Puppy Love!

  For Anna – welcome to the world! ~ A M

  For Rachel and Emma ~ D R

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1 Puppy Love!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  2 Tiger Trouble!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  3 The Tidiest Tent!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Copyright

  Angela sploshed milk on to her cereal and looked up.

  “I saw a puppy yesterday,” she announced.

  “Mmm?” said Mrs Nicely, closing the dishwasher.

  “A little brown and white puppy. It was sitting outside the chip shop,” Angela went on.

  “Really,” said Mrs Nicely.

  “I think it was lost,” Angela said hopefully.

  Mrs Nicely gave Angela one of her looks. She knew where this conversation was going. “It wasn’t lost, Angela,” she sighed. “The owner was probably in the shop and they’d left the dog outside.”

  “But what if it’s still there?” asked Angela. “What if it’s all alone with no one to look after it?”

  Mrs Nicely rolled her eyes. “Angela, how many times? We are not getting a dog!” she said.

  Angela tilted her head to one side. “Just a teeny-weeny puppy?” she pleaded.

  “NO!” groaned her mum. “Dogs are smelly and dirty and way too much trouble.”

  “Not if you train them,” argued Angela.

  “And what about the mess?” demanded Mrs Nicely. “Who’s going to clear up when it does its … business … on my lawn?”

  “Me!” said Angela. “And I would take it to the park for a walk every day. Please, Mum, you’d LOVE a puppy once you got used to it.”

  “You know I hate dogs,” said Mrs Nicely. “And besides, we’ve just got a new sofa. I don’t want it covered in dog hair, thank you very much.”

  Angela pulled a face. Who cared about a sofa? She’d been begging her meanie parents to buy her a puppy for months, but the answer was always the same. N-O spells NO. Maybe she could give her dad another try?

  Angela went out into the garden to find him. “Da-ad, wouldn’t you like a puppy?” she asked.

  Her dad laughed. “What did your mum say?” he asked.

  Angela pulled a face.

  “She said ‘no’.”

  “Then there’s no point talking about it,” said Dad. “In any case, we’ve got a cat.”

  “It’s not the same,” grumbled Angela. “You can’t teach Pusskins tricks or take him for a walk.”

  “Well, we can’t have both,” said Dad. “Dogs and cats don’t mix.”

  “Some do,” argued Angela. “And my puppy would be so sweet.”

  “Hmm, try telling your mother that,” said Mr Nicely. “She doesn’t want a dog and nothing’s ever going to change that.”

  Angela hung her head. It wasn’t fair. Bertie next door had a dog called Whiffer and Dora in her class had the cutest puppy in the world. Why was she the only one who wasn’t allowed a dog? Angela thought she’d be good with dogs. She would take the puppy for walks, and teach it to sit up and roll over – though probably not on the new sofa.

  There had to be some way to convince her mum! Angela had asked for a puppy for Christmas. She’d left pictures of sad-eyed puppies around the house. She’d even written PUPPY in big letters on her mum’s shopping list. But nothing had had any effect. All the same, Angela wasn’t giving up yet. She went back inside.

  “Mu-um,” she said. “What if the puppy—”

  “NO, ANGELA!” shouted Mrs Nicely. “And if you ask me again I will scream!”

  Later that morning, Angela went to the park with her friends. They sat on the roundabout.

  “It’s not fair!” complained Angela. “I’ve tried everything but they just say ‘no’.”

  “You just have to keep on and on till they give in,” said Maisie. “That’s what I do when I want something.”

  “I’ve tried that,” sighed Angela. “I’ve asked, like, a million times!”

  Laura set the roundabout moving and clung on. “There ought to be a dog library,” she said.

  Angela looked puzzled. “Dogs can’t read,” she said.

  “No, I mean a library for borrowing a dog,” Laura explained. “You know, like getting a book out.”

  “Yes,” laughed Maisie. “Then when you got tired of it, you could take it back.”

  It wasn’t a bad idea, thought Angela. Imagine a library with hundreds of dogs sitting on the shelves! You could try a different dog each week to see which one you liked most. She sighed heavily. If only a dog library actually existed!

  But maybe there were other ways… If she could prove to her parents that she could look after a dog, maybe they’d give in? Who would lend her one? Not Bertie, for a start. Besides, her mum complained about Whiffer all the time. Angela looked around – the park was full of dogs. Hairy dogs, yappy dogs, small dogs, spotty dogs – all out for a walk with their owners. Angela’s eyes lit up. She had the answer!

  “DOG WALKING!” she cried, jumping off the roundabout. “I could walk them for other people.”

  Maisie frowned. “Who’s going to let you walk their dog?” she asked.

  “Hundreds of people,” said Angela. “Come on, all we need is a poster.”

  Angela found a big piece of card in a bin and Laura lent her a pen. Five minutes later she had made a large sign.

  Maisie shook her head. “Come on, Angela!” she said. “You don’t think anyone’s going to trust you with their dog?”

  “Why not?” said Angela. “I’m only borrowing them. I bet if I stand here long enough I’ll get tons of customers.”

  She stood by the path holding her sign. A few dog owners passed by and smiled at her, but none of them stopped. Angela held the sign higher above her head in case people couldn’t read it. The next person to come by was a boy from their class at school. Ryan had a big red dog called Max.

  “What’s all this?” he asked, stopping.

  “Angela’s Dog Walking Service,” explained Angela. “I could walk Max if you like.”

  “I’m walking him already,” Ryan pointed out.

  “Yes, but if I did it, then you could go and buy an ice cream,” suggested Angela.

  Ryan hadn’t thought of that. Dog walking was hard work and he quite fancied an ice cream.

  “What’s the catch?” he asked.

  “There isn’t a catch,” said Laura.

  “Angela just loves dogs,” explained Maisie. “And she needs one to practise on.”

  Ryan scratched his arm, thinking it over. “I’ll need him back in an hour,” he said.

  “No problem,” said Angela. That would give her enough time to get Max home and show him off.

  “And don’t let him roll in the mud – he loves mud,” warned Ryan.

  Angela nodded, taking hold of Max’s lead. This was easy! She didn’t know why she’d never thought of dog walking before.

  Angela and her friends walked Max once round the park, heading for the gates. On their way they passed an old lady sitting on a bench. Mrs Crab lived over the road from Angela with her little terrier, Scruff.

  “Hi, Mrs Crab!” cried Angela. “Are you taking Scruff for a walk?”

  “I am, dear,” said Mrs Crab. “But I’ve just stopped for a breather.”

  “We could walk him for you,” offered Angela. “We’re doing dog walking today!”

  “Are you? What a good idea!” smiled Mrs Crab. “I’d be ever so grateful. Scruff likes to run but these days I can’t keep up with him.”


  “We’ll see you in an hour,” said Angela. This was brilliant. This morning she didn’t have any dogs and now she had TWO! Her parents were going to be so impressed when they saw her looking after them.

  Max and Scruff were soon getting to know each other, which involved a lot of bottom-sniffing. Max was twice Angela’s size and dragged her along like a shopping trolley. Laura, meanwhile, was meant to be in charge of Scruff, but the little dog kept zooming off in all directions.

  “Not that way!” cried Angela.

  “I’m trying!” groaned Laura, tugging at the lead. “He won’t listen to me!”

  The two dogs began to chase each other in circles, barking excitedly. Soon their leads were tangled round Angela’s legs till she looked like a parcel tied with string.

  Maisie giggled. “I thought you were supposed to be walking them, not playing games!”

  “Well, don’t just stand there, help me!” cried Angela.

  They finally managed to untangle the dog leads. But just as they were heading out of the park, Max caught sight of something … a sandpit!

  Sand! Dirt! Digging! WOOF! He bolted away, with Scruff chasing after him. Angela was dragged along at supersonic speed until she tripped and landed face down in a flowerbed. When she looked up, the two dogs were digging madly, with sand flying in all directions.

  She hurried over to fetch them. “Are these dogs yours?” demanded a woman, clutching her toddler.

  “No … er, well … yes,” said Angela.

  “Then you should keep them under control,” snapped the woman. “Can’t you read?” She pointed to a big notice on the fence, which said “NO DOGS ALLOWED!”.

  Angela turned red and pulled Max and Scruff away.

  “This is going well,” grinned Maisie. “I thought you said that dog walking was easy.”

  Angela sighed. “Let’s just get them back to my house before anything else happens,” she said.

  Laura eyed the two filthy dogs. “Are you sure your mum and dad won’t mind?” she asked.

  “Of course not,” said Angela. “The whole point is to show them I can look after dogs.”

  They managed to drag the dogs along Angela’s road without any further disasters. Scruff insisted on sniffing every lamppost while Max tried to nose in the dustbins.

  Outside her house, Angela stopped. “Now remember, they’ve got to sit still and behave,” she told Maisie and Laura. “They mustn’t bark or run around.”

  “Try telling them that!” laughed Maisie.

  Laura didn’t see how she was meant to get Scruff to sit. He couldn’t keep still for two seconds! Although right now he was sitting on the driveway. Uh-oh, she thought, he isn’t just sitting…

  The girls stared in horror as Scruff wagged his tail, pleased with himself.

  “EWW! That stinks!” said Maisie, holding her nose.

  “It’s only dog poo,” said Angela with a sigh.

  “But who’s going to clear it up?” asked Laura.

  The girls all took a step backwards.

  “Don’t look at me,” said Laura.

  “Well, I’m not touching it,” said Maisie. “This was your idea, Angela.”

  Angela looked down at the smelly do-do on the driveway. Her mum would go up the wall if she saw it. But how could they remove it without a pooper scoop? When she got her own puppy Angela was going to have a pooper scoop with an extra-long handle. In the meantime, they would just have to leave Scruff’s mess until she could find a spade or something. The important thing was to get the dogs into the house unseen. Wouldn’t her mum get a surprise when she found two dogs sitting obediently in the kitchen?

  Angela opened the side gate and beckoned to the others to follow. She could see her mum in the garden, digging.

  “IS THAT YOU, ANGELA?” called Mrs Nicely without looking round.

  “I’m with Maisie and Laura!” shouted Angela. “We’re just getting a drink!”

  They led the dogs down the side passage and in through the back door. Scruff went padding around the kitchen. Max sniffed the air, smelling something.

  “Now, what shall we feed them?” asked Angela.

  “Dog food,” replied Laura.

  “We don’t have any, only cat food!” said Angela.

  Her mouth fell open. Cat food? She’d forgotten all about Pusskins! She hoped he was sleeping on a bed upstairs…

  RUFF!

  Angela spotted Pusskins in the hall at the same time as Max. The cat arched his back and hissed.

  “MAX, NO! STAY!” ordered Angela, in her firmest voice.

  It was no use. The dogs zoomed past her as Pusskins shot out of sight. For a podgy moggy he could move surprisingly fast. Angela dashed into the hall.

  NOOOOO! The dogs were in the lounge!

  Pusskins had climbed on top of the shelves and was yowling at the dogs. Max and Scruff stood on the sofa, barking excitedly.

  HISSSS!

  WOOF! WOOF!

  The noise brought Mrs Nicely running in from the garden. Her hands flew to her face as she let out a scream.

  “EEEEK! MY NEW SOFA!”

  Angela had forgotten about the new sofa. It was covered in sandy brown pawprints and one of the cushions looked a bit torn.

  Mrs Nicely’s face was purple with rage. She turned to Angela.

  “Who let these filthy dogs in the house?” she yelled. “Angela, is this your doing?”

  Angela gulped. “It wasn’t my fault. We were looking after them,” she said.

  “Well, you can take them back to where they came from, right now!” thundered her mum.

  Angela nodded sadly. With her friends’ help, she managed to drag Max and Scruff out of the door. Mrs Nicely marched down the drive after them.

  “And you can pay for the damage out of your— UGH!”

  She broke off and looked down. She’d trodden in something horrid. It looked like…

  “ANGELAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” howled Mrs Nicely.

  Angela didn’t look back. She guessed she wouldn’t be getting a puppy after all. Not this week, anyway.

  SLOP! SPLAT! SPLODGE! Angela’s class were busy painting. Miss Darling wanted them to make a summer display to brighten up the entrance hall. Angela splodged more paint on to her picture of a mermaid riding a dolphin. Suddenly she bent down and stared at the newspaper which was covering the floor.

  “Hey look at this, Laura,” she whispered, pointing.

  Angela’s eyes lit up. “Teacher of the Year!” she said.

  “Well, what about it?” asked Laura.

  Angela looked at her. “Can’t you think of someone we know who should be Teacher of the Year?” she asked.

  Laura frowned. “Mr Weakly?” she suggested.

  “Are you barmy bonkers?” said Angela. “I mean Miss Darling!”

  “Ohhh, Miss Darling,” said Laura, nodding. “Yes, she’d be perfect. Has she entered then?”

  “I doubt it,” said Angela. “But someone ought to vote for her.”

  Maisie wandered over to join them, dripping paint on the floor. Angela showed her the article.

  “Angela thinks Miss Darling ought to be Teacher of the Year,” explained Laura.

  “Definitely,” agreed Maisie. “She’s the best teacher in the school – probably in the whole world.”

  “Do we get a vote?” asked Laura.

  “Course not,” said Maisie. “No one asks what children think.”

  “Then who decides?” asked Laura.

  It was a good question and for once Angela was stuck for an answer. All she knew was that Miss Darling was the best class teacher she had ever had. She was kind and patient and listened to everyone – even Tiffany Charmers, who put her hand up fifty times a day.

  “I know,” said Angela. “We could make a list.”

  “What sort of list?” asked Laura.

  “A list of reasons why Miss Darling ought to win,” said Angela. She wrote the list in splodgy yellow paint.

  Angela was about to add one more r
eason, when she noticed Miss Darling standing over them.

  “What’s all this?” the teacher asked.

  Angela turned bright pink. “Nothing!” she said. “We were just, um…”

  “…just talking about Tiffany,” said Maisie quickly.

  “Well, you’re meant to be getting on with your painting,” frowned Miss Darling. “More work and less chatter, please.”

  They waited until she had gone, then Angela quickly painted over the list. “That was close. She mustn’t find out,” she said.

  “Why not?” asked Laura.

  “Because it’s got to be a surprise when she wins,” said Angela.

  Miss Darling was going to be so thrilled when she heard the news. Imagine it, Teacher of the Year! There would be a picture in the paper with Miss Darling and Angela holding the trophy. But there was just one small problem – how to make sure Miss Darling won?

  Angela decided to ask her dad’s advice after school. She found him upstairs at the computer.

  “Dad?” she said. “You know teachers?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” said Dad.

  “Well, how do they win stuff like rewards?” asked Angela.

  Dad looked puzzled. “Rewards?”

  “Yes, you know, like Teacher of the Year rewards,” said Angela.

  “Ah, I think you mean awards,” said Dad. “I didn’t know there was a Teacher of the Year.”

  “It was in the newspaper!” said Angela. “But how do you win?”

  Her dad laughed. “I don’t know, I’m not a teacher,” he said.

  “I know that,” sighed Angela. “It’s Miss Darling we want to win.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Dad. “Well, I guess she’d have to do something special, besides trying to teach you lot.”

  Angela frowned. “Special?”

  “Yes, to get her noticed, like – I don’t know – saving a child from drowning.”