Badger the Mystical Mutt and the Crumpled Capers Page 2

  But Snif was too late to move as the cumbersome tyre trundled on.

  The tyre bounced off the fence at the far end of the lane, swivelled and landed with an almighty thud.

  The gang emerged from their hiding places to see Timmy fall out of the tyre, looking shaky and dazed.

  Timmy stood up unsteadily and shouted “Ta da!” with his paws held out. “I did it! Here’s your tyre. Now can I join the gang, please?”

  The gang was speechless.

  “Er … where’s Snif?” asked Timmy.

  The gang pointed nervously behind Timmy.

  A white tail was sticking out from underneath the heavy tyre, and Timmy heard a muffled whimpering sound.

  A crumpled shape staggered out. It was Snif, with a flattened nose, squashed paws and trampled ears.

  “So, you think you’re a smarty-pants, do you?” spat Snif, as three teeth tumbled out of his mouth.

  The gang closed in behind their leader. Timmy cowered.

  “Did you think that was funny?”

  Timmy cowered some more. The gang moved forward.

  “Has the cat got your tongue, Timmy? Speak to me! Explain!” bellowed Snif, spitting out another tooth.

  “I couldn’t see. I was moving so fast, I didn’t know you were there. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean it. I thought you wanted a tyre, so I brought you a tyre,” said Timmy apologetically.

  Snif shook himself vigorously and turned to his gang.

  “Right, that was small fry compared to the next of Timmy’s tasks.”

  “Is there another task?” asked Lennie “What is it?”

  “Zip it, Lennie! I’m thinking,” snarled Snif.

  Timmy’s teeth chattered. He smiled awkwardly at Lennie and said, “It’s just the cold weather. It’s not because I’m frightened or anything.”

  “Right, Crumpled Lug, here’s one for you. Dogs do tricks. Cats don’t. So your task is to fetch us a stick thrown by one of the Big Folk and bring it here, within the hour.”

  Snif dusted himself down and turned on his heels, followed quickly by his gang.

  Timmy scratched his head. “Could be tricky,” he thought. “I think I need some Badgical-Magical help with this one.”

  When Timmy reached Badger’s garden he smelled burning.

  He peered through the crack in the fence and saw Badger busy making toast over a tiny crackling fire.

  “I can’t get my butter to soften in this cold air, and I can’t put it too near the fire, or it will just go runny,” muttered Badger.

  “What to do, what to do?”

  He turned around to see Timmy at the end of the garden.

  “Couldn’t you do a butter-melt spell?” suggested Timmy.

  “Good idea, Timmy, except I tried that once before and it went a bit awry. I believe the Big Folk call it global warming.”

  “Oops!” said Timmy with a smile.

  “So, how did it go with the tyre task? Are you now a member of the gang?”

  “Not quite. It’s a bit of a sore subject actually … particularly for Snif.”

  “Why do you want to be part of that gang anyway, Timmy? Cats and dogs don’t generally get on.”

  “But why not?” asked Timmy innocently. “We all live on the same lane.”

  “Something to do with a misunderstanding hundreds of years ago about tail-wagging, I believe,” said Badger. “Plus, I don’t think there’s ever been a cat in Snif’s gang.”

  “Why?” asked Timmy.

  “Simple really. When you wag your tail as a cat, it means you’re a bit annoyed and you might want to fight. When we wag our tail as dogs, it means we like you and we’re happy. You can see how it could get confusing between us.”

  “Okay, I can see that. But why has Snif got such a problem with me?” asked Timmy.

  “Well, maybe Snif’s had a mishap with cats before. We just don’t know what’s happened to him in the past.”

  Timmy furrowed his brow.

  “Anyway,” said Badger brightly, “I have a special treat for you.”

  “For me? It’s not even my birthday,” said Timmy, as his eyes widened.

  “Well, I think you did well completing the task they set you, even if they don’t. It seemed impossible, yet you managed to do it. So, I would like to award you with one of my rarely awarded Badger badges.”

  Badger produced a shiny silver round badge from his plant pot and pinned it on Timmy’s collar.

  Timmy stood tall and looked proudly down at his shining badge.

  “Thank you, Badger. I will treasure this forever, and that’s given me the will to go and do the next task.”

  “What next task? You mean there’s another one?” Badger sighed.

  “It’s an easy one this time. Don’t worry.”

  Timmy turned and walked confidently through the crack in the fence, out of the lane and up the hill into the nearby field.

  There, the same Big Folk farmer, who had been changing the tyre on the tractor, was now loading logs onto the back of a trailer.

  “Aha!” thought Timmy. “There are some sticks … really, really big sticks.”

  As the Big Folk farmer jumped into the tractor and started up the engine, one large log rolled off the back and fell heavily to the ground.

  Timmy spotted his chance and jumped on top. He rocked it backwards and forwards until it began to roll.

  And roll …

  “Rock‘n’roll!” shouted Timmy gleefully, running on top as the log rolled along.

  “Woooohoooooo!” he squealed as it got faster and faster.

  The log sped down the hill, but it was heading straight for the gang.

  As the log trundled on, Timmy saw a Big Folk cycle towards him.

  “Oh no!” he panicked, just as the cyclist lifted his head and saw the huge log in his path. He swerved just in time and landed in a ditch.

  “Phew, that was close!” Timmy breathed a sigh of relief. But his worries were not over yet as the log crunched through the frozen puddles towards the fence at the far end of the lane, gathering even more speed.

  The gang, who were rummaging amongst the wheelie bins for scraps of food, heard the sound of ice cracking and a thundering rumble. Pogo Paws looked up and saw the massive log, with Timmy on top, coming closer and closer. He bounced quickly out of the way, yelling to Pickle to do the same. Lennie, who had his nose stuck in a half-empty tin of Buddy Bites, heard the shouting and, just in time, jumped into the bin.

  Snif was nowhere to be seen.

  The log hit the fence with full force and came to an abrupt standstill.

  All was quiet. Timmy looked around him.

  One by one, the gang emerged from cover to see Timmy leap off the log proudly.

  “Ta da!” said Timmy with his paws held out. “I did it! Here’s your stick. Now, can I join the gang, please?”

  The gang was speechless.

  “Er … where’s Snif?” asked Timmy.

  The gang pointed nervously to the massive log behind Timmy.

  A clump of white fur was sticking out from underneath. In the silence, he heard a long low groan.

  The log shifted slightly as two weary paws appeared over the top. Snif sprackled out from underneath and hauled himself upright.

  Timmy cowered.

  The gang glowered.

  Snif glared.

  Catching his breath, Snif yelled at Timmy: “So, is this your idea of a stick? Is this some kind of joke?”

  “I couldn’t see you. I didn’t know you were there. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean it. I thought you wanted a stick, so I brought you a stick,” cried Timmy.

  Snif pulled some splinters from his paws and brushed himself down. The gang rushed to help him tidy his scruffy fur.

  “Right!” yelled Snif. “This stops now. You’re trying to make a fool of me.”

  “No, I’m not,” said Timmy defensively.

  “Okay, I have one final task for you. And if you don’t manage it without some sort of tomcat-fooler
y, then you can forget ever joining my gang.”

  “Oh, goody! How about Mission Impossible?” suggested Pogo Paws bouncing up and down.

  “Yes, let’s make it a really tough one, boss,” snarled Pickle.

  “What is the task then?” asked Lennie.

  “Zip it, Lennie!” said Snif, who was still trying to figure out a challenge big enough for the irritating moggie.

  Without warning, Timmy sneezed his biggest sneeze yet, and saturated the gang.

  Pickle looked at Lennie and pointed to her umbrella.

  “See? That’s a snot shield, Lennie. I was thinking ahead.”

  As the gang wiped themselves down, Timmy said:

  “I know why you’re doing this, Snif.”

  “Doing what?” Snif huffed.

  “Setting me impossible challenges; tasks you think I can’t do, so that I can never join your gang. Badger the Mystical Mutt said it’s all a misunderstanding.”

  “Badger the Mystical Mutt said what?” spat Snif viciously.

  “He just explained why you don’t want me in your gang. I’m a cat. It’s as simple as that. And cats and dogs aren’t supposed to get on together.”

  “Correct, Timmy! And by the way, you probably know this, but cats don’t like water much either.”

  Snif booted a nearby garden tap with his paw and after a few spurtles and gurtles, a hosepipe sprang into life, releasing fierce, icy jets of water.

  “Time for a shower, Timmy! Get him, gang!” yelled Snif.

  Pogo Paws and Pickle sprang forwards and grabbed Timmy’s front paws. Snif nodded to Lennie to hold down his back legs.

  Snif stood cruelly over the little cat and fired the coldest spray of water over him.

  Snif cackled. Pogo Paws and Pickle sniggered, Lennie quivered and Timmy cried out.

  “It’s f-r-e-e-z-i-n-g. Please stop!”

  But Snif would not stop.

  Back in his garden, Badger was staring hard at a pile of breadcrumbs that had been left out for the birds, thinking of a spell which could turn them into toast when, suddenly, screams pierced the icy air, followed by spine-chilling cat calls and screeches.

  “That’s Timmy,” panicked Badger. “Uh oh, I need to go.”

  He sped through the crack in the fence and raced down the lane.

  There, at the far end, he saw Timmy pinned to the ground by Pogo Paws, Pickle and Lennie, while Snif stood over him, firing water from a hosepipe.

  “Oi!” shouted Badger. “Leave him alone. Let him go!”

  The gang looked up, startled. Snif swirled and pointed the nozzle at Badger.

  “Oh, it’s the meddling mutt. Here, have some of this,” he snarled.

  Badger gasped as the icy cold water drenched him.

  “Stop, stop, stop!” he pleaded. “Too cold.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry! I thought you wanted to join in the fun. After all, you’re so clever at telling Timmy why he’ll never be able to join the gang,” said Snif.

  Timmy shivered. Pogo Paws tightened his grip, Pickle sniggered and Lennie asked, “Can I let go yet? I’m freezing.”

  Snif looked over his shoulder at Lennie and sighed.

  Badger stood dripping. His neckerchief was soaked through.

  “Maybe we need to hang you both out to dry. Get them, gang,” ordered Snif.

  Pickle and Pogo Paws let go of Timmy, ran to Badger and marched him into the nearest garden where a whirligig stood. Snif caught Timmy by the scruff of the neck and followed, with Lennie trailing behind.

  “Now, let’s get you pegged up,” said Snif, as the gang hoisted them both up on to the whirligig.

  Pogo Paws, with four pegs in his teeth, bounced up and pegged them to the line.

  “Goodbye, boys,” jeered Snif and the rest of the gang, as they ran off, leaving Badger and Timmy dangling.

  Badger looked at Timmy. Timmy looked at Badger.

  “Any Badgical-Magical spells to get us out of this one?” Timmy asked hopefully.

  “Erm, I might just have an unpegging spell that could work … if I can remember the words,” said Badger.

  “Get thinking then, and fast. Otherwise we’re going to become icicles.”

  Badger closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose. Soon sparkles of light appeared around him. He uttered the spell:

  “Peggie Weggie Whirligiggle,

  Free your grip so we can wriggle.

  Get us dry and spin us round,

  then our paws can touch the ground.”

  Slowly, the whirligig began to move. It started to spin and whirl and twirl, getting faster and faster. Soon, it was revolving like a tornado. Badger and Timmy squealed.

  “Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” shouted Timmy.

  “Woohooooooooooooo!” yelled Badger, as they both wheeched through the icy breeze.

  Then, without warning, the pegs opened and Badger and Timmy were flung to the ground mid-spin.

  They stood up shakily and tried to walk.

  They swayed and staggered, wibbled and wobbled and bumped into each other clumsily.

  “Wow!” said Badger.

  “I feel a bit sick actually,” grimaced Timmy.

  “Right,” said Badger. “Let’s get back to base and figure out what to do next.”

  They trotted, a little unsteadily, back to Badger’s garden.

  There, Badger picked up a p-mail from Captain Bravebark. The Tangerine Piano was tinkling and the ivory staircase was ready. It was time to fly to the Ring of Brodgar.

  Captain Bravebark had also sent his special spell to despatch Badger’s trusty Wim-Wim for its repairs. Badger studied the spell and looked at Timmy hopefully.

  “Okay, here goes.”

  He closed his eyes. Sparkles of light twinkled around the Wim-Wim as he uttered the magic words:

  “With lullabies and dragonflies,

  summon the trambulance of the skies.

  Transport the Wim-Wim, with utmost care,

  to the Ring of Brodgar. Carry it there!”

  Just then they heard a loud ding-ding above them. Badger and Timmy looked up to see a massive white balloon with yellow stripes and a shiny silver bell, hovering just above the Wim-Wim. Ropes and loops appeared from beneath the balloon and wrapped themselves around the Wim-Wim.

  Then, the Wim-Wim was lifted gently into the air and disappeared into the clouds.

  Badger waved up to the sky.

  “Okay Timmy. It’s time to go. Are you ready?” said Badger.

  “What just happened? Go where?” asked Timmy.

  “That’s the Wim-Wim off for its Magical Orbital Transplant, and that’s where we are heading too; to the Ring of Brodgar, to jump aboard the Tangerine Piano and step up the ivory staircase to see my friend Nippy Nimbus. I haven’t played it for many dog years, but don’t let that worry you at all,” smiled Badger.

  “The Ring of Brodgar sounds like it’s really far away from here,” gulped Timmy.

  “Nonsense! It’s just a blink and a wink of flight. Hop on my back and hold tight.”

  Badger straightened his legs and shook his bottom until his tail whirred. Soon they were both flying high in the wintry sky.

  As they climbed up and up, Timmy dared to look down and saw the garden, the lane, the duck pond, the old oak tree and the fields become smaller and smaller. He shut his eyes and held on tighter, as Badger zoomed sharply to the left.

  Timmy opened one eye, and saw a shimmering light in the distance. They seemed to be heading straight for it. Suddenly, Badger swooped and soared upwards.

  “Hold on, Timmy, this is going to be colourful.”

  Timmy opened his other eye to find himself surrounded by a crimson glow. Badger glided forward into a glorious orange, which quickly swirled into a yellow and green and blue light.

  “Wow!” shouted Timmy as they flew through an indigo haze. “What is this place?”

  “This, my friend, is a rainbow, and we’re just flying through it,” replied Badger.

  “Every one of my six and a h
alf senses is buzzing already, and we’re not even there yet. I feel amazing.”

  The indigo blended into violet as they began their descent through the bright light of the rainbow. Timmy was sure he could hear a faint tuneful jingle from below.

  Across the whispering wind, the sound burst into a cosmic symphony.

  “I can see it. Look down, Timmy. There are the standing stones of the Ring of Brodgar. Don’t they look magnificent?” yelled Badger.

  “Groovy! This is the cat’s whiskers!” Timmy shouted.

  Badger flew downwards further still, until he saw a figure waving up at him.

  “Who’s that?” Timmy asked

  “It’s Captain Bravebark, bringing us in for landing.”

  Badger circled the standing stones before diving towards the grassy plain in the middle of the ring. He wobbled a bit and hit the ground with a bump.

  “Still need to practise that landing,” he muttered to himself.

  Timmy caught his breath. Badger shook himself and Captain Bravebark scurried over to greet them.”

  “Good to see you, Badger. How long has it been?”

  “Hundreds of dog years, Captain.”

  “Goodness, it seems much longer. Anyway, who’s your friend?”

  “This is Timmy, and I’m taking him to the Crystal Cave. Thank you so much for tuning the Tangerine Piano for me. Did my Wim-Wim arrive safely?” asked Badger hopefully.

  Captain Bravebark twirled his moustache and said: “A few more tickles and turns Badger, and it will be ready. I’m just waiting on some new orbital gear bearings. You just can’t get the parts these days.”

  “Thank you, Captain. You’re the only Wim-Wim fixer left. I do appreciate it. Now, to business … are there any new tunes we need to access the ivory staircase of the Tangerine Piano?”

  “Let me think. You need to get straight on to Nippy Nimbus, don’t you?” He scratched his head. “Why don’t you try playing something by Beethoven? I think a Sonata should do it.”

  Badger walked over to the piano and sat down at the stool. He fluffed out his tail, straightened his neckerchief and shook out his paws. He lifted the lid and began to play the opening notes of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.