Badger the Mystical Mutt and the Crumpled Capers (3 page)

“Captain Bravebark!” shouted Badger in glee. “Of course, I forgot. Thank you, 'Chief.”

Timmy looked at the neckerchief floating in midair and asked, “Who on earth is Captain Bravebark? How do you know him? How can he help us? And where is he?”

“Captain Bravebark lives in the Ring of Brodgar. A
very
Badgical-Magical place, Timmy. He also happens to be one of my relatives and a very clever one too. He's qualified in MOTs, and has the only other time-travelling machine in the universe which stops off at the Crystal Cave.”

“Wow!” said Timmy. “I've heard about the Crystal Cave.”

Badger continued: “I haven't seen him for many a dog year, but he always helps me when I need him and, right now, I need to send him a p-mail about using the Tangerine Piano as soon as possible.”

“A tangerine what?” asked Timmy, more than a little impressed.

“Piano,” said Badger casually, “with an ivory staircase.”

“Blimey!” said Timmy, starting to sniffle and snuffle.

“Uh oh! I'm off before you start sneezing again,” said Badger, as he disappeared through the crack in the fence, to send the all important p-mail to Captain Bravebark.

Still sniffing, Timmy followed him into the lane and bumped immediately into the gang. At the same time, he sneezed, showering the gang once again with snot.

“Yuk! That's disgusting! We need a snot shield with you around,” snarled Pickle, wiping herself down.

“Not found your tyre yet?” taunted Snif.

“Hope it doesn't
tire
you out looking for the tyre, Timmy,” jeered Pogo Paws.

Timmy wiped his nose, shrugged and slunk away. His six and a half senses started to twitch and his whiskers prickled. He trotted up a hill and into a nearby field, where he spotted one of the Big Folk in winter wellies changing a huge tractor tyre.

“Aha!” thought Timmy. “Now's my chance.”

Timmy tiptoed up to the tractor and hid behind the toolbox.

He peeked over the top of the tools and watched.

The farmer lifted the old tyre from the wheel and leaned it against the tractor. Timmy stole closer, crept under the engine and waited. When he saw the Big Folk wellies walk away, he leapt inside the discarded tyre.

But the tyre wobbled and Timmy felt it move. Everything started to look a bit topsy-turvy.

“Oi!” shouted the Big Folk Farmer, as the wheel rolled down the hill, with Timmy clinging on with all his might.

“Whoa!” yelled Timmy. “This is making me dizzy.”

The tyre raced towards the duck pond, clipped a tree trunk, juddered and changed direction, heading for the bins at the top of the lane.

“Crikey!” he shouted, as the tyre bounced off the bins sending the lids clattering and
rolling alongside him.

The wheel gathered more and more speed as Timmy revolved towards the lane where the gang were having their afternoon nap.

Pickle was the first to awaken with the rumble. She looked up and saw the tyre hurtling towards them. She pulled Pogo Paws quickly out of the way. Lennie awoke with a start and grabbed onto Pogo Paws' disappearing tail.

But Snif was too late to move as the cumbersome tyre trundled on.

The tyre bounced off the fence at the far end of the lane, swivelled and landed with an almighty thud.

The gang emerged from their hiding places to see Timmy fall out of the tyre, looking shaky and dazed.

Timmy stood up unsteadily and shouted “Ta da!” with his paws held out. “I did it! Here's your tyre. Now can I join the gang, please?”

The gang was speechless.

“Er … where's Snif?” asked Timmy.

The gang pointed nervously behind Timmy.

A white tail was sticking out from underneath the heavy tyre, and Timmy heard a muffled whimpering sound.

A crumpled shape staggered out. It was
Snif, with a flattened nose, squashed paws and trampled ears.

“So, you think you're a smarty-pants, do you?” spat Snif, as three teeth tumbled out of his mouth.

The gang closed in behind their leader. Timmy cowered.

“Did you think that was funny?”

Timmy cowered some more. The gang moved forward.

“Has the cat got your tongue, Timmy? Speak to me! Explain!” bellowed Snif, spitting out another tooth.

“I couldn't see. I was moving so fast, I didn't know you were there. I'm really
sorry. I didn't mean it. I thought you wanted a tyre, so I brought you a tyre,” said Timmy apologetically.

Snif shook himself vigorously and turned to his gang.

“Right, that was small fry compared to the next of Timmy's tasks.”

“Is there another task?” asked Lennie “What is it?”

“Zip it, Lennie! I'm thinking,” snarled Snif.

Timmy's teeth chattered. He smiled awkwardly at Lennie and said, “It's just the cold weather. It's not because I'm frightened or anything.”

“Right, Crumpled Lug, here's one for you. Dogs do tricks. Cats don't. So your task is to fetch us a stick thrown by one of the Big Folk and bring it here, within the hour.”

Snif dusted himself down and turned on his heels, followed quickly by his gang.

Timmy scratched his head. “Could be tricky,” he thought. “I think I need some Badgical-Magical help with this one.”

When Timmy reached Badger's garden he smelled burning.

He peered through the crack in the fence and saw Badger busy making toast over a tiny crackling fire.

“I can't get my butter to soften in this cold air, and I can't put it too near the fire, or it will just go runny,” muttered Badger.

“What to do, what to do?”

He turned around to see Timmy at the end of the garden.

“Couldn't you do a butter-melt spell?”
suggested Timmy.

“Good idea, Timmy, except I tried that once before and it went a bit awry. I believe the Big Folk call it
global warming.”

“Oops!” said Timmy with a smile.

“So, how did it go with the tyre task? Are you now a member of the gang?”

“Not quite. It's a bit of a sore subject actually … particularly for Snif.”

“Why do you want to be part of that gang anyway, Timmy? Cats and dogs don't generally get on.”

“But why not?” asked Timmy innocently. “We all live on the same lane.”

“Something to do with a misunderstanding hundreds of years ago about tail-wagging, I believe,” said Badger. “Plus, I don't think there's ever been a cat in Snif's gang.”

“Why?” asked Timmy.

“Simple really. When
you
wag your tail as a cat, it means you're a bit annoyed and you might want to fight. When
we
wag our tail as dogs, it means we like you and we're happy.
You can see how it could get confusing between us.”

“Okay, I can see that. But why has Snif got such a problem with
me
?” asked Timmy.

“Well, maybe Snif's had a mishap with cats before. We just don't know what's happened to him in the past.”

Timmy furrowed his brow.

“Anyway,” said Badger brightly, “I have a special treat for you.”

“For me? It's not even my birthday,” said Timmy, as his eyes widened.

“Well, I think you did well completing the task they set you, even if
they
don't. It seemed impossible, yet you managed to do it. So, I would like to award you with one of my rarely awarded Badger badges.”

Badger produced a shiny silver round badge from his plant pot and pinned it on Timmy's collar.

Timmy stood tall and looked proudly down at his shining badge.

“Thank you, Badger. I will treasure this forever, and that's given me the will to go
and do the next task.”

“What
next
task? You mean there's another one?” Badger sighed.

“It's an easy one this time. Don't worry.”

Timmy turned and walked confidently through the crack in the fence, out of the lane and up the hill into the nearby field.

There, the same Big Folk farmer, who had been changing the tyre on the tractor, was now loading logs onto the back of a trailer.

“Aha!” thought Timmy. “There are some sticks … really, really big sticks.”