Lost! The Hundred-Mile-An-Hour Dog Read Free Page B

behind me — I love that! — until all of a sudden the cat stopped dead, spun round, hissed, spat and lashed out with one paw and almost took my head off as I skidded to a halt.
    ‘Whoa!’ I yelled, leaping back. ‘What was that for?’
    ‘I’m fed up with running,’ snarled the cat, withevery single hair on its body standing up and its tail all fluffed up until it looked like a monkey puzzle tree. Bristling — that’s what it was doing.
    I sat down and stared at it. The cat glared back, lifted one paw, casually flicked open its claws and began to clean between them with its teeth. ‘So,’ drawled the cat. ‘What are you going to do now, clever-clogs?’
    Good point. What was I going to do? I opened my mouth to speak, didn’t know what to say, so I shut it again. The cat grinned.

    ‘Lost for words? That’s the trouble with you dogs. You’re all hurry-scurry, huff, puff and woof.’ The cat’s fur slowly smoothed itself and he sat back on his haunches, never taking his golden eyes off me. Unnerving, it was, I can tell you. I decided to play it casual and act as if I knew what I was doing.
    ‘Actually, I was looking for a burger bar,’ I announced. The cat fell over laughing. He wasn’t meant to do that. Where was the respect? Down the drain, that’s where it was.
    The cat glanced round. ‘A burger bar, in a field? Of course you were. Tell me, was I born an idiot, or were you born an idiot? Don’t bother to answer.’
    ‘Are you always as rude as this?’ I asked tetchily.
    ‘Only if you’re as stupid as this.’
    I ask you! That’s no way to speak to Dazzy Donut Dog. ‘Listen, chum, I could crunch up your head in one gulp.’
    ‘You could,’ agreed the cat, lying down androlling on to its back as if it didn’t much care what I did but I could rub its tummy if I liked. ‘But before that happened I would probably have taken out both your eyes, shredded your nose and stuffed carrots into your ears.’
    I choked. ‘Why would you stuff carrots into my ears?’
    ‘I always do,’ said the cat casually.

    ‘It’s my signature. Murderers always leave a signature on the dead body. Don’t you know anything? The Deadly Daffodil used to leave a daffodil next to his victim. Wanda the Weasel always left a lipstick kiss-print on her prey’s cheek. I stuff carrots in their ears.’
    I swallowed hard. I was in the company of a killer cat. I began to back away. The cat smiled again.
    ‘You believe me, don’t you?’ it purred. ‘I said you were stupid. Where on earth do you think I’m going to find carrots around here?’
    ‘I knew you were joking,’ I shouted.
    ‘Of course you did. So then, tell me, Mr Mutt, what are you doing round here?’
    ‘I’m lost. And I’m not Mr Mutt. I’m a Miss and my name’s Streaker.’
    The cat stretched itself slowly. ‘Well, Streaker, you may call me Great Lord and Master of All Things Visible and Invisible; Emperor of the Woods, the Wilds, the Winds and Wobbly Things; Pendragon of all Hilly Bits; Sultan of Sausages; Celestial Prince of Kippers, Goldfish and Chunky Rabbit—’
    ‘How about Moggy?’ I interrupted.
    ‘I don’t think so, unless you want to see those carrots,’ snapped the cat.
    ‘I’ll call you Cat.’
    He eyed me for a second. ‘It’s a deal,’ he agreed. ‘I hate those names two-legs give you. I used to be called Sweety-pie.’
    ‘Bit out of character,’ I observed.
    ‘Exactly. Have you had breakfast? No? I’ve got half a mouse somewhere. I’m a bit of a wanderer myself. My two-legs threw me out.’
    I thought: I’m not surprised. I’ve never met such a… such a catty cat. I didn’t say it of course. Didn’t want my ears filled with carrots. I tried to sound sympathetic.
    ‘Life must be hard,’ I offered.
    ‘I survive,’ Cat said with a shrug as we wandered towards the hedge. ‘But a warm home would be nice. Ah, there it is.’
    He showed me the half mouse. It was the bottom half. I looked at the tail and the two back