Badger the Mystical Mutt Page 2

“Never mind, Badger. Thanks for trying.”

  Hamish trotted wearily into the lane, his tummy rumbling and his ears dripping goo.

  Suddenly, his nose began to twitch as he sensed that something, or someone, was following him. He turned round sharply, but all he could see was the old bin lid he had used as an earlier disguise, rattling against the fence.

  He turned, slid on the slime, tripped over his ears and landed flat on his back. In the kerfuffle of getting to his feet, he bumped awkwardly into Top Dog’s legs. He looked up… just in time to see the gang tip a large pot of paint all over him.

  As sticky, thick, blue paint landed on Hamish’s head and slid slowly down his long floppy ears, he heard Top Dog, Pogo Paws, Pickle, Dodgy Dave, Snif and Lennie snigger viciously beside him.

  The paint crept down the back of Hamish’s neck, sticking to every single hair. He shook himself, splattering the lane with specks of brilliant blue.

  “Are you feeling blue?” snarled Dodgy Dave.

  “You’ll never win Pet Idol now, Fancy Pants,” sneered Pickle.

  “Roses are red, Hamish is blue, who would vote for a loser like you?” bounced Pogo Paws, before adding further insult with: “Pooperscoopersmellysnooper.”

  Hamish hung his head, dripping big drops of blue paint onto his front paws.

  “You’re just jealous because you’re not in the competition,” he said quietly.

  “Oh, is that so? You actually think we’re jealous of you?” scoffed Top Dog. “I don’t think so!”

  Hamish shook again, sending torpedoes of blue over the gang.

  Meanwhile, back in Badger’s garden, his dreams of higgledly-piggledy towers of toast were interrupted once more, by the commotion in the lane.

  He padded to the bottom of the garden to peer through the crack in the fence.

  All the greenery was blue, and he could see Top Dog and his gang circling Hamish.

  Right, this calls for drastic action, thought Badger.

  He straightened his legs and wagged his bottom until his tail began to whirr. Soon he was hovering above the ground. His big paws climbed the air and he rose higher and higher until he was over the fence and directly above Hamish.

  “It’s raining cats and dogs, minus the cats,” shouted Top Dog, as he looked up and saw what was causing the big shadow over Hamish.

  Badger attempted to land, but instead of a graceful swoop, he dropped slap bang on top of Hamish, right in the middle of Top Dog’s gang.

  “Ooooooooooooouch!” squealed Hamish.

  “Quick gang … scarper!” ordered Top Dog.

  “Oops!” said Badger, “I did warn you about my landing skills. But at least that’s got rid of them.”

  Hamish pointed a paw at Badger and giggled.

  “Well, you certainly came out of the blue!”

  Badger looked down at his paws and his chest and saw that his thick fur was now also covered in the same blue paint as Hamish.

  “I think it’s time for my special paint-removing spell,” offered Badger.

  Just then, they both felt something grab the scruff of their necks. Top Dog and Dodgy Dave had returned.

  “Let’s get this washed off for you, boys!”

  Badger and Hamish were dragged along to the garden at the very end of the lane, to a big, rectangular tank of very smelly, slimy water.

  “You’re first, Hamish. We need to have you looking your best for the Pet Idol final, don’t we?” said Top Dog, and threw him in. Dodgy Dave lifted Badger up and did the same.

  “Pooperscoopersmellysnooper!” said Badger and Hamish, screwing up their noses at the horrible stench.

  “Goodbye, losers!” laughed Top Dog and Dodgy Dave as they ran off.

  Hamish looked miserably at Badger and asked: “Have you any magic to get us out of this one?”

  “Er, I’m thinking of a plan,” said Badger.

  Hamish’s tummy rumbled again.

  “I’ve still not had any dinner,” he whined.

  “Dinner is least of your worries right now, Hamish. We need to get you cleaned up. I’ve got a marvellous spell which might just work. It’s a mix of wood varnish, soap sage and salt. Hang on to my tail and I’ll pull us out of this stinky mess.”

  Hamish looked at him suspiciously, but hopeful of a glossy coat.

  As they trotted up the lane, Hamish’s nose began to twitch.

  “I can smell cheese,” he said. “I love cheese.”

  His tummy gurgled.

  Badger was deep in thought, muttering about the ingredients he needed for his amazing paint-removing spell. He didn’t notice that Hamish had fallen behind.

  He was following a trail of cheese balls. Crunching each delicious morsel as he went, his nose followed the track all the way to the most beautiful sight he had ever seen — a huge pyramid of cheese balls waiting just for him.

  “Yippee!” said Hamish, launching himself at the feast before him.

  There was a loud bang and everything went black.

  “Caught you, Fancy Pants!” screamed Top Dog. “Where’s your pal now?”

  “Where am I?” yelped Hamish.

  “You’re in the best place for pretty boys like you; the wheelie bin. We’ve dog-napped you, and you’re not getting out till after the Pet Idol final.”

  “But what about my dinner?”

  But Hamish’s yelps were not heard. Top Dog and his gang ran off, the Mwahahahaha, Mwahahahahahahahahahas of their laughter fading into the distance.

  Badger arrived back at his garden. He turned round to tell Hamish the final magic ingredient of the superduper spell he was about to conjure up.

  “Where did he go?”

  Top Dog and his gang were leaving pee-mails all over the lamp posts in the lane, boasting of their triumph.

  Badger re-traced his and Hamish’s earlier paw prints. As he stopped to leave a pee-mail of his own, asking for help in locating Hamish, he picked up the pee-mail from Top Dog.

  Oh no! Thought Badger. I need to find him before the Pet Idol final.

  He continued to where the wheelie bins were lined up in a row, and heard an enormous rumble coming from the middle bin.

  He edged closer and listened.

  There was another rumble and a groan; the unmistakable sound of Hamish’s tummy.

  “Hamish? Is that you? Are you in there?” asked Badger.

  “Badger, help me out. I still haven’t had my dinner and it’s really dark in here.”

  Right, thought Badger. This calls for some help from ’Chief.

  He looked down at his red spotty neckerchief and whispered:

  “Show koo ray, Show koo ray.

  Over to you, ’Chief. Free him today.”

  The knot of Badger’s neckerchief began to unravel slowly and then shot quickly into the air, before billowing out to form a perfect parachute.

  Badger closed his eyes and concentrated very hard. Sparkles of light appeared around his nose. His ears pointed forward at the handles on top of the wheelie bin and he stared with all his might.

  The lid sprang open, and ’Chief glided inside. Seconds later, the neckerchief emerged with Hamish hanging on below.

  “Well done, ’Chief. Gently does it,” said Badger, watching Hamish float softly down to the ground. “It’s time for action. This can’t go on with Top Dog and his gang. We need to get to the bottom of it, and I think I know who can help. Follow me!”

  Back in his garden, Badger sat down on the grass, became very still and sniffed the air. He looked up to where the sun hung in the sky and listened, cocking his head gently from side to side.

  Hamish looked on in wonder. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something he hadn’t seen before.

  “What’s that?” he asked, pointing his paw at what looked like a stone pillar with a stone plate balanced on top.

  “That,” replied Badger, “is my sundial. Not just any sundial, It’s a badgical magical sundial, and, if we’re quick, it will take us to meet Baby Unicorn.”


  “Who? What? Where…?”

  “Come here,” whispered Badger.

  Together, they reached up to look at the plate on top of the pillar. There, in front of them, was the most beautiful arrangement of golden stars, words, numbers and symbols, with a brass pointer in the middle. Hamish craned his neck to read the words.

  “Time stays long enough for anyone who will use it. What does that mean?”

  Badger smiled.

  “We are currently ‘here’, Hamish, but soon we will be ‘there’. And for a moment, time, as we know it, will stand still.”

  “Wow!” said Hamish, then scratched his head with his paw and asked:

  “Does that include dinnertime?”

  “Dinnertime too,” grinned Badger

  “At last!” whispered Hamish.

  “Now…” said Badger, “see the sun up above?”

  Hamish nodded, squinting his eyes to look up into the sky.

  “The sundial’s pointer casts a shadow from the sun, and when that shadow is perfectly aligned between the bone symbol and the ball symbol, then the magic happens and we can take flight.”

  “But it’s nearly there,” said Hamish excitedly

  “Precisely.”

  They waited and watched for what seemed like a very long time indeed, until suddenly the shadow glided into place. At exactly that moment, a strange-looking contraption appeared before them, huffing and puffing, clanking and clunking.

  Hamish stared.

  “What…” he stuttered, “is…” he spluttered, “that?”

  Badger looked calmly over his shoulder and said, “That’s the Wim-Wim for a wowser to wind the weather up on a wet day!”

  “The Wim-Wim... for a wowser... to wind the weather up... on a wet day? But it’s not raining,” said Hamish.

  “It doesn’t have to be,” sighed Badger.

  “But you said it was.”

  “No, I didn’t. That’s just its name, Hamish. Now, get in.”

  “I’m not going anywhere in that!”

  “Hamish, you have to. The Wim-Wim will take us where we need to go… now!”

  “Is it friendly?”

  “Of course. The Wim-Wim is here to help us.”

  Badger stepped confidently onto the first rung of the ladder, beckoning Hamish to follow him. A big golden key, sticking out from the side of the Wim-Wim started to vibrate loudly, making a noise like a siren. Badger twisted it clockwise with his front paws and the piercing sound stopped.

  “What was that?” asked Hamish

  “The all-important key,” replied Badger. “It likes to feel important.”

  As Badger stepped into the Wim-Wim, a breeze began to swirl, lifting the leaves and petals from the ground. The Wim-Wim creaked and clattered, panted and puttered.

  “Come on, Hamish, or we’ll miss our slot,” yelled Badger.

  Hamish steadied his paws and joined Badger in the Wim-Wim.

  The strange contraption cranked and rattled, jabbered, murmured and droned.

  “It’s very noisy,” shouted Hamish.

  “It will settle down in a moment.”

  Sparkles of light started to twinkle around Badger.

  “We’re on our way,” said Badger. The Wim-Wim sighed and breathed out a steady rumbling hum.

  “Now,” said Badger, looking at Hamish, who was still a bit wobbly, “this is the really important part. Are you ready? Close your eyes and repeat after me: Open our hearts with our eyes closed tight.”

  “Open our hearts with our eyes closed tight,” repeated Hamish, closing his eyes tightly.

  “Imagine our bodies filling with light.”

  “Imagine our bodies filling with light,” repeated Hamish, taking a deep breath.

  “With good intentions clearly in sight.”

  “With good intentions clearly in sight,” repeated Hamish, starting to tingle all over.

  “Let Badgical Magical Dreams take flight,” said Badger, with a flourish. The top of the Wim-Wim started to whirr rapidly.

  “Let Badgical Magical Dreams take flight,” repeated Hamish, with similar flourish. Just then a wondrous beat pulsed throughout his body.

  When Hamish opened his eyes, he was high in the blue sky, aboard the Wim-Wim. As they climbed higher and higher, houses became dots, and dots became specks until it was all a bit of a blur.

  “Still hanging on, Hamish?” shouted Badger, over the whizz and whistle of the wind.

  “Just about, where are we?”

  “Nearly There.”

  “But where is Nearly There?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough. We’re going to visit my grumpy friend, Nippy Nimbus. He’s the gatekeeper to Nearly There. I’ve got to make sure the Wim-Wim lands on the right spot. He’s usually hanging around at about twenty past the southern Fogbow.”

  “The southern what?” asked Hamish.

  Suddenly, the Wim-Wim shot upwards as Badger caught sight of Nippy Nimbus; a big, fluffy, white cloud.

  “Don’t be fooled by his fluffiness,” warned Badger, “he’s usually in a very bad mood and finds everything, including us, ridiculous.”

  As the Wim-Wim landed clumsily in the misty swirl, an irritated voice shouted out:

  “Hey! Get off of my cloud!”

  “Oh no,” said Badger, scratching his head with his paw. “I’ve forgotten the password.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Hamish. “Where are we anyway?”

  “Welcome to Nippy Nimbus, the grumpiest cloud in the world,” sighed Badger.

  Nippy Nimbus bellowed. “I might have known it was you, Badger, the ‘full of nonsense’ mystical mutt. Can’t remember your password, eh? Oh dear, no entry for you today. Go away. Goodbye.”

  Badger climbed down the Wim-Wim’s ladder and frowned. His eyebrows twitched.

  “Ah,” he smiled. “Got it, actually,” he replied smugly to his bad-tempered friend, Nippy Nimbus. “Try Cloud Number Nine.”

  Badger shimmied his bottom and crossed his paws in a little dance, as he bounced around the fluffiness feeling very pleased with himself.

  “Wrong, Numptie!” cackled Nippy Nimbus

  “Oh!” exclaimed Badger, not quite sure what to do next. Hamish clambered out of the Wim-Wim to join Badger.

  “Okay… I lied,” admitted Nippy Nimbus huffily.

  A parting suddenly appeared within the depths of the white mist.

  “Come ahead then,” said Nippy, “but don’t expect it to be the same password next time. I’ll catch you out yet!”

  The important key on the side of the Wim-Wim started to glow brightly again.

  “C’mon Hamish, let’s crank up the Wim-Wim. Nippy’s letting us through.”

  Badger climbed back into the Wim-Wim, followed hastily by Hamish, then grasped the golden key with his paws and pushed it until it started to whirr on its own.

  The Wim-Wim creaked and clattered and panted and puttered before shooting through the gap in the mist at alarming speed.

  When the Wim-Wim landed, Hamish was thrown on top of Badger, who was feeling a bit dazed after the speedy descent.

  Hamish rubbed his eyes in bewilderment. They were in a luscious green forest. Birds sang, water trickled and the air smelled zingily fresh. The branches of the trees bent and bowed to welcome them, and plants shot up to say “hello”.

  “Amazing!” shrieked Hamish.

  They set off on the golden-leaved path in front of them. As Hamish looked at the wise old trees and the shimmer of sunlight upon their leaves, he asked:

  “Is this an enchanted forest, Badger?”

  Before Badger could answer, they heard a rustle nearby.

  “Ssssshhhh,” whispered Badger gently. “I think Baby Unicorn is coming out to play.”

  “Baby who?”

  Out of the trees, a pure white creature appeared with a glowing spiral horn on its forehead. Its eyes were deep pools of kindness and its mane was long, flowing and silky.

  “That’s a funny looking horse. Why has it got a
horn in the middle of its head?” asked Hamish.

  “That’s not just any horse, Hamish. It’s a unicorn and that horn is magical. It can purify the darkest poison, protect from harm, heal a broken heart and help people to see things clearly.”

  “Wow, do you think it can clean us up too?” whispered Hamish, who was still a bit whiffy from earlier. The unicorn’s horn started to sparkle.

  “Let’s see,” replied Badger.

  Baby Unicorn walked towards them, stopped at their feet and bowed its horn at them both.

  Hamish followed Badger’s lead and bowed back.

  “Yuck!” said Baby Unicorn. “You smell!”

  “Sorry about that,” said Badger, blushing. “We had an unfortunate encounter with some grime and slime.”

  “Okay, stand back both of you.”

  From Baby Unicorn’s horn, a blast of hot, soapy bubbles shot forth and covered Hamish and Badger from head to toe. They shook themselves and looked at each other. Every trace of blue paint, snail trails and slime, goo and gunge had gone.

  “Well, that’s certainly better than my paint-removing spell!” said Badger in admiration.

  “All part of the job,” said Baby Unicorn.

  “What happens now?” whispered the now squeaky-clean and perfectly groomed Hamish.

  “We follow,” winked Badger.

  The unicorn turned and headed off down the golden-leaved path. They followed for what seemed like a long time, until a shaft of light appeared through a clearing. Baby Unicorn turned towards the light with Badger and Hamish close behind.

  Everything was hushed but for the twigs and the bracken snapping and crackling beneath their feet.

  They passed a signpost pointing ahead. On it, in big lettering, it said: “Nearly There”.

  Badger looked back at Hamish and said:

  “Remember when you asked me earlier where ‘Nearly There’ was? There’s the signpost, so we’re very close…”

  “But we’ve been walking for aaaaaages,” moaned Hamish.

  “To quote a well-known saying, Hamish,” said Badger, wisely, “‘You never can tell how close you are. It may be near though it seems so far.’ Come on, we truly are ‘Nearly There’, which means the next bit is ‘There.’”