Free Charlie's Gang by Scilla James

out with the intention of continuing with his home-made therapy. But he made no progress. He knew that there was no point in going out, looking at a rat and coming home again. Even some humans could cope with that. So he felt a failure, and began to lose his natural sparkle. He couldn’t sleep for worrying about what his gang would think of him. They would surely lose all respect.
    Then one morning, on his way home from one of his unsuccessful trips to the back of Andrew Mulligan’s house, he bumped into his friend Timba.
    Timba was a Border Terrier who lived in a house next to the pub in East Foxmould. His owners, Mr and Mrs Christie, had five children, hardly any money, and no time to spare. They were not unkind people, but they took little notice of their dog, what with the struggle to feed and wash all the small Christies, and Timba rarely got taken for walks. The children paid attention to him every now and again, but apart from entering him in the Annual Terrier Race, they didn’t do much else. He was therefore left to his own devices, which was a pity, as he was a clever dog, and, as it happened, an excellent ratter. Indeed it was he, rather than Sebastian the cat, who kept the local rats under control, but he got no credit for his work, and Sebastian, who got the credit instead, never let on.
    Timba got on well with Charlie, whom he greatly admired. The two terriers, very different in appearance and temperament, would chat whenever Mr Trundle came down to the pub. Timba often hung about there in the hope of interesting company. He wished he could join Charlie’s gang and be one of the boys.
    So it was that at the highest, or actually the lowest point, of Charlie’s despair, it was Timba who came to the rescue. On this particular morning, Charlie was trotting gloomily along past the pub, when Timba greeted him.
    â€˜Mornin’,’ he said, ‘has something terrible happened Charlie? You look bad.’
    Charlie made an effort to perk up.
    â€˜Oh no, I’m fine.’
    â€˜Wanna come and have some fun?’ Timba asked. ‘There are some rats in the pub shed, and there must be at least eight of them. I’ve been meaning to do something about them for a while, but you can share the job if you like. Might cheer you up.’
    â€˜It’d take more than eight rats to cheer me up,’ said Charlie, barely raising his head to look at his friend, ‘or should I say less than eight.’
    â€˜Whatever do you mean?’
    â€˜Oh nothing,’ said Charlie. ‘I’m not so fond of catching rats as you all think.’
    â€˜Eh?’
    â€˜Nothing for you to worry about,’ said Charlie. ‘You’re a Border Terrier Timba, you wouldn’t understand.’
    Timba wondered if Charlie was being rude. What was wrong with being a Border Terrier?
    â€˜I thought you were the world’s best ratter,’ he said.
    â€˜Used to be,’ said Charlie, which wasn’t true, but sounded better than the truth. ‘I just hate rats these days!’
    â€˜Oh, that happened to my uncle Karl,’ said Timba airily. ‘Sudden Fear of Pests Syndrome. SFPS it’s known as. There’s a cure but I can’t remember what it is. I’ll have a think if it’ll help.’
    â€˜Oh, I wish you would,’ said Charlie, ‘I’m getting so fed up.’
    â€˜Not surprised,’ said Timba sympathetically. His little hairy forehead tensed in a frown, and he marched up and down on the pavement, thinking.
    Charlie waited politely.
    â€˜It’s no good,’ said Timba sadly, ‘my uncle did get some help but I can’t remember what it was. But come with me Charlie. The rats I’m talking about have been left to themselves for quite a while and they’ve become very relaxed. They won’t be as scary as the ones you’re used to, and that might make you feel better. Let’s go together.’
    Charlie was amazed