Dick King-Smith's Book of Pets Read online

  Chapter Thirteen

  Later that day Queen Elizabeth the Second and her husband Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, sat watching television together, as many elderly couples do. This couple, however, seldom did, their tastes in viewing being very different, but now something seemed to have made them more companionable. They sat side by side upon a sofa, between them the plump brown body of Titus, and the Queen suddenly noticed that her husband was absently fondling the dog’s big ears.

  ‘Never seen you do that before, Philip,’ she said.

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Make a fuss of any of my corgis.’

  ‘Hm,’ said the Duke. ‘Well, as you know, Madge, they aren’t my favourite animals. But I’ve taken rather a shine to this chap. Remarkable little beast, really.’

  The Queen put a hand to her face to hide a smile. They were watching a documentary about vandalism in inner-city areas and there was a shot of a public building, its wall liberally daubed with graffiti in large white letters. Some of the words were rather rude, at which the Queen looked disapproving and the Duke guffawed.

  Many of the messages had something in common.

  and so on and so forth.

  ‘What’s all that?’ asked the Queen testily. ‘I’m the only person who rules. OK?’

  ‘I know, Madge, I know,’ said Prince Philip, and he put a hand to his face to hide a grin.

  ‘How do they write these stupid messages?’ asked the Queen.

  ‘With spraycans of paint, I believe,’ her husband replied. ‘Kind of an aerosol gadget – you just press a button and it squirts out.’

  ‘Ridiculous!’ said the Queen. ‘Vandalism like that is so mindless. Imagine doing such a thing.’

  ‘I can’t imagine you doing it, Madge,’ the Duke said.

  ‘As if I would!’ snorted the Queen. That night, as she settled herself for sleep, she addressed the warm shape lying against her feet at the bottom of her bed. ‘As if I would, Titus,’ she said, and after a moment a small smile flickered across the Royal features.

  Next morning she sent for one of her Ladies-in-Waiting. ‘Would you be good enough,’ she said to her, ‘to do a little shopping for me?’

  ‘Of course, ma’am,’ replied the Lady-in-Waiting. ‘What was it that you wanted?’

  ‘I think they’re called spraycans,’ the Queen said. ‘They squirt paint. I want to decorate something.’

  The Lady-in-Waiting looked puzzled. ‘Er, what colour would you like, ma’am?’ she asked.

  ‘Golden, please.’

  That night the soldiers on guard at Windsor Castle patrolled as usual around the various buildings, pausing beneath the windows of the Queen’s sitting room, opposite which, on the other side of a courtyard, was a large blank wall. Not until they had marched out of sight did a shadowy figure emerge, carrying an object, and approach the wall.

  Next morning Prince Philip was woken early by his wife, on whom Titus was, as usual, in attendance.

  ‘Come and have a look, Philip,’ said the Queen. ‘We want to show you something.’

  Grumbling, the Duke followed her into her sitting room. ‘Show me what?’ he growled.

  ‘Have a look outside,’ said the Queen, and he went to the window and looked out, and there on the wall opposite was written in huge golden capital letters:

  ‘Good grief!’ said the Duke. ‘Who did that?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘You did, Madge?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the Queen, fondly stroking her favourite corgi. ‘I told you, Phil, he’s a king among dogs, aren’t you, Titus?’

  Prince Philip shook his head in wonderment. ‘Madge, old girl,’ he said. ‘How could you do such a thing?’

  ‘With this, of course,’ replied the Queen, producing the spraycan. ‘It was such fun, Phil. In fact, with all due respect to Great-great-grandmama, we are quite definitely amused.’ And then they both burst out laughing.

  Chapter One

  Guinea Pigs Aren’t Stupid

  ‘If I was the Queen,’ Judy said, ‘I wouldn’t have corgis.’

  ‘What sort of dogs would you have, Judy?’ said her teacher.

  The class were talking about pets and which were their favourites.

  ‘I wouldn’t have dogs at all.’

  ‘What would you keep then,’ said Judy’s teacher, ‘if you were the Queen?’

  ‘Guinea pigs,’ said Judy.

  Everybody burst out laughing and Judy went very red.

  ‘They’re my favourite animals,’ she said defiantly. ‘If I was the Queen I’d keep lots of them.’

  ‘In hutches, you mean?’

  ‘No. In Buckingham Palace.’

  ‘But, Judy,’ said her teacher, ‘wouldn’t it look rather odd if someone very important came to call, like, say, the President of the United States of America, and the Queen – I mean you – said “Do take a seat, Mr President,” and there was a guinea pig lying in the armchair?’

  ‘And there’d be messes all over the carpet,’ someone said.

  ‘And the President would step in them,’ said someone else.

  Everybody giggled.

  ‘My guinea pigs would be house-trained,’ muttered Judy, close to tears.

  ‘Palace-trained, you mean,’ said a voice, and now there was so much sniggering that the teacher said ‘That’s enough, children.’

  She put her hand on Judy’s shoulder and said: ‘It’s a nice idea, but even if you were the Queen you wouldn’t be able to train a guinea pig like you can train a dog. Only certain animals are intelligent enough to be taught things by humans, and I’m afraid guinea pigs are not among them. They’re dear little creatures, Judy, but they haven’t got a lot of brains.’

  Chapter Two

  An Unexpected Arrival

  ‘You have got a lot of brains,’ said Judy.

  As always, she had run down to the shed at the bottom of the garden the moment she arrived home from school, to see her own two guinea pigs. One was a reddish rough-haired boar called Joe and the other was a smooth-coated white sow by the name of Molly. Judy had had them ever since her sixth birthday, nearly two years ago now, and they were very dear to her. Her only regret was that, surprisingly, they had never had babies.

  ‘You have got brains,’ she said, ‘I’m sure of it. It’s just that no one’s ever taught you to use them. Now, if I’d had you when you were tiny, I bet I could have taught you lots of things. If only you’d had children of your own. I’d have chosen one of them and kept it and really trained it, from a very early age. I bet I could have done.’

  As usual, the guinea pigs responded to the sound of her voice by beginning a little conversation of their own. First Joe made a grumbling sort of chatter (which meant ‘Molly, you’re as lovely now as the day I first set eyes on you’), and then Molly gave a short shy squeak (which meant ‘Oh, Joe, you say the nicest things!’).

  Then they both squealed long and loudly at Judy. She knew what that noise meant. They were telling her to cut the cackle and dish up the grub.

  ‘Greedy old things,’ she said, and she picked up the white one, Molly.

  ‘Molly!’ said Judy. ‘You look awfully fat. Whatever’s the matter with you?’

  Molly didn’t reply. Joe grunted in a self-satisfied sort of way.

  ‘I’ll have to put you on a diet,’ said Judy firmly, ‘starting tomorrow.’

  But next morning, when she went to feed the guinea pigs, the white one, she found, looked quite different.

  ‘Molly!’ said Judy. ‘You look awfully thin. Whatever’s the matter with you?’

  This time they both answered, Molly with a series of small happy squeaks and Joe with a low, proud grumble, as they moved aside to show what had happened. There between them was a single, very large, baby guinea pig, the child of their old age. It was partly white and smooth like its mother and partly red and rough like its father.

  To Judy’s delight it stumbled forward on feet that seemed three sizes too big, until it bumped the wire of the h
utch-front with its huge head. Its eyes were very bright and seemed to shine with intelligence. Then it spoke a single word in guinea-pig language. Anyone could have told it meant ‘Hullo!’

  ‘Oh!’ said Judy. ‘Aren’t you beautiful!’

  ‘He gets it from his mother,’ chattered Joe in the background.

  ‘And aren’t you brainy!’

  ‘He takes after his dad,’ squeaked Molly.

  Judy stared into the baby’s eyes.

  ‘You,’ she said, ‘are going to be the best-trained, most brilliant guinea pig in the whole world. And you’re going to start lessons right away. Now then. Sit!’

  Of course, when you’re only a few hours old, standing can be tiring, but was that the reason why Joe and Molly’s son immediately sat down?

  Chapter Three

  Training

  That night, before she went to bed, Judy wrote the great news in her diary. She was very faithful about putting something in it every day, even if sometimes it was only a bit about the weather. But that Joe and Molly should have had a baby – that was great news and deserved a lot of space.

  JUDY’S DIARY PRIVIT.

  JUNE 10th: Great Surprise! Molly had a baby! Found him first thing this morning and I am going to train him. Alreddy he sits when he is told. He is briliant. He is mostly white like Molly but he has a sort of main like a horse running all down his back that is reddish like Joe.

  I asked Dad what you call someone who is really briliant and he said ‘A jenius. Why?’ and I said ‘because that is what I’m going to call my new baby guinea pig’ and he laughed but I said ‘You just wait. One day the World will know June 10th is the birthday of Jenius.’

  June 10th was in fact a very good time for Jenius to have been born, because it meant that he was around six weeks old by the time the long summer holidays began. Now his trainer would be able to concentrate on him without the interruption of school.

  During those six weeks Jenius had grown amazingly. All baby guinea pigs do, of course, but he had benefited particularly, first from being an only child and so getting all his mother’s milk, and secondly from Judy’s spoiling.

  Ordinary guinea pigs, for example, might get the occasional piece of stale bread. Jenius got regular digestive biscuits.

  So that Judy’s diary, which had contained daily reports of the progress of the wonder child, read …

  JULY 22nd: Begining of Summer Hollidays. Today I took Jenius away from his parents and put him in the spare hutch, he is reddy to start his training, he is alreddy half as big as Joe, he is alreddy very good at sitting when he is told because that is what I have consentrated on but now I am going to teach him ‘Come’ and ‘Stay’ and ‘Down’. Joe and Molly don’t seem to miss him.

  Joe and Molly were actually quite glad to see the back of Jenius.

  Molly was thankful not to be nagged for the milk she no longer had, and Joe, though at first proud of the obvious cleverness of his son, was growing tired of being patronized.

  ‘Thinks he knows it all,’ he grumbled to Molly, ‘with his “No, Dad, you’ve got that wrong” or “No, Dad, you don’t understand”. I said to him: “When you’ve been around as long as I have, my boy, then maybe you’ll know a thing or two.” ’

  ‘Quite right, dear,’ murmured Molly. ‘What did he say then?’

  ‘He said: “When I’ve been around as long as you have I’ll know hundreds of things.” Cheeky young devil!’

  ‘Ah well,’ sighed Molly. ‘He’s only young, Joe dear. We’re all of us only young once.’

  ‘Molly,’ said Joe, ‘you’re as lovely now as the day I first set eyes on you.’

  ‘Oh, Joe,’ said Molly, ‘you say the nicest things!’

  Chapter Four

  A Great Team

  ‘Mum! Mum!’ cried Judy, bursting in from the garden with Jenius in her arms. ‘Guess what!’

  ‘Not now, Judy,’ said her mother. ‘I haven’t got time for guessing games this morning, what with the washing and the ironing, and I’ve got a lot of cooking to do, never mind the housework. Off you run and play, out of my way, please.’

  ‘But, Mum, Jenius comes when he’s told!’

  ‘Very clever, dear. Now you go when you’re told, there’s a good girl.’

  ‘She just didn’t listen to what I was saying,’ said Judy as she sat on the lawn with Jenius on her lap.

  Jenius replied with a small, sympathetic whistle which meant, Judy felt sure, ‘Grown-ups are hopeless, aren’t they? I expect it’ll be just the same when you tell your dad.’

  And it was.

  ‘Comes when you call him, does he?’ said her father from behind his evening paper.

  ‘Yes, Dad! Honest! Don’t you want to see?’

  ‘Not now, pet, I’ve had a long day. You go and teach your precious genius something else.’

  ‘What like?’

  ‘Oh, reading, writing, some sums. Start with the two-times table – guinea pigs are good at multiplying. Buzz off now, there’s a good girl.’

  JULY 23rd: I think Mum and Dad grew up in Vicktorian days, they think that childeren should be seen and not herd. I am not going to bother to tell them anything about Jenius any more but only write about him in this dairy so that the World will know how clever he is when I am Ded Dead and Gone.

  In the darkness of the garden shed Jenius squeaked from the spare hutch: ‘Mum! Dad! Guess what!’

  ‘Not now, dear,’ said Molly.

  ‘But guess what I learned today!’

  ‘Hundreds of things, I imagine,’ said Joe sourly.

  ‘No, only one. I learned to come when called.’

  ‘Well, now learn to shut up,’ said Joe. ‘It’s late.’

  ‘Your father’s right, dear,’ said Molly.

  ‘Go to sleep now, there’s a good boy.’

  Throughout those fine sunny summer holidays the flowering of Jenius came into full bloom.

  Judy was the ideal trainer, patient and hard-working, and her new pet was the perfect pupil. He enjoyed his lessons, he learned quickly, and what he had learned he seldom forgot. They made a great team.

  AUGUST 15th: Here is a list of the things I have trained Jenius to do:

  1. COME

  2. SIT

  3. STAY

  4. DOWN

  5. WALK ON A LEED

  (I do not make him walk to heal because I might tred on him so he walks a little bit in front of me.)

  Before the end of the Hollidays I am going to teach him three speshial tricks.

  (A) ‘Speak’. That is to make a noise when he is told (I suppose I should call this ‘SQUEAK’).

  (B) ‘Trust’. That is balancing a bit of biskit on his nose.

  (C) ‘Die for Your Country.’ He has to lie quite still with his eyes shut pretending to be Dead. If I can teach him all these things before the begining of Term I will take him to school and show them all just what a Jenius can do.

  Every day trainer and trainee worked at their lessons. And every night Jenius kept his aged parents awake long after their proper bedtime, telling them all the clever things he had learned to do. He had become, it must be said, a bit of a big-head.

  Molly, who was rather vague by nature, did not listen very carefully to her son’s boasting, and only yawned and said ‘Very nice, dear,’ now and then, but Joe became irritable.

  ‘You must be the most brilliant guinea pig there has ever been,’ he would say sourly, but this did not improve matters, for Jenius always replied: ‘I am, Dad, I am,’ in a voice so smug that it made Joe’s teeth chatter with rage.

  ‘Cocky young blighter,’ he would mutter to Molly. ‘One of these fine days he’s going to be too clever for his own good.’

  And Joe was right. One of those fine days came quite soon.

  Chapter Five

  Die for Your Country

  Jenius had woken early. He looked out of the shed door (which Judy always left open on warm nights) and saw a number of attractive things outside in the garden. There were lettuc
es and cabbages and the feathery tops of carrots and the shiny dark leaves of beetroot – all very appealing to a growing lad. Why wait to be fed? he thought. I’ll feed myself.

  ‘Mum!’ he called. ‘I’m going for a walk.’

  Molly came to the front of her hutch and looked across the shed.

  ‘Don’t be silly, dear,’ she said. ‘You can’t.’

  Joe joined her.

  ‘In case you hadn’t noticed,’ he said sarcastically, ‘there’s a door on the front of your hutch.’

  ‘Dad,’ said Jenius in a patient tone of voice, ‘doors are meant to be opened.’

  ‘I know that, boy. By humans. From outside. Not by us from inside. If you can open the door of that hutch from inside, I’ll eat my hayrack.’

  Each hutch had an outward-opening wire door, kept shut by a five-centimetre turn button, a simple device capable of keeping prisoner every guinea pig that had ever lived. Except the Jenius.

  Sitting up on his bottom as he had learned, he reached a forepaw through the wire mesh and turned the button vertically. The door swung open, and down he hopped.

  He paused at the entrance to the shed.

  ‘Dad,’ he called, ‘don’t forget to eat your hayrack,’ and off he trotted.

  What happened next was recorded by a short dramatic entry in the diary.

  AUGUST 26th: Jenius got out and was nearly killed! I am keeping the door of the shed shut in case he esscapes again.