“One problem,” said Tickety. “No, actually, many problems. First, that lawnmower has no seat. Secondly, it has no brakes. Thirdly, it has no steering. And it has a top speed of seven miles an hour.”
“A catapult car would be so much quicker,” said Boo wistfully. “I’ve even got a proper bungee rope now!”
Horace shook his head impatiently. “No, no, no. I won’t need elastic. And I don’t mean this lawnmower. I mean the sort with four wheels, the big ones that you can sit on.”
“Where are you going to get one of those?”
“Some of the houses with big gardens must have them,” Horace pointed out. “I’m going to ask around. In fact, I’ll do it now.”
He bounded away through the streets, sniffing longingly at parked and padlocked cars, until, down by the shops, he found his friends.
Silverside and a bunch of other dogs were lounging outside the butcher’s shop. As soon as Horace enquired about sit-on lawnmowers, Ragbag’s ears pricked up.
“We’ve got one of those,” she said. “My human keeps it under a tarpaulin in the back garden. But I don’t know how I’d get the key from inside the house.”
“Leave that to me!” Horace glanced around and lowered his voice. “I know a burglar.”
“A real burglar?” woofed Silverside.
“She’s a snake. She can get in anywhere, through the tiniest of holes. She’ll be–”
“Sssh!” Ragbag nudged him. A large, grizzled German Shepherd dog had just strolled round the corner.
“Oh, heck! It’s that police dog, Justine,” muttered Ragbag. “Act natural.”
“Um, absolutely spiffing day today, what?” said Horace loudly.
“Tophole, old fruit,” said Silverside.
“Hark! I hear a pair of blackbirds tweeting,” said Ragbag.
“Hark! I hear a bunch of pooches plotting,” snarled Justine. “Now I wonder what that could be about?”
“Plotting? Us? Certainly not,” said Horace, as Justine sniffed around their legs.
“You smell guilty,” she growled, her eyes narrowing. “So what’s going on?”
Just then there was a mighty screech of tyres. A sports car pulled up at the traffic lights, and the window wound down. The driver and passengers wore hoodies, with the hoods pulled right down to hide their faces.
But there was no concealing their smell.
“Cats!” gasped Horace, as a bone was flung from the window.
Then the car took off again, jumping the red lights.
“Bye-bye little doggies! See you next week!” screamed the cats: and they were gone, leaving only tyre marks and a stench of burnt rubber.
Justine immediately sprang away, barking, and chased the car round the corner. The other dogs looked at each other.
“Those cats are getting worse,” said Ragbag. “Driving in broad daylight!”
“Little doggies indeed,” rumbled Silverside. “The cheek.”
“If they win the race, they’re going to be unbearable,” groaned Horace. “We’ve got to beat them. Ragbag, take me to your lawnmower!”
“Yes sir! Come this way.”
Ragbag led the dogs through several streets and down a driveway, stopping by a bulky shape covered with a blue tarpaulin.
“Here it is.” She pulled the tarpaulin away with her teeth.
“Wow!” said Horace, admiring the shiny sit-on lawnmower. “That is big.”
“Sixteen horsepower,” said Ragbag proudly. “And it’s got a huge grass bucket.”
“Forget the grass bucket. It’s got cruise control!” Horace breathed in deeply. What a wonderful smell of glossy paint and petrol! He couldn’t wait to have a go on this magical machine. “Where’s the key?”
“Look through the letterbox,” said Ragbag. “It’s inside that little cupboard on the wall.”
Horace nosed open the letterbox on the front door to take a look.
“No problem!” he said confidently. “My burglar will steal that in no time. I’ll be back at midnight!”
He galloped home, full of eagerness, and banged on Kimi’s window.
Kimi frowned when he explained what he wanted her to do.
“Why should I steal that key for you?” she demanded. “I don’t believe you’ll ever drive me to the desert. All you’re interested in is racing.”
“But we’ve got to beat those awful cats!” cried Horace.
“I don’t care about cats,” said Kimi. “Give me a fat little mouse any day. Talking of food... Have you got any more of those chocolates?”
“You ate all Mrs Hay’s,” said Horace. “She thought it was Mr Hay and called him a greedy guzzler. Were they nice?”
“Delicious,” said the snake dreamily. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll steal the key in return for the biggest box of chocolates you can find.”
“Where am I going to get more chocolates?” Horace yelped. “I can’t just walk into a shop and buy them!”
Kimi shrugged. “No chocolates, no deal.” And she glided haughtily back to her glass tank.
Horace pondered. There was only one solution that he could see. He trotted off to the Faversaver supermarket.
He felt very unhappy about this. Borrowing a lawnmower was one thing; stealing chocolates was quite another. But it had to be done if he was going to defeat the cats.
There was a security guard at the entrance to the supermarket. Horace waited until his back was turned, and then dived into the store.
A thousand wonderful smells hit him all at once. Barmcakes, biscuits, bacon, burgers... all his favourites. Horace was enthralled, and bewildered. He put his nose in the air and sniffed deeply.
There it was! A hint of chocolate. Horace lolloped down the aisles and collided with a fat man eating a Mars bar.
“Oy! What’s that dog doing in here?” he bellowed.
“No dogs allowed!” scolded an assistant. Horace turned to bolt and nearly knocked himself out on a shopping trolley. Another trolley ran over his foot.
“Get that dog out of the way!”
Horace yelped and hobbled off. By now, two shop assistants were after him. He ran up one aisle and down the next, weaving between legs and swerving to avoid trolleys.
Half-way up the third aisle, he stopped dead. His nose quivered. He’d found them! Chocolates! Piles and piles of chocolates!
The biggest boxes were on the highest shelf. Horace leapt up, trying to climb the shelves to reach them. Boxes began to slide and tumble.
As he sprang higher, an avalanche of chocolate descended on him.
“Get that dog!”
Horace grabbed the biggest box that he could see, and ran for his life. He charged down the aisle – pushed past the queue at the check-out – galloped for the exit – and did a dummy swerve that sent the security guard diving the wrong way.
Then he was out! He was free! He’d done it!
Only then did he see a policewoman bearing down on him. And a very annoyed German Shepherd dog...
“I see you! I’ll get you!” she barked.
Horace sprinted away across the car park with Justine in pursuit and the chocolates in his jaws. They rattled around in the box as he ran.
But he was younger and faster than Justine. He was gaining ground, when suddenly a man pushed a clump of empty shopping trolleys right into his path.
There was no time to stop. Nowhere to go. He would have to jump over them.
Horace took a mighty leap.
He landed in the trolley at the front of the line. The trolley skidded across the car park with Horace clinging to the sides. It rolled in front of a car; and the car swerved into the path of a van.
The van beeped furiously and skidded into the bumper of another car. The other car reversed and blocked three more.
Within half a minute, the car park was full of beeping, bumping cars with angry, shouting owners. Sergeant Baines was trying to calm them down. Justine hurried to her aid.
Meanwhile Horace’s trolley rolled to a standstill at the edge of th
e car park. With a very battered chocolate box still gripped between his teeth, he leapt over the wall and ran straight home.
Chapter Six