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A Double Dose of Driving Dogs


WHEElers Book 1
Petrol Paws
Midnight.
The house was as dark as dreams; as silent as a secret.
Well, almost silent…
There was the faint pad, pad of four large, careful feet. A shadow stole across the
kitchen floor.
A latch creaked: a handle rattled. The door swung slowly open.
Horace stood with his big front paws inside the garage, s niffing hungrily.
His forefathers were hunting dogs: wolfhounds and Great Danes. But it wasn’t the
scent of deer or wolves that made his heart thump now.
It was the sweet smell of petrol. The sour tang of steel. The earthy odour of
rubber. Blissful smells. Horace breathed them in deeply.
Then he walked towards the car.
Joshua had taught him the trick of opening the car door just the other day. Horace
had never tried it out before. Could he really do it on his own?
He pawed at the handle until the car door opened. He jumped into the driver’s
seat.
At last! Horace laid trembling paws upon the steering wheel. He’d waited for this
moment for so long…
He pretended to turn a key in the ignition. The real car keys were in the living
room.
“Engine on!” he growled happily.
He wriggled around in the seat. Since Horace was an Irish Dane, his legs were
easily long enough to reach the pedals. He’d watched Joshua’s Dad so avidly that he
knew what they all were.
“Clutch, brake, accelerator. Clutch down, first gear,” he muttered. “We’re away!”
 
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