Piddy Piddoo

Paul Kelly

Description

This sweet and humorous tale about a dog called Piddy Piddoo will delight children of all ages. Follow Piddy's adventures as he meets other dogs, talks about his owner and gets himself into funny scrapes. Paul Kelly is a well-respected author, and this addition to his catalogue of excellent fiction is sure to please.

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 01 octobre 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781782341086
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
‘PIDDY-PIDDOO’
A Fiction Tale For Children


BY
PAUL KELLY



Publisher Information
Piddy Piddoo
Published in 2012 by Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.
Copyright © Paul Kelly 2012
The right of Paul Kelly to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988



Chapter One
I know my name sounds funny... Well, most people think that when they hear it, but that’s the one I’ve been given and somehow, ever since I’ve had it, I feel that it suits me and I like it now myself... kinda distinctive, don’t you agree?
I don’t know where my mistress Charlotte got it from, but when she brought me to her house that lovely hot day in July last year, (I was only eighteen months then,) and let me run wild around her gorgeous garden, where I must admit I tore up a few of her best plants, she started to call me Piddy Piddoo, whenever she would call out to me when my dinner was ready... or anything else to eat, for that matter as I often got little snacks in between... I would hear her call and I thought it was a great game. She used to have an old cat that she called Kitt’n-Katt’n, Putt’n-Patt’n, because I don’t think she could decide whether this animal was a pussy cat or a kitten, but I don’t really care about that, since the old moggy never came near me and used to hiss her stupid way around the garden whenever I was near. She gave up eventually and went into the neighbour’s shrubbery for a bit of piece since she used to sleep a lot during the day. Fat old floppy things she was. Anyway, less about her, that old tabby with the shifty eyes and more about me... handsome boy... many would say.
I’m a funny doggie really, I suppose... because I’ve lived with humans for as long as I can remember and I can’t imagine myself being a dog at all, not even a Boxer dog and far less still, a white Boxer dog, for I am told they are very rare. You get brown ones and red ones, brindle ones and all sorts-of-in-between ones, but not many white ones, so naturally, I’m very proud of myself. Well now... Wouldn’t you be? My hair is very short and my body is all white, except for my muzzle and my snout. They are black and my snout is shiny, like a nice piece of leather, really. My eyes are dark and I smile a lot, but when I’m angry or get excited about anything, the rims get as red as beetroot and that’s a little off-putting to the birds. if you know what I mean. Not the feathered variety... the flying type of birds... I mean, the other ones... and that brings me to what I wanted to tell you in the first place. I met a real little cutie the other day and boy... Did she set my beetroot rims ablaze? Well, I ask you... . She was a real corker and I couldn’t help myself from shouting ‘Phew’... . I always shout ‘Phew’ when I’m excited... don’t you?
Well anyway, I met her when I was out having my usual scud around the garden. I usually have a little scud two or three times a day. Helps to keep the figure in trim, you know. Well, anyway, when I stopped for a breather, I could hear this strange clicking noise coming from the other side of the garden fence. Now I knew there was a hole in that old fence somewhere, but I just couldn’t find it. Well, you know what it’s like... You never can find anything you’re looking for and if you don’t want it, it’s staring you right in the eye. Well, I buzzed around for a bit, sniffing and snorting like I always do... and I do it very well, I might add. I’m quite good at that... and then I found it. It was a hole... just big enough for me to get my head through... with a push, but I was determined to see what this thing was that was making all this clicking noise. I’m not nosy, you understand. Not one little bit, but it’s a natural curiosity with us Boxers. Well, after plopping each ear, carefully through the hole and at a great deal of inconvenience and discomfort, I can tell you, I heard this giggling sound coming from a small bush on the other side of the fence... Then, all of a sudden, I saw it. A great powder-puff head with large blue eyes stared at me. I swallowed hard... really hard, I can tell you, as it was all white and bouncy with sweet little pink rosebud lips. Well, I went my deepest shade of beetroot... around the old peepers, of course... and Cor!... Didn’t she pong beautifully... I just closed my eyes and indulged in a good long sniff... My black leather ‘ooter was having a field day...
“Dear me,” she said as she glared at me with her gorgeous eyes, “I thought you were Chinese. Your eyes look like Chinese.”
I got quite annoyed for a few seconds
“So would yours be,” I said, “If you had just squeezed your head through this hole.”
She smiled... Well, it was a sort of a smirk, really, more than a smile, I’d say.
“Well, aren’t you a silly then, to try to get your big head through a hole like that,” she said, “Serves you jolly well right... “
“It’s not a small hole,” I protested, “It must be easily five inches.”
She grinned again and I snorted, making bubbles at the side of my mouth.
“That’s what I mean... BIG ‘EAD,” she smirked and I gave her one of my ‘old-fashioned’ looks (the ones that make Charlotte laugh... but they didn’t have any effect on this beauty... )
“Made me quite dizzy, and my ears are all sore now,” I said, hoping for a bit of sympathy, “Anyway, what’s all that clicking noise I could hear?” I asked and at that moment, I could hear a plopping sound and my eyes went back to their normal shape.
I looked at this creature with the fine, flouncy hair and she was even whiter than me. Her body was all soft and fluffy-like, with a magnificent, long bushy tail and I couldn’t keep my eyes off it as it swayed to and fro when she purred, mesmerising me with every swaying move.
“Oh! That’s just my knitting,” she said calmly and dropped her eyelids. “I’m not English, you understand... I’m foreign. I’m from Persia.”
I stared at her in amazement and I could feel my own eyes going big and round as I looked.
“You look like a cat, to me . .” I said slowly, wondering if I should apologise for saying that, but she clicked away on her shiny, scarlet knitting needles and ignored me with a deep sigh.
“Well, of course I’m a cat, stupid,” she said and I came a little closer to have a better look and a good old sniff.
“Don’t come too near,” she shouted snootily, “There’s no telling where You’ve been.”
“I’ve never seen a cat like you before. All the cats around here are scruffy old moggies with stripes and scraggy coats and that sort of thing... ”
“Do you mind?” she retorted, flicking her eyelashes at me and her tail quivered.
“Well, I’ve never been abroad to Persia, so how would I ever guess what you might look like,” I said, but I didn’t tell her that I thought she was beautiful... The most beautiful cat I had ever seen... and I’ve seen a few in my day... . I can tell you, for nothing.
“You’re not so hot lookin’ yourself, Buster... with those awful old red eyes. They look like snazzy specs to me. However did you come by them?” she complained and I could feel the full two inches of my tail shrinking with shame. Made me ever so glad she could only see my head. It really did...
“That’s not glasses,” I barked, “That’s my natural eyes, Madam.