Doglands by Tim Willocks Read Free Book Online Page B

on every aspect of life in the Household, explained that the Grown-Ups—that is, Gerry (who was often called “You Idiot”) and Harriet (who was often called “Yes, Darling”)—were “responsible” dog owners. So Furgul and Kinnear had to be “responsible” dogs. They could pee on lampposts, parking meters, car tires and fire hydrants, and sometimes, if they were lucky, even on trees, but not on grass because their pee was “acidic” and would kill it. Since there was so little grass around—pathetic little squares of it called lawns—Furgul could understand why it had to be protected, so he learned to hold his pee in for hours and hours.
    Taking a dump was even more complicated.
    Taking a dump in a wardrobe, which Furgul tried just once—when he was desperate, and because it seemed like the least offensive spot—caused more uproar and panic when it was discovered than anything he’d ever seen, even in the Household. Kinnear pointed out that Grown-Ups didn’t like the smell of dog poop, which Furgul thought was strange because he liked to sniff it. Yet even though they hated the smell, the Grown-Ups carried plastic bags and picked upthe poop outside whenever Furgul or Kinnear got the chance to dump some. Furgul had never seen anything like it in his life. If the Grown-Ups couldn’t find a plastic bag, they looked all around as if terrified that someone had seen them with the pooping dogs. Then they scurried away from the poop as fast as they could. Grown-Ups were weird.
    Furgul decided there was no point trying to figure them out.
    During this time, Furgul had to come to terms with a great humiliation.
    Gerry and Harriet started saying the word “Rupert.”
    To Furgul it seemed like they said it all the time, at least when he was around. They said it, they murmured it, they muttered it, they shouted it, and most of all they repeated it. At first he had no idea what they were talking about.
    They yelled “Rupert!” a lot when he peed on the piano and when he took that dump in the wardrobe, so he thought it was all about peeing and dumping.
    Then there was the time he jumped onto a chair in the kitchen and found two enormous raw steaks on the counter. Strangely, the room was lit with candles and filled with flowers, while next door Gerry and Harriet laughed and drank fizzy liquid from a bottle that went “POP!” Furgul had wolfed down one steak—very tasty it was too—and was halfway through the second when the yelling started, louder than ever.
    “RUPERT! RUPERT! RUPERT!”
    They wagged their fingers and got red in the face. Harrietburst into tears and ranted at poor Gerry for the rest of the night. Furgul was sorry for upsetting them. But those steaks were the most delicious food he’d ever tasted.
    Gradually Furgul realized that they both said “Rupert” every time they spoke to him, even when he hadn’t done anything wrong. Even when they petted him.
    “Rupert and Kinnear,” they’d say. Or “Kinnear and Rupert.”
    Finally, Kinnear—who had watched these disasters with amusement—explained it to him. “Don’t you get it?” he said. “Rupert is your new name. Your pet name.”
    “Rupert?” said Furgul, horrified. “That’s even worse than Kinnear. Or Tic and Tac. It sounds like a bear’s name. A bear who wears checkered pants.”
    “They can call you whatever they want,” said Kinnear. “They own you.”
    “I don’t want to be owned. And I don’t want to be called Rupert.”
    “Well, you better get used to it—Rupert.” Kinnear chuckled.
    Furgul showed Kinnear his teeth. “I can’t stop the Grown-Ups’ calling me that,” he snarled, “but if you ever call me Rupert again, I’ll bite your ears off.”
    “Okay, Furgul,” cringed Kinnear. “Righty-ho!”
    Then there was walking.
    You would think that walking was the easiest thing in the world. But no. Walking was a whole new dimension of yellingand rules. First of all Furgul had to wear a collar all the time, which