Starlight Barking, Page 4

  As they got closer and closer to the heart of London, the streets looked stranger and stranger. There were no humans anywhere, there was no traffic but dogs, all the shops were closed; but wherever there were houses, some front doors were open and dogs were sitting there watching the passing dogs. Nowhere was there any sign of panic. Indeed, the watching dogs looked particularly calm, expectantly calm.

  Missis, while they were waiting at traffic lights, said, “Doesn’t it strike you as peculiar that there’s so little noise? It isn’t normal for dogs to be so silent.”

  “I think they’re listening,” said Pongo. “And perhaps they’re learning to hear with a sort of inner ear.”

  “Well, I don’t think it’s healthy,” said Missis. “Sometimes the young dogs at Hell Hall make more noise than I care for, but I’d be glad enough to hear it now. And I don’t think I hold with inner ears—or thought waves. How can one be sure one’s keeping one’s thought to oneself? One’s entitled to private thoughts.”

  Pongo was about to say something soothing when he saw a look of horror come into his wife’s eyes. He said quickly, “What is it? What’s wrong?” Then he saw what she was looking at.

  Partly hidden by some small houses was a factory with a signboard on the top of it on which was painted, in scarlet, CRUELLA DE VILL & CO. Makers of KLOES THAT KLANK. KLOES THAT KLANK? To Pongo it didn’t make sense. But it did to Missis because she was a bad speller. She said at once “It means Clothes that Clank. But all that matters is that she’s back in England—that wicked woman!”

  Pongo now confessed that he had known. “But she’s not our enemy now, Missis. She won’t want Dalmatian skins any more. Mr. de Vil’s no longer a furrier. The Dearlys said he and Cruella are making plastic raincoats.”

  “Plastic raincoats don’t clank,” said Missis. “And clanking clothes sound dangerous. Up till now I’ve quite enjoyed this adventure but if Cruella’s back—”

  “She can’t have anything to do with what’s happening today,” said Pongo. “Just try to keep your mind off her. See, the traffic lights are changing.”

  Missis was only too glad to move past the factory but she went on worrying and after a few minutes she said, “We must warn Cadpig. She must have Cruella locked up.”

  “But Cruella will just be asleep, like all humans,” said Pongo.

  “You forget. Cruella’s not human.”

  “We were never sure of that,” said Pongo. But it was true that they had once believed that Cruella might be some kind of devil. Perhaps the mysterious sleeping wouldn’t affect devils! Still, he told Missis firmly, “Anyway, only dogs are awake. And she’s certainly not a dog.”

  Before long they were in Camden Town, not far from Regent’s Park where Pongo and Missis had once lived; then they hurried across Marylebone Road and along Langham Place past Broadcasting House.

  Missis said, “There won’t be any broadcasting as there are no humans awake. How Cadpig will miss television!”

  Regent Street was very full and not only of swooshing dogs. There were also a great many dogs merely looking in the shop windows. And now there was more noise.

  Dogs were chattering quite gaily. Missis heard one say, “Madam Cadpig’s quite right. If we’ve come to London we might as well enjoy ourselves.” No doubt Cadpig was trying to keep everyone happy.

  Piccadilly was even fuller than Regent Street, but Pongo’s army managed to get through and then went along Haymarket into Trafalgar Square. “Nearly there, now,” said Pongo as they swooshed into Whitehall.

  Then he wondered if he had spoken too soon, for the crowd was almost solid—and at the entrance to Downing Street it appeared to be quite solid. What was he to do? Cadpig had told him to let her know when they arrived, but there was so much noise that no bark would be heard.

  “Well, we must do our very best thought waves,” he said to Missis. And then he asked all the dogs in the army to help. “Just think, with all your strength, ‘Cadpig, we’re here in Whitehall’.”

  It worked magnificently. Within a couple of minutes a squad of Police Dogs were forcing their way through to Pongo. The leader said loudly, “All dogs of Madam Cadpig’s own breed are to proceed to Downing Street. All other dogs are to proceed to Horse Guards’ Parade.”

  Pongo felt responsible for the dogs who had joined him. He said, “Will they be well looked after on Horse Guards’ Parade?”

  The leader of the Police Dogs said, “They don’t need looking after. Today no dog wants to eat, drink or even sleep. All they need is a place to sit. And there’s no more sitting room in Downing Street. On your way, boys!”

  Half the Police Dogs cleared a way to Horse Guards’ Parade. And then the leader said, “Make way for the Dalmatians!”

  Dogs fell back without resentment. Indeed, they were all wagging their tails and there were cries of “Long live Madam Cadpig and all her Dalmatian relations.”

  Missis said, “I hope I’m not looking smug, Pongo. I hadn’t realized how important our daughter has become.”

  And so the Dalmatian army entered Downing Street.

  5. The Cabinet Meeting

  Cadpig was standing at the open door of No. 10. As a pup she had been unusually small and she was still on the small side for a full-grown Dalmatian. But, apart from that, she was an almost perfect specimen of the breed, with beautiful spots, wonderful dark eyes and a most fetching expression. Pongo and Missis had sometimes feared she might have become too grand for them, so they were touched to see how lovingly she greeted them, and all her family, giving a specially warm welcome to her devoted brother, Patch. She then spoke most graciously to all the other Dalmatians, remembering many names though it was around a year since she had left Hell Hall.

  “Pretty manners,” thought Missis proudly. “No wonder she’s getting on so well.”

  Behind Cadpig stood a number of dogs whom she introduced as “My Cabinet.” These were the dogs who lived with the members of the human Cabinet and were deputizing for them. “This is the Chancellor of the Exchequer,” said Cadpig presenting a black Labrador. “He’s longing to meet you, Father, because you’re so good at figures.”

  “It’s Mr. Dearly, not me, who’s good at figures,” said Pongo. “I can’t do much more than put two and two together. They usually make four.”

  “With us, they’ve only been making three,” said the Labrador. “But things may be better after the Chancellor’s had this long restful sleep.”

  Cadpig was now presenting the Foreign Secretary, a plump, jovial Boxer. He reminded Missis of someone but she couldn’t think who it was.

  “And this dear friend is the Minister of Transport,” said Cadpig, smiling at a prettily clipped brown Poodle. “It was she who got the traffic lights to work. Wasn’t that brilliant?”

  “I just thought about them,” said the Poodle, “and, bless me, they happened!”

  Other Cabinet Ministers were presented, also some dogs who lived with members of the Opposition. “That’s the party that didn’t win the last Election,” Cadpig explained to her mother. “But of course we’re all on the same side now.”

  “Everyone should be on the same side always,” said Missis. “Think how much time it would save.”

  “But I’ve heard there’s a catch in it,” said Cadpig. “You see, sometimes everyone gets on the wrong side.” She then said she wanted a little talk with her parents before the Cabinet Meeting which would shortly start. “So will the rest of you go out into the garden? The Minister of Transport will act as hostess for me, won’t you, Babs dear?”

  The brown poodle said indeed she would and she and all the members of the Dog Cabinet escorted all the Dalmatians except Pongo and Missis, who tried not to look as important as they felt.

  As the hall became emptier Missis gave a gasp. She was now able to see that, lying on the black-and-white marble floor, was a policeman. Of course he was asleep but, even so, Missis felt scared. She asked why he was there.

  Cadpig said, “There’s always a police
man here, to guard the house, and two policemen outside. The outside ones have been moved by the Police Dogs but I thought this one might as well stay where he is.”

  “I can’t feel that policemen should be allowed indoors,” said Missis. “Anyway, he makes the hall look untidy.”

  Cadpig said she would get him moved later, if she could think of any place to put him. “This house is so full of sleepers—secretaries and the like. Now I want you to see the Prime Minister.”

  She led the way to the lift, which obligingly opened its doors. Neither Pongo nor Missis had ever been in a lift and Pongo felt sure Missis would be nervous. He said quickly, “Couldn’t we use the stairs?”

  “Oh, the lift’s perfectly safe,” said Cadpig. “I know which buttons to press. Though today I’m working it by my thoughts.”

  “You mean, metaphysically,” said Missis.

  Cadpig looked impressed. “How clever of you to understand that!”

  “Your mother has always been very metaphysical,” said Pongo.

  The lift took them upstairs; then opened its doors to let them out. Missis thanked it politely.

  “This is the flat where we all live,” said Cadpig, “but there’s no one at home but the Prime Minister. His wife’s away. Quite a good sort of woman but fussy about dogs getting on beds. This way.”

  She took them into a bedroom. A Police Dog, lying by the bed, stood up.

  Cadpig said, “Here are my father and mother, come to help us, Sergeant.”

  “And I’m sure they’ll be able to, madam,” said the Police Dog. “There isn’t a Police Dog in England who doesn’t know how Pongo and Missis rescued the stolen puppies.”

  Cadpig was looking anxiously toward the bed. “Any change, Sergeant?”

  “None at all, madam—except that he seems to me to be smiling slightly.”

  “You’re right,” said Cadpig. “Oh, good! That must mean that he’s really relaxing.” She turned to Pongo and Missis. “How do you think he’s looking?”

  “Very peaceful,” said Missis. “And younger than on television.”

  “He’s an excellent color,” said Pongo.

  “Not too flushed?” Cadpig asked anxiously.

  “No, no. Just healthily rosy.”

  “He’s lost quite a lot of his chubbiness,” said Cadpig. “That’s because he’s had so many worries. Well, this is one crisis he doesn’t have to face.”

  Missis said, “I like him better than I expected to. I think that’s because he isn’t talking. He talks too much, on television.”

  “I agree,” said Pongo. “He should just sit there with you on his knee, Cadpig, smiling kindly but saying nothing. Could you give him the hint?”

  Cadpig shook her head sadly. “Clever though he is, he can’t understand a word I say.”

  “That’s our trouble at Scotland Yard,” said the Police Dog. “We dogs learn so quickly, but none of us has ever managed to train a policeman.”

  Cadpig gave the Prime Minister a gentle pat and invited her parents to pat him too, which they respectfully did. Then Cadpig said they must go down to the Cabinet Meeting. “Much as I hate to leave him.”

  “I’ll guard him well, madam,” said the Police Dog, standing to attention.

  On the way to the lift, Cadpig said, “I want you to take the chair at the Cabinet Meeting, Father.”

  “No, no,” said Pongo. “I shouldn’t know what to say.”

  “Well, I don’t either,” said Cadpig. “And I’m terribly worried—and I mustn’t, I mustn’t let anyone but you two know. I’ll tell you when we’re in the lift.”

  The lift doors opened and they all got in. But when the lift had gone down only a little way, it stopped.

  “Don’t worry,” said Cadpig. “I asked it to stop. This is the only place I can feel sure I shan’t be overheard. There are dogs all over the house this morning. Oh, dear!” She suddenly drooped, looking helpless and pitiful, and gave a little moan.

  “Now stop being silly, dear,” said Missis briskly, “and tell us what’s wrong.”

  Pongo said, “Has something happened that we don’t know about?”

  “No, it hasn’t,” said Cadpig. “And that’s what’s wrong. Nothing’s happened and I can’t find out what’s going to happen. This morning everything was exciting—learning to swoosh, finding I could send my thoughts everywhere and tell dogs what to do. But now I wish I hadn’t told them. Thousands and thousands have come to London and I don’t know what to do with them.”

  “Well, send them home again,” said Missis.

  “But if I do that, they’ll lose faith in me. And then they won’t want to see me on television when things are normal again. And that will be bad for the Prime Minister as well as me.”

  Pongo saw that his gifted daughter had bitten off more than she could chew—not a thing that often happens to a dog. He said firmly, “The dogs might as well be here as anywhere else, provided you avoid panic. You must let them know the situation’s under control.”

  “How can the situation be under control when I don’t know what the situation is?”

  “I’ll admit that’s a bit tricky,” said Pongo. “But about this Cabinet Meeting—”

  “Please take the chair, Father!”

  “Can’t you and your father both have chairs?” said Missis.

  “Of course there will be chairs for everyone, Mother. Taking the chair means being in charge.”

  “And that’s what you must be, Cadpig,” said Pongo. “You must represent the Prime Minister. But you may call on me to speak.”

  “What will you say, Pongo?” asked Missis.

  “Ah!” said Pongo, in a meaningful tone.

  “I don’t think ‘Ah’ will be enough,” said Missis.

  “I meant that it will come to me, when it needs to. And it will come to you, Cadpig.”

  “No, it won’t,” said Cadpig miserably. “I’ve lost confidence.”

  “Then you must get it back at once,” said Missis, who did not fancy being between floors in a lift with a Cadpig who had lost confidence. “And you can start by making this lift work.”

  “Perhaps I can’t now,” said Cadpig.

  “Well, I can,” said Pongo. “Today we can all open doors and make lifts work.” He directed a polite but powerful thought to the lift and it instantly moved downwards.

  “Oh, Father, you’re splendid,” said Cadpig. “Though I think it would have moved for me.”

  The lift stopped suddenly. Missis felt frightened. Then the lift moved downwards again.

  “That was just me, testing myself,” said Cadpig. “Oh, thank you, Father. My confidence is coming back again.”

  The lift reached the hall and opened its doors. Missis, having hurried out, remembered to thank them. She thought it wise to keep on their right side—though, as far as Missis was concerned, their best side was the outside.

  Cadpig led the way to the back of the house and into a large room which she said was the Cabinet Room. Up till today Missis had thought that a cabinet was a piece of furniture in which ornaments were shut away from puppies. But she had by now gathered that—in Downing Street—a Cabinet was a group of dogs who would help Cadpig to govern England, and this was the room in which they met. She need not have worried about a shortage of chairs. There were more than she could count, placed around a very long table. Tall windows opened onto a terrace which had steps leading down to the garden, where the Dalmatian army was being entertained by Cabinet Ministers. From the terrace, to which Cadpig took them, Missis could see over a wall to Horse Guards’ Parade, which was packed with dogs.

  Pongo said, “What a magnificent sight! It looks as if every breed of dog is represented.”

  “Except Corgis,” said Cadpig. “They’re all sitting outside Buckingham Palace.”

  The Boxer who had reminded Missis of someone came bounding up the steps of the terrace. He said, “Is it all right by you, Cadpig, if I make one of your brothers my Private Secretary? He’s a splendid fellow.” />
  “Good idea,” said Cadpig. “All Cabinet Ministers had better have Private Secretaries. I’ll have Patch for mine. Hi, Patch, where are you?”

  Patch came eagerly up the steps—only to be bowled over by the Foreign Secretary, who was swooshing down.

  “Sorry, old chap,” said the Boxer, helping Patch up.

  “I haven’t quite got the hang of this swooshing. The Minister of Transport says swooshers rank as vehicles and keep to the left, but I don’t feel like a vehicle. Not hurt, are you? Good. Now where’s my new Secretary?”

  “Of course he’ll have chosen Lucky,” said Missis, proudly thinking how intelligent Lucky was. “Oh, good gracious! Look!”

  The Boxer had joined Roly Poly, who was happily wagging his tail.

  Pongo said, “Cadpig, dear, I’m not sure your Foreign Secretary has made a wise choice.”

  Cadpig laughed. “Oh, George is always putting his paw in his mouth. But he’s a dear and so is Roly Poly, so they’ll keep each other happy. And perhaps it’s safer for them to get into trouble together rather than separately.”

  Missis said, “Bless me, I’ve just realized who the Foreign Secretary reminds me of. It’s Roly Poly—though you wouldn’t think a Boxer could look like a Dalmatian, would you?”

  “It’s something in the expression of their nice round eyes,” said Cadpig. “I think the Minister of Transport had better have both Lucky and his wife as her Secretaries. She’ll need a lot of help, what with the traffic and her topknot. Just arrange for that, will you, Patch? And then come back to me.”

  Patch, looking happy and capable, ran back to the garden and found Babs the Poodle, who gave her thanks to Cadpig.

  “A pretty creature, isn’t she?” said Missis. “Though I do think that topknot’s a bit much.”