Labradoodle on the Loose (2 page)

‘Again,' said Marco. Bee rolled her eyes. It was never going to work.

‘Once.' She held up one finger. ‘Once more, that's all.'

He nodded and took back the lead. This time when Bee shouted for Doodle to come, Marco was ready. They went off at a good dog speed, following Bee. She ran in a big circle and stopped back by us, panting. Marco sailed round after her like he was the captain of a ship coming into port after a splendid victory. He patted his labradoodle-husky.

‘Good dog,' he said. Bee fished about for more treats. Doodle gulped them down – I don't think dogs chew – and started barking.

‘Shhhh,' said Bee.

Doodle nudged the board with his nose.

‘He wants another go,' said Fifty.

‘Me next,' said Copper Pie. He grabbed the lead. This
time Bee didn't have to run ahead. Doodle shot straight off, with only one of Copper Pie's feet strapped in. He managed to stay on, wobbling a bit. Doodle headed for the slope. Oh no! Disaster. Copper Pie obviously thought the same. He bailed out and the board accelerated away followed by Doodle. Copper Pie ran after him. He's a really fast runner but Doodle was faster. Luckily he decided to stop and chew a bone-like branch or Copper Pie would never have got him.

‘My turn,' said Bee. ‘I get it now.' She got on, bent her knees, said ‘Run, Doodle,' and amazingly she stayed on. She even managed to steer him away from the hill and ride all round the grassy area. It was cool. Dog-power.

‘It must be me next,' said Jonno. Bee handed over the lead. Doodle started dragging Jonno without the board.

‘Sit,' said Jonno. Doodle jumped up at him. Jonno did the whole turning away thing that you're meant to do if a dog's naughty.

‘You may as well have your go,' said Bee. ‘Doodle's over-excited.'

Jonno didn't seem to like speed so he kept leaning back and yanking on the lead to slow Doodle down. They were like a remote control car being operated by a two-year-old. Stop. Start. Stop. Start.

‘I give up,' said Jonno. He looked at me. I shook my head. I figured I'd be OK on the board, but I didn't fancy a manic dog dragging me along the ground, taking all the
skin off my knees. I think Fifty felt the same. So Marco had a go. He went all the way down the hill on his board, mega mega fast. The ball-bearing noise from the wheels was super-loud. At the bottom, Doodle leapt up at Marco, barking his head off and nearly knocking him over. It was top entertainment, but eventually Copper Pie demanded lunch, so we abandoned the very successful husky racing, and Marco, for nosh.

I laid out the rug.

‘Who votes Keener be called Tribe Mother?' said Bee, tying Doodle up.

‘Who votes Bee has no cake?' I said back. It wasn't witty but my brain doesn't make up clever things quickly, or in fact slowly.

‘Only joking, Keener.' She smiled. I threw the bag of cold sausages at her. She shoved them away.

‘Where are the chocolate cakes, Keener?' asked Fifty.

‘Staying in the bag till we've eaten the rest,' I said.

‘OK, Tribe Mother,' said Fifty.

I ignored him. Copper Pie was already scoffing sausages. He doesn't chew, just like Doodle.

‘Pass the sausages.' I took two. Jonno picked up a roll,
peeled open the bun to look inside and dropped it like he'd been bitten. Marmite does that to people. Copper Pie picked it up and demolished it in two mouthfuls. Animal.

I was thirsty, so I offered to get the drinks. Fifty came too. While I stood in the queue for the ice-cream van he swung on the play area gate, clanging it just like Bee had. He was probably watching all the toddlers fall off the end of the slide in the play area. They don't have brakes.

I heard the mountainboard wheels buzzing again and Marco zoomed past the queue. ‘Thank you for dog.'

It's funny when he doesn't put all the words he needs in, or puts in too many. I watched him do a jump. It looked fun. I wondered why I'd never had a skateboard. Because no
one had ever bought me one was the obvious answer.

I had to call Fifty
twice
to get him to come and help me with the cans. There was obviously something going on in the play area. Maybe there was a toddler having a lie-on-the-floor-and-kick tantrum or, even better, wrestling babies.

After we had a can each there was a burping contest, thanks to Bee who can never drink a fizzy drink without her stomach immediately expelling all the bubbles. There was a thought hovering in my head –
I can surf so I should be able to mountainboard
. It was followed by a second thought –
Dog-powered boarding would be cool
. And that one turned into action. I got up.

‘Bee, can I borrow Doodle?'

‘He's not a library book,' she said.

Lots of laughing, which I ignored. ‘I'm going to have a go on Marco's board.'

‘I suppose so,' she said, with a can-you-believe-Keener's-actually-going-near-my-dog face.

I untied the lead, which was attached to a bike rack, said ‘See you,' and went in search of Marco.

As we walked along, Doodle kept turning round and looking back at Bee. It was as though he knew I wasn't a proper dog handler. I tried not to catch his eye. I'm not exactly scared of dogs, I just don't like their teeth.

I could see Marco up ahead, trying out tricks on the path.

‘Marco,' I shouted. He looked up and smiled. ‘Can I have a go on your board with the dog?'

‘Sure,' he said. ‘You're a good surfer, makes good boarder.' Marco's been surfing with me. He's amazing.

‘I hope so,' I said, but I wasn't sure. Surfing on water is a bit different from four wheels on bumpy ground. And falling in water, or a wipe-out as we surfers call it, is most definitely better than a tumble on the concrete.

He pushed the board with his foot, I stopped it with mine. So far so good. Marco waited for me to get on, but I didn't. It's embarrassing when you have a go at something you can't do, or don't know if you can do. I wanted him to go away, or at least turn round, but I couldn't say that to him, could I?

‘You want help?' he said.

I nodded and handed over the lead. Marco hooked the loop over his foot.
Funny way to keep hold of a dog
.

‘OK,' he said. Marco wasn't a bad teacher. Or maybe I was a good pupil. He showed me which foot to put at the front (your leading leg), how to get on without the board slipping away (make sure it's on the flat) and how to use your knees, heels and toes to move and steer. I messed about a bit at the top of the hill. It was easy.

‘Down the hill,' said Marco.

I looked down. I've walked down the hill loads of times. I've run down it, cycled down it. But I've never gone down it on four wheels, without brakes.

‘Go . . .' Marco couldn't find the word he wanted. He used his hands instead. They pointed diagonally. That made sense. I was going to slip my front foot out of the binding to turn the board to face the direction of Marco's hand but he shook his head and did a little jump. I got it. I was meant to jump to turn the board round.
Here goes
, I thought.

Jumping with a board attached to both your feet was
weird. But it worked. I was ready. I bent my knees, the board set off with me on it. I headed across the slope, and only remembered when I needed to turn and head the other way that Marco hadn't explained how to turn.
Great!
Or how to brake.
Even more great!
Luckily, it turned out to be just like surfing. I'm goofy (that means right foot forward – left foot forward is ‘natural') so I just leant back on my heels and round I went. I did a few turns on the way down and to stop I turned back up the hill. Marco started clapping. I bowed. Time to try it with the dog!

While I pushed the board back up the hill with my foot, I decided
I
was getting a mountainboard. My birthday's in November but there was a chance I could afford one before then if a lot of people forgot to pick up their pound coins from the swimming lockers. (I have lessons on Saturday mornings. I check the lockers, before and after. It's easy money.)

‘Great stuff,' said Marco.

‘Wait till you see me with the dog,' I said.

‘Dog,' he said, as though he'd never heard the word before. And certainly never used one as a husky. Or had the lead of one looped round his foot less than five minutes before.

‘Dog,' I repeated.

A few very bad thoughts smacked me in the face, one after the other:
I'd left Doodle with Marco, Marco was standing in front of me, Doodle wasn't, Marco had lost Doodle, but I'd taken Doodle from Bee, so I was in charge, so I'd lost Doodle
.

I grabbed Marco by the shoulders. ‘What have you done with Bee's dog?'

‘Bee's dog,' he said. He smacked his forehead. It made a slap sound. Must have hurt. ‘Bee's dog,' he said again. He looked down at his foot as though Doodle might still be attached to the lead that he'd looped round his trainer. Nope. Just a trainer, all on its own. He looked up at me, and made a big-eyed sad face. I looked all around, 360 degrees, ready to call out Doodle's name. But there was no point shouting. There were kids and bikes and prams and a bloke with a kite, but no dogs. And definitely no labradoodle.

‘We've
got
to find Doodle,' I said. ‘Or Bee will
kill
us.'

Marco nodded. ‘I go,' he said.

‘Go where?' I said.

‘Round,' he said, waving his arm randomly at the grassy area. He pushed off and disappeared. Wheels buzzing.

I stood, deciding what to do.