A Double Dose of Driving Dogs
WHEElers Book 3
Horace was a hungry hound.
In fact, he was famished. He was as ravenous as a forest fire on a windy day.
Joshua was meant to be feeding him. But Joshua was sitting at the kitchen table
surrounded by hundreds of coloured pens and sheets of paper. He was busy drawing.
He’d been drawing ever since he got in from school. He’d been drawing all
through Horace’s tea-time.
Horace whined and put his paws up on the table.
Josh pushed them off.
“Go away, Horace,” he said. “This is important.”
Horace padded over to his food bowl, picked it up in his teeth and dropped it on
Josh kicked it away.
Horace nosed open the cupboard door and dragged out the bag of dried dog food.
Pulling it over to Josh, he whimpered in his best starving puppy impression.
“Later,” said Josh. And he put the bag on the table, out of Horace’s reach.
“Food!” howled Horace. “Fooood!” Why couldn’t Joshua understand him? He
could easily understand his human owners.
He jumped up clumsily onto a chair. Josh took no notice.
So Horace bounded onto the table, his claws clacking and scratching.
“Horace! Get down. Bad dog!”
But Horace was already trampling across the pens and papers to try and reach the
bag of dog food. Success!
Just as he grabbed the bag in his mouth, his feet began to slip. Sheets of paper slid
beneath him. He slithered on papers and rolled on pens, teetering and wobbling as he
tried desperately to regain his balance.
Now Horace was an Irish Dane; a big, leggy, heavy dog. As he lurched from side
to side, the table started to rock beneath his weight.
“Stop it!” cried Josh.