Selby Snowbound Page 7

  ‘The one they sent up in a rocket?’ Mrs Trifle asked.

  ‘That’s it. Let’s have a squiz through it.’

  ‘But how can we do that?’ Dr Trifle asked. ‘It’s way up in space.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s controlled from a tracking station on the ground — about a hundred kilometres from here. I know the people there. I’m sure they’ll let us use it. There’s no one actually up there with the telescope, of course.’

  ‘I don’t understand how it works,’ Mrs Trifle said.

  ‘Simple: they send up signals to move the telescope this way and that and tell it where and when to take pictures.’

  ‘But how do they see the pictures?’ Dr Trifle asked.

  ‘They’re sent back through the air — it’s all beeps and squeaks and dots and dashes. These go into a computer and the computer de-wonkifies them.’

  ‘It de-whats them?’

  ‘They’re usually wonky — all blurry and everything — so they have to be kind of smoothed out before you can actually see them properly. Come on, let’s drive out there. We’ll take some photos, put them on a disk and then bring the disk back here to look at on your computer.’

  ‘Isn’t it amazing what they can do these days? When I was a girl there was none of this fancy stuff,’ Mrs Trifle said, and the three of them headed for the car.

  ‘I wish I could go with them,’ Selby thought. ‘I’ve read all about the Sky Eye. It would be so much fun discovering new comets and galaxies. Oh well, at least I’ll get to see the pictures on the computer later on. Hmmm, I wonder what Percy’s book is like.’

  Selby lay down on the lounge next to the swimming pool in the back yard and read a chapter on spying in Everyday Stars for You and Me.

  ‘Crumbs,’ he thought. ‘I never knew you could use sky telescopes to spy on people all the way down on the ground. That would be even more fun than looking at the stars! Oh, I love all that spy stuff.’

  As the sun set and as the first stars began to appear, Selby held up Percy Peach’s Planet Plan to see if he could tell which star or planet was which.

  ‘The problem with this thing,’ Selby said, lying on his back and using all four legs to hold the map up, ‘is that when I hold the map, I can’t see the stars anymore because the map’s in the way. I give up. It may be a life-saver for some people but it’s only a life-complicator for me. Maybe it’s better to just look at the stars and planets and not worry about what silly names we’ve given them.’

  Late that night the Trifles and Percy Peach returned.

  ‘I won’t stay,’ Percy said at the door. ‘You can look at the photos by yourselves.’

  ‘But don’t you want to see them?’ Dr Trifle said.

  ‘I’ve seen a lot of stars and planets. Besides, I’ve got to be back in the city by morning and it’s a long drive.’

  Selby watched as the Trifles excitedly put a diskette into the computer and started looking at all the photos they’d taken with the Sky Eye. There were dry and craggy planets and strange swirling galaxies with lots of colours like exploding fireworks.

  ‘These pictures are so wonderful,’ Selby thought. ‘They take my breath away.’

  ‘It’s all very nice,’ Mrs Trifle said finally. ‘But I think I like the Earth better than the stars. It’s all kind of cold out there and it’s nice and warm and cozy down here. I’ve got an idea: let’s have a look at the pictures we took of Bogusville.’

  ‘They took pictures of Bogusville?’ Selby thought. ‘They actually turned the telescope around and pointed it down here! Wow! This is going to be fun!’

  Dr Trifle found the photo of Australia and then zoomed down to Bogusville. As he zoomed closer and closer Selby could see houses and then people appear.

  ‘The people all look like ants,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘Make it bigger so we can see them properly.’

  Dr Trifle clicked the computer mouse and made things bigger and bigger.

  ‘Look! There’s Aunt Jetty!’ Mrs Trifle cried. ‘You can see her perfectly. And look! She was picking her nose when we took the photo. She didn’t know she was being spied on from space. Isn’t that a riot!’

  ‘Yeah, a disgusting riot,’ Selby thought. ‘That woman gives me the shivers even when she doesn’t have her finger halfway up her nose. Yuck!’

  ‘Let’s zoom in on our house,’ Dr Trifle said, moving across the town till the top of the house was in view.

  ‘What’s the point?’ asked Mrs Trifle. ‘There was nobody at home. We were at the tracking station, remember?’

  ‘Maybe we’ll see Selby,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Maybe he was outside somewhere.’

  ‘Gulp,’ Selby thought. ‘They were actually spying on me! I’m not sure I like this.’

  ‘Hmmm, I wonder if that’s him in the back yard next to the pool?’ said Mrs Trifle. ‘There’s sort of a blob-like thing there on the lounge.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Selby thought as the sweat began to pour down his forehead. ‘I was out there reading that stupid book and they were looking down on me! They’re going to catch me reading! I’m about to be sprung — from space by that stupid Sky Eye spy!’

  ‘Let’s zoom in a little closer,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘I can’t quite make out what I’m looking at.’

  ‘Oh, woe,’ Selby thought. ‘This is it. This is the end. The Trifles are about to find out that I’m not just an ordinary non-star-gazing dog but the only real live talking, thinking, book-reading dog in Australia and, perhaps, the world. I might as well tell them before they find out for themselves.’

  Selby put his paws up on the computer table and cleared his throat ready to say: ‘Okay, okay, turn that silly thing off — you caught me,’ when Dr Trifle clicked the computer mouse again.

  Suddenly a strange image filled the screen. It was all blue but sprinkled with little white dots.

  ‘Hey, that’s not me,’ Selby thought. ‘It’s Percy Peach’s Planet Plan! — the star map! Just when they took the picture I was holding the star map over my head and that stupid Sky Eye couldn’t see me! Thank goodness for that!’

  ‘This is very strange,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘The telescope must have turned around again. I do believe we’re looking back out into space. That’s what all those white dots are: they’re stars and planets.’

  ‘But there’s something very unusual about them,’ Mrs Trifle said.

  ‘They just look like stars to me,’ Dr Trifle said.

  ‘Except — they have all their names printed next to them. It’s just the way it should be,’ Mrs Trifle said, looking out the window to see if the names were next to the stars. ‘That is the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘What a close call!’ Selby thought as he breathed a sigh of relief and headed off to get a good night’s sleep. ‘And Percy Peach was dead right: that planet plan of his certainly is a life-saver. Well it saved my life, anyway!’

  Paw note: See the story ‘Selby Soars to New Heights’ in the book Selby Speaks. You’ll love it!

  Paw note: I do love spy stuff. For more of my adventures read ‘Selby Supersnoop, Dog Detective’ in the book Selby Supersnoop.

  SELBY’S SALSA

  ‘This Pablito Coco is the greatest bandleader ever!’ Selby thought as he whirled around the floor. ‘I just love his music! When I hear that beat I’ve just gotta use my feet. First my tail starts twitching, and my toes start tapping, then my body starts a-boppin’ and then I’m up and I’m hoppin’ and I’m cruisin’ to the music!’

  Selby spun across the room as the CD player played a samba, then a rumba, then a mambo, and a tango.

  ‘Dr and Mrs Trifle are so lucky because they can dance with each other. Which is what they’re doing right now at their weekly dance class at Bogusville Hall. And here am I, the only dancing dog in Australia and, perhaps, the world, with no one to dance with. So,’ Selby said, grabbing a mop from the kitchen and turning it stringy-side up, ‘how would you like to bop, Molly Mop?’

  Selby did a few tango twists and turns before turning
out the overhead light and throwing the room into darkness except for the little blinking lights of the CD player.

  ‘It’s much better dancing in the dark,’ he said, suddenly singing along with the words on the CD. ‘Baysa may, baysa may mucho. I don’t know what that means but it sounds sooooo romantic. Oh, oh, I just love this next dance! — “The Coco Bongo Longo” — written by the king himself: Pablito Coco. Yes! Yes! Yes!’ he hissed, swinging one paw in the air and swivelling his hips to the beat. ‘If only the Trifles had an extra long dance class I could dance and dance and dance till I dropped.’

  Little did Selby know that the Trifles had had an extra short dance class and had just driven into the driveway.

  ‘Listen to that,’ Mrs Trifle said as she tangoed down the path to the house. ‘We must have left the CD player on. Selby must be going crazy with all that racket in there.’

  ‘He seems to like this music,’ Dr Trifle said, doing a quick-step up to the front door. ‘Today when I was playing it I could have sworn he was smiling and even twitching to the beat.’

  ‘Impossible. Dogs don’t smile. And they certainly don’t twitch to beats. They only twitch when they’re having a bad dream.’

  ‘I know, but that’s the way it seemed.’

  Unaware that the Trifles were standing in the doorway fumbling for the light switch, Selby whirled the mop around in the dark. Then, just as the blasting bongos of ‘The Coco Bongo Longo’ reached their peak, Selby did a quick spin and a dip, bending over and puckering up as if to kiss his dancing partner.

  ‘Hey, Molly,’ he whispered, ‘how about a big juicy smooch for a handsome dancing pooch?’

  Suddenly the lights came on and Selby dropped the mop and stood there bent over, frozen with fear.

  ‘Selby!’ Mrs Trifle screamed. ‘What’s going on here? What were you doing?!’

  ‘Oh, no! They’ve caught me!’ Selby screamed in his brain. ‘Now they know I’m not an ordinary non-talking non-dancing dog! What am I going to do?!’

  ‘This is terrible!’ Mrs Trifle cried, racing to Selby’s side. ‘He’s tripped on that miserable mop and done his back in! Look! He can’t move! He’s as stiff as a board!’

  ‘That’s it!’ Selby thought. ‘She’s given me the perfect excuse! I’ve done my back in! That’s brilliant! I thought I was caught but I’m not!’

  ‘What do you mean he’s done his back in?’ asked Dr Trifle. ‘I think he’s put his back out.’

  ‘Doing your back in, putting your back out, it means the same thing,’ Mrs Trifle explained. ‘One of those little doovers in his back has slipped and now he can’t move. I think we’d better get him to a vet.’

  ‘But it’s nighttime and the vet’s closed,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘Let’s just lie him down and let him rest. With any luck his back will be better in the morning and then we won’t have to take him to the vet.’

  Dr and Mrs Trifle picked Selby up and laid him gently on the lounge.

  ‘He’s in so much pain he can’t even wag his tail, poor thing,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘I’ve got an idea: let’s get Jetty over here.’

  ‘Jetty? What does she know about dogs?’

  ‘She did that course in chiro-whatsis where you learn to crack backs and snap people’s spines back into line.’

  ‘But dog backbones aren’t like people backbones.’

  ‘Don’t be silly — of course they are. The only difference is that dogs’ backbones go all the way down to the tips of their tails while ours finish at our bottoms. I’ll ring Jetty right now.’

  ‘I hate that woman more than anyone else in the whole world!’ Selby thought. ‘I just hope she can’t come over.’

  Selby watched and listened as Mrs Trifle talked to her sister and then put the phone down.

  ‘She’ll be here in two minutes,’ Mrs Trifle told Dr Trifle. ‘I didn’t tell her whose back was out of whack because I know she doesn’t much care for Selby.’

  ‘And the feeling is mutual,’ thought Selby. ‘I can’t stand the idea of that woman even touching me. What am I going to do?’

  Minutes later the dreadful Aunt Jetty bounded into the lounge room cracking her knuckles and then spitting on her hands and rubbing them together.

  ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘I’ve got that healin’ feelin'. Now who’s got the bodgy back?’

  ‘It’s not us; it’s Selby,’ Dr Trifle explained. ‘He tripped on a mop and now he can’t move at all.’

  Aunt Jetty shot Selby an icy stare. ‘Not such a bad thing if you ask me,’ she mumbled. ‘Why not just leave him that way?’

  ‘Oh, we couldn’t do that,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘But if you don’t think you can help him —’

  ‘What? Of course I can. I’ll have him back in shape in a second but I warn you — if that mongrel bites me again,’ the woman said, ‘I’ll have his grotty little guts for garters. Okay, here goes.’

  For a minute, Aunt Jetty just ran her fingers gently up and down Selby’s spine. Then, before he could even think to blink, she grabbed him around the neck and spun him like a top.

  ‘Merciful heavens!’ Selby thought. ‘That hurt! That great galumph is so rough! She has hands like hammers! Oh, well, now I can pretend that I’m okay and she’ll think she fixed my back.’

  But before Selby had a chance to move and stretch and pretend he was okay, Aunt Jetty suddenly said, ‘No good. It didn’t work.’

  ‘How can you tell?’ Mrs Trifle asked.

  ‘I didn’t hear it crack. Old Horrible here just flipped over when I wrenched his head around. He’s too light. I’ve got to have a think about this.’

  ‘While you’re thinking we’ll be changing out of our dancing gear,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘These shoes are killing me.’

  Once again Aunt Jetty felt her way up and down Selby’s spine, tapping it with her knuckles.

  ‘Everything seems to be okay,’ she mumbled. ‘But obviously it’s not or he wouldn’t be lying there frozen like an ice cube. Hmmm, Willy and Billy are waiting in the car. Maybe they could help.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Selby screamed in his brain as Aunt Jetty raced out to her car. ‘If there’s anyone I hate more than Aunt Jetty, it’s Billy! And if there’s anyone I hate more than Billy, it’s Willy!’

  ‘Mummy! Mummy! That’s that dog that talks!’ Willy cried, as the terrible twosome ran into the room. ‘Honest he does!’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure he does.’

  ‘He does! He does! He knows how to talk and he’s a liar because he says he can’t talk.’

  ‘Never mind about that,’ Aunt Jetty said. ‘He’s got a bad back and I promised my sister I’d fix it. Now grab his back feet and his tail and just hold them still, okay?’

  ‘Oh, goody goody!’ Billy squealed. ‘His back is broke! His back is broke!’

  ‘Can I twist his tail? Can I?’ Willy said, grabbing Selby’s tail.

  ‘Just hold tight, ‘Aunt Jetty said, putting Selby’s head in a vice-like headlock.

  ‘Help!’ Selby thought. ‘What are they doing to me?!’

  But before Selby could even cry: ‘Please help me, Dr and Mrs Trifle’ Aunt Jetty wrenched his head sideways, twisting his whole body around like she was wringing out a wet towel. Suddenly a sharp pain shot up from the tip of Selby’s tail to the top of his neck. Then there was a loud pop! Followed by a whole lot of other pops!

  ‘Okay, you old flea-bag,’ Aunt Jetty said. ‘I think that did the trick.’

  ‘Oh great,’ Selby thought. ‘It did the trick all right: now my spine is completely out of line! Now I really can’t move!’

  ‘He’s okay now,’ Aunt Jetty said, dusting her hands together as Dr and Mrs Trifle came into the room again.

  ‘But — but he’s still not moving,’ Mrs Trifle said. ‘And there’s sweat pouring off his forehead. I think he’s really in pain now. You didn’t fix him, you made him worse.’

  ‘Oh well, you win some and you lose some. Maybe it’s time to get a new dog,’ Aunt Jetty said. ‘Come along, boys.’

  �
�Get a new dog? But we love Selby,’ Mrs Trifle protested.

  ‘I think we broke his back, Mummy,’ Billy snorted.

  ‘Serves him right for lying,’ Willy giggled. ‘Hey, that was really fun!’

  Selby lay there in agony watching as Aunt Jetty and her sons disappeared out the door.

  ‘This is awful!’ he thought. ‘That miserable marrow-mangling monster has ruined my back forever! Why didn’t I just tell the Trifles that I’m the only talking and dancing dog in Australia and, perhaps, the world, and get it over with? They’d have put me to work but at least I wouldn’t be in this fix. Oh woe woe woe, it’s just not fair.’

  ‘I’ll take Selby to the vet in the morning,’ Mrs Trifle said to Dr Trifle. ‘Poor dear. He must be in terrible pain.’

  ‘I’ll leave the music on in case he can’t sleep,’ Dr Trifle said. ‘They say that music is the best medicine.’

  ‘If Aunt Jetty ever comes near me again,’ Selby thought as he lay on the lounge after the Trifles had gone to bed, ‘I’ll bite her into next week! Speaking of biting: there’s a flea biting me and I can’t even scratch myself! Oh, woe, this is going to be a long night.’

  Selby lay there listening as the CD player played a samba, and then a rumba, and then a mambo, and a tango.

  ‘The music does help to take my mind off the pain,’ he thought. ‘But it also makes me want to dance.’

  Slowly the beat built up and up and when the music finally broke into ‘The Coco Bongo Longo’ the very end of Selby’s tail began to twitch. It twitched and it twitched and Selby heard a pop! Then a little more of his tail twitched and there was another pop! Followed by another and another.

  ‘My back legs!’ Selby thought. ‘I can move them now! Look at that, they’re moving to the music!’

  The more he moved, the more his spine popped and then the more he could move.

  ‘My spine! My spine!’ he squealed. ‘It’s popping into line! I can feel my tootsies twitching as my feet begin to beat and that pop-pop-poppin’s just a-rockin’ up my spine! I’m fine! I’m fine!’

  Little by little Selby’s back loosened and finally he jumped to his feet. In a minute he was dancing around the room as fast as ever.