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A Double Dose of Driving Dogs


Race Night
Horace was in the dog-house.
True, it was a brand new dog- house. Mr Hay had just built it in the garden.
It had a red roof and HORACE written over the doorway. I nside it was his bean-
bag with its comforting smells of toast and old sausage. K itchen smells.
Unfortunately, it was a long way from the kitchen. Horace was banned from the
kitchen after finding a bowl of custard in the fridge.
Mr Hay had bellowed like a b lustering bull.
“That dog cannot have the run of the house any longer!” he roared. “It’s not just
the paw prints in the custard. It’s the doggy dribble on the breadboard! It’s the dog-
biscuits that he steals from the cupboard! It’s the old pizza that he drags out of the
bin!”
Horace was most indignant. They were his dog-biscuits, weren’t they? He hadn’t
stolen them. And Mrs Hay had thrown the pizza away.
Licking up stray breadcrumbs was part of a dog’s job. As for the custard, he’d
simply been fascinated by its wobble.
But now he was in the dog-house, shut out from the kitchen.
Shut out from the garage.
Shut out from the car...
No longer could he creep into the garage at night and sit blissfully in the driver’s
seat. He was heart-broken.
It was only a few weeks ago that Horace had first borrowed the car keys. With the
help of the two hamsters and Kimi, the snake next door, he had set out in Mr Hay’s
car. To his joy, he had learnt to drive!
Once the other dogs in the neighbourhood saw Horace at the wheel, they went car-
crazy. Now they were all learning to drive too. At dead of night, cars buzzed and
beeped around the sleeping streets.
 
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