Mr Dog and the Kitten Catastrophe Read online

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2021

  Published in this ebook edition in 2021

  HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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  Text copyright © Ben Fogle 2021

  Illustrations copyright © Nikolas Ilic 2021

  Cover design copyright © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2021

  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.

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  Source ISBN: 9780008408299

  Ebook Edition © February 2021 ISBN: 9780008408305

  Version: 2021-01-27

  For Inca, Maggi and Bica

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Map

  Chapter One: The Forest Monster

  Chapter Two: Finding Mama

  Chapter Three: Spotted Danger

  Chapter Four: A Strange Discovery

  Chapter Five: The Mighty Zeus!

  Chapter Six: The Sandwich Struggle

  Chapter Seven: Out of the Woods

  Chapter Eight: Kitten Catastrophe!

  Chapter Nine: Nowhere to Run

  Chapter Ten: Turning the Tables

  Notes from the Author

  Keep Reading …

  About the Author

  Books by Ben Fogle

  About the Publisher

  Map

  Chapter One

  THE FOREST MONSTER

  ‘Help!’ came a squeak from the gloom of the forest. ‘There’s a monster coming!’

  Mr Dog’s shaggy ears shot up in the air. He had come to this Welsh forest for some peace, quiet and berries (not necessarily in that order). He hadn’t expected to find a monster on the loose!

  ‘Help!’ came another squeak, closer now. ‘It’s catching up!’

  Mr Dog was up and alert in a moment. He was a scruffy mutt, black all over save for his white muzzle and two front paws. ‘Who’s there?’ he woofed. ‘I’m Mr Dog. I’ll help if I can!’

  The next moment, two tiny fieldmice came running into the forest clearing. ‘Help us, Mr Dog! Help us!’ they squealed.

  Mr Dog looked down at the trembling creatures. They had brown-flecked fur and white tummies, with large ears and twitching whiskers. Their eyes were big and bright and berry-black.

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ said Mr Dog. ‘What’s all this about a monster?’

  ‘It chased us through the woods!’ piped up one of the mice.

  ‘It’s furry and frightening!’ said the second. ‘We must hide!’

  Before Mr Dog could woof another word, both mice had rushed beneath his black brushy tail. ‘You poor mice really are scared, aren’t you?’ murmured Mr Dog. He gulped as the sound of snapping twigs and rustling bushes grew closer. ‘But I’m a friend to all animals. And I’m sure monsters are a kind of animal too!’

  Mr Dog puffed up his chest and lowered his bushy brows in the hope it made him look scarier. But his eyes widened in surprise as a stocky, stripy beast burst into the forest clearing.

  It stopped at the sight of Mr Dog and stared at him with amber eyes.

  At first glance, this ‘monster’ looked like a tabby kitten the size of a house cat. But its eyes were far fiercer. Its body was solid and sturdy with thick wavy stripes and powerful jaws. Its tail was thicker than a normal cat’s and had a blunt black tip.

  ‘Where are those two mice?’ said the cat-monster.

  That’s funny, thought Mr Dog. He sounds Scottish but we’re in the middle of Wales.

  ‘Two mice?’ Mr Dog could feel the little rodents shivering under his tail, but kept smiling. ‘Sorry, old chap. Never heard of them. I’m Mr Dog. Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Angus,’ said the oversized kitten. ‘I’m a Scottish wildcat, you know.’

  ‘I did not know.’ Mr Dog beamed. ‘I’ve been to Scotland. I hear its wildcats are extremely rare. I certainly didn’t expect to meet one in a wet wood in Wales!’ With a quick wag of his tail, he swept some old leaves over the mice to keep them hidden, then padded over to Angus.

  Angus hissed at him, revealing sharp, pointed fangs. ‘Keep back, doggy! Or I’ll …’ He trailed off, suddenly distracted. ‘Oh, hey! It’s a flappy thing.’ The wildcat watched, fascinated, as a wood warbler flitted between some branches high above. ‘Oooh, look! That flappy thing is so fast!’

  Mr Dog smiled. Angus was big, but his attention span was short – he was still very much a kitten at heart!

  ‘If you think that bird has got some moves, Angus – watch this!’ said Mr Dog. He began to dance a little jig on his hind paws. Angus watched as if hypnotised, a smile on his face. And while the ‘monster’ was distracted, the little fieldmice crept from the clearing and vanished into the thicker forest.

  Once Mr Dog was sure the mice were safe, he stopped dancing. ‘Now then, Angus,’ he said, ‘can you tell me what a rare Scottish wildcat kitten is doing in the Brecon Beacons?’

  ‘I was captured,’ said Angus crossly. ‘Weeks ago, this lady called Noel lured me into a cage. She took me to live with other locked-up animals in a big house.’

  Mr Dog frowned. ‘What sort of animals?’

  ‘All sorts,’ said Angus. A beetle crawled past his paws. ‘Oooh! Look. A little wiggly thing!’

  ‘Never mind that beetle!’ said Mr Dog. ‘If you were locked up by this Noel lady, how did you get out?’

  ‘A few days ago, there was a terrible storm,’ said Angus.

  ‘I remember,’ said Mr Dog. ‘I had to shelter in a log pile with a squirrel. Almost drove me nuts!’ He chuckled at his little joke. Angus stared blankly. ‘I’m sorry. Do go on.’

  ‘Well, the storm blew down a tree and it hit the fence in our exercise yard.’ The kitten’s eyes were bright with excitement. ‘Some of the animals escaped – including my mama! I ran after her … but I couldn’t keep up.’

  ‘What? Your mama left you behind?’ Mr Dog was feeling sadder and sadder at Angus’s story. ‘I’m sure she’s been trying to find you.’

  ‘Noel’s trying to find me too,’ said Angus. ‘She has people helping her. They feed us. Exercise us. Clean us out.’ The kitten sighed. ‘Then they lock us up again.’

  ‘It sounds like you’ve escaped from a prison!’ Mr Dog declared. ‘I don’t like the sound of Noel and her helpers one bit …’ Suddenly, his ears pricked at the sound of movement nearby. ‘Wait. I hear something.’

  Angus sniffed the air. ‘Aye. You’re right. Humans.’

  Mr Dog nodded. ‘Is it Nasty Noel and the rest?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Angus admitted. ‘I don’t recognise their smell.’

  ‘You wait here, out of sight,’ said Mr Dog. ‘I’ll investigate.’

  ‘Thanks, Mr Dog!’ Angus jumped up on to a tree branch an
d hid in the leaves. ‘You’re so brave!’

  ‘Some say the D-O-G in my name stands for Daring Old Gent,’ said Mr Dog with a grin. He crept off through the undergrowth.

  Soon he could hear human voices. They belonged to a man and a woman.

  ‘We have to find those wild animals,’ said the man.

  ‘And we have to find them fast,’ a woman agreed. ‘Don’t forget – start shooting the second you see them …’

  ‘Shooting?’ Mr Dog couldn’t believe his ears. ‘It sounds like Angus and his mama are in even greater danger than I thought. But I’ll help them and any other animal in danger – or my name’s not Mr Dog!’

  Chapter Two

  FINDING MAMA

  Mr Dog crawled away from the mysterious couple and back to the clearing where he’d left Angus. The wildcat kitten had come out of hiding. He was rolling around in the leaves.

  ‘Angus!’ hissed Mr Dog. ‘I told you to stay out of sight!’

  ‘Oooh, look. A stick!’ The kitten grabbed it with his front paws and rolled on to his back, gnawing on it. ‘Mmmm. Sticky.’

  Mr Dog sighed. ‘We need to go, Angus. I heard a man and a woman say they’ll shoot any wild animals they find.’

  Angus looked at him innocently. ‘What does “shoot” mean?’

  ‘Nothing good,’ said Mr Dog with a shudder. ‘Now, we must find your mama as quickly as possible. Let’s follow our noses and see where they lead.’

  Together they moved cautiously through the forest. It was mid-morning and the early autumn sunlight was dappled under the thick, leafy branches. Mr Dog’s nose twitched with all sorts of strange scents. Unusual animals had passed this way, but not recently.

  ‘I can’t hear anyone moving about in this part of the forest,’ said Angus.

  Mr Dog raised his eyebrows. ‘Could you really hear them if they were?’

  ‘Sure! We Scottish wildcats have super-senses,’ Angus said proudly. ‘I heard Noel tell someone on the telephone.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ said Mr Dog. ‘What else did she say?’

  ‘She said I was worth thousands and that she’d sell me to the buyest hidder.’

  ‘The buyest hidder?’ Mr Dog gasped. ‘You mean the highest bidder!’

  ‘That’s what I said,’ Angus protested.

  Mr Dog was starting to understand. He had heard about people who captured wild animals to sell as exotic pets. The more unusual the animal, the more desirable it was for certain collectors to own – and the more money it was worth to the likes of Nasty Noel. Mr Dog’s ears drooped. Those poor wild animals! he thought. Such creatures weren’t meant to be cooped up and cared for by humans, however well meaning. They should be roaming freely in their native habitats among their own kind.

  ‘Well, first things first, Angus,’ said Mr Dog. ‘You’ll feel much better when you’re back with your mother …’

  ‘Wait!’ Angus said suddenly. He was holding very still with his body low to the ground. ‘I can feel vibrations. The sort my mama makes when she prowls about.’

  ‘Bless my nose!’ said Mr Dog. ‘What sensitive paws you must have.’

  ‘Mama’s close!’ Angus started chasing his tail in a circle. ‘She’s close, she’s close!’

  Suddenly, he threw back his head and gave a loud, rasping miaow.

  ‘Angus, don’t call out to her!’ Mr Dog flattened his ears to his head. ‘Hunters might hear you.’

  ‘Mama could eat them for breakfast!’ Angus retorted. ‘I can smell her … this way!’

  Mr Dog followed him, sniffing the air too. Soon his nose was tingling with a strong, musky smell unlike any he had smelled before. It’s very different from Angus’s scent, he thought.

  But then he heard the crunch and crackle of branches close by.

  ‘Come on!’ Mr Dog used his nose to scoop up Angus and toss him on to his back. ‘Humans again and they’re coming this way!’ He quickly carried the kitten behind a large oak and burrowed under the ivy that covered its base.

  Mr Dog and Angus were hidden from sight with seconds to spare. They held their breath as a short, stocky man stepped out of the undergrowth. Another man, taller and younger, followed. Both were carrying strange handguns and had rifles strapped to their backs.

  ‘We’re getting closer, Desi,’ said the stocky man. ‘I can sense it.’

  ‘We’d better be, Sawyer,’ Desi replied. ‘If we don’t bring back those animals, Noel will put us in the cages!’

  ‘Desi and Sawyer,’ Angus whispered. ‘Are they the people you saw before?’

  ‘No,’ hissed Mr Dog. ‘Which means there are at least four hunters looking for you and your friends.’

  ‘Four?’ Angus tried counting that far on his paws, but lost track and gave up. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Dog. I should’ve picked up their scent. My nostrils must have been too full of mama-cat smell!’

  ‘I didn’t smell them either,’ Mr Dog assured him. ‘Hunters often use a dirt wash to hide their scent from animals …’

  Suddenly, there was a crackle of static. Sawyer, the stocky man, pulled a walkie-talkie from his back pocket. A woman’s voice squawked out: ‘This is Noel for Sawyer. Sawyer, come in.’

  ‘Go ahead, Noel,’ said Sawyer into the radio.

  ‘Have you caught the runaways?’ Noel demanded. ‘Over.’

  Sawyer swapped an awkward look with Desi. ‘On it, Noel. Currently searching the western quarter of the property. Over.’

  Noel did not sound happy. ‘I’m calling in help so we have a bigger search party,’ she said. ‘Keep me updated. Noel out.’

  The radio went silent and Sawyer shoved it back in his pocket.

  ‘Dear me,’ whispered Mr Dog. ‘More hunters on the way!’

  Desi was crouching down beside a patch of mud. ‘There’s a paw print here, Sawyer.’

  Sawyer came over to see. ‘That’s just a dog. Come on. Looks like the undergrowth’s been broken over there …’

  The two men set off stealthily. Mr Dog and Angus watched them go from their hiding place.

  ‘Just a dog. How dare he!’ Mr Dog grumbled. ‘Come on. With extra hunters on the way, we must stay alert …’ His nose twitched. The strange, exotic smell was much stronger now.

  ‘Mama!’ cried Angus.

  Mr Dog yelped in alarm as a large, lean and lanky creature crashed into the clearing. She had yellow fur, covered in black spots, and long legs. Her tail was narrow, her ears were short and round and her amber eyes narrowed as she gave a throaty roar.

  ‘That’s not your mama, Angus!’ Mr Dog whispered, not daring to move. ‘It’s … it’s a cheetah!’

  Chapter Three

  SPOTTED DANGER

  The cheetah’s eyes were fixed on Mr Dog. Her teeth were bared. A low growl was building in her throat.

  Mr Dog stayed very still. He knew that cheetahs could reach speeds of up to seventy miles an hour. This big cat should be chasing down gazelles in the African savannah, he thought, not little woofers in a wood!

  ‘There you are, Mama!’ Angus pranced up to the cheetah and nuzzled his head against her side. She looked down and licked him.

  Mr Dog stared in surprise. He guessed that when Angus had been taken from his real mama, he’d looked to the nearest big cat for a replacement. Perhaps the cheetah had lost her own cubs and Angus reminded her of them? Mr Dog felt sad and angry that both these magnificent cats had been taken from their homes to be sold on as pets!

  The cheetah took a step closer to Mr Dog and he gulped. ‘Er, Angus?’ he said quietly. ‘Could you ask your mama not to eat me, please? I really wouldn’t taste good. I’m fairly sure that the D-O-G part of my name stands for “Disgusting Old Gristle”!’

  The warning was in vain. The cheetah lunged at him! Mr Dog jumped aside just in time. He guessed the cheetah had only missed him because she was cold, confused and weak with hunger. Not wanting to give her time to try again, Mr Dog scrambled up into a tree and hid on a leafy branch.

  ‘Mama, don’t eat him!’ Angus jumped on
to the cheetah’s back. ‘Mr Dog is a friend. He can’t help us if he’s inside your tummy!’

  The cheetah looked up at Mr Dog. ‘You really want to help us?’ she growled. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I don’t believe that wild animals should be kept as pets,’ said Mr Dog. ‘Did Nasty Noel catch you like she caught Angus?’

  The cheetah shook her head. ‘I was caught by poachers and they sold me to Noel. She knows someone who wants to buy a big cat. He’ll give her more money than she paid for me.’

  ‘Only if you’re caught again,’ said Mr Dog.

  But, even as he spoke, he caught movement from across the clearing. The two hunters – Desi and Sawyer – must have heard the growling.

  They had come back!

  The cheetah roared and moved in front of Angus. She made ready to charge at the hunters …

  THUPP! Desi fired one of his guns. It shot a dart with a pink feathered tip into the cheetah’s chest. She staggered back and flopped down on her side.

  ‘Got her!’ cried Sawyer.

  Those guns fire tranquilliser darts! Mr Dog realised. Darts that make the cheetah sleepy and easy to catch.

  ‘Mama!’ Angus wailed. He ran to her and nuzzled his head against her belly.

  ‘Now for the wildcat.’ Desi aimed his tranquilliser gun at Angus. ‘Just hold still, little guy …’

  But, before Desi could shoot, Mr Dog burst out of his leafy hiding place, barking wildly! The angry mutt flew through the air and struck Desi’s chest with his two front paws, knocking him over backwards.

  ‘It’s time to use my head!’ Mr Dog declared. He bounced back up and head-butted Sawyer in the stomach. The man gasped in surprise and staggered back into a tree, dropping the gun. ‘Angus, come on!’ woofed Mr Dog. ‘We can’t help your mama now.’

  ‘What?’ asked the upset kitten.

  ‘RUN!’ Mr Dog barked so loudly that Angus nearly turned a somersault. But it gave him the shock he needed to burst into action – just as Desi scrambled to his feet and raised his tranquilliser gun.