Mr Dog and the Faraway Fox Read online

  MR DOG AND THE FARAWAY FOX

  Copyright

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2020

  Published in this ebook edition in 2020

  HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of

  HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

  HarperCollins Publishers

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  The HarperCollins Children’s Books website address is

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  Text copyright © Ben Fogle 2020

  Illustrations copyright © Nikolas Ilic 2020

  Cover design copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

  Ben Fogle and Nikolas Ilic assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work respectively.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9780008306458

  Ebook Edition © September 2019 ISBN: 9780008306465

  Version: 2019-10-10

  MR DOG AND THE FARAWAY FOX

  BEN FOGLE

  with Steve Cole

  Illustrated by Nikolas Ilic

  About the Author

  BEN FOGLE is a broadcaster and seasoned adventurer. A modern-day nomad and journeyman, he has travelled to more than a hundred countries and accomplished amazing feats; from swimming with crocodiles to rowing three thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean; from crossing Antarctica on foot to surviving a year as a castaway on a remote Hebridean island. Most recently, Ben climbed Mount Everest. Oh, and he LOVES dogs.

  Books by Ben Fogle

  MR DOG AND THE RABBIT HABIT

  MR DOG AND THE SEAL DEAL

  MR DOG AND A HEDGE CALLED HOG

  MR DOG AND THE FARAWAY FOX

  To Jack, Josh and Taran

  Contents

  Cover

  Half Title Page

  Copyright

  Title Page

  About the Author

  Books by Ben Fogle

  Dedication

  Chapter One A CRY IN THE NIGHT

  Chapter Two THE FOX FROM FAR AWAY

  Chapter Three NEIGHBOURHOOD NUISANCE!

  Chapter Four A FRIGHT IN THE GARDEN

  Chapter Five ATTACK IN THE ALLEYWAY

  Chapter Six ACROSS THE ROAD OF DOOM

  Chapter Seven A LONG WAY TO SAY GOODBYE

  Chapter Eight THE CULPRIT REVEALED!

  Chapter Nine HAPPY ENDINGS?

  Chapter Ten WILD AT HEART

  Notes from the Author

  About the Publisher

  Chapter One

  A CRY IN THE NIGHT

  It was late in the city. The roads were quiet and the house windows were dark. But not all animals went to bed just because humans did! Nocturnal creatures still roamed the streets and gardens…

  An eerie sound, like a howling scream, rose up into the starry springtime blackness of the sky.

  Mr Dog jumped awake, his dark eyes wide under their bushy brows. He was a raggedy mutt, with dark scruffy fur, a big black nose and front paws as white as his muzzle. ‘What a curious noise,’ he said to himself, stretching with a yawn. ‘I wonder what it was?’

  The short, sad, yowling cry came again. Mr Dog pit-patted across the kitchen to the back door, stuck his head out through the catflap and raised an ear. He tried to trace the lonely sound. But the night was quiet again, just the grumble of a car passing in a nearby road, so he went back inside.

  Mr Dog didn’t often stay in cities. A travelling dog by nature, he preferred fresh air, fields and forests. If he chose to stay with a pet owner, it was usually in a sleepy town or a small-time village. But a little while ago he’d stepped on a thorn and his paw had grown sore. He’d limped into town in search of help.

  Luckily, a kind, animal-loving lady called Minnah had found him and taken him home. She’d pulled out the thorn with tweezers, given him a good bath and even washed the red-and-white spotted hanky that he used as a collar! Her friend, who was a vet, had checked his paw, and luckily the only treatment needed was to soak it in a special bath for ten minutes, twice a day.

  ‘It’s feeling much better already,’ murmured Mr Dog, waggling his paw. ‘And how sweet and clean I smell! I may have to change my name to Lord Dog…’ He stood on his back paws and tried to look as posh as possible. ‘Hmm, perhaps even Sir Dog?’

  ‘Sir Silly Dog!’ someone giggled from a pet-carrier on the kitchen floor.

  ‘Silly? I’m being serious.’ Mr Dog beamed at the tortoise inside the carrier. ‘Or sir-ious, at least. How are you feeling, Shelly?’

  Shelly pushed out her little scaly head. ‘I’m feeling glad to have such a noble neighbour!’ she said. Shelly was a fifteen-year-old tortoise with a richly patterned shell and a sense of fun that was missing in many tortoises. She was staying with Minnah for a few days while her owners were away. ‘I just really hope that someone finds poor old Crawly soon.’

  ‘So do I,’ Mr Dog agreed sadly. Crawly was another tortoise who had lived with Shelly for years. Then, two days ago, Crawly had gone missing from their garden. There had been no sign of a forced entry.

  ‘One minute Crawly was there beneath a hedge,’ Shelly said, not for the first time, ‘and the next minute… he was gone.’ Shelly’s head slowly shrank back inside her shell. ‘It all happened so fast.’

  ‘Don’t lose hope.’ Mr Dog put his nose to the side of the pet-carrier and snuffled Shelly’s shell. ‘Crawly might still show up, you know…’

  Suddenly, he heard the creak of a floorboard. The kitchen light flicked on and Minnah came into the room.

  ‘Hello, boy.’ She yawned, patting his head. Mr Dog woofed softly in greeting and wagged his brushy tail.

  ‘That screaming fox woke you up too, did it?’ said Minnah, filling the kettle. ‘What a racket, calling out like that…’

  ‘A fox!’ Shelly shivered in her shell – though, of course, Minnah couldn’t hear a word she said. ‘I never knew that a fox could make a sound like that.’

  ‘Nor me,’ Mr Dog agreed. ‘Minnah certainly taught us something tonight.’

  Shelly’s dark eyes twinkled. ‘You mean… she “tortoise” something!’

  Mr Dog rolled on to his back and wriggled in amusement. Shelly beamed.

  Minnah made herself a cup of tea, and fed Mr Dog a biscuit. Then she switched off the light and went back up to bed.

  Mr Dog had just settled himself in his basket when the eerie fox cry sounded again.

  ‘I don’t like the thought of a fox being so close by,’ Shelly confessed. ‘My owner said it could’ve been a fox who took Crawly from the garden.’

  ‘I hope not,’ said Mr Dog, who was a friend to all animals and never one to judge. ‘Dogs and foxes tend to avoid each other, so I haven’t really met one before…’

  After a while, Shelly fell asleep, but Mr Dog’s ears jumped as the strange howl sounded once more from outside.

  I wonder why that fox is calling? thought Mr Dog. Perhaps it’s in trouble. Maybe I can help. Limping just a little, Mr Dog padded over to the catflap and squeezed through it. At the very least, I can ask him to keep the noise down so he doesn’t disturb the neighbour
s…

  The catflap opened on to a side alley: one way led to the main street, the other to a quiet lane that backed on to a row of garages. The night was cool and Mr Dog’s nose twitched with the city’s scents. The houses were dark, but the streetlamps cast bright orange patches over the pavements. Somewhere distant, gulls gave their rowdy cries and a clock struck three. Mr Dog felt happy. How nice it was to be outside again!

  His nose twitched with a strong, musky smell from the fir trees that lined someone’s garden. That fox has marked this territory, thought Mr Dog. A boy fox, unless I’m very much mistaken. He must be close by…

  Then Mr Dog caught another smell.

  The smell of a tortoise!

  Quickly he pushed his head through the fir trees – and couldn’t believe his eyes.

  A small and scrappy red fox was sitting happily in the garden – holding a tortoise in its jaws!

  Chapter Two

  THE FOX FROM FAR AWAY

  At the sight of the tortoise in trouble, Mr Dog ran forward, raised his hackles and bared his teeth, a low warning growl building in his throat.

  The fox jumped, startled by his arrival, the tortoise still clamped between his teeth.

  ‘Put the tortoise down,’ said Mr Dog.

  ‘Oh! Sorry. Do you want to play with it too?’ The fox tossed the tortoise through the air and it landed on its back beside Mr Dog. ‘There you are! Now you pass it back to me. Go on! Go on!’

  Mr Dog ignored the fox, studying the poor tortoise for injuries. It was still alive, though its shell was badly scratched. Its back legs looked to be injured, pulled back in the shell as far as they would go. An address – 12 Bankbrook Street – was written in paint on the underside of the shell.

  That’s not far from Minnah’s house, thought Mr Dog. Gently, he turned the tortoise the right way round with his nose.

  ‘Go on, pass it to me!’ The fox was almost bouncing with excitement. ‘My name’s Ferdy. What’s yours? Come on! I’ll give it back, I promise.’

  ‘This isn’t a toy, Ferdy. It’s a pet tortoise!’ Mr Dog stood in front of it protectively. ‘You’ve hurt it.’

  ‘Me?’ Ferdy shook his head. ‘No! It was like that when I found it!’

  ‘Oh, yes? And where did you find it?’

  ‘Round the corner. It was lying in someone’s garden,’ said Ferdy.

  ‘Well, my name’s Mr Dog, and the D-O-G might stand for Defender Of Gardens!’ He gave Ferdy his sternest look. ‘This isn’t the wild, you know. You can’t go around helping yourself to people’s pets.’

  ‘Sorry, Mr Dog. I should’ve realised it was a pet.’ Ferdy looked sad, his moth-eaten tail slunk between his legs. ‘I’m an urban fox. I used to live around here, but lately I’ve been far away.’ He brightened. ‘Still, now I’m back in town! Oooh. Wait. Ooooooh. What do I hear?’ He put his ear to the ground. ‘Earthworms! Yum.’ Straight away, Ferdy started digging at the grass, clawing worms from the muddy hole and guzzling them down. ‘Mmm, delicious.’

  Mr Dog frowned. ‘Ferdy, stop. You’re ruining this lawn!’

  Ferdy took no notice, lost in the delight of earthworms. Then Mr Dog’s attention was taken as the tortoise started to rock beside him. ‘Shelly?’ came its croak of a voice. ‘Shelly, are you there… ?’

  ‘Crawly!’ Mr Dog put his nose to the shell. ‘Is that you, Crawly?’

  ‘Yes!’ Crawly pushed out his frightened head and nodded. ‘Oh, what a terrible time I’ve had! Please, help me!’

  Mr Dog carefully picked up the tortoise in his jaws. With a last glare at Ferdy, he carried Crawly through the hedge and then ran back to Minnah’s house. His poorly paw throbbed a little, but Mr Dog didn’t slow down. He knew Crawly needed help as soon as possible.

  ‘WUFF! WUFF! WUFF!’ Mr Dog barked at the back door and scratched at it with his good front paw until Minnah came down in her dressing gown.

  ‘Oh, boy, however did you get out through that catflap?’ she began. Then she saw what Mr Dog was holding. ‘Oh, no!’

  ‘It wasn’t me!’ Mr Dog whined, and put Crawly down at Minnah’s feet, then pressed himself against her legs. Minnah quickly scooped up the tortoise and turned on the light. ‘Twelve Bankbrook Street,’ she read aloud. ‘Same address as on Shelly here.’ She then looked back down at Mr Dog. ‘I don’t know what happened out there, boy, but you found Crawly!’

  ‘Mr Dog!’ Shelly was up and bright-eyed at the bars of the carry-case. ‘You’re a genius! You found the old stinker.’

  ‘Cheeky!’ Crawly called.

  Mr Dog wagged his tail proudly as Minnah fed him a dog treat. Then he curled up in his basket and licked at his paw while his pet owner used her phone to call her vet friend.

  ‘I’m sorry to wake you,’ she said. ‘I’ve found that missing tortoise and he’s been in the wars. There are some nasty scratches on his shell, but I don’t know what made them. There are no teeth marks, but his back legs are hurt. Please, can you come over?’

  ‘Poor Crawly,’ said Shelly softly. ‘I hope he’ll be all right.’

  ‘So do I,’ said Mr Dog.

  Minnah’s friend the vet soon arrived. She examined Crawly on Minnah’s dining table and confirmed that the tortoise had had a lucky escape. One of his back legs was swollen, and the other looked to be broken.

  ‘I’m sure Crawly will make a full recovery,’ the vet said, ‘but I’ll need to get X-rays before I set his leg. I’ll take him in now.’

  ‘Nice early start for you,’ Minnah joked. ‘Sorry! What do you think took Crawly?’

  ‘A fox is the most likely suspect.’ The vet smiled down at Mr Dog. ‘At least we know who brought him back! Though how he found him out there will always be a mystery.’

  ‘I should change my name to Mystery Dog,’ said Mr Dog with a sleepy smile. But there was one mystery that was keeping him awake: Ferdy the fox. Where had the fox been, so far away? Had he been telling the truth about Crawly being hurt before he’d found him?

  If so… who had really taken the timid tortoise?

  Mr Dog didn’t know. But he was determined to find out!

  Chapter Three

  NEIGHBOURHOOD NUISANCE!

  Mr Dog hadn’t been asleep for long before a loud and heavy clattering from outside disturbed him. Too tired to investigate this time, he curled up tighter in his basket and went on huffling and puffling.

  Later, but still quite early in the morning, Mr Dog was woken again by angry voices outside. Minnah had heard them too, and now went out in her dressing gown to investigate. She left the door ajar, so an inquisitive Mr Dog slipped out after her.

  A small crowd of neighbours had gathered on the pavement outside the house next door, and none of them looked happy. Mr Dog realised what must have caused the clatter. A food-waste bin, left out for collection on the driveway, had been thrown on its side and dragged all about, its lid forced open and the messy contents scattered over the front garden, the pavement and the road.

  ‘Fox!’ said a bald man with a red face. ‘It has to be a fox that did this to my bin.’

  An old lady nodded. ‘I’ve seen one about. The filthy thing’s dug holes in my garden.’

  ‘And I heard a tortoise went missing just round the corner,’ said a younger woman. ‘That’s got to be a fox.’

  ‘They’re known for it,’ Minnah agreed. ‘We found the poor thing, but it’s been hurt, and had to go to the vet…’

  Mr Dog sniffed the air for traces of Ferdy’s scent. He knew foxes were frequent scent-markers, and sure enough he caught a faint whiff. There was a much stronger smell of leftover lasagne on the pavement, but he supposed that now was not the time to start cleaning up the mess in his own special way.

  ‘I’ve got rabbits in my back garden,’ the bald man said. ‘If I catch a fox bothering them, the law says I’m allowed to shoot it!’

  Minnah looked shocked. ‘You can’t! It’s only obeying its nature. Wherever there are people, there will be foxes. Just like there will always be rats and gulls
and pigeons.’

  ‘But foxes are bigger,’ the old lady said. ‘They can bite. They’re dangerous!’

  The other neighbours nodded and muttered.

  ‘If you see it again, call me,’ said the bald man. ‘I’ll come right round to deal with it!’

  Minnah shook her head sadly. She started to pick up the rubbish and put it back in the bin. The younger woman gave her a hand. Mr Dog picked up some lasagne – just to help out.

  I hope that Ferdy stops causing trouble around here, thought Mr Dog. If he doesn’t, I don’t like to think what might happen!

  Later that day, Mr Dog was delighted when Crawly was brought back to Minnah’s house. The vet had set the tortoise’s little leg in a splint and an impressive white bandage was wrapped round his shell to help hold the splint in place. The other leg had been patched up, and Crawly was able to hobble across the kitchen floor at quite a speed.

  ‘Crawly!’ said Shelly. ‘You’re back.’

  ‘What about my back?’ joked Crawly. ‘It’s my leg you should be asking after!’

  The two tortoises spent a full minute in silent laughter.

  ‘You’re a very brave tortoise, Crawly,’ said Mr Dog. ‘Do you remember what happened to you?’

  Crawly shifted uncomfortably. ‘Something grabbed me, and lifted me into the air. It was moving so fast! The next thing I remember, it was dark and I was looking up at a fox. It picked me up and threw me!’

  ‘A fox!’ Shelly nodded her scaly head. ‘I knew it.’

  ‘That fox said that he didn’t steal you,’ said Mr Dog thoughtfully. ‘He only found you in a garden.’

  ‘He must be a fibbing fox!’ said Crawly.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Mr Dog, ‘but you were gone for a long time, Crawly. Why didn’t the fox get bored and eat you up?’

  ‘Eeek!’ Crawly pulled his head back into his shell and stayed there.