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A Double Dose of Driving Dogs


“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.
 
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