Labradoodle on the Loose (5 page)

Or maybe I just needed a policeman. Sergeant Farrow finished the cake, brushed the crumbs off his lap and stood up. I had to say something before he went away.

‘There's another problem.' I could feel the usual rosy glow of embarrassment creeping up my cheeks. I carried on anyway. ‘The problem I thought you were here about.' He waited for me to go on. ‘The dog. He's lost.'

‘Ahh!' said the nice policeman. He turned towards Copper Pie. ‘The girl you were with earlier, she mentioned her dog was gone.'

‘That's right,' said Copper Pie.

I waited to hear what the plan was. It was great knowing we had an adult to help. And not just an ordinary adult – a sergeant with three stripes on his shoulder.

‘I wouldn't worry. I expect he'll turn up. Pets usually do.'

I couldn't believe what he'd said. I repeated it in my head. It didn't get any better. He was leaving it to us. He cared about missing babies, but not missing dogs. Missing dogs could form a pack and eat stray kittens, terrorise old ladies by barking at their thick brown tights, be made into burgers – it didn't matter to him.

So that meant one thing and one thing only – Tribe was on its own. I thought back to all the amazing things we'd done since we became Tribe and knew that the only way to get Doodle back safely was for the Tribers to work together. I started shoving everything into my rucksack.

‘I've got to go. I've got to find Bee and Jonno, and then
we've got to find Doodle. Are you coming, Copper Pie?'

‘Yep.'

‘I'll see you later,' said Fifty. ‘I'd better . . .' He tilted his head to one side.

‘Tribehouse,' said Copper Pie.

‘What time?' said Fifty.

I checked my watch. It was bang on twelve o'clock. ‘Three o'clock.' That gave us plenty of time to scout around for dog tracks before heading over to Tribe HQ in Fifty's garden, hopefully with Doodle trotting along with us. Making a plan of action made me feel better. I had Copper Pie by my side. A belly full of food. And a job to do.

I was ready.

We didn't have to look very hard for Bee and Jonno. We left the park heading towards the café and saw them coming back towards us. No dog. I was a bit worried Bee would blank me, I mean it was all my fault, but she just shrugged.

‘No luck, then,' said Copper Pie.

‘Nope,' said Jonno. ‘But we've only done school and the alley.'

‘So where next?' said Copper Pie.

Bee shook her head.

‘I know it seems hopeless. He could be anywhere. But we've got to keep looking, haven't we?' said Jonno.

She nodded. I felt really bad. I tried to think of something that might cheer her up. If only the policeman had
offered to help. With the siren on,
nee naw nee naw
, they could have raced around the streets in no time.

‘OK,' said Jonno. ‘Let's have one of Fifty's brainstorms and see if we can think of any better way to find Doodle.'

Fifty taught us how to do them. There are rules. We can say whatever we like but no one's allowed to criticise. No ‘that's rubbish' or ‘it won't work'. The idea is that if you know no one is going to make fun of you, your imagination works better. The trouble with Tribe brainstorms, though, is that we end up with a list of crazy ideas and no answers. But we keep trying.

‘I'm in,' said Bee.

Copper Pie nodded.

‘OK,' I said.
You never know
, I thought.
This could be the one time it works
. We sat down on the grass: me, Bee, Copper Pie and Jonno. And looked at each other. I was really hot. Everyone says we have rubbish summers but it hadn't rained for ages. I know because it's my job to water Mum's rockery when it looks dry, and that's every day. I helped her make it, lugging all the rocks, and she planted it. Bet nothing will grow. Mum's fingers are green – it's just a pity they're arsenic green.

Bee sighed, swished her fringe out of her eyes and started us off. ‘Doodle likes food. He'd head for food.'

That was it – we were off, Tribe style.

‘The butchers.'

‘There isn't one round here.'

‘The supermarket then.'

‘It's quite a way from the park.'

‘And smells of plastic, not food.'

‘Shoe shops.'

‘Dogs don't wear shoes.'

‘He chews them.'

‘Bone shops. He chews bones.'

‘What about pet shops?'

‘Does he like fish?'

‘Only cooked.'

I'm sure you get the idea. Our brainstorms just don't work. I zoned out and tried to imagine what Doodle would do, let off his lead for the first time in his short life. It was difficult. Dogs walk on four legs, not two. Dogs don't use knives and forks. Dogs poo wherever they want, not in toilets. Dogs don't wipe. I was wondering whether Doodle's idea of family was the same as a human's when
Bee called a halt to the list of unhelpful suggestions.

‘It's no good. We're not going to find Doodle sitting here. And if I go home without him Mum'll have a fit. So we may as well walk.'

Bee had spoken. She's boss. We all stood up.

Bee walked fast (only stopping to collect litter).

‘Doodle,' she shouted. ‘Doodle!'

Jonno did the same. ‘Doodle!'

So did Copper Pie. ‘Doodle!'

Oh well
, I thought, and joined in. ‘Doodle!'

We decided to use the telephone method to choose our route. It seemed as good a way as any of finding a runaway labradoodle.

On the way C.P. and I filled Bee and Jonno in on the ‘kidnap'.

Bee was shocked. ‘Imagine the trouble Fifty'd have been in if they hadn't found her.'

Walking was dull. We finished Copper Pie's phone number, which he couldn't remember but I could, quite

near Fifty's road so we decided to go to the Tribehouse early. We were meant to be meeting Fifty at 3 p.m. It was 2.42 p.m. Doodle had been missing for four hours.

Fifty was there already. I asked him if Rose was OK. He nodded. I asked him if he was OK. He nodded. Fifty is usually talkative. I asked him if his mum knew about the kidnap. He nodded. That explained it.

‘I went back to the Blue Skies Nursery with Rose. The policeman came too. They called Mum from there and she came and picked us both up.'

‘Was she cross?'

‘Not really. She was how she
always
is.'

‘What do you mean?' said Jonno. I didn't need to ask, but Jonno's only been at our school for less than a term so there's
still stuff he doesn't know. (Although we're teaching him, using the famous, and funny, Tribe fact files that we keep in the safe in the Tribehouse with titles like
Things Tribers Are Scared Of
and
Tribers' Embarrassing Moments
.)

‘Whenever I do anything wrong, instead of a straight-forward telling off, I get “quality time” with Mum. If anything goes wrong, she thinks it's her fault because she hasn't “parented” me properly. I'd rather have a few swishes of the cane. But no, I get days and days of me-and-mummy chats.' Fifty sighed.

‘I don't think I've ever been parented,' said Bee with a small grin. It was the first smile since she found out Doodle was gone. It soon disappeared.