is your science lesson tomorrow?’

  ‘Third period,’ said Parker. ‘So 11.15 am.’

  ‘I can make that work,’ said Friday as she tucked the cash in her pocket. ‘I will meet you at the beginning of your science class tomorrow with your stolen homework.’

  Friday then turned and clambered out the window.

  ‘Thank you, thank you very much!’ Parker called after her with great relief.

  He and Melanie watched Friday jog off into the bushes.

  Parker turned to Melanie. ‘She hasn’t just run off with my money, has she?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Melanie. ‘But it can be hard to tell with Friday sometimes. She’s very peculiar.’

  The next morning Parker was very nervous as he stood outside his science classroom, waiting for Friday. Melanie waited with him. But that did not make him less nervous because Parker found girls nerve-racking as well. All the other students were filing in. He couldn’t delay much longer.

  Mr Spencer was just about to start the lesson when he spotted his hapless student loitering in the corridor.

  ‘Parker, get in here, stop dillydallying,’ he snapped.

  Parker entered. His shoulders were slumped. He was just about to get detention for goodness knows how many days, possibly weeks. And he was out of pocket the $110 he had already given Friday.

  ‘Why is she here?’ asked Mr Spencer as he glared at Melanie. She had followed Parker into the room. ‘Did you decide to bring a date to class?’

  The class sniggered.

  ‘No, sir,’ said Parker lamely.

  ‘And where’s your assignment?’ continued Mr Spencer.

  ‘I don’t have it, sir,’ said Parker.

  Mr Spencer sighed and crossed his arms, getting ready to enjoy yelling at his most abysmal student. ‘So, tell me, what’s your excuse this time?’

  ‘Someone stole it,’ said Parker.

  ‘Preposterous!’ exclaimed Mr Spencer. ‘You expect me to believe that someone would steal the homework of a boy like you?’

  ‘It sounds silly when you put it that way,’ agreed Parker.

  Suddenly the door burst open.

  ‘Stop!’ yelled Friday as she stood in the entrance, carrying a snap-lock bag containing a mysterious brown substance.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ demanded Mr Spencer. ‘Aren’t you in Year 7? Shouldn’t you be in English right now?’

  ‘A minor technicality,’ said Friday. ‘I am here now to clear the name of this boy, Parker.’

  ‘He says someone stole his homework,’ said Mr Spencer. ‘I find that very hard to believe. When he does hand in assignments he always gets very bad marks. No-one in their right mind would steal an assignment from him.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Friday, ‘but it wasn’t stolen. It was eaten!’

  ‘What?!’ exclaimed Parker and Mr Spencer in unison.

  ‘By whom?’ asked Mr Spencer.

  ‘Not “By whom?”’ said Friday. ‘The question you should ask is “By what?”’

  ‘So it was the swamp yeti!’ exclaimed Parker.

  ‘No,’ said Friday.
‘Your homework was not eaten by another student or a fictional swamp-dwelling man-beast. It was eaten by Fudge, the school dog.’

  ‘Fudge ate my homework?’ marvelled Parker. ‘But why would he do that? He always gets lots of scraps from the students. That’s why he’s so fat.’

  ‘Because it was shepherd’s pie Tuesday,’ said Friday, ‘and everyone loves Mrs Marigold’s shepherd’s pie. Therefore there were no scraps. It is the one day of the week where Fudge is left alone outside the dining room windows, feeling hungry. And there is nothing hungrier than a fat dog. So when you left your plate of shepherd’s pie on your desk it was tantamount to entrapment. Fudge could not resist.’

  ‘But what has that got to do with this boy’s homework?’ asked Mr Spencer.

  ‘Dogs are messy eaters,’ explained Friday. ‘They usually eat from bowls. But Parker’s shepherd’s pie was on a plate. So as Fudge licked it up he licked it off the plate, onto the piece of paper below, which was the homework assignment. When he finished, Fudge was still hungry, so he ate the gravy-smeared paper as well. Dogs don’t have opposable thumbs, so they literally can’t pick and choose what they eat.’

  ‘This is ridiculous,’ said Mr Spencer. ‘I don’t believe it for a minute.’

  ‘Ah, but I have proof!’ said Friday as she held up the snap-lock bag full of mysterious brown stuff. Everyone in the room got a nasty suspicion just what was in that bag. ‘Behold! Here is Parker’s assignment. Fully digested and excreted as Fudge’s poop!’

  ‘Ewww!’ exclaimed everyone in the classroom.

  ‘That’s disgusting!’ exclaimed Mr Spencer.

  ‘That’s evidence,’ said Friday. ‘I had an express courier drive it to the university last night. There is a PhD student there who owes me a favour because I helped him with the mathematics in his thesis. He ran a sample of the poop through their analysis protocols and the results are conclusive. This poop is 11 per cent paper, which is consistent with a sheet of A4 eaten along with a serving of shepherd’s pie.’

  ‘This is by far the most disgusting thing a student has ever confronted me with,’ said Mr Spencer.

  ‘Disgusting yes, but also conclusive proof that a dog ate Parker’s homework,’ said Friday.

  The class applauded. Friday was putting on their most interesting science lesson since Mr Spencer accidentally burnt his own eyebrows off with a Bunsen burner.

  ‘This whole debacle still does not reflect well on Parker. I have a good mind to send him to detention anyway,’ said Mr Spencer.

  ‘Mr Spencer,’ said Friday, ‘I know that Parker is as thick as two short planks and that must be very irritating for you to endure. But he is sincerely frightened of you, and so he did earnestly try to do his assignment. If you crush him now it may be a blow he never recovers from. And you don’t want Parker to repeat a year because his grades are so bad, do you?’

  ‘No,’ said Mr Spencer, shuddering at the thought of having to endure another twelve months with the dullard.

  ‘So give him another night to do the assignment all over again,’ suggested Friday.

  ‘Aww,’ said Parker, ‘I was hoping I could get a pass.’

  ‘Parker,’ said Mr Spencer, ‘I’m giving you another chance. But please don’t leave a freshly cooked meal on top of your homework in front of an open window again.’

  ‘No danger in that, sir,’ said Parker. ‘It’s kidney pie for dinner tonight. Not even Fudge would touch that.’

  SUZIE THE WONDERDOG

  BY JACQUELINE HARVEY

  Have you ever been the new kid at school? I mean the new kid when there were no other new kids that day? I have and it was terrifying.

  You see, up until this point in my life I’d had some pretty scary teachers. No – that’s not true. For the first half of Year 4, I had THE scariest teacher in the WHOLE of Australia. He was taller than the doorframe, he was meaner than the snarling dog with huge fangs that lived on the corner of our road and I’m pretty sure he ate children for lunch. (Well, I was really sure about that after Douglas Goldsworthy disappeared one lunch-time and never came back.)

  So the idea of a new teacher who might be even meaner than him made my knees knock and my teeth chatter. Mum said it would be all right, but she’d said that about the last school and she’d been wrong.

  On that dreaded Tuesday in August, I was to walk to the new school with my mother and my two younger sisters. Sarah was going into Year 1 and she was pretty excited about that. (That’s because she’d never had the scariest teacher in Australia and was still too young to realise how bad it could be.) Natalie was just along for the ride in her stroller. Because we had no fences at our new house, Mum had to tie our beautiful black labrador called Suzie to the only thing that was concreted into the backyard – the clothes line. She told Suzie she wouldn’t be long, and the four of us set off.

  As we walked through the school gate, my stomach did a backflip and then a front flip too. We took Sarah to her Year 1 classroom, then walked up a long flight of steps to the Year 4 locker room, where my teacher was waiting to meet me.

  With one look, I knew there was no way someone as pretty and lovely and friendly as Miss Ryder could be anywhere close to the scariest teacher in Australia. It took no time at all to realise that she was clever and funny too.

  Inside the classroom, though, there were a few kids who seemed overly excited to have a new student starting. There was this one kid – let’s just call him Baboon Boy – who thought it was funny to make farting noises under his arm and yell out, ‘Hey, everyone, there’s a new girl! Check out the new girl!’

  Now, if you’ve ever been the only new kid, I think you’ll agree that the last thing you want to happen is for everyone to be checking you out. I prayed to become invisible at that moment. Little did I know that things were about to get so much worse.

  You see, just as we were about to go into the classroom, I felt something wet on the back of my leg. It was followed by a panting sound. I turned around and there she was.

  ‘Suzie!’ I exclaimed in horror. ‘What are you doing here?’

  My little sister clapped her hands and shouted gleefully, ‘Suzie!’

  You’re probably wondering why I was so upset about Suzie being there. Well, despite the fact that she had been the cutest puppy I’d ever seen – with huge brown eyes, that sweet puppy smell and giant paws she was yet to grow into – the grown up version of Suzie was trouble with a capital ‘T’.

  I’m sure you’re thinking labradors are incredibly intelligent creatures. They work as guide dogs and assistance dogs. Ours, unfortunately, developed other talents – namely escapology and garbology with a healthy dose of fartology thrown in for good measure. She was without a doubt the greatest canine escape artist of all time. Life was never dull with Suzie about.

  Our dad liked to call Suzie ‘the Wonderdog’, but that had nothing to do with her incredible talent. He said it was a wonder he hadn’t dropped her off at the pound or given her away. Every time he threatened to do just that, me and my sisters would beg him not to and promise to clean up after her – which we did and it was gross!

  Garbage night was the worst because Suzie would somehow get into the neighbours’ bins. She’d knock them over, drag out the bin bags, hefting and heaving them all the way home. We’d know she’d been at it as soon as Dad put up the blinds and shouted ‘You dirty dog!’ at the top of his lungs. We would run out of the house in our pyjamas and dressing-gowns to find tin cans and empty bottles and dirty nappies strewn all over our front lawn.

  She was a nightmare, but then she’d look at you with those big brown eyes, wag that windscreen-wiper tail and whimper and all would be forgiven. She was bad, she was good, she was cute, she was mad, but best of all, she was ours and we loved her to bits.

  But right now, standing in that locker room, I would have happily taken her to the pound myself.

  Suzie was now collarless and wagging her tail on high speed. She looked like she was saying, ‘Hey, Mum! Hey, sisters! Lo
ok, aren’t I clever for finding you? Aren’t I amazing? You love me, don’t you?’

  ‘No, I don’t love you,’ I whispered under my breath.

  Sweet Miss Ryder came to the rescue. She suggested we leave Suzie in the locker room while Mum and my baby sister helped me unpack my things into my desk. Afterwards, Mum could take Suzie home.

  Good idea. NOT! When is it ever a good idea to leave a labrador, especially one with the dual skill set of escapology and garbology, in a locker room by itself? That would be … NEVER!

  I set up my desk, aware that 26 pairs of eyes were staring at me, then walked out to say goodbye to my mum and baby sister. The second I stepped into the locker room I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

  Suzie had done something despicable. No, it wasn’t a piddle or a number two. But on the scale of doggy destruction, this was right up there.

  I gasped.

  Mum gasped.

  Miss Ryder gasped.

  Baboon Boy clearly had a nose for trouble. His head appeared around the doorway. ‘Look,’ he declared, ‘the new girl’s dog has eaten everyone’s lunch. We’re all gonna starve!’

  And there you have it – Suzie the Wonderdog had outdone herself this time. The evidence was still hanging out of her mouth – a half-eaten Vegemite sandwich covered in manky, drool-soaked plastic wrap. There were biscuits and sandwiches and even a cold sausage littered across the floor – and lots of plastic wrap. Suzie would go on to poop plastic wrap for a month afterwards!

  Everyone ran to the classroom door to have a look, and I was convinced they all hated me – even before I’d said a word.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Miss Ryder said quietly. ‘It won’t take a minute to get this cleaned up.’

  Fortunately, my mum was a sensible soul. She announced that she would replace all the lunches Suzie had destroyed with orders at the tuck-shop.

  ‘Awesome!’ Baboon Boy yelled, to the sounds of clapping and cheering from my classmates. ‘I’d like a pie and a sausage roll and an iced tea bun and a chocolate milk.’