Fetch! Read online

  For Julia, Edward and Mickey-Love ~ D R

  For Zoe, Ed, Arthur, Maisie and Tess the dog ~ A M

  Contents

  Title page

  Dedication

  1 Fetch!

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  2 Royal!

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  3 Wedding!

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  Copyright

  CHAPTER 1

  DING DONG.

  “Bertie, can you get that?” called Mum. Bertie scooted into the hall and opened the front door.

  “Special delivery!” said the postman, handing him a brown parcel.

  It was addressed to Master Bertie Burns. Wait a minute – that was him!

  “I GOT A PRESENT! I GOT A PRESENT!” he yelled, bursting into the kitchen.

  “It’s not fair!” grumbled Suzy.

  “Why didn’t I get anything?”

  “Cos no one likes you,” said Bertie, sticking out his tongue.

  Mum was looking at the postmark. “It must be a late birthday present. I think it’s from Uncle Ed in America.”

  Bertie gasped. Rich Uncle Ed? He sent the coolest presents – even if they never arrived on time. Bertie tore off the wrapping paper. He stared. It wasn’t! It couldn’t be!

  “Ha ha! It’s a toy dog,” said Suzy.

  “No it isn’t, it’s a ROBODOG!” whooped Bertie.

  He read the label tied round the collar.

  This was the best present ever! Better even than the prehistoric dino-poop Darren had given him for his birthday. Think of all the things he could do with a robot! Tiny could keep intruders out of Bertie’s bedroom. He’d train him to bark at Miss Boot and to bite Know-All Nick. Wait till his friends heard about this – he’d be the envy of the whole school!

  Whiffer trotted over and sniffed Tiny suspiciously. What kind of dog was this? It didn’t even smell like a dog!

  Suzy folded her arms. “So what does it do then?”

  “I have to train him first,” replied Bertie, reading the instructions.

  He found a switch on Tiny’s back and flicked it on.

  CLICK! WHIRR, WHIRR!

  Tiny stirred into life. His eyes flashed red and his head wagged from side to side. Bertie set him on the ground and grabbed the remote control. He pressed a button.

  “Sit, Tiny!” he commanded.

  BEEP, BEEP! CLICK, CLICK!

  Tiny folded his back legs and sat down.

  “Amazing!” gasped Dad.

  “Wonderful!” said Mum.

  Whiffer looked puzzled. No one ever got this excited when he sat down.

  “Lie down, Tiny!” said Bertie.

  WHIRR, CLICK! Tiny lay down.

  Now for the big one, thought Bertie.

  “Come, Tiny!” he said, patting his knees. “Come to me!”

  CLICK, WHIRR! BEEP, BEEP!

  Tiny’s little legs began to move and he plodded jerkily across the floor.

  “Look! He’s doing it – he’s walking!” cried Bertie.

  “Oh, isn’t that sweet?” said Mum.

  Whiffer growled. He’d seen quite enough. It was time to put this imposter in his place.

  GRRR!

  He pounced, pinning Tiny to the floor.

  BEEP! WHIRR!

  GRRR!

  “NO, WHIFFER! BAD BOY!” yelled Bertie, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him off.

  Whiffer hung his head. What had he done now?

  Bertie opened the back door and shoved him towards it. “OUT!”

  WHAM! The door slammed shut.

  Whiffer padded to the window and watched everyone crowd round the new dog, smiling and clapping. His ears drooped. What was going on? One moment he was Bertie’s best friend, the next he’d been replaced by a flat-faced mutt who walked like a puppet. Well, he wasn’t taking this lying down. He’d show that pesky pooch who was top dog!

  CHAPTER 2

  Next morning, Whiffer lay in wait for the postman. Before long a pile of letters thudded on to the mat.

  WOOF! WOOF! He bounded into the hall excitedly.

  WHIRR, WHIRR! BEEP, BEEP!

  Too late – Tiny had got there first. He scooped up the letters in his mouth and trundled past with red eyes flashing. Whiffer drooped after him into the kitchen.

  Tiny stopped beside Dad and wagged his tail.

  BEEP! RUFF! RUFF!

  Dad looked down. “Well, look at this! Tiny’s brought the post! Who’s a clever boy?”

  He patted the little robot on the head and took the letters.

  “I’ve been training him,” said Bertie, proudly. “Roll over, Tiny.”

  Tiny rolled over.

  “I must say he’s very well behaved.” Mum smiled. “Not like some dogs I could mention.”

  “He does everything I tell him,” said Bertie. “Watch this!”

  He pressed a green button on the remote control. “Dance, Tiny!”

  WHIRR, CLICK! ZOOB, ZIB!

  Tinny music blared out and Tiny rocked from side to side performing a cute little dance.

  “Oh, that’s soooo sweet!” cooed Suzy.

  Dad looked up from his letter. “Yes and what’s more, he doesn’t leave hairs on the sofa.”

  “Or go crazy when the doorbell goes,” said Mum.

  “And he won’t poo on Mrs Nicely’s lawn,” said Suzy.

  They all turned to look at Whiffer.

  WOOF! barked Whiffer. Finally someone was paying him some attention! His bowl was empty and he was starving. He picked it up and dropped it at Dad’s feet. Dad went on reading his letter. Whiffer padded over to Mum. But she was busy talking to Suzy.

  What was the matter with everyone? He carried his bowl over to Bertie and plonked it down.

  WOOF! he barked, gazing up at Bertie with big, sad eyes. That usually did the trick.

  “Not now, Whiffer, I’m busy!” sighed Bertie, fiddling with the remote.

  Whiffer stared. What was going on? His bowl was empty! Wasn’t anyone going to notice?

  After lunch, Darren and Eugene came round to play. Bertie had told them all about Tiny. He took them out into the garden to show off some of Tiny’s tricks. Whiffer trailed after them, hoping to play “Fetch” or “Chew the Slipper”. Usually Darren made a fuss of him, but today he didn’t seem to notice he was there.

  “A real robot!” gasped Darren. “You lucky thing!”

  “You could teach him to bring you breakfast in bed,” said Eugene.

  “And do your homework.”

  Mmm, it was a tempting idea, thought Bertie. But the instruction booklet only listed Ten Top Tricks like “Sit”, “Fetch” and “Beg”. All the same, that was ten more tricks than Whiffer could do. Whiffer was about as obedient as a lemon meringue. The thing about Tiny was you could take him anywhere. He didn’t bark, he didn’t whine and he didn’t run off chasing squirrels. And best of all, Bertie was the only one of his friends who had a Robodog.

  “Show us a trick,” said Darren.

  “Okay,” said Bertie. “Tiny, lie down!”

  WHIRR! CLICK! CLICK!

  Tiny lay down.

  “Good boy!” said Bertie. “Tiny, roll over!”

  Tiny rolled over.

  “Show me how you beg!”

  Tiny sat up and raised both paws. His ears flopped pathetically.

  “Wicked!” laughed Darren.

  “Brilliant!” cried Eugene.

  Whiffer watched in disbelief. This was too much!

  WOOF! WOOF! He bounded over and began chasing his tail in circles.

  “What’s up with him?”
asked Darren.

  Bertie shrugged. “Dunno. He’s been acting weird ever since I got Tiny.”

  Tiny showed them how he could play dead. He did his little dance. He plodded over to a tree and cocked his leg. Darren and Eugene laughed as if it was the funniest thing they’d ever seen. Whiffer stared. This was so unfair! When he weed against the gate he got in big trouble!

  “And wait till you see this,” said Bertie, picking up a stick.

  “Fetch, Tiny!” He threw the stick over Tiny’s head. Whiffer saw his chance. He might not be able to dance, but no one was faster at fetching sticks. He leaped past Bertie, bounding after the stick.

  WOOF! WOOF! WOO—

  Hey! Someone had him by the collar!

  “NO, WHIFFER. Leave it!” shouted Bertie.

  WHIRR! BEEP! CLICK, CLICK!

  Tiny trundled over and picked up the stick in his mouth. He brought it back to Bertie and dropped it at his feet. Bertie patted his head.

  “Clever boy! Who’s a good boy?”

  Whiffer growled. GRRR! Call that a stick? He’d show that stuck-up pup how to fetch. He looked around. Ah ha! What about that giant stick propping up the washing line?

  He bounded across the lawn and seized the clothes prop in his mouth.

  TWANG! The washing line sagged to the ground, dragging Mum’s sheets in the mud.

  Just at that moment, Mum stuck her head out of the back door.

  “Bertie, have you seen my … ARGHH! Look at my washing! It’s filthy!”

  “It wasn’t me!” said Bertie. “It was Whiffer!”

  Whiffer tottered over, carrying the giant pole in his mouth. He dropped it at Mum’s feet and wagged his tail, looking pleased with himself.

  Mum glared at him. “Bad Boy! Get inside!”

  CHAPTER 3

  Over the next week, Whiffer’s behaviour only got worse. On Tuesday he left a puddle on the landing. On Wednesday he hid a filthy bone in Mum and Dad’s bed. On Thursday he tried to bury Tiny’s remote control in the garden. By Friday Mum and Dad had had enough. They sat Bertie down for a serious talk.

  “This has got to stop,” said Mum.

  “It can’t go on,” sighed Dad.

  Bertie looked blank. What were they talking about? He hadn’t kept worms in his room for ages – at least not anywhere they’d be found.

  “What have I done now?” he asked.

  “It’s not you, it’s Whiffer!” said Dad. “He’s driving us crazy!”

  “He keeps bringing sticks and bones into the house!” said Mum.

  “He weed on the carpet!”

  “He follows us everywhere!”

  “It’s not my fault!” grumbled Bertie.

  “He’s your dog,” said Dad. “You’re supposed to look after him.”

  “I do!”

  “You don’t!” said Mum. “Not since you got Tiny. Who took Whiffer to the park this week? Who fed him? Who cleared up his mess?”

  Bertie stared at his feet. Perhaps he had neglected Whiffer a bit, but that was because he had so much to do. Tiny was just a puppy and he still needed training. Besides, it was so much fun.

  Mum folded her arms. “I’m sorry, Bertie, but this isn’t working. Whiffer’s jealous.”

  “JEALOUS?” said Bertie.

  “Yes! He doesn’t like having another dog around. And you ignoring him only makes it worse!”

  “I WON’T ignore him,” said Bertie. “I’ll look after them both!”

  Mum looked at Dad. “All right,” she sighed. “We’ll give it one more week.”

  “But Whiffer’s got to stop driving us mad,” said Dad.

  CHAPTER 4

  “Whiffer, walkies!”

  WOOF! WOOF!

  Whiffer flew out of the kitchen and pinned Bertie to the wall. It was ages since they’d gone for walkies. Walkies meant the park and the park meant squirrels.

  “Good boy,” said Bertie, clipping on his lead. “Tiny’s coming too.”

  Whiffer growled and showed his teeth. GRRR! Not that mangy little mongrel!

  Bertie opened the front door and Whiffer took off, dragging him down the path. Tiny wobbled along behind, beeping and whirring. This is great, thought Bertie. Me and my dogs, all friends together.

  The park was full of people walking their dogs. There were tall boxers, yappy terriers and fluffy poodles. But nobody else had a dog like Tiny. The other children crowded around Bertie enviously.

  “Wow! Is he yours?” asked a little curly-haired girl.

  “Yes,” said Bertie. “He’s called Tiny. Want to see him dance?”

  Bertie made Tiny perform every one of his tricks. The crowd gasped and clapped. Whiffer looked away, bored.

  “Can he fetch my ball?” asked the little girl.

  “He can fetch anything,” said Bertie, taking the rubber ball. He sent the ball bouncing across the grass.

  “Fetch, Tiny!”

  CLICK, CLICK! WHIRR! Tiny set off. But Whiffer had seen the ball too. In a blur of speed, he overtook the robot. Seconds later, he was back, dropping the ball at Bertie’s feet and wagging his tail.

  “No!” said Bertie. “Whiffer, stay. Let Tiny get this one.”

  Bertie threw the ball as far as he could. Whiffer forgot all about “Stay” – he was much better at “Fetch”. He set off, racing past Tiny to get there first. The ball bounced towards the pond.

  DOINK! DOINK! … PLOP!

  “TINY, NO, COME BACK…!” yelled Bertie.

  Too late. Whiffer plunged into the water, scattering ducks in all directions. Tiny followed, beetling along behind.

  SPLASH!

  WHIRR, WHIRR! … BEEP! … BLUB BLUB … BLOOP!

  Bubbles rose to the surface.

  “TINY!” called Bertie. “TINY?”

  Silence.

  “He can’t swim,” said the little girl.

  Bertie stared.

  A moment later Whiffer arrived like a hurricane on four legs and flattened him on the grass. He was muddy, dripping wet and clutching a rubber ball. He dropped it on the grass and barked excitedly.

  WOOF! WOOF!

  “No! Ha ha! Get off!” giggled Bertie, as Whiffer licked his face.

  He got up and ruffled Whiffer’s fur. “Good boy,” he said. “Tell you what, let’s see if there’s any squirrels.”

  WOOF! Whiffer took off like a furry bolt of lightning. Bertie ran to catch up. Tiny had been okay – for a robot – but there really wasn’t anyone like good old Whiffer!

  CHAPTER 1

  Bertie opened the front door.

  Gran zoomed past him and burst into the kitchen where Mum, Dad and Suzy were having tea. Bertie had never seen her so excited. She looked like she might take off.

  “You’ll never guess what!” she panted. “I’m going to meet the Queen!”

  “No!” gasped Mum.

  “Yes!”

  “Never!”

  “I am. Look – here’s the invitation!”

  She fished in her handbag and pulled out a silver-trimmed card with an important-looking coat of arms.

  Bertie, Suzy, Mum and Dad crowded round to look.

  “Goodness! A royal garden party?” said Mum.

  “Isn’t it exciting?” said Gran. “I can hardly wait!”

  Suzy read the invitation again.

  “And guest,” she said. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I can bring a friend or relative,” explained Gran.

  “What? To meet the Queen?” asked Bertie, wide-eyed.

  “Yes!”

  “Actually really MEET her?”

  “Yes, actually really.”

  Bertie could hardly believe his ears. Imagine that – going to a party at the Queen’s house! Bertie loved parties and this would be the greatest ever. Think of the food – royal jelly and king-sized ice creams. Think of the games – Musical Thrones, Pass the Diamonds and Hide and Seek with a hundred rooms to choose from. Maybe the Queen would decide to knight him? Maybe she’d even let him borrow her crown for a day t
o wear to school? Hang on though, didn’t Gran say she could only take one guest to the party? And she hadn’t said who it would be!

  “Let me take your coat, Dotty,” said Mum, steering Gran into a chair.

  “Are you comfy? I’ll get you a cushion!” simpered Suzy.

  “Have some cake!” offered Dad, cutting a huge slice of sponge.

  Bertie scowled. He could see what his sneaky family were up to. They wanted Gran to choose them!

  “Well? Have you decided?” asked Mum.

  “Decided what?”

  “Who you’re taking to the garden party?”

  “Oh yes,” said Gran. She dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Well, it wasn’t easy, I’ve got so many friends. But in the end I thought – who do I know that’s never been to London? Who’s never even seen Buckingham Palace?”

  “ME!” yelled Bertie, banging into the table and spilling the cups.

  “BERTIE?” gasped Suzy.

  “Is that a good idea?” said Dad. “I mean Bertie – meeting the Queen?”

  “Why shouldn’t I meet her?” demanded Bertie.

  “Well, it’s just … sometimes you forget your manners.”

  “I don’t!” said Bertie, grabbing another slice of cake.

  Of course there was the time the lady Mayoress visited his school. That was a bit of a disaster. But it wasn’t easy to shake hands with a bogey stuck to your finger. Still, Bertie was sure he wouldn’t make the same mistake with the Queen. She probably had servants to deal with that sort of thing.

  CHAPTER 2

  Bertie couldn’t wait to tell his friends at school. They were going to be so jealous! He waited until break time when they were out in the playground.

  “What are you doing next Saturday?” he said.