Here us a short story I wrote called, ‘not the duck.’ For more short story’s and my drawings of them click here Jane’s short storys
Not the duck!
‘Step forward, NAME?’ Miss Hyperscrew bellowed across the small table at the dog school.
A small timid looking lady with her hair swept back into a bobble hat, stepped forward and whispered a reply,
‘Um……. Margaret Hollendoner.’
‘Not you! The beast,’ Miss Hyperscrew shouted in a non-serious way.
‘Trebor,’ Margaret said trying her best to steady her nerves and stop her gloved hands from shaking.
‘That’s not the name for a dog? That’s the name of the mint!’ Miss Hyperscrew barked.
Margaret’s face went bright red, half in embarrassment and half in temper. In an attempt to explain she said, ‘He came with the name, he’s a rescue dog.’
Miss Hyperscrew came out from around the table and knelt down next to Trebor to examine him. She brushed his fur back briskly with her large hands and patted him on the back rather sharply, muttering,
‘Throw you out with the rubbish, did they boy?’
Trebor wisely refused to lock eyes with Miss Hyperscrew, and shivered as the large slightly bearded lady loomed above him.
Margaret thought that Miss Hyperscrew looked as if she was examining something that she had trodden in her shiny boots while she gave poor Trebor the once over.
Patting him once more firmly on the head, Miss Hyperscrew then looked approvingly at the toy duck in his mouth.
‘Well at least he has some hunting skills. Look at the way he’s gripping onto that toy duck.’
Margaret rolled her eyes, ‘yes well, the duck came with him also from the rescue centre, in fact we can’t get it off it.’
Miss Hyperscrew eyed Trebor, ‘We’ll soon get the duck off the boy.
Margaret made an exaggerated attempt to take Trebor’s duck off him, unsuccessfully.
Miss Hyperscrew glared disdainfully at Margaret and clapping her hands together said,
‘Come on, quick! The dog training class is about to start! Now stand over there with the others.’
Margaret gulped and pulled the lead of the reluctant Trebor and joined a small group of well-presented middle aged ladies who were all wearing tweed suits.
Miss Hyperscrew walked out in front of them. Followed closely on her heals was a fine-boned whippet that held its nose high in the air and trotted merrily.
Trebor was so impressed with the whippet that he dropped his duck briefly.
‘Today,’ Miss Hyperscrew announced, ‘as this is your first class, we shall do the basics: sit, stay and come.’
Margaret gulped. She noted that all the other ladies beamed with confidence.
Trebor, still transfixed with the whippet, did not notice his lead being removed. Miss Hyperscrew paced around, handing one dog treat to each of the owners. Instructing them that they were only be given to the dogs on completion of the command.
‘Now sit!’ Miss Hyperscrew said firmly.
Trebor did not move. Margaret pushed his bum to the ground and Trebor growled slightly.
‘Stay!’ Miss Hyperscrew said, waving her hands franticly for the owners to walk towards her, whilst glaring back at the dogs, daring them not to move.
Trebor, suddenly realising he was off the lead, made a dash for the trees.
Margaret, red faced, dashed after him, finally catching him in the nearby bushes.
Miss Hyperscrew galloped after the pair, her tweed jacket flapping open, her nostrils flaring in the excitement of the chase.
Margaret quickly put the lead on Trebor and ducked down to hide. She had, she thought, had enough of the class. She nibbled the dog treat nervously as she waited for Miss Hyperscrew to pass.
‘A ha!’ Miss Hyperscrew shouted as she charged into the bush from behind them.
Margaret, frightened, karate chopped Miss Hyperscrew in the neck and Trebor, in excitement, dropped his duck and bit Miss Hyperscrew squarely on her bottom.
Miss Hyperscrew learned a lesson that day. Never creep up on a dog with a duck as they go Quackers.
I constantly talk to my dogs as if they were people and I am starting to worry I’m using the same tone with my work colleagues. Like, when one of my colleagues does something good,
I say, ‘Well done,’ a little to enthusiastically, and immediately start rummaging through my pockets looking for a reward or treat to give them, only having to stop myself just before I hand over a humbug or a button or whatever else comes to hand.
And when I am out walking the dogs and come across a new dog, I always stop and talk to it, as if they can understand what I’m saying and nod and smile at the dog, a bit like those old ladies do, when they come across a baby in a buggy.
‘Hello there, aren’t you beautiful? What a lovely waggy tail.’
Sometimes I get so carried away with the doggy conversations, that I forget to address the owner at all.
On my walk this morning I met a darling dog I had fussed before, but today it just marched past me, not even glancing in my direction.
‘Say hello then!’ I shouted after it;
‘Hello,’ said the owner meekly.
Other than for my need of these constant doggy conversations, the main problem I’m having at the moment, is that one my dogs, is on a diet, and I hate to throw food away; so have been eating it.
I was telling my daughter that I had put on 7lbs.
‘7lb’s!’ She said. ‘Oh my God, that’s the same weight as a baby, you have put on a whole baby!’
I had not thought of it like that. But at least, I comforted myself with the thought; I am not a completely mad doggy person. I have heard that some people spend thousands on designer dog clothes and collars.
I don’t dress my dogs up! Except at Christmas and Halloween, but that does not count.
As most of my clothes are from charity shops I don’t feel able to splash out a lot on the dogs and anyway I am not sure they would appreciate designer labels; plus it takes an endless stream of doggy treats just to get them to keep their antlers on at Christmas time, and when I left them unattended with the snowman hat, they ripped it to shreds between them.
In truth, being a dog person is deeply much more worrying, as I am beginning to fear that I like dogs much better that boyfriends, and I am worried that I will end up like one of those sad cases, where a single woman is found weeks later dead in her flat, half eaten by her cats!jane 🙂
Sea Dragon 海龍My name is Hero, I am a sea dragon.
我が名はヒーロー（毘瀧）、海龍なり。I can fly and drive and swim to the deepest depths of the blue oceans.
大空を飛行し、泳ぎ潜る、青い海の底までも。I am very old.
我も老いたり。I come from I time of myths and legends.
我は伝説と神話の時より来たれり。From the time when princes and princess loved to write poetry to each other.
I am a magical monster.
Can change the colour of the fire I breathe.
I am related to the bat.
So if you spot one be kind to that!
I painted this dragon. I wrote the text. Jane.
I hope liked this For more short story’s and my drawings of them click here Jane’s short storys