Starlight Barking

  Just then, Missis saw two horses asleep in a field and said cheerfully, “Breathing nicely, aren’t they?” Then she suddenly stopped running. “Oh, Pongo look!”

  Curled up in a grassy nest was a sleeping mouse.

  Pongo said hastily, “Missis, dear, I wouldn’t.” For Missis was a famous mouse-chaser.

  She looked at him haughtily. “I wouldn’t dream of pouncing on the poor little creature. It’s only when they run that they’re so tempting. Mice shouldn’t imitate toys.”

  The farm was now in sight and, as Pongo and Missis drew near to it, they at last saw someone who wasn’t asleep. The Old English Sheepdog came running to meet them, at a surprising speed for such a large, elderly dog (large even under his enormously thick, woolly coat) who was often a little short of breath.

  In the days when he had helped to rescue the Dalmatian puppies he had been a Colonel. Afterwards, with every justification, he had made himself a General. He had always remained on the friendliest terms with Pongo and Missis and often visited Hell Hall. Now he said, “I was coming to see you. Oh, my dear young friends, I’m afraid the fact that you’re here means that you, also, are faced with a dangerous situation.”

  “Then your humans are unwakeable too?” said Pongo.

  “All of them, including my dear young Tommy, who’s usually so very wide-awake. But it isn’t only the humans who are asleep. Come and see for yourselves.”

  The General led the way. They saw sleeping ducks around the pond, sleeping hens in their pen, sleeping pigeons in their dovecote up in the gable of the barn. A gentle snoring came from the pig-sty and no sound whatever from the cow-shed. Missis at once went to make sure that all cows were breathing satisfactorily; she had loved them ever since that night when they had given drinks of warm milk to the hungry, rescued puppies.

  “And I’ve been to my sheep in the meadow,” said the General. “I couldn’t make the slightest impression on them. Now come and look at my poor Mrs. Willow.”

  Pongo and Missis followed him into the kitchen. The tabby cat lay in her basket, utterly asleep.

  “Never before has she let me down,” said the General.

  “As you know, I think of her more as a dog than a cat. I still can’t quite believe…” He kicked the basket and said in a very military voice, “Wake up, Major!” Then he added tenderly, “Puss, please!”

  But the tabby cat went on sleeping.

  Pongo said, “It’s been worse for you than for Missis and me, General. We had Prince and Perdita to talk to. You’ve had no one.” For the Sheepdog was the only dog at the farm.

  “Well, I’ll admit I was pretty thankful to see you two. Not that I allowed myself to get too alarmed, once I saw that all humans and all creatures look perfectly healthy.” The General then turned to Missis. “Still, I’d like a female opinion on young Tommy.”

  They went along to Tommy’s room. Though he was still young enough to sleep in his small painted bed, he now thought himself too old to play with the little blue cart he had once lent to help the Dalmatian puppies get back to London. But it was there, on top of the toy cupboard, and Missis gave it a grateful look. Then she assured the Sheepdog that Tommy seemed particularly well. “Beautifully rosy cheeks, and magnificent breathing.”

  “Such an intelligent boy,” said the General, glancing proudly at the books on the bedside table.

  “Can he read already?” asked Pongo.

  “Well, not the words, but he reads the pictures splendidly. He’s particularly fond of something he calls Science Fiction. Don’t understand it myself, of course. It seems very mysterious.”

  “So I’ve gathered from television,” said Pongo. “I’m sure Tommy would be extremely interested in this mysterious sleeping if he wasn’t a mysterious sleeper himself. Hello, what’s that?”

  They all heard a high, shrill barking.

  “Bless me, that’s Cadpig,” said Missis.

  “No, Missis,” said Pongo. “Her barking couldn’t carry all the way from London.”

  “Well, it’s certainly some dog wanting something,” said the Sheepdog. “Let’s go outside.”

  They ran out into the farmyard. The shrill barking continued and now they could make out what was being barked. “Calling Pongo, Missis or the General!”

  “Good gracious, it is Cadpig!” said Pongo, and he answered at the top of his bark, “Hearing you loud and clear! Where are you, my dear?”

  “At home of course,” barked Cadpig.

  “At home? Do you mean you’re back at Hell Hall?”

  “Certainly not,” replied Cadpig, sounding a little bit grand. “My home is at Number Ten, Downing Street.”

  And now we must learn what had been happening to the smallest, prettiest and bossiest of the fifteen puppies born to Pongo and Missis when they, like the Dearlys, had been “young marrieds.” A year or so before this story begins, Mr. Dearly—not for the first time—had been asked by the Government to help it get out of debt. He had driven to London and with him, under the seat, went Cadpig, who had heard him say where he was going. When he got out of the car at No. 10 Downing Street, out shot Cadpig so fast that she got through the front door before he did. As the Government was now so worried, the Prime Minister was waiting in the hall to receive Mr. Dearly. Cadpig, who had seen the P.M. on television, recognized him instantly, flung herself at him, and treated him with such slavish affection that he was extremely flattered. A policeman who attempted to remove Cadpig was waved aside and she was allowed (looking both smug and winsome) to attend the financial discussion.

  The Government had now got itself into such trouble that even Mr. Dearly didn’t know how to get it out. He had at one time been called a wizard of finance but he now felt that a real wizard of magic (plus some kindly gnomes) was needed. Still, he did his best and also said he must put his thinking cap on. (Cadpig thought this an insincere remark, as she knew he didn’t own any kind of hat.) He then got up to go and called Cadpig to follow him. She had been lying at the Prime Minister’s feet. Now she sprang up, pushed the P.M. back into his armchair, jumped onto his knee and hid her head inside his jacket.

  Mr. Dearly apologized for her and said—quite sternly—“Come on, Cadpig!” She then tried to burrow into the Prime Minister’s chest. Mr. Dearly took hold of her collar—and she then flung her paws around the Prime Minister’s neck, kissing him and whimpering between kisses. Mr. Dearly, who knew that Cadpig was not a sentimental dog, was astonished at this quite mawkish behaviour. But the Prime Minister was now much more than flattered. He was deeply touched. Tears sprang to his eyes—nowadays he was so often criticized, and even bullied, so seldom treated kindly. He begged to be allowed to keep Cadpig. And Mr. Dearly, seeing that nothing but brute force would dislodge her, felt he must agree.

  Not long after this, the Prime Minister spoke on television. Cadpig had loved television since she was a tiny puppy and longed to appear on it. Indeed, that was her main reason for coming to Downing Street. She had a little plan. Just before the Prime Minister finished his speech she came out from behind a curtain, climbed up him, and showed him so much love that his popularity was enormously increased—the British Nation said “Dogs always know.” Since then she had been with him for all his television speeches and she had taken to wrinkling her nose at the Nation in a very fetching smile. She only did this at the end of his speech, so no one ever turned him off half way through. She also eased the tension when very cross people came to see him; and, one way and another, she was a terrific success. Most members of the Government hastily bought dogs, but none of these were as important as she was.

  And now it was this brilliant daughter who was calling her parents and the General. And it was her own bark they were hearing. Pongo was amazed. As a rule, conversation to London—over sixty miles away—had to be relayed by nearly five hundred dogs. (How well Pongo remembered this, from the time when the Twilight Barking chain had brought news of his stolen puppies!) He said, “How on earth are you managing it, Cadpig? Is it so
me new invention?”

  “Never mind that now,” said Cadpig. “Just tell me if things are the same with you as they are here. Everyone asleep but dogs?”

  “Every living creature,” said Pongo.

  “It’s happened all over England—I’ve had dozens of reports. And I think it may be world-wide—not that I’ve been able to get in touch with dogs out of England yet, but I hope to soon.”

  “How?” said Pongo. “You can’t bark across the sea.”

  “Not bark, exactly but—well, I’m barking to you and you’re barking to me but I’m almost sure we’re really reaching each other by thought waves—it’s all part of the strangeness this morning. And I think I can extend my thought waves, when I’ve had more practice. But all that matters now is that I want you and Mother to start for London at once.”

  “My dear child!” said Pongo, much honored. “Of course we’ll come. Unless—just a minute, Cadpig.” He turned to Missis and began to relay what Cadpig had said.

  Missis interrupted him. As a rule she had difficulty in catching everything said on long-distance barking but today she had heard every word. “I’m willing, Pongo,” she said eagerly.

  “You don’t think we ought to keep guard over the Dearlys?”

  “Prince and Perdita can do that.”

  “Of course they can,” said Cadpig. She had heard what they said although they had used low tones of bark. “And I must have you here. Delegations of dogs are coming from all over England. I need Mother to help me on the social side and you, Father, must advise me politically.”

  “You know as much about politics as I do,” said Pongo.

  “Probably much more, by now,” said Cadpig, who had never been famous for modesty. “I really meant strategically. You were splendid at strategy when you saved us all from Cruella de Vil.”

  “I was helped by the General,” said Pongo, sounding more modest than he felt. He was really puffed up with pride at his famous daughter’s praise.

  “Well, the General had better come to London, too.”

  But the General barked loudly, “Sorry, but I can’t leave Tommy and Mrs. Willow.”

  “Oh, bother,” said Cadpig. “This is no time for personal loyalties. The fate of Dogdom may be at stake. Still, you can advise me by thought waves, can’t you?”

  “I doubt it,” said the Sheepdog. “I’m much too bewildered.”

  “Well, who isn’t?” said Cadpig. “We’ve just got to be prepared for anything. Now, Father, I reckon it will take you and Mother a little over two hours to reach London.”

  “Two hours!” gasped Pongo. “It took us over two days when we ran here from London to rescue you all. And we were younger then.”

  “But things are different now,” said Cadpig. “Now listen carefully. This morning, when I couldn’t wake the Prime Minister, I was in a great hurry to get help. I dashed down the stairs at full speed and wished I could go faster—and then I found I was going faster. I was skimming over the stairs without touching them, like flying but my feet were only just off the ground. At first I thought I’d merely done a wonderful jump, but I’ve discovered that I can do it all the time, and so can all the dogs who’ve come to ask my advice. We’ve been practising it up and down Downing Street. It’s a sort of swoosh; you float on the air and you can regulate your speed just by thinking about it. Do you understand?”

  “I understand what you’re saying,” said Pongo. “But I can’t imagine myself—”

  “But that’s what you must do, Father. You must imagine yourself swooshing and then you will swoosh.”

  “But I’m a very solid dog. Oh, good gracious!” Pongo broke off, staring in astonishment.

  Missis was swooshing around the farmyard.

  “I can do it, I can do it!” she cried triumphantly.

  And now the Sheepdog was swooshing, too.

  “Try it, Father,” commanded Cadpig.

  Well, if the burly General could swoosh! Pongo launched himself forward—and only managed a jump.

  “You’re over-anxious,” said the General. “Take it calmly.”

  Pongo took it calmly, but only managed a calm jump.

  Missis, swooshing past him gracefully, called, “Remember that Hovercraft we saw on television. Imagine yourself a Hovercraft, Pongo.”

  Pongo vividly remembered the Hovercraft. He thought of it skimming over the waves, just above the waves. And then … He found himself skimming over the land.

  It felt delightful, no effort at all. He increased his speed and soon outdistanced Missis and the General.

  Missis barked to Cadpig, “Your father’s a magnificent swoosher now.”

  “Nothing to it, really,” said Pongo. “What do you reckon our top speed is, Cadpig?”

  “The Minister of Transport’s dog has been timing us. She thinks we can do about thirty miles an hour. And she says that should be our speed limit. I’ve agreed—it’s best to humor her; she’s doing a very good job—but we’ve really no way of judging our speed limit, so just come as fast as you can.”

  Pongo, after one last burst of speed, pulled up, saying, “Amazing. I just don’t understand it.”

  “There are plenty of things I don’t understand this morning,” said Cadpig. “What about the extraordinary behavior of doors? They open when one wants them to, otherwise I should still be shut up in the Prime Minister’s bedroom.”

  So that was it. The Dearlys had not left the doors open last night.

  Missis, still swooshing, said, “The strangest thing of all is that I’m not hungry.”

  “No dogs are,” said Cadpig. “Which is a blessing, as I couldn’t arrange food for all the dogs who are coming to London—though I suppose I could if I needed to, if I really set my mind on it. I’m pretty sure this whole business is metaphysical. Don’t you agree, Father?”

  “Well, yes and no,” said Pongo, deciding that before he met Cadpig he somehow had to find out what “metaphysical” meant.

  “Now I must go,” said Cadpig. “I’ve dozens of things to do. Oh, I almost forgot. Please bring a strong force of Dalmatians with you. I may form a private army—which you will command, Father—and we shall need plenty of our own breed.”

  Missis stopped swooshing. “Why do we have to have an army? Must we fight someone?”

  “I hope not, Mother. But we must be prepared.”

  “But if everyone but us is asleep, who is there to fight?”

  “I don’t know, Mother. And the enemy you don’t know is worse than the enemy you know.”

  “Nonsense,” said Missis. “The enemy you don’t know isn’t there.”

  “Anyway, please get to me quickly.”

  Pongo and Missis promised they would. Then the barking ended and the sunny morning was silent and still again.

  Pongo said, “How strange that we actually heard her voice across more than sixty miles!”

  “No stranger than hearing voices on the telephone,” said Missis.

  “But a telephone has wires. Cadpig’s thoughts were traveling direct from her mind to ours.”

  “Well, no stranger than television, anyway. That doesn’t have wires.”

  “But there are lots of complicated things inside a television set,” said Pongo.

  “And there are lots of complicated things inside our minds,” said Missis.

  The General then urged them to hurry back to Hell Hall and collect their army. “And mind you choose good soldiers,” he told them.

  Missis said, “None of them are any kind of soldiers They’re just dogs. And do let’s go on thinking of them as dogs—for as long as we can.”

  3. The Meaning of Metaphysical

  Now that they could swoosh, Pongo and Missis got back to Hell Hall in a couple of minutes. Remembering how light they had felt, when running to the farm, Pongo guessed they had almost swooshed by instinct and he was annoyed with himself for needing to be taught by Cadpig. He must be more alert. And he must certainly find Mr. Dearly’s dictionary and learn what “metaphysical
” meant.

  Missis was happy to discover that she could swoosh sitting, as well as on four legs. It would make a restful change on the long journey to London. She then became worried because they wouldn’t have their collars on as they couldn’t put them on for themselves. “Suppose we meet a policeman?”

  “All the policemen will be asleep,” Pongo reminded her.

  “Well, that’s something to be thankful for.”

  As the gates of Hell Hall swung open to let them in they saw that the front lawn was packed with Dalmatians.

  Prince hurried forward to say, “They all woke up soon after you left. I explained, and there was no panic whatsoever. None of them are hungry but they seem perfectly well, and more peaceful than usual.”

  “So I see,” said Pongo, astonished.

  At this time of the morning the Dearly Dalmatians were usually at their most boisterous and there was keen competition for the water-shoot, see-saw and swings. Today only the younger dogs were playing. The elder dogs sat still, looking expectant but calm.

  Pongo congratulated Prince on the way he had handled things.

  “Perdita helped, of course,” said Prince. “The nursing mothers were a little worried because their puppies had no appetite. But Perdita soothed them. And every pup will start the Emergency spotlessly clean.”

  Under a shady tree, Perdita could be seen puppy-washing.

  “Naturally, everyone’s eager for news,” Prince went on, “but I’ve asked them not to rush you.”

  Pongo, gazing at the sunny, dog-filled lawn, disliked disturbing so much peace, but it had to be done. He stepped forward between Missis and Prince, called all dogs to attention and told them what he had learned from Cadpig. When he described swooshing there was a ripple of movement—many dogs wanted to try it. But Pongo restrained them.

  “A swooshing class will be held later,” he said firmly. “Now we have to decide who’s coming to London. Mothers with puppies must, of course, stay here, and fathers of puppies must stay and guard their families. All other dogs are free to volunteer. I’d like a show of tails.”