Bonnie and SophieAbridged.

Chapter 1 At home 

Bonnie loves home.  At night-time she sleeps at the foot of the bed.  And each morning about seven-thirty, like a ball shot from a cannon, her figure hurtles downward via the staircase to attack a newspaper.  The plan is to take the newspaper to her sleepy-eye mistress but things often go wrong especially when she stands with the full weight of two white hairy legs on the centre of that half-folded paper.  'Newsboy must put glue on his papers,' Bonnie mutters.  With frustrated expression on her milky white face, two hanging black velvet ears twitch ever so lightly, listening intently for any slight comment from the morning paper.  But newspaper always remains as motionless and as silent as Bonnie.  Though she's now three years old and well mature, in those younger days she would bark to wake the dead, often tumbling down the last half-dozen steps.  Not now, she is more of a lady.  Of course, she can still get excited, look at that layer of paint scratched off the white panelled door every time a visitor or tradesman clinks the front gate.  At eight o' clock each morning, like a barking ball shot from a cannon, a figure hurtle-turtles downward via the staircase to snap at each letter as it floats to the floor.  Every letter bears teeth marks on its journey from heaven.  Envelopes lie there waiting to be smacked into life and how Bonnie loves to put life into a letter.  Eventually, she rounds them up and carries the dripping bundle to her master, Barry.  Bonnie knows that early each morning he is writing about her.  She can't read those adventures he tries so desperately to invent but she does know that they're nothing compared to the real quest that she is soon to embark upon.  At this, Bonnie feels sadness for already she has been notified.

Each room in their home she knows and loves, but two are special favourites: one where she sleeps guarding her human parents and the morning room, where under the breakfast table she can collect all sorts of titbits, especially from Katie, who with a wink throws down lumps of toast or bacon.  It is a squeeze crawling under that table with human legs trailing about, even so, Bonnie loves those feet and kisses the toes one by one whilst waiting for the next morsel.  And how Katie, only two years old, shrieks with laughter and how the house bursts alive.  Bonnie smiles, but when she remembers that message, addressed to herself a few days before, 'I just can't believe it,' she barked at the time, when all this comes to mind, it brings a little tear to those sad brown eyes.

The floor and Bonnie are well acquainted.  Each small patch of carpet holds a special scent: this is where Barbara continually shampoos, quite smelly; master rests his feet here; tasty crumbs find their tufted way to that area of carpet; near to the Dutch dresser is a scent of strong tea, ah yes, from when Katie poured tea onto the floor to see if it bounced.  Anyway Bonnie licks everything up, 'the hoover' is her pet name.  Yes, Bonnie's house is a memory bank of scents, sweet scents of love.  Mind you, how gloomy she was when her four youngsters, Spot, Bruiser, Patch and Curly left home only last year.  Spot lives nearby and calls now and then but the three boys have moved far away.  In fact Bruiser is managing a pub for somebody in town.  Still, those frisky times they shared can never be wiped from her memory.

Highlight of the day is not dinner, but a trip in the car.  'I'll nudge them in their tummies,' Bonnie growls, they'll not forget me.'  Whilst in the park she vaunts her special obedience talents: a sit, stand-stay, heel, lie down are no problem.  But her mind is elsewhere, 'I shall tell the family tonight, after my walk,' she promises.  Suddenly! Crash bang thud, a long-haired object smashes into Bonnie.  'What the doggle is that?' Bonnie roars, 'by dejus, it's an Old English,' and hurries after the racing wool-ball nearly taking a slice out of its backside.  However this chase eventually turns into a game, then into a friendly tussle and now into a chat between wheezing pants.  'Sophie's my name,' the long-haired playmate pants.  'I used to have a home not far from here but my owners threw me out.  Didn't feed me anyway.  So don't know what to do.'  Bonnie stares at her mucky white head and black patch eyes; then laughs, 'you'll come back with us, it'll be all right, we shall eat together.'

Later, well after dinner, Bonnie gets to her feet, 'I'd like to speak to all the family,' she croaks with a hoarse bark.  Father turns down a Mahler funeral march on the radio.  Freddie budgie chirps off-key.  In the room people look tired!  She hesitates, then starts, 'The Canine Council, responsible for looking after all dogs is worried about the increasing violence in the world.'  Uneasy, Katie kicks her little legs together, while outside the night is inky black.  No lights.  Bonnie continues, 'if humans continue to fight, they'll destroy the world and all the animals in it.'  She coughs, 'The Council won't let this happen, so they have chosen a distinguished dog from this country to search for an answer.'  A stiffness in Freddie's leg causes him to hop along his perching rod.  Anna and Lisa, the dogs next door, begin a throbbing bark, with ghostly echo.  Noise in the room reaches a stupendous level, but no one can hear it, for it's all inward: blood racing, heart thumping, nerves jangling, cells exploding, juices hissing.  'It'll be all right, it'll be all right Bonnie,' Katie murmurs lovingly.  Barbara's frightened voice breaks the electric silence, 'What's this to do with us Bonnie?'  'Well yes, you see, they err, err, they have chosen me,' Bonnie's voice scarcely reaches the end of the sentence.  'What!  D'you have to go,' dad shouts.  'It won't be forever,' Bonnie replies, a tear dripping onto her black button nose.  'Don't leave us Boddie,' baby Kate starts crying, 'it'll be all right, it'll be all right Boddie.'  To hide his gloom, Freddie buries his head into his seed pot.  'But it won't be forever,' Bonnie repeats, 'the Canine Council have sent a secret paper which lists the wisest animals in the world.  I've got to search them out, listen to what they say, watch how they live and sometimes ask questions.  When the journey's complete, I may have an answer to all this violence, an answer for the Council, but I must visit these wise creatures in strict order.  Probably it's better I leave soon after breakfast tomorrow and I'll need help to pack my rucksack.'  She forces a smile.  'Anyway perhaps Sophie could stay while I'm away.'  Sophie blinks, lowers her mop head, she's not used to so much attention.  Uncle Ernie must be home next door, for Anna and Lisa suddenly stop barking.  Outside the clouds part, welcoming the chin moon which with macabre delight adds a silent smile to these proceedings.  They all have to accept the huge honour placed upon Bonnie but also agree that Sophie must go with her for company.  Poor Sophie, no one even asks her.  Soon that bottle-green carpet fills to sounds of tinkling pans, rustling paper, folding clothes and general hubbub; Freddie bounces to make you dizzy, mum cooks toast, and Sophie hops in and out between rucksacks.

As darkness enters the house, grumblings from the water-tank cease and warm drowsy air from the heater sinks the room , but just before Bonnie's eyelids droop she think she hears little tears crying from baby Kate's bedroom.  At that moment, only Bonnie knows of those great dangers lying ahead, and even she is not aware of one evil pair of eyes, devilish eyes, watching her house at that very second, even as she falls into deep sleep.