Free The Amazing Adventures of Freddie Whitemouse by Elizabeth Jane Howard

that was nonsense too, and he bought me a brown one, same as
usual.’ Talking about the Major seemed to animate him, and he walked shakily to his bowl and started eating. Charley, who had finished his quickly, sat beside Alphonse telling him rather
sternly to eat everything up. Then they both had a good drink.
    ‘Well – now we’d better review the situation.’
    ‘What situation?’ Charley felt full of food and warm and nearly happy, and not very keen on a situation because they always seemed to be worrying.
    ‘Well, this Hook or Crook person will come looking for you, won’t she?’
    He hadn’t thought of that. ‘She’ll never think I would get here. It’s miles away. She’s not a dog.’
    ‘She might easily think that someone found you wandering and bunged you in here.’
    This gave him a moment of sheer panic. ‘If she comes near me, I’ll bite her. I’ll growl to give warning, and then I’ll BITE her!’
    ‘No, you won’t. You’ll cringe. You’ll lie down with your tail between your legs and you’ll whine.’
    ‘Why will I? I’m quite brave enough to bite her.’
    ‘My dear old bloke, you’ll cringe and whine because then Anne will see that you are afraid of her, and you’re afraid of her because she has been treating you badly. They never
let people take dogs who do that. It’s your best hope.’
    Charley was overcome with affection and respect. ‘I would never have thought of that. You really are a poodle in a thousand. TEN thousand!’
    ‘I know I am. The Major recognised that. It was merely my sense of style that he didn’t altogether grasp. Not a drop of – he called it frog – blood in his
veins.’
    Charley didn’t understand that at all. Why would a poodle have any frog’s blood? Anyway . . . ‘I’ll cringe,’ he said.
    ‘Show me!’
    ‘That’s not a really cringing cringe,’ he said, after Charley had done his best.
    ‘Well – you show me!’
    Instantly Alphonse cowered away from him, his whole body abject with fear, his usually kind brown eyes rolling and showing the whites as though in panic, and uttering small whimpering cries of
terror: ‘Please don’t hit me again; I beg you, beseech you – don’t!
    ‘More like that,’ he said in his ordinary voice.
    Charley was deeply impressed. ‘What does beseech mean?’
    ‘It means kind of double beg. Now, you have another go.’
    So then they played a game of taking it in turns to frighten each other until Charley got quite good at it and Alphonse said that he was tired and needed his rest. ‘At least we’re
prepared,’ he said.
    ‘For the worst?’
    ‘It’s the only thing we can prepare for. It comes from being a dog. No power. And precious little choice.’
    ‘We can hope for the best.’ Charley was sleepy now and did not at all want to think about the worst.
    Anne took them for a brief walk. Alphonse tried to run so that Charley could get some exercise, but Charley stuck to walking or a sedate trot to suit Alphonse. They both
enjoyed the fresher air, and Alphonse said that while Anne had stroked Charley’s head, she’d said he would never have to go back to ‘that woman’ again. When she stroked
Alphonse’s head she said, ‘You two; you’re inseparable, aren’t you?’ They both kissed her hands and wagged their tails and Charley stood on his hind legs because he
wanted to put his arms around her neck, but she just smiled and wouldn’t let him. When they got back their cage had been cleaned out and there was nice cold water in their bowl. There was the
usual shouting and yelping from the cages – ‘What about me? Let me out! I want to go home!’ – but Charley had become used to it, and anyway it died down as soon as Anne had
collected the next group of dogs for their walk.
    They had a short sleep comfortably curled up together, and when they woke Alphonse proposed a game.
    ‘It’s called the best and the worst,’ he said. ‘You think of the best that could happen, and then I