Medal Mayhem (5 page)

Inside, we split into two groups – the pets who were competing and the pets who were cheering us on. As Cherry the counting kitten, Spike-tacular and the others headed to the stands to take their seats, the film crew went to set up to catch all the action around the stadium and the rest of us went to the changing rooms to get ready. Trevor and his terrapins left for the pool to show off their high-diving skills and Lulu danced her way towards the gymnastics hall for her competition. Susie clipped the lead onto my new red, white and blue harness.

“Ready, Harriet?” she asked.

I hopped in the air and kicked my back legs out.

Beside us, Tim pulled a numbered shirt over Taz’s head. “Ready?”

Taz let out an eager
miaow
and together, we set off down the tunnel to the athletics stadium.

The track, which ran in an enormous loop in front of row after row of seats, was filled with all kinds of animals getting ready to race, including a red squirrel and a hamster inside a shiny plastic ball. Off to one side, I spotted a long, thin greyhound stretching with his tall, skinny owner and glanced at Taz with a gulp. Tornado Taz was fast but was he quicker than a dog born to run? Taz didn’t seem worried, though. With a quick swish of his tail, he sat down next to Tim and began to clean his paws.

Taz’s trainer hurried off to make sure the race officials had Taz’s name on their list of racers. Calvin scanned the arena for a moment and then pointed to the enormous grassy area in the middle of the running track.

“The triple jump is what’s called a field event. It will be held over there, in the centre,” he explained to Susie and EE. “In fact, I can see the sandpit from here. Let’s go and check in.”

“Can’t we stay to watch Taz race?” Susie asked, a disappointed look on her face.

Sitting down on the grass, I fixed EE with a meaningful stare.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing whether Taz can beat that greyhound,” he rumbled. “If that’s all right with you, Calvin?”

Calvin checked his watch. “We’ve got fifteen minutes until our qualifier begins. Why don’t you watch the race and I’ll go and register Harriet with the triple jump judges? I’ll meet you back at the finish line of the sprint.”

A few minutes later, one of the officials lifted a megaphone to his mouth. “Could all animals competing in the one hundred metre sprint qualifier please make their way to the yellow flag at the start of the race.”

Taz’s sprint champion trainer jogged towards us. “That’s us,” she called. “Come on, Taz.”

The tabby cat got to his feet, arching his back in a long stretch. I hopped closer and touched his nose with mine.

“I think that means good luck,” Susie said. “Harriet really hopes Taz wins.”

“So do I,” Tim said, watching Taz walk away with his trainer. “So do I!”

As the animals lined up underneath the yellow flag fluttering in the breeze, we made our way to wait beside the
Team Superpets
camera crew at the finish line. The crowd went quiet. I squinted up, trying to catch a glimpse of Spike-tacular or Cherry but there were too many people there.

At the starting line, the greyhound turned to Taz and snarled. Taz ignored him and crouched low, ready to race.

An official lifted a small starting pistol into the air. “On your marks,” he called, in a loud voice. “Get set . . . Go!”

The animals streaked away and the stadium erupted into roars of support. The squirrel got off to a good start but it was no match for the greyhound and Taz. For one horrible moment, I thought the greyhound might win but as they sped towards the finishing line, Taz found an extra burst of speed and nudged over the line first.

I leaped high into the air in celebration and Susie clapped her hands in delight. Even Calvin looked impressed as he jogged to join us.

“That’s one speedy puss,” he exclaimed.

Tim chuckled. “That’s why they call him The Tabby Tornado.”

“Harriet’s just as fast, she beat him in a race after all,” Susie said proudly. “Although I suppose she did have a bit of help.”

She was right, in a way – Doodle and Miranda had tried their hardest to make me lose when I’d raced Taz by giving Susie some “special” lotion for my feet, but they’d only ended up helping me win. That didn’t mean I’d beat him again, though – he’d been nothing but a blur on the track a minute ago.

“Not bad for a cat, eh?” Tim said into the camera as he reached down to ruffle Taz’s fur. “Next stop, the Animalympics!”

All that talk of winning reminded me that now it was my turn to claim a place at the greatest animal athlete show on Earth.

It seemed that Calvin agreed because he looked down at me. “Ready to put the bunny hop into the triple jump, Harriet?”

I didn’t need to be asked twice! Waving a paw at the panting Taz, I hopped towards the middle of the field, where more pets were warming up for their events. Over by the high jump was a large green frog. She was watching a grasshopper take a practice leap over the bar with a hungry flick of her tongue. On the discus pitch, a Shetland pony spun in a dizzying circle, a red disc clamped between his teeth. When he reached the painted line on the grass, he opened his mouth and the disc flew high into the air. It landed a long way away and the pony tossed his mane happily.

When we reached the triple jump pit, I blinked. Standing at the start of the run-up was a small brown goat.

EE looked as puzzled as I felt. “Can goats jump?” he whispered to Calvin.

“I think we’re about to find out,” Calvin replied, nodding at the goat, who was staring straight ahead and pawing the ground with his hoof.

As we watched, his owner rubbed the fur behind the goat’s long floppy ears and then backed away. Next to the sandpit, official judges leaned forward, waiting to record the length of the jump.

“Billy the Kid, first jump,” a man in a luminous orange jacket called, his face serious.

Billy let out a snort and dipped his head to begin his run-up. Seconds later, his hooves clattered onto the launch board.

“Hop . . . skip . . . and . . . jump!” Susie squeaked beside me and I held my breath to see where in the sand Billy would land.

The moment he hit the yellowy-brown dust, I knew it had been a good jump. Everyone’s eyes turned to the j scoreboard to see the distance. I swallowed. It hadn’t just been a good jump, it had been great, and it equalled my best efforts back at home.