hungry I could even eat a Dry-Mouth Dog Biscuit!”
Selby climbed up the jacaranda next to the side window and peered in at the ghost hunter who sat in the hall with her camera in one hand and the rope in the other.
“Psychic powers, piffle!” Selby thought. “The woman’s sound asleep and she thinks she’s going to catch a ghost. What rubbish! Whether or not she knows it,” Selby added, “the Trifles left this window unlocked and Myrene’s about to have a visitor.”
Selby eased himself onto the window ledge and then slowly raised the window. He leaned in and put a leg in front of Myrene’s face, waving his paw in front of her.
“A ghost could be doing a tapdance in front of her and she’d sleep through it,” he thought. “That does it, I’m going in for a bite to eat, ghost hunt or no ghost hunt.”
Selby crept down the hall to the kitchen and quietly crunched a couple of dog biscuits.
“If only I could just stay inside for the night,” he thought. “Only then the Trifles would figure out that I opened an unlocked window and climbed in. They’d know they weren’t dealing with an ordinary dog and it would be just a matter of time till my
(gulp)
secret would be out. Oh, well, out in the cold I go.”
Selby was heading back down the hall when the sleeping Myrene Spleen suddenly jumped to her feet and yelled, “I’ve got the feeling! I’ve got the feeling! He’s here!” And with this she pulled the rope.
“Help!” Selby screamed as the paint hit him with a glop and a slop and Myrene’s camera flashed at the same time. “Get me out of here!”
He tore down the hall, hurled himself through the air — narrowly missing the screaming woman — and dived out the open window.
“I’m finished!” he said, hosing off the paint with the garden sprinkler. “It’s over. As soon as they look at that photo they’ll know that I climbed a tree and broke in through the hall window. I’m done. I’d better go and confess right now.”
Selby slunk towards the front door just as Myrene burst out on the way to her car.
“Look at the dog!” she screamed, waving a photograph at Dr and Mrs Trifle. “I was wrong. It wasn’t the ghost of Brumby Bill. It was the ghost of Brumby Bill’s dog!”
Selby stared at the picture of himself, covered in paint, leaping through the air towards the window.
“It’s the first dog ghost that’s ever been photographed! And a talking dog ghost, too! Did you hear him say, ‘Get me out of here!?’ He won’t be back to haunt you. This is great! It’ll be my best TV show yet!”
“That was a close call,” Selby thought as he lay on the hall carpet a little later with his eyes closed, ready for sleep. “I can’t wait to see Myrene Spleen on TV talking about the dog ghost and holding up that picture of mecovered in paint. Well, at least I can sleep in the house again
(yawn)
now that this ghost nonsense is over.”
Selby listened as the footsteps walked along the hall, passing so close to his head that he felt a slight breeze from the moving legs.
“That’ll be Dr Trifle (
yawn)
heading for the kitchen to get a drink of water,” he thought. “He often does that in the middle of the night.”
Had Selby lifted his head at that moment and opened his eyes to look down the darkened hall, searching for the shape of Dr Trifle hurrying along in his dressing-gown; had he just lifted one eyelid a crack, as he did when he didn’t want anyone to know he was peeking, instead of falling into a deep sleep, he’d have seen
that there was no one there.
A Tip for Selby
There were times when being the only talking, reading and writing dog in Australia — and as far as he knew, in the whole world — and trying to keep it a secret, was not easy. But it was a secret that Selby was determined to keep even if it killed him. On October 3rd it nearly did …
October 3rd was clean-up day in Bogusville and Dr and Mrs Trifle had put out some old, broken furniture to be taken to
Selby climbed up the jacaranda next to the side window and peered in at the ghost hunter who sat in the hall with her camera in one hand and the rope in the other.
“Psychic powers, piffle!” Selby thought. “The woman’s sound asleep and she thinks she’s going to catch a ghost. What rubbish! Whether or not she knows it,” Selby added, “the Trifles left this window unlocked and Myrene’s about to have a visitor.”
Selby eased himself onto the window ledge and then slowly raised the window. He leaned in and put a leg in front of Myrene’s face, waving his paw in front of her.
“A ghost could be doing a tapdance in front of her and she’d sleep through it,” he thought. “That does it, I’m going in for a bite to eat, ghost hunt or no ghost hunt.”
Selby crept down the hall to the kitchen and quietly crunched a couple of dog biscuits.
“If only I could just stay inside for the night,” he thought. “Only then the Trifles would figure out that I opened an unlocked window and climbed in. They’d know they weren’t dealing with an ordinary dog and it would be just a matter of time till my
(gulp)
secret would be out. Oh, well, out in the cold I go.”
Selby was heading back down the hall when the sleeping Myrene Spleen suddenly jumped to her feet and yelled, “I’ve got the feeling! I’ve got the feeling! He’s here!” And with this she pulled the rope.
“Help!” Selby screamed as the paint hit him with a glop and a slop and Myrene’s camera flashed at the same time. “Get me out of here!”
He tore down the hall, hurled himself through the air — narrowly missing the screaming woman — and dived out the open window.
“I’m finished!” he said, hosing off the paint with the garden sprinkler. “It’s over. As soon as they look at that photo they’ll know that I climbed a tree and broke in through the hall window. I’m done. I’d better go and confess right now.”
Selby slunk towards the front door just as Myrene burst out on the way to her car.
“Look at the dog!” she screamed, waving a photograph at Dr and Mrs Trifle. “I was wrong. It wasn’t the ghost of Brumby Bill. It was the ghost of Brumby Bill’s dog!”
Selby stared at the picture of himself, covered in paint, leaping through the air towards the window.
“It’s the first dog ghost that’s ever been photographed! And a talking dog ghost, too! Did you hear him say, ‘Get me out of here!?’ He won’t be back to haunt you. This is great! It’ll be my best TV show yet!”
“That was a close call,” Selby thought as he lay on the hall carpet a little later with his eyes closed, ready for sleep. “I can’t wait to see Myrene Spleen on TV talking about the dog ghost and holding up that picture of mecovered in paint. Well, at least I can sleep in the house again
(yawn)
now that this ghost nonsense is over.”
Selby listened as the footsteps walked along the hall, passing so close to his head that he felt a slight breeze from the moving legs.
“That’ll be Dr Trifle (
yawn)
heading for the kitchen to get a drink of water,” he thought. “He often does that in the middle of the night.”
Had Selby lifted his head at that moment and opened his eyes to look down the darkened hall, searching for the shape of Dr Trifle hurrying along in his dressing-gown; had he just lifted one eyelid a crack, as he did when he didn’t want anyone to know he was peeking, instead of falling into a deep sleep, he’d have seen
that there was no one there.
A Tip for Selby
There were times when being the only talking, reading and writing dog in Australia — and as far as he knew, in the whole world — and trying to keep it a secret, was not easy. But it was a secret that Selby was determined to keep even if it killed him. On October 3rd it nearly did …
October 3rd was clean-up day in Bogusville and Dr and Mrs Trifle had put out some old, broken furniture to be taken to
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