Selby's Stardom (9 page)

‘I'm worried about Digger Dave,' Mrs Trifle said. ‘I'm afraid he's not well enough and strong enough to look after himself.'

‘Isn't there a nurse who could come in every day and check up on him?' asked Dr Trifle.

‘Well, yes, we tried that but he's very independent. He told her to go away.'

‘How about the group who come around and give old people food?'

‘He doesn't want them either.'

‘Maybe he should be in a nursing home where they'd look after him?' suggested Dr Trifle, trying to be helpful.

‘He hates that idea even more than having people come around to help him,' Mrs Trifle said.

‘Does he have any relatives who could care for him?'

‘He used to live with his daughter in the city but they had a fight and she kicked him out. He was not as weak then.'

‘Kicked him out? What kind of daughter would do a thing like that?'

‘One who couldn't stand a grumpy old man complaining all the time, I suspect,' Mrs Trifle said. ‘I believe he's quite impossible to live with.'

‘Pets are good for old people,' Dr Trifle said. ‘They're good company. You can talk to them and they don't talk back. Just looking after a pet can give people the bit of exercise they need.'

‘The Council tried to get a dog from the RSPCA but Digger Dave refused. He had a dog that he adored but it died. Now he says he doesn't want another dog because it would outlive him and then no one would want to take an old dog.' Mrs Trifle thought for a moment, then said, ‘But what if we were to lend
him one for a while? I think I could talk him into that.'

‘You don't mean …?' Dr Trifle said, looking over at Selby.

‘Oh, yes, I do,' Mrs Trifle said, looking at Selby too.

‘Oh, no, you don't!' Selby thought as he looked back at the Trifles. ‘I'm not going to live with old grumpy-guts for even a second!'

‘Hello Dave, how are you?' Mrs Trifle said brightly. She'd decided to visit and see how Dave got on with Selby.

‘What would you care?' Digger Dave said, squinting through filthy glasses. ‘And don't even try to give me that flea-bitten dog.'

‘Give him to you?' Mrs Trifle said, patting Selby. ‘I just wondered if you could look after him for a few days.'

‘Look after him yourself. Now buzz off.'

Mrs Trifle ignored Digger Dave's rudeness and said, ‘Dr Trifle and I are going away for a week and we can't take him with us.' It wasn't the truth but it was the only way Mrs Trifle could think of to get Dave to say yes.

‘Say no, Digger,' Selby thought. ‘Please say no.'

‘No!' said Digger Dave. ‘Get that ugly dog out of here!'

‘Phew!' Selby thought. ‘Thank goodness for that.'

‘Then I guess we'll have to have him put down,' Mrs Trifle lied again. ‘There's no one to care for him.'

‘Oh, that's charming!' Selby thought.

Digger Dave gave Mrs Trifle a fierce look.

‘You would kill that mutt because you can't get anyone to feed him for a week?'

‘It would be the kindest thing for him,' Mrs Trifle sniffed. She hated lying but she was so concerned about Digger Dave that she felt she had no choice. ‘Better that than having him starve to death.'

‘You horrid woman! Give me that dog!' Dave exploded, grabbing Selby's leash and pulling him into the house. ‘Now get out of here and never come back!'

Slam!

‘Great!' Selby thought. ‘Now what? Eew! This place stinks. I'll be out of here and back to the Trifles before old sourpuss can think to blink.'

‘Hey, dog, what's your name?' Dave said, looking at the tag on Selby's collar. ‘Selby. Stupid name for a stupid dog. Now my dog Shishkebab, there was a dog. Good old Shish.'

Selby watched as the old man locked the front door and put the key in his pocket.

‘Shishkebab,' Selby thought. ‘Talk about a silly name.'

‘Sit down, Selby. I'll make you some grub. Ain't got no dog food though. Guess you'll have to eat what I eat.'

‘Well, that's one good thing,' Selby thought. ‘At least I'll get to eat some people food. Then, after lunch, I'm outta here.'

Selby looked around the house.

‘How can anyone live in a place like this. It's filthy. And what a pong!'

Digger Dave opened a can of beans and poured them into a blackened saucepan. He tried to light the flame on the gas stove a couple of times but it wouldn't light. His hands were shaking too much to keep a match alight.

‘Heating things up is a waste of time,' he said, pouring the beans out onto two plates. ‘Here.
Eat up — eat up and shut up,' he said, giving a little laugh.

Selby took a mouthful of beans and then spat them back on the plate.

‘Yuck!' he thought. ‘These are even worse than Dry-Mouth Dog Biscuits.'

‘Hey, you. Eat those. That's all you're getting,' the old man said. ‘Old Shish loved them. What a dog!'

‘Yeah, well, you probably killed him with those beans,' Selby thought. ‘Now to look for a way out of this dungeon.'

Selby pushed away his plate of cold beans and set about investigating the house for a means of escape.

The front door and back door were both locked. One by one, Selby crept into the other rooms of the house and tried to raise the windows.

‘I don't think these things have ever been opened,' Selby thought. ‘No wonder it stinks in here, there's never any fresh air.'

There was one last room but Selby couldn't go in to check the window without Dave seeing him.

‘I know,' he thought. ‘I'll trick him into letting me out.'

Selby scratched at the back door and whimpered.

‘Want to go to the loo, do you?' the old man said.

Selby watched as the man got an old laundry basket and filled it with crumpled newspapers.

‘There you go — your own personal loo,' he said.

‘I'm not doing anything in that contraption,' Selby thought. ‘What does he think I am, a puppy?'

Selby watched as Digger Dave finished his beans and slumped down on the dust-covered lounge. It wasn't long before he started to snore.

‘I could wait until he takes me for a walk and then do a runner but he probably never goes out,' Selby thought. ‘I'll have to get the front door key.'

While the old man dozed, Selby carefully worked his paw into Digger Dave's pocket. Then, just as he touched the key …

‘Hey! What's going on here!' Digger Dave cried, grabbing Selby's paw. ‘Get out of it!'

The old man sat up and laughed.

‘You probably just want a pat, don't you?' Digger Dave said, pulling Selby up onto the lounge beside him. ‘Shish was with me when I walked across Antarctica and he learnt to do just what you did. He used to put his paws in my pockets to warm them up.'

‘Oh, spare me,' Selby thought. ‘In your dreams you walked across Antarctica. Tell me another one.'

‘He was also with me when we got lost up the Amazon,' the old man said with a laugh. ‘That was an adventure! Made a raft, we did, and floated down the river for a month until someone found us.'

‘I can't believe it,' Selby thought. ‘He
did
tell me another one.'

‘Poor old Shish,' Digger Dave continued. ‘When I found him in the jungles of Mexico he was just a puppy. Speared right through the tummy, he was. Someone probably mistook him for some sort of wild animal, poor guy. Half-dead and bleeding like you wouldn't believe, he was.'

‘Oh, please,' Selby thought. ‘What does he take me for? Speared through the tummy? This guy watches too much TV.'

‘I nursed him back to health. That's where I got his name: Shishkebab — like that nice spicy meat on a stick. Ever have shishkebabs, Selby? Stupid question. What would you know, you mongrel.'

‘Of course I've had shishkebabs,' Selby thought. ‘That does it. Go back to sleep, Digger Dave, so I can get out of here.'

‘Melissa shouldn't have said those things about him,' Digger Dave said. ‘No good place for a dog, a flat in the city. That wasn't right.'

‘Melissa?' Selby thought. ‘Must be the daughter who kicked him out. Can't say I could blame her.'

‘I remember the time we were crossing the Great Sandy Desert —'

‘Oh, here we go,' Selby thought. ‘Come on, Garbage Breath, tell me you almost died of thirst.'

‘Almost died of thirst, we did,' Digger Dave said. ‘Old Shish found a waterhole. Couldn't have found it meself. I could barely crawl. That dog could smell water.'

‘Sounds like he should have been called Superdog to me,' Selby thought. ‘He gets
speared though the tummy and survives, he can smell water and he makes rafts.'

Selby watched as the old man slumped back and began to snore.

‘Now for the great escape,' he thought. ‘Do I go for the key again or try for that last window?'

Selby decided to try for the window so quietly opened the door to the last room.

‘Let's hope this window opens,' he thought. ‘Then it's goodbye, Disgusting Dave.'

Selby pulled on the window but it was stuck shut like the others. He turned to go back to the lounge room.

‘Look at that!' he thought. ‘Every centimetre of wall is covered in old photos. This guy is seriously weird.'

Selby switched on the light.

‘Look at that guy in the funny shorts sneaking up on a lion. And look at this, he's climbing up a vine in the jungle. Here's the same dude with a snake wrapped around him. He could be a relative of Digger Dave. He sure looks like him.'

Selby moved in for a closer look.

‘It's
him!
It's Digger Dave when he was young. So all those things he was talking about
were true. I can't believe it! There's even a picture of Superdog pulling a sled!'

Selby went back to where Digger Dave was sleeping and again started working his paw into his pocket. Soon he had the key and had unlocked the front door.

‘I do feel just a little sorry for Old Grouch-Face,' Selby thought. ‘He's going to wonder what happened to me when he finds me gone. Oh, well, can't be helped. I know, I'll do a bit of a clean-up before I go. I'll show him what a real superdog can do.'

While Dave snored on the lounge, Selby put all the rubbish lying around the house in plastic bags and took them outside to the empty rubbish bin. He washed the dishes and cleaned the windows and he even vacuumed the floor without waking up the old man.

‘Man, this is one sound sleeper,' he chuckled to himself.

When he was finished with the vacuuming he picked up all the dirty clothes that lay around and pulled off the bedding on the old man's bed and put them in the washing machine and then the dryer.

‘This is crazy,' Selby thought as he ironed the clean clothes, folded them neatly and remade the bed. ‘I hate housework and here I am doing it when I don't even have to. What's happening to me?'

Selby was about to go when he took one last look at Digger Dave.

‘See ya, Gramps,' he said.

Digger Dave opened his eyes and started gasping for breath.

‘My medicine,' he rasped.

Dave struggled to his feet, looked around the room and then fell heavily onto the floor.

‘My medicine …' he gasped. ‘Shish. Shish, get it for me.'

Selby ran to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet only to find it chock-a-block with medicines. He grabbed them all in one big bundle and dumped them in front of the old man.

‘Help me. Help me …'

‘Open your eyes,' Selby thought. ‘I don't know which one you need. I'm not a mind-reader. This is silly. I've got to talk to him. He could die if I don't.'

‘Hey, Dave-o,' Selby said out loud. ‘W-what?'

‘Which medicine do you need?' The man slowly opened one eyelid and then the other.

‘What did you say?'

‘I said, which medicine do you need? Tell me and I'll give it to you.'

‘Am I losing my marbles?' the man asked. ‘You talked.'

‘So I can talk,' Selby said. ‘Get over it. What medicine do you need?'

The man's eyes rolled up in his head and he slumped back to the floor, unconscious.

‘I've got to get an ambulance!' Selby said as he grabbed the phone and dialled 000.

Within minutes, Selby could hear the sound of the siren approaching. The old man opened his eyes again.

‘How'd you learn how to talk?' he asked.

‘I don't know. I was watching TV,' Selby said. ‘Anyway, don't tell anyone, okay?'

‘You mean, no one else knows?'

‘Not even my owners.'