The Hairball of Horror! (4 page)

As the
Dogstar
orbited planet Earth, four teleport beams whooshed upon the transportation deck and when the sparkling lights twinkled away, there were four dogs aboard
the ship. The three Spacemutts looked around and frowned at the snoring new recruit, all wondering how he’d managed to sleep through his first journey in a light transporter.

‘Wakey-wakey!’ Butch said cheerily, trotting away to check the engines at the back of the ship. The poodle stopped snoring and snuffled, but didn’t fully wake up.

‘Rise and shine!’ Poppy added, taking her seat in the cockpit and switching the ship’s controls from autopilot to manual. The poodle shifted slightly on his blanket, but failed
to rise
or
shine.

‘There’s only one thing that will wake him,’ said Rocket, hopping up to the central hub and flicking on the intercom. ‘YOUR POMPOMS ARE DROOPY!’ roared the captain,
his voice booming from the speakers.

Montague immediately sat bolt upright, removed the cotton wool from his ears and lifted off his eye-mask. ‘Where am I?’ he gasped, glancing around the ship in a panic while patting
his pompoms to make sure they were still perfectly puffy.

‘You’re aboard the
Dogstar
!’ said Butch.

Poppy pointed out of the window. ‘We’re orbiting planet Earth!’ she added.

‘Now do you believe us?’ smiled Rocket, clearly proud of his ship.

The prim poodle crept cautiously over to the cockpit and peered out at the starry night. Then he turned slowly and walked back through the great metal belly of the
Dogstar
, frowning at
the central hub and the giant monitor, before stepping carefully around the engines. Eventually he returned to his blanket and sat down.

‘Well?’ the Spacemutts said together. ‘Say something!’

‘Why is everything so dirty?’ asked Montague, pulling a face as he examined his paw-pads.

‘Because it’s a spaceship full of greasy engines!’ said Butch.

‘And space-dust gets everywhere!’ laughed Poppy.

asked Rocket, who was used to new recruits being amazed and excited. ‘Any questions you’d like to ask us?’

‘When are we going home?’ huffed the poodle. ‘Unlike you lot, I have a new family coming to collect me in the morning and I don’t want to disappoint them by being late .
. . or even worse, being untidy!’

‘We’ll have you back in time,’ sighed Rocket. ‘I promise.’

‘So while you’re here you might as well let your hair down and have some fun,’ said Poppy, spinning around in her pilot seat. ‘Don’t you ever just want to dig in
the dirt and get messy sometimes?’

‘No’ said the poodle. ‘I prefer to stay clean and presentable.’

‘Why?’ asked Butch, who had no such ambition and dribbled down his front as if to prove it.

‘Because getting dirty is what landed me in the Pooch Pound in the first place!’ snapped Montague. ‘I didn’t win my last dog show, because I had a speck of mud on my paw,
and the following day my master got rid of me.’

‘We’re sorry to hear that, Monty,’ said Rocket, trying to comfort the poodle. ‘But you should know that most humans expect their dogs to get mucky from time to time, and
it doesn’t change how much they love them.’

‘How would
you
know?’ sniffed the poodle, settling down on his blanket where he could sleep and stay clean. ‘And please don’t call me Monty. My proper pedigree
title is Lord Montague Pompidou the Third!’