Claude’s Christmas Adventure: The must-read Christmas dog book of 2018!. Sophie Pembroke
Читать онлайн книгу.
toy making the same noises over and over again. That was probably Jay playing with it, not them. At five months old, the twins weren’t all that interested in their toys, but Jay thought they were marvellous. I’d tried chewing on one or two of them, but Oliver or Daisy always took them away.
That was okay. They didn’t taste all that good anyway.
Outside, it turned out, was a lot chillier than the kitchen. The front door clattered shut behind us, the circle of leaves and berries that Daisy had hung on it thudding against the wood. The car stood on the driveway, doors wide open and the boot door up high too. It was a bigger car than most on our street, I’d realised a while ago. I supposed because we had so many more people than most of the houses on Maple Drive.
My crate sat in the boot, behind the seats where Jay and Bella sat, which in turn were behind the row with the baby seats, which were behind Oliver and Daisy’s chairs. My red blanket covered the floor of the crate, and there was a chew toy or two to keep me entertained. I wondered how far we were going today.
It was Christmas, and that usually meant a few days at Granny and Grandad’s house by the seaside. I liked it there – the sand was funny-feeling under my paws, and chasing the waves was always fun, even if I’d never caught them yet. But this year things felt different. Less fun, for a start. I’d been listening, while Daisy had been getting things ready for our trip, but some of the words she’d used hadn’t made much sense. Ferry. France. Chateau. They were new words to me.
I had heard them talking about Granny and Grandad too, though, so that was good. It wouldn’t be Christmas without them. They always had doggy treats for me, and their dog, Petal, was good at sharing her toys. And her people.
I didn’t really like to share my people at all, but Jay loved me more than any other dog anyway, so that was all right.
I settled down in my crate as Oliver swung the door closed, and prepared to wait for the rest of the family to join me. Preferably with snacks.
It didn’t take long.
‘Claude!’ Jay whispered my name, louder than most people would shout. I jumped up at the sound of his voice. ‘I’m sorry you’re stuck in your crate. I’ve brought you something to keep you company on the drive.’ He fumbled with the door of the crate, then pushed his stuffed toy inside. I huffed my gratitude. It wasn’t just any stuffed toy – it was the special French Bulldog toy that Granny and Grandad had bought him because they said it looked just like me.
I couldn’t see it, myself. My black and white colouring was far more elegant.
‘Jay!’ Daisy yelled from inside the house, her voice sharp and impatient, and the little boy’s eyes widened.
‘See you later, Claude!’ He slammed the crate door shut again, running off before he could realise the latch hadn’t caught properly.
Interesting.
Still, there was nowhere I really needed to go, so I settled back down with the cuddly toy for company, and watched as the family came and went, loading boxes and bags into the car, and the bigger container on the roof. Oliver staggered out with a huge gift wrapped box, bigger than my crate, and jammed it into the boot beside me. The wrapping paper had pictures of red and white striped candy canes, and golden people shaped things with sweets for buttons that looked delicious. ‘Not for eating,’ Oliver reminded me, as he headed back to the house for the next box. ‘If you eat the wrapping paper off the twins’ first Christmas present, there’ll be hell to pay.’
As if I’d be so stupid. Besides, I’d tried it last month at Jay’s birthday. Wrapping paper tasted only marginally better than glitter.
Every time the door opened, there was a blast of screaming from the twins. Suddenly, I was rather glad to be waiting in the car, even if no one had brought me a mid-morning snack yet.
Oliver balanced the box of interesting smells beside my crate for a moment, then placed it on the back seat instead. ‘Just in case,’ he said, looking at me meaningfully.
I huffed and turned around in my crate, facing away from him. No need to be insulting.
But then I spotted someone else outside the car. Someone definitely not family.
Perdita. The ridiculously fluffy, unnecessarily haughty, cat from across the road at number 12.
And she was sniffing.
‘What’s that interesting smell?’ she meowed, padding closer. ‘Oh, sorry, you wouldn’t know, of course. You’re stuck in that crate.’
Like she never had to travel in a crate to go to the vet or whatever. Cats. They always think they’re better than everyone else.
‘I know that whatever it is, it’s not yours,’ I growled back.
Perdita sprang up into the car boot, delicately climbing the mountain of suitcases and presents to reach the back seat. ‘Smells like fish. Maybe smoked salmon …’ She batted the box of interesting smells with one paw.
That was a paw too far for this dog.
Without warning, I burst through the open crate door and barked at Perdita, making her yowl. She jumped backwards, away from the box, scrambling against the twins’ Christmas present as she slid down out of the car. I growled in satisfaction, and she hissed back at me.
Actually hissed.
Well. A dog has his pride, right? I couldn’t just let her get away with that.
I leapt down onto the pavement behind her, chasing her back down the street, away from my territory. My family.
We didn’t need no stupid cats hanging around here.
I didn’t intend to actually catch her, which was just as well, as Perdita positively flew across the street, up over the fence at number 12, and away. Still, I think I’d made my point.
Slowing to a stop beside a comfortable-looking patch of grass in the shelter of an evergreen hedge, I lay down to recover from my exertions. Running is not one of my favourite activities. Actually, walking is a bit much too. I like to think I was made for warming a person’s feet by a fire, and eating. Puffing a little, I tried to catch my breath. I’d just rest for a moment, then I’d head back to the car. After all, I was excited to discover what ferry, France and chateau meant.
But then I heard the slamming of car doors, and the unmistakeable sound of an engine starting. And that was the moment my adventure really began.
‘Right. Is that everything?’ Daisy buckled Lara into her car seat, ignoring her baby daughter’s indignant wails drowning out the Christmas music she’d put on the car stereo, as Oliver did the same with Luca on the other side. Five months old and they already hated everything Daisy tried to do. Surely it had taken longer for that sort of objection to set in with Bella and Jay? Maybe it was because there were two of them this time. Double trouble, Oliver called them, and not without good reason.
In the row behind, Jay was trying to fasten his own seatbelt over his booster seat. Beside him, Bella rolled her eyes with the kind of disdain only a fourteen-year-old could manage, and took over, clipping it in with ease.
How had it come to this? Inside, Daisy couldn’t help but feel that she was barely older than her eldest child. But out in the real world, she had four kids, a needy dog, a ridiculously large car, and a trip to make across the channel the day before Christmas Eve. Not to mention a husband who looked exhausted and grumpy before the whole adventure had even begun.
It was Christmas. A time for family, fun and celebrating, surely. Not stress eating smoked salmon from the packet and fantasising about a gin and tonic on the ferry at eleven in the morning.
‘Suitcases