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A Double Dose of Driving Dogs


“Stop it! Get off me. I can’t steer!” K imi was tying herself in knots around him.
“Let go!” howled Horace. “I can’t control the car!”
“Oh, my poor stomach.” K imi hiccupped and tightened her coils around him.
The steering wheel slid through Horace’s paws. The car pitched sideways into a
wooden gate. There was an ear-splitting crash, and a fountain of splinters went flying
through the air.
“Yippee!” sang Boo. “Smashing turn, Horace!”
Now the car was plunging through a field, its headlights swooping over tussocks
of grass. Around them moved the pale shapes of sheep, like startled ghosts.
“K imi! Get off, and let me turn round!” said Horace desperately.
“No, keep going!” urged Tickety. “The cats will get stuck if they follow us in
here. Their car’s much lower on the ground than ours.”
So Horace kept driving as best as he could with K imi wrapped around him. The
car bounced bickety-bockety over the grass. Sheep scattered with indignant baas.
“Sorry!” called Horace helplessly. “Sorry!”
They reached a slope. He braked hard in panic. The car skidded sideways and then
began to slither gradually downhill.
“Oh, no! Oh, help!” yelled Horace.
“Go go go!” squealed Boo.
The car went. It went down the slope, gathering speed, crashing through bushes
and brambles. Horace stamped on the brakes and tugged at the wheel. Nothing helped.
“It won’t slow down!” he barked frantically at his passengers. “We’re all doomed!
Done for! We’re going to crash!”
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