Pudding Detective - Chapter 5

Pudding Detective 

Chapter 5

 Persuasion

Some of you might have an older brother or sister and as much as you love them (yes, really!) I'm sure there have been times when you've fought, maybe over sweets or games or which TV programme you're going to watch next. And I'm sure there's been a time when that older sibling has prevented you from leaving, arriving, or simply being able to escape at all. This might take the form of sitting on top of you with their knees pressed against your arms, or maybe grabbing you by the wrists so you can't move a muscle. It's a horrible feeling isn't it? You heave and strain to gain some ground but they're just squeezing even tighter.

Well, this is how Pudding felt the day after visiting Sprinter. She was burning up inside and felt like her wings had been clipped and she could not do what she wanted to do. Every little thing would spark her attention and cause her to be agitated and frustrated. 

The night before she'd hardly had a wink of sleep, and as you know for a dog that is very unusual. Over and over in her mind she was playing out how she was going to get to the swallows for 9am - on a Sunday, no less! Getting there in her dreams just wasn't an option. She had never seen a bird in her dreams. Not one. Therefore she didn't feel as if she could take any risks by choosing this option as a way forward. The time was now!

In the kitchen, she could hear the hours chime from the antique grandfather clock in the hallway, and each time she heard another hour go by, she would would jump up with the chimes and stare around in the dark looking for answers. She would pace about downstairs whining (this always made her think better) but no great plan would come to her, all she could see would be the sheer distress on the face of Sprinter as she flew off the day before; his eyes still glazed from his tears and his leg still flicking out sideways. She knew that if she lay down again the chances of her dropping off to sleep were rather huge, so she sat, stood, and trotted about the downstairs carpets in order to keep herself awake.

When the clock chimed 6am and sunlight was beginning to show where she was, she knew she had to act right there and then and make a decision once and for all.

Thankfully, Mr and Mrs Pumphry's bedroom was above her and Mrs Pumphry was a light sleeper. So, waking them up wasn't the issue. But how could she direct them to the Great Pond? Now, that was a puzzle even a superpowered dog might struggle to achieve.

The Great Pond wasn't a place she had been to yet, but she knew where it was because in her dreams she had travelled far and wide - especially wide, for she was still learning and those exposed north westerly winds could be quite disorientating up at those heights. 

By 7am she had the plan almost wrapped up. By 7.30am it was complete. At 8 o'clock, the barking began.

                                                                         ***

"What is ever the matter, Pudding, you do realise it's a Sunday, don't you? Don't you know I've been working hard all week and could have really done with a lie in today.Your walk isn't for ages yet. Are you feeling all right, girl? Let's have a good look at you."

Mrs Pumphry rubbed the sleep from her eyes and knelt down, grabbed Pudding by the head and wiped the sleep away from hers too. She had a good look at her, meanwhile Pudding was trying to desperately pull away knowing time was not on her side.

"Well," she said, as Pudding finally wriggled out of her grip, "you look fine to me," and promptly made herself and Mr Pumphry a cup of tea and shuffled back upstairs to bed, her slippers half hanging off her feet and flip flopping about over the floor.

But before she could reach the top step, Pudding had raced through the gap in the door, leapt up the thirteen steps and beat her to the landing, making her spill half the tea in the process, her tail whipping everything as she passed by. She then duly jumped on their bed and circled at least five times, making Mr Pumphry almost leap from his skin.

"Pudding, what on earth are you -?!" 

She then howled. Not just any howl but just like a pack-of-wolves-in-a-horror movie kind of howl. Her head pointing to the heavens as if searching for a full moon through the ceiling.

By this time Mr Pumphry was standing by his wife gathering his dressing gown and attempting to find one of the arms.

That ought to do it, thought Pudding, as she plonked herself on the bed looking pleased with herself. I think they're definitely awake now.

                                                                          ***

Sundays were longer walk days and because there was more time, they all would usually get in the car and head off exploring somewhere, sometimes to new places. Pudding just adored doing this and always looked forward to the weekend. But how was she going to get them to stop at the right place? 

Luckily, the animal gods were with her that day, the route they had taken being the right one, so Pudding kept her eyes peeled for gathering birds on pylons and any other landmarks she could remember. Her nose could be seen by Mr Pumphry in the car wing mirror, twitching in the wind between a tiny gap in the back seat window and occasionally, if she was in the right position, her ears would flap a little. For Pudding there was nothing to be found. She wondered if she'd remembered correctly. But just then she spotted something ahead, a line of movement which looked liked birds jumping off a high wire and quickly repositioning themselves again in a kind of swirling motion. She had not seen this before and thought that it had to be the swallows, just had to be.

"Is that Pudding?" Mr Pumphry asked as he turned down the radio. "Is that you crying in the back there?"

They were driving beyond where she needed to be and it didn't look as if they were going to stop any time soon.

The whining increased. But still no reaction from Mr Pumphry. More whining. Absolutely no sign of slowing whatsoever. They many hundreds of metres past where she now needed to be.

Suddenly, Mr Pumphry slammed on the brakes as hard as he could and they all lurched forward. 

"Whoa, what's going on?" Mrs Pumphry asked, putting one of her hands over her eyes.

Pudding couldn't see ahead too well but gradually shifted to get a better view. A lone deer was standing in the road, completely still like a statue, staring at all of them through the windscreen, literally a metre away from getting hit. And it just wouldn't budge, no matter how much Mr Pumphry bibbed his horn, waved his fists, and shouted. 

Mr Pumphry said he'd had enough of it all and got out of the car looking all steamed up. But ten seconds later he was back in, looking like he'd seen a ghost; he gripped the steering wheel in an attempt to stop his hands from shaking.

"Darling... it's still there...What's wrong?" Mrs Pumphry asked, wondering why her husband had got back into the car without moving the deer along.

After a pause, which seemed like a lifetime, Mr Pumphry lifted up his head and looked across at his wife - his eyes a little bloodshot, his brow all furrowed and slightly beading with sweat, finally finding the words to say -

"It spoke to me. The deer actually spoke to me."