“It’s like two hundred times worse. As a human you can only smell present smells and strong ones. Whereas as a dog, I can smell that a cat was here at about three o’clock and a hedgehog was here last night.”
“And,” added Micky as Stanley, “that smell of cat is
“Most dogs can’t stand them,” agreed Petula. “Personally, if I see a cat, my body sort of takes over, and before I know it, I’m running after it. I’m never fast enough to catch them, though.” Petula smiled. “Now, you two, I think Mr. Bad and Miss Popcorn are staying in this hotel for the night, so there’s nothing we can do about them now. Instead we should get something to eat.”
Petula shook herself off and led the dogs to a garbage bin in an outdoor alcove near the hotel’s kitchens. The contents of the black bags smelled to Molly almost as good as the food in the hotel.
“As humans,” Petula explained, “you would never have considered eating garbage, I know, but you’d be surprised—lots of very tasty morsels can be found in bins.” Petula put her front paws against the bulging sack that, like a coconut in a cup, sat lodged in the black plastic bin. “The only difficulty we’re going to have is getting at it.”
“I’ll have a go,” said Micky. Leaping, he grasped the side of the garbage bag with his teeth and tugged it toward the ground. The plastic bin fell over. Then, with wolfish ferocity, he ripped the bag apart.
Half-eaten steaks and carved-up lamb shanks tumbled out, mixed with the remnants of crepes and cottage pies, strudels and vegetables.
“Yum!” Molly exclaimed. Hungrily the three dogs dived into their supper.
They all ate till their stomachs were tight. Then they heard the kitchen doors opening. A kitchen worker was bringing out another bag of garbage. Quickly the dogs scampered to the back garden.
“Oh, no! I don’t believe it!” they heard the man complain. “Those damn foxes! They’ve been at these bins again.”
The three dogs lapped up a drink from the hotel pond. Then Petula trotted to investigate a gazebolike structure that stood under a horse-chestnut tree at the end of the garden.
The hut had a half-open, latticed enclosure that certainly provided shelter from wind and rain. What was more, jute sacks, the sort that gardeners used to collect lawn clippings, were strewn across its floor.
“This will do nicely,” said Petula, “so long as we sleep close together.”
“Micky and I will have to take it in turns to sleep,” Molly reminded Petula, “or it’ll be like Miss Hunroe said—if we fall asleep too long, we’ll get overwhelmed by the dogs who really own these bodies.”
“At least they’re nice,” Petula said, finding a white stone on the floor and picking it up to suck.
“Maybe they are, but if we get stuck inside their bodies and under their personalities, maybe they won’t know how to let us out even if they wanted to.”
“I can be a night watchdog,” Petula said, collecting some sacks together. “I can let you both sleep and then wake you up before too long passes.”
So that is exactly what they did.
The three dogs snuggled together and took it in turns to be guard—guard of the hut and a guard of time. Neither Micky nor Molly slept longer than two hours at a time. Then they’d stay awake for half an hour to ensure their control over their dog bodies before going back to sleep again. Petula was the last sentry. When a local church bell struck ten A.M., she woke Molly.
“Time to get up,” she said, nudging her on the shoulder. “You were tired. It’s ten o’clock in the morning.”
Molly yawned and stared at the sky heavy with gray rain clouds. It was cozy and warm now in the dog nest. Molly listened to the sound of Micky’s sleeping bulldog breath and thought how nice it was being snuggled up close to her brother and her friend Petula. And as Molly looked at Petula’s black face, she was struck again by how amazing it was to be beside her pet and to actually be able to talk to her.
“It’s really nice to be able to talk to you, Molly,” Petula said. “You’re just how I knew you would be.”
“I know,” Molly said with a smile. “You are just how I knew you were, too. A little bit cheeky and funny, a little bit bossy and very brave. It was really brave of you to follow us to London, Petula. You are a very good friend.”
“I had to, Molly. That’s what real friends do. They help each other out when there’s trouble.” Petula rubbed her nose in Molly’s fur. “We’ve been through a lot together, haven’t we?”
For a moment the two dogs lay close to each other, enjoying being together. Petula broke the silence.
“So,” she pondered, “all you’ve got to do now is get the book. And when you do get your paws on it, you have to turn into a
Molly nodded. “That’s exactly right, Petula. You’ve hit the nail on the head.”
“Or,” Petula replied, “as a dog might say, I’ve knocked the cat on the nose.”
Both dogs smiled, then Petula looked serious. “Molly, it’s going to be difficult for me to keep up with you as you follow Black and the book. But I’ll try. I can sense where you are, and I’ll be there for you whenever I can be. Remember these three barks.” Petula gave a short chirpy bark. “That barking means I’m safe. If I howl, that means I’m in trouble or that someone else is. If I bark incessantly and urgently, then that means you have to watch out.”
Molly rubbed her wet nose on Petula’s velvety black ear. “Good plan. Look, in a minute, Petula, we’ll probably change into birds—those two blackbirds on the lawn. We must get to Buckingham Palace for Black’s eleven o’clock appointment with the queen. He’ll be carrying that book around wherever he goes from now on. Magglorian will show you the way. And don’t worry, Petula, we’ll get through this, and after that we are all going to have a lovely time.”
Petula nuzzled into Molly.
