Badger the Mystical Mutt and Daydream Drivers (7 page)

Badger carefully twisted the lid of the jam jar loose and whispered:
“Remember now to jump and bounce, to make the Earl flinch and flounce.”
He chuckled to himself.

The flea wobbled slightly as it crawled out of the jar, and then hopped along the lane to find the Earl of Doodlepoppington.

Pogo Paws and Pickle had already found him.

“So?” demanded Pogo Paws “When can we move in to our new luxury doghouse, boss?”

“What
are
you talking about?” snapped the Earl.

“The brand new home you promised us?” added Pickle.

The Earl tutted. “Now, why on earth would I just hand over one of my pet palaces
to the likes of you two ruffians? I’m trying to improve the neighbourhood, not drag it down even further.”

“But you promised us; in return for recruiting the Digger Dogs for digging, the Sniffer Dogs for finding the pipes, and the Security Dogs for safety,” whined Pogo Paws.

“I’m afraid, I really can’t recall. Do you have a contract? Show me where I’ve put my paw-print, and I’ll gladly honour the deal.”

Pogo Paws and Pickle looked at each other blankly.

“No? Haven’t got one? I thought as much. Now run along. I expect you
have some packing to do. You have to leave the lane by sundown tomorrow,” said the Earl firmly.

Pogo Paws looked at Pickle in panic, as she fumed silently.

“You won’t get away with this!” she snarled.

“Whatever!” smirked the Earl, and swept off down the lane.

“Now what are we to do?” asked Pogo Paws. “We’ve got nowhere to go and we’ve turned our back on our pals in the lane.”

“We’ve been conned good and proper,” said Pickle angrily. “Right, we need to go and see Badger. The Earl is his cousin, after all. Badger got us into this mess. He can get us out. So, let’s look like we’re truly sorry, and Badger will help us. Perhaps, together, we can oust that scoundrel once and for all from our patch.”

“We’ll have to be quick then. He wants us out by tomorrow,” puffed Pogo Paws, as he ran to catch up with a determined Pickle.

Back in Badger’s garden, Lennie was
enjoying a nap in the afternoon sunshine, while Badger busied himself with a new task. Happily, he hummed as he hammered nails into wooden poles and mounted big white cards. He was making an assortment of placards. He rooted in his plant pot to find a paintbrush and bright paint.

Throughout the noise, Lennie slept soundly. For once, he was having a pleasant dream. In his slumbers, he was running towards a figure in the distance. As he drew closer, he could see that it was his long-lost brother, Louie. Lennie hugged him.

“I need to tell you something really important about the Earl. You must stand up to him, and for what you believe in. You’ve got friends. He doesn’t. There’s a real strength in friendship, so use it well,” said his brother gently.

Before Lennie could reply, his brother turned and ran off again into the distance.

Lennie tried to follow him but his legs wouldn’t move. He looked down and saw that they had turned to strawberry blancmange.

When he woke up, he was licking his legs. He was sure they tasted sugary.

He looked over to see Badger sewing his red-spotted neckerchief. It was a little frayed from its job as a shield against the chainsaw.

“You’re awake at last. No nightmares today?” asked Badger. He tied his mended neckerchief back around his neck and tapped it gratefully.

“I had a lovely dream about my brother, who was giving me some good advice,” smiled Lennie.

“Then you should heed it. Dreams have a funny way of helping us see problems clearly.”

Hmmm
, thought Lennie,
perhaps I will
.

“Look at what I’ve been doing,” said Badger proudly, displaying his artwork.

In front of him, leaning against the fence were a number of placards with painted slogans.

One read “LOLA: Leave our Lane alone!”

Another said: “Let sleeping dogs lie!”

Another: “You are barking up the wrong tree!”

Lennie pointed at one of them “What does P-O-O-L mean?”

“Oops! Forgot that one.” Badger daubed some more paint on the sign, which now read: “Paws off our Lane!”

“This one’s my favourite though.” He giggled and nodded to a larger sign.

It read: “You put the ‘doo doo’ in doodle!”

“Gosh, you’ve been busy. What are they all for?” said Lennie admiringly.

“I propose that we stage a peaceful protest against the lane development,” said Badger.

“Count me in. We’ve got to stand up to bullies like the Earl,” said Lennie bravely.

“I’ve sent p-mails to the surrounding neighbourhoods as well, because this has an impact beyond our lane. I’m sure he won’t just stop here,” said Badger.

“We could start a p-mail petition too,” suggested Lennie.

“Good thinking. Now, I’ve asked that we all gather at the old oak tree in an hour. Then we can march to the other end of the lane, and show the Earl just how much we’re all against his plans,” said Badger.

“That is, if he’s not already scarpered in horror at having a flea,” laughed Lennie.

The flea had carried out its task and had lodged itself in the Earl’s rump. He started
to scratch. His graceful body was prickling with a burning, and most unbecoming itch. He delved deep into his long coat and pulled out a garlic bulb.

This should do the trick
, he thought, as he set to work peeling the bulb, and rubbing the cloves all over his skin.

Very quickly, the irritating itch stopped. He smiled to himself and thought:
Another
point in my favour. If I can show this lane to have a flea infestation from the mucky grubsters living here, then everyone will back my plans
.

Further down the lane, Pogo Paws and Pickle crept through the crack in the fence into Badger’s garden with their tails low.

“Ahem!” said Pogo Paws meekly.

Badger and Lennie turned from the placards to see two sorry figures standing, with their heads hung respectfully.

“We’ve come to help you stop the Earl and his plans,” said Pickle.

“Help us?” asked Lennie in surprise. “But I thought you were on the Earl’s side, and he was giving you one of the luxury dog houses?”

“Erm, not quite,” said Pogo Paws sheepishly.

“We’ve decided we don’t like his plans, and anyway, technically, as you, Lennie, are still our leader, then we should be taking orders from you,” said Pickle endearingly.

Lennie, who was speechless, looked at them both suspiciously.

“Okay,” said Badger quickly. “Well, better late than never. Grab some of these signs, and let’s head to the oak tree to meet the others.

There was a tremendous crowd gathered when they arrived at the tree. Word had spread far and wide across the surrounding areas. Some had brought shiny bin lids as shields, others had their own placards. Even the birds had tied bells and ribbons to their tiny feet.

Badger climbed on top of a wooden crate, held up a megaphone and addressed the crowd.

“I see before me a whole bunch of my friends, who are opposed to this development. You have come to protest peacefully as free dogs and cats, and free dogs and cats you will stay. We have one chance to tell the Earl that he may try to take our community, but he will
never
take our freedom!”

The crowd cheered, jubilant to join
forces, and be part of the protest march with the Mystical Mutt at the helm.

Badger yelled “Where do we live?”

The crowd shouted back to him “In the lane!”

“Where do we meet?” continued Badger.

“In the lane!” they chanted back.

“And what do we love?”

“We love the lane!”

“Okay, let’s go then,” said Badger leading the crowd onwards.

They all strode up the lane with their heads held high, their hearts filled with passion and roused into action.

Strutting towards them was the defiant Earl, flanked by his squad of ferocious Security Dogs. The two opposing sides met in the middle. Badger stepped forward first and the Earl stepped forward, until the two dogs were almost nose to nose. The two cousins looked each other squarely in the eyes.

“Yuk!” shouted Badger, stepping backwards

The crowd gasped. Surely Badger wasn’t giving in already?