see how.
Dinah and Chloe both rang me during the evening. I was supposed to be in solitary confinement, but Mum had either forgotten or relented, most probably the first. Dinah was her usual bouncy self, said it would have all blown over by morning, which I doubted. Chloe was sweet, and talked to me about the puppies as if they were hers too.
“I don’t want them to get turned into coats, Chloe,” I sniffled to her. “Tell me they won’t be.”
“They won’t. We’ll find a way,” Chloe said. “Don’t you worry. Most people usually buy puppies to play with, not to make into coats.”
“But I can’t bear to lose them!”
“No. And of course…” She hesitated.
“What?”
“It’s obviously a bad world out there for little animals. I saw a notice pinned on a tree in our street from somebody looking for their missing cat. That’s the third one I’ve seen round here in a week. Strange, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said glumly, remembering Dad’s words from this morning. “Thanks, Chloe.”
“Don’t mention it. Sleep tight.”
I didn’t, of course.
The very next morning, Mum was huddled over the kitchen table scribbling on a piece of paper. When I came in, she covered it up in a sneaky manner.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Writing to Father Christmas,” Mum said. “He’s the only one left to turn to since you’ve smashed our only means of raising a bit of extra cash.”
“I’m really sorry about that,” I said, trying to put an arm round her. “I said I was sorry. It was an accident.”
I could see the edge of the piece of paper Mum had tried to cover up. It said DELICIOUS PUPPIES FOR.
“Delicious puppies for what?” I demanded, wrestling with Mum to pull the paper out. No prizes for guessing what it said.
DELICIOUS PUPPIES FOR SALE
“MUM! We haven’t discussed this properly! You said you were going to have another think about it!”
Mum sighed. “No, I didn’t. And if I had, what happened yesterday settles it. Look, Trix, you’re being really silly about this. All puppies have to leave home and we’ve already kept them too long. They’ll eat us out of house and home – and who’s going to take SIX huge dogs for a walk? They won’t be puppies for ever you know. Soon they’ll be huge, like Harpo. Just imagine!”
I looked at humungous Harpo. It was hard to imagine six of her in one room, but I managed. “It’ll save on electricity,” I said hopefully.
“What ARE you talking about?” Mum looked exasperated.
“Well, I read that seven people in a room make so much heat you don’t have to have the central heating on. So six Harpos would keep the kitchen cosy all through winter…”
“What about all the rest of the house?” Mum asked, rather sarkily. I couldn’t think of an answer to that.
“I haven’t got time to argue about this and I’m surprised you’re worrying about the bills for the first time in your life, especially after what happened yesterday.”
“But you CAN’T write that!” I shrieked. “Not DELICIOUS puppies!”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“They’ll be bought by dog thieves and baked in a pie!”
Mum struggled not to laugh. “Maybe delicious is a bit silly, but everyone always puts ‘adorable’ or ‘cute’. I wanted to make it different, so people would—”
“Be more likely to take them! Mum! We’ve raised them from the day they were born. How can you be so UNFEELING?”
But she was looking at her watch and scooping up Tomato and heading for the door.
“You’re always in a hurry! There’s never time for a proper conversation,” I complained. Then, to make her feel really guilty, I added, “Except you always have time to talk to parents at parents’ evening, or the silly headmistress!”
“This isn’t a conversation, Trix. That’s when two people listen to each other. You’re just trying to bully me into doing what you want. When you’re a grown-up, you can decide to keep a hundred Harpos and their puppies if you want to, and pay for their food and vet bills and all the rest. But for now, I make the decisions. I will write out the advertisement tonight and it will be in the newsagent’s window tomorrow, and that’s final.” And off she went.
I turned to Dad, who was pretending to examine a tap.
“Don’t know why it’s always dripping,” he muttered when he caught me staring at him.
“It’s not,” I said. “You’re just trying to keep out of the arguments as usual. Surely YOU don’t want to sell the pups, do you?”
“Erm…um. Let’s talk about it later. You’ll be late for school.”
It’s always the same. School just plonks itself in the way of real life every single day. Horrible looming boring school with stupid sums and tests, and Orrible Orange Orson lurking in the toilets and Ghastly Grey Griselda waiting to slam doors on your fingers, and the gimletty laser-eye of Warty-Beak waiting to BORE a hole into your soul as if you are a useless worm. I am going to create a world without school where children and puppies can run free and play all day and the streets are made of grass and sweeties grow on trees…
On the way to school next day I kept seeing notices for lost cats stuck to lampposts.
“Do you think someone is cat-napping them and turning them into hats? Like when Grandad was a lad?” I asked Chloe later in the playground.
“I don’t think so,” she replied in her usual cautious way. “Although come to think of it…”
“What? Come to think of what?”
“The dog next door to us has gone missing.”
“See? There’s a pet-napper on the prowl! If Mum advertises the puppies it’s like pointing an arrow straight at their hearts, saying ‘Get your new fur coat here’!”
“But it’s uncool to be seen in a fur coat these days, isn’t it? What with Animal Rights and all. People in woolly hats with banners would chase them down the street calling them nasty names.”
“What would they be doing in woolly hats?” I wondered. “They’re from animals too.”
“Well, they don’t have to be in woolly hats,” Chloe said. “Anyway, you just have to give sheep a haircut to get wool. You don’t have to murder them. It’s supportive. Probably Animal Rights people wear them to keep the sheep population in work.”
“Fur coat people wouldn’t worry about all that,” I said. “You never see