Books by Laura James

  Illustrated by Églantine Ceulemans

  Captain Pug

  Cowboy Pug

  Safari Pug

  Pirate Pug

  Illustrated by Emily Fox

  Fabio the World’s Greatest Flamingo Detective: The Case of the Missing Hippo

  Fabio the World’s Greatest Flamingo Detective: Mystery on the Ostrich Express

  Fabio the World’s Greatest Flamingo Detective: Peril at Lizard Lake

  Illustrated by Charlie Alder

  News Hounds: The Puppy Problem

  News Hounds: The Dinosaur Discovery

  News Hounds: The Cow Calamity

  For Charles and Rachel – L.J.

  For June and Sadie: ‘Westies are the besties!’ Also for J & W always x – C.A.

  Farmer Val was herding the cows into the upper field. Bunty kept a safe distance. She found this the scariest job of all at Withy Hook Farm. There was something about the cows that terrified her. She wasn’t sure if it was their swishing tails, their strange mooing or the fact that they could put their tongues up their noses that bothered her most, but she was always glad when the herding was done.

  With the last cow safely in the field and tucking into the fresh grass, Bunty nudged the gate with her nose until a satisfying click told her it was shut properly. She then crawled under the gate and into the lane that led back to the farmhouse. It was a relief to be out of the way of those hungry monsters.

  As Bunty pondered her dislike of cows, Fliss, Bunty’s ever-present fly, hovered greedily over a cowpat. Bunty enjoyed the rare opportunity to return to the farmyard unaccompanied.

  One thing Bunty was really good at was predicting the weather. She sniffed the air and lifted her eyes to the sky. Since becoming the weather reporter for the Bunty took it even more seriously. Every dog in the village depended on her to know when to pester their owners to take them for a walk. Today the weather looked good. Not a cloud in the sky. It was a walk-all-day-if-you-like kind of day.

  ‘Bunty!’ Farmer Val called for her. ‘Pig time!’

  Bunty wagged her tail and followed Farmer Val to the pigsty. She liked the pigs. They were clever animals. Fliss, who loved feeding time, reappeared. She bumped into Bunty’s head deliberately. Fliss enjoyed nothing more than bugging Bunty. Bumping into Bunty’s head was her favourite way of communicating. Bunty snapped at her, as she often did. She had never actually caught Fliss even though she had tried to many times. Fliss really was a pest.

  Farmer Val put the pig feed into the trough. The sow and her piglets tucked in happily, their ears dipping into their food as they ate.

  The sound of a van entering the farmyard told Bunty that Stan the postman had arrived. He was early. Bunty eagerly raised the alarm by barking and dancing around Farmer Val’s feet. She was keen to make amends for not helping with the cows. Fliss joined in, thinking it was a game, but she sent Bunty off course so that she bumped into Farmer Val, who, in turn, slammed her foot on a rake and landed in the pigswill.

  The piglets scattered, squealing. Bunty cowered behind the trough. She had never heard Val cry out like that before.

  Stan came rushing over. ‘You all right, Val?’ he asked the farmer as a piglet oinked in her ear. Stan pulled her to her feet, but she couldn’t stand. ‘It’s my ankle,’ she said. ‘I must have twisted it as I fell.’

  Behind the trough, Fliss flew into Bunty’s head repeatedly. Bunty gave her a look that told Fliss to buzz off.

  Farmer Val couldn’t walk properly, and Stan had to support her as she hobbled towards the farmhouse. Bunty crept beside them, her tail between her legs.

  ‘It’s all right, Bunty,’ Farmer Val reassured her. ‘I’ll be all right.’

  But Bunty wasn’t so sure.

  Once Stan knew the doctor was on the way, he left Farmer Val in the kitchen with her foot up on a stool. Bunty nudged her human’s hand in sympathy.

  Farmer Val tickled her behind the ear, then sighed. ‘What am I going to do now, Bunty? Who’s going to look after the farm?’

  When the doctor arrived to look after Farmer Val, Bunty slipped out of the house and into the farmyard unnoticed.

  She thought of all the jobs that needed doing. The eggs needed collecting from the henhouse, the ewes and their lambs needed to be checked, and Stephen the orphaned lamb would be wanting his bottle soon. The goat pen’s fencing was in a terrible state, and the honey had to be extracted from the beehive.

  It was quite a list. Fliss sat on Bunty’s nose and buzzed insistently. Bunty sighed. ‘You’re right, Fliss. I’ll just have to try my best.’ She took a deep breath and set to work.

  Farming is a lot harder than it looks, thought Bunty.

  The chickens ran out of their coop and Bunty accidentally smashed the eggs.

  Stephen wouldn’t take his bottle and was very wriggly.

  A goat thought Bunty’s tail was edible, and the bees were none too happy about her taking their honey.

  By the end of the day she’d been kicked, bitten, pecked and stung and she smelt as if she hadn’t had a bath since Christmas. Bunty needed help.

  The following morning, Gizmo, editor-in-chief of the was just piecing together an article on the best places to roll in something smelly, when Bunty showed up.

  ‘Goodness, how did you get so many scratches!’ Gizmo exclaimed.

  ‘I’ve got an emergency and I need your help,’ replied Bunty.

  Gizmo could see Bunty was in a bad way. He patched her up as she told him about the situation at the farm.

  ‘We’ll all help, Bunty, don’t you worry,’ he said. ‘Go back to the farm and we’ll meet you there.’ And as Bunty headed back home, Gizmo set about rounding up the News Hounds.

  His first stop was for Jilly, who was just next door. She was delighted to help. ‘I love the farm!’ she said.

  As they walked to the station to pick up Bob, Gizmo confided in Jilly. ‘I said I’d help, but I’m not sure I’m really a farm type of dog, Jilly. Perhaps I should stay back and work on the paper.’

  ‘Nonsense, Gizmo,’ replied Jilly.

  ‘There’ll be something you can do.

  Besides, you gave her your word.’

  ‘I know. I’m just not very good with animals,’ he admitted.

  On hearing the news about Farmer Val, Bob, the station dog, glanced at the timetable. ‘Colin can handle things for a few hours,’ he said. ‘I’d be happy to help.’

  Gizmo and Jilly knew how difficult it was for Bob to leave the running of Puddle Station as the sole responsibility of the stationmaster, so they appreciated the gesture.

  They found Lola in Pageant Gardens teaching an exercise class. Her students were so exhausted they were relieved when she ended the session early.

  The final stop was the hairdresser in the high street, where Bruno was taking a nap by the front door. He too was happy to help.

  ‘Of course I’ll come with you,’ he said. ‘Ooh, hang on a sec,’ he added, popping into the salon and coming out with his grooming bag. ‘Just in case any of the animals on the farm are in need of a makeover,’ he informed them. ‘Like that really big horse. Edward, is it?’

  ‘Edmund,’ Jilly corrected him. ‘Yeah, he’s huge.’

  Gizmo gulped. Coming from Jilly, this was saying something.

  Bunty was delighted when her friends turned up at the farm. Her tail wouldn’t stop wagging and even Fliss was positively buzzing.

  ‘There’s plenty to do,’ she told them. ‘We just have to make sure Farmer Val doesn’t see us at work. Now, bark up if there’s anything in particular you want to do as I run through the list … The ewes and their lambs?’

  ‘I can do that,’ said Bruno.

  ‘Thank you, Bruno,’ said Bunty. ‘Who would like to look after the chickens?’

  ‘I can,’ replied Bob.

  ‘Excellent, they’re over there.’

  Bunty pointed her nose in the general direction of the henhouse. ‘Who can help me with the fencing for the goats?’ she asked next.

  ‘I’ll help,’ said Lola.

  Bunty was pleased with this. She knew Lola could easily outrun a charging billy goat if she needed to.

  ‘That just leaves Jilly and Gizmo … well, Edmund’s stable needs mucking out …’

  Jilly glanced across at Gizmo’s face and saw his look of horror.

  ‘I can do that,’ she volunteered. ‘We’re probably the same height, after all.’

  Gizmo looked very relieved.

  ‘Gizmo, that just leaves collecting the honey …’

  ‘I can do that,’ said Gizmo. His human, Grannie, loved honey on her toast in the morning. He knew all about honey. ‘Where is it?’ he asked.

  ‘The hives are in the far field,’ said Bunty. ‘A bit of advice: be careful and don’t annoy them.’

  ‘Annoy who?’

  But Bunty didn’t hear him. She was getting ready to face the cows. She couldn’t ask her friends to do such a terrifying task.

  Bruno was in his element caring for the sheep. The ewes had been quite stand-offish with Bunty, but it didn’t take him long to realise that all they needed was a bit of pampering. He laid his trusty grooming bag on the ground and started work cutting fleeces, shining hoofs and giving shoulder rubs. The new mums felt very relaxed and let him check on their lambs without a fuss.

  Bob was doing well with the chickens. He made sure they had enough food and water and carefully gathered their eggs into a basket. Being about the same size as a chicken himself, he found they barely

noticed he was there.

  Lola did such a good job running away from the charging billy goat that he gave up and had to have a lie-down. This gave her a chance to fix the fencing without being disturbed.

  Jilly cleaned out Edmund’s stable, gave him some more hay and threw a rug over him.

  Meanwhile Bunty slipped through the bars of the upper-field gate unnoticed. She crept towards the cow herd. All she had to do was move them to the lower field, but as she approached she could hear their noisy eating, swishing tails and stomping hoofs. Her heart was in her mouth.

  At this exact moment, on the other side of the farm, Gizmo came hurtling towards the farmyard, barking like he’d never barked before. In hot pursuit was a very angry swarm of bees.

  Gizmo jumped into a nearby water trough to escape attack and the other News Hounds quickly took cover.

  In the upper field, Bunty edged closer to the cows. She was determined to overcome her fear. As she crouched down in the long grass, she heard a faint buzzing sound.

  ‘Shh, Fliss!’ she whispered.

  But the buzzing grew louder.

  ‘Fliss!’ she said. ‘The cows will hear!’ She was almost within kicking distance and getting very nervous.

  Fliss bumped into Bunty’s head – she really was the most annoying fly – and Bunty flapped her ears in annoyance. But as Fliss landed on her nose, Bunty noticed the buzzing hadn’t stopped. In fact, it was getting even louder.

  Was Fliss pointing at something?

  Bunty turned to look over her shoulder just as the swarm of bees surrounded the cows like a black cloud. Within seconds the cows were in a frenzy, their huge hoofs pounding through the mud away from the bees … and towards Bunty.

  Stampede!

  Bunty didn’t wait a moment more. She turned tail and ran for the gate.

  Back in the farmyard, the News Hounds came out of hiding, and Jilly scooped a bedraggled Gizmo out of the water trough.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  ‘Nobody told me there would be bees!’ he whined.

  ‘Where did you think honey came from?’ asked Jilly, surprised.

  ‘A shop,’ replied Gizmo, ‘or, you know, a cupboard.’

  Jilly hid her smile as she licked her friend’s wounds. ‘Mm, you taste like honey!’

  ‘Remember, you’re not to eat me, Jilly,’ replied Gizmo with a wag of his tail. He was feeling better already.

  But just then Bunty ran into the farmyard panting. ‘The cows … the bees … they’ve never done that before!’ she exclaimed, trying to catch her breath.

  ‘I’m sorry, Bunty, that was my fault,’ confessed Gizmo. ‘I think I upset them.’

  ‘Oh. Right. That’s OK, Gizmo. Not your fault,’ said Bunty. ‘But I still haven’t moved the cows to the lower field and I need to do it before it rains tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘We can help you tomorrow morning. Plan Bee,’ suggested Bruno with a wink.

  ‘Maybee,’ agreed Bob.

  ‘I think I left my Fris-bee in the park,’ giggled Lola.

  ‘That can’t bee,’ laughed Jilly.

  ‘Unbeelievable!’ exclaimed Gizmo, catching the joke.

  Bunty wagged her tail. ‘Oh, bee-hive, you lot!’

  On their second day of farming, the News Hounds were getting the hang of things a little better and Withy Hook Farm soon looked spick and span.

  Bunty decided to give Gizmo an easy job and asked him to sit outside the stable and be the lookout.

  ‘Are you OK there, Gizmo, keeping an eye out for us?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Gizmo. ‘I can do this. It gives me the chance to think up what words I’m going to use for my piece about the farm.’

  ‘If Farmer Val comes anywhere near the window you must bark three times. Got it?’ asked Bunty.

  ‘Got it,’ replied Gizmo.

  ‘And, Gizmo?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘No bees.’

  ‘No bees, Bunty,’ he replied.

  Bunty wasn’t feeling bold enough to try herding the cows again, so she decided to harvest the apples in the orchard instead.

  Gizmo’s first hour or so of being lookout passed without incident. The sun was shining, and he sat on the steps outside the stable and took in the new sights, sounds and smells that surrounded him. He was managing to think of lots of pretty words to describe the farm. He felt sure he was going to write his best article yet.

  He was just trying to think of a good headline when a large nose appeared over the stable door. Gizmo, sitting on the steps, was at muzzle height with Edmund.

  Gizmo felt his heart race, but when Edmund whinnied, his whiskery lips jiggling about, Gizmo’s fears left him.

  Gizmo glanced over and noticed that the hay feeder was empty.

  ‘Are you hungry, boy?’ Gizmo asked, and without waiting for a reply he jumped down the steps in the only way a dachshund can and climbed on to a nearby stack of hay bales. He tugged on some hay and managed to free a mouthful, which he carefully offered to Edmund. The horse gently nibbled at it. Gizmo was delighted he was striking up a new friendship and turned round on the bale to get more hay.

  But this time, when he tugged on the hay the top bale fell, sending the others crashing. Gizmo dodged out of the way and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. The house was still. He tried to put the hay bale back, but he couldn’t move it. It was too big. He tried to shove it with his shoulder. Nothing. He then decided to run at it, but it was like running into a brick wall.

  Gizmo thought for a second and decided to go and get something to lever it. He found a shovel which he dragged across from the barn. He pushed it under the bale, but even when he sat on the end of the shovel his weight wasn’t enough to budge it.

  As he sat there he suddenly remembered he was supposed to be on lookout. He glanced at the farmhouse, and staring right back at him was Farmer Val.

  She’d seen everything.

  ‘Woof, woof, woof!’

  Every dog followed the drill and froze.

  But it was too late.

  Bob was carrying a basket of eggs, Bruno was bottle-feeding Stephen, Lola was herding up the ducks and Jilly was helping Bunty with a barrow full of apples.

  Farmer Val picked up the phone.

  ‘Hello, is that PuddleVision News? You won’t believe the story I’ve got for you!

  In no time Withy Hook farmyard was filled with TV reporters.

  Bunty was furious.

  Gizmo, being editor-in-chief of the felt it was his duty to teach the other News Hounds how to deal with the press.

  ‘Remember, this is a “no comment” situation. We don’t want the humans knowing about this. Just wag your tail and lick things.’

  ‘Which is my best side?’ asked Lola, spinning in circles to look at herself.

  ‘Both are spectacular,’ said Bruno, who was a good encourager.

  ‘OK, News Hounds,’ Gizmo said. ‘It’s time for our close-up.’

  The camera crews were all very well, but the thing that mattered to Bunty was the farm. Everyone had left their jobs half done.

  The door to the chicken coop had been left open and the chickens had started to wander off. She set about trying to gather them up. Some were in the barn, some in with the pigs, and a little red hen had escaped into the garden and was busy eating vegetables from the vegetable patch.

 

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