Ask Oscar

For Lewis, Bridie and Laurie and all the pets that lived with us.

AM

For the children at COHAD. Kumi, Uganda

SH

First published in Great Britain in 2018

by Egmont UK Limited

The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN

The moral rights of the author and cover illustrator have been asserted

First e-book edition 2018

ISBN 978 1 4052 8722 7

Ebook ISBN 978 1 7803 1795 3

www.egmont.co.uk

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Dedication and Copyright

CHAPTER 1: Dog on the Bus

CHAPTER 2: Hide and Sneak

CHAPTER 3: The One and Only

CHAPTER 4: Sausage Dog

CHAPTER 5: Not at the Dinner Table

CHAPTER 6: Operation Oscar

CHAPTER 7: Piggy Bike

CHAPTER 8: Facing Fusspot

CHAPTER 9: Where There’s a Dog . . .

CHAPTER 10: A Royal Welcome

CHAPTER 11: Messy Business

CHAPTER 12: Humble Pie

Back series promotional page

CHAPTER 1

DOG ON THE BUS

The dog was on the number 9 bus. Buses went past Sam’s house every day but normally they didn’t have a dog on the top deck. He was sitting all by himself as if he had a ticket and travelled by bus all the time. As the bus flashed past Sam’s bedroom window, the dog turned his head and looked straight at him. The expression on his face seemed to say, ‘Well look at that – a boy in his bedroom wearing only one sock!’ (Sam was in the middle of dressing at the time as he’d just come out of the bath.)

In seconds the bus was gone and Sam was left wondering if he’d imagined the whole thing. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed the dog’s owner bending down or hiding on the floor? Perhaps it wasn’t a dog at all but a man with a hairy beard and whiskers wearing a fur coat? Were dogs even allowed on buses? Sam didn’t know. Maybe the truth was that he just had dogs on the brain because he’d been asking his parents to let him have one for ages. In fact, asking was an understatement. He’d been begging, nagging and pleading – and when that failed, wishing and praying for a dog.

Over months he’d built up a collection of things a dog might need such as rubber bones, old tennis balls and dog biscuits. He’d tried dropping hints, by mentioning friends who had dogs and hadn’t died or caught fleas as a result. He’d even written ‘DOG’ in capital letters at the top of his birthday list. Yet whatever he said or did made no difference – his parents’ answer was the same. A dog just wasn’t ‘practical ’ right now, they said. Dogs were too costly, too messy, too much work – in fact just too ‘doggy’ altogether.

Downstairs, Sam found the table set for supper and his mum and dad arguing about something. It seemed to be to do with a pile of bills that had been hidden in the tea caddy. Sam’s parents often argued about money, but today he wasn’t really listening because he was thinking about the dog on the bus.

‘Telephone, gas, water . . .’ Mum was saying. ‘Have we paid any of these?’

Dad waved his fork. ‘I was getting round to it,’ he said.

‘Really? When? ’ demanded Mum.

‘When we had a bit more money,’ said Dad. ‘You know, once business picks up.’

Sam looked at his Mum. Dad said this a lot but business never actually picked up. Mr Shilling worked from home as a self-employed inventor, although he didn’t actually earn any money. His latest project, the Grandem – a four-person bike for the whole family – sat out in the shed with all his other unsold inventions. Sam could tell his dad was in trouble but fortunately he was saved by a knock on the door. Actually it wasn’t a knock, it was more like a muffled thump.

‘Oh, who’s that?’ asked Dad.

‘No idea,’ said Mum. ‘But we haven’t finished talking.’

‘Maybe it’s the postman?’ suggested Sam.

‘Not on a Sunday evening,’ said Dad.

The thump came again two or three times, followed by a sound like scrabbling or scratching. If it was the postman he was behaving very oddly.

‘I’ll go!’ said Sam, curious to see who it was.

But when he opened the door there was no one there. He was about to close it when he looked down – and noticed the black and white dog on the doorstep gazing up at him expectantly. It had a thick, wiry coat, dark eyes and an intelligent face. Its tail was wagging like a windscreen wiper. Sam’s heart leapt. It was the kind of dog he’d always dreamed of owning and what’s more he’d seen it before, on the top deck of the bus.

‘Who is it?’ Mum called from the kitchen.

‘Nobody!’ Sam shouted back.

His mind raced. If he said there was a strange dog at the door he knew his parents would come and shoo it away. But he didn’t want the dog to go yet – it had only just arrived and it had come all this way on the bus! He crouched down, stroking the dog’s shaggy coat. It nuzzled up to him readily and gave his face a lick. Sam laughed.

‘Shh!’ he said. ‘Don’t make a noise!’

The dog blinked. It stopped washing his face, then pushed past him into the hall.

It looked around as if deciding whether the house was up to scratch.

‘Sam, what are you doing?’

It was his Mum again and she sounded impatient.

‘Nothing. Just coming!’ Sam called back.

He’d have to move fast. There was nothing for it but to hide the dog, at least until he’d worked out what to do with him. The shed was no good because Dad used it as his workshop. The only safe place was Sam’s bedroom but that meant smuggling the dog through the house and upstairs without his parents seeing him.

Sam noticed the dog had a leather collar with a silver name disc. It said, ‘OSCAR’.

‘Go round to the back door, Oscar,’ Sam whispered, leading him out again. ‘I’ll let you in, but no barking, okay?’

He realised it was asking a lot for the dog to understand – he might as well be speaking Norwegian – but amazingly the dog obeyed. He went out and trotted round the side of the house as if he knew the way. Sam quickly shut the front door and headed back to the kitchen, trying to look as if nothing unusual had happened, like a dog appearing from nowhere.

‘What took you so long?’ demanded his Mum.

‘I was just checking there wasn’t anyone there,’ explained Sam. ‘It must have been the wind.’

‘It didn’t sound like the wind,’ said Dad. ‘I swear I heard scratching.’

‘Maybe it was Mr Trusscot next door?’ suggested Sam. ‘He scratches sometimes.’

‘Not so loudly that you can hear him through the walls,’ said Mum.

Mr Trusscot was their annoying neighbour who was also Leader of the Town Council, as he often reminded them. Sam had been slowly edging out of the kitchen. He needed to get to the back door in case the dog started whining and gave them away.

‘Where are you off to now?’ asked Mum.

‘Um, I’ve got homework,’ said Sam.

‘But you haven’t even finished your supper,’ argued Mum.

‘It’s a lot of homework,’ said Sam, ducking out of the door. He hurried down the hall. Luckily his parents soon went back to their argument about the bills.

Oscar was waiting outside the back door. He immediately padded in, wagging his tail so hard that it practically dented the doorframe. Somehow Sam had to get him through the hall, past the kitchen and up the stairs without making any noise. He decided he’d better communicate with the dog by mime, acting out what he had in mind. Pointing upwards, he pretended to be climbing some stairs on tiptoe. Oscar watched patiently with his head on one side as if this was a new sort of game – like doggy charades.

Sam set off down the hall with the dog padding at his heels. The kitchen door was half open and his parents were still talking. With a bit of luck he might be able to sneak Oscar past without them seeing anything. Sam ducked his head and went first . . .

‘SAM!’

He froze in the doorway, trying to block his parents’ view of the hall.

‘Yes?’ he said, his heart racing. If he looked down he was afraid he’d see Oscar’s whiskery face peering out between his legs.

‘Don’t forget to pack your school bag for the morning,’ said Mum. ‘Are you all right? ’

‘Me? Yes! Fine, I’ll do it later,’ promised Sam.

He backed out quickly and closed the kitchen door. That was close. But looking round, his heart missed a beat. The dog had disappeared! Where had he got to now? If he’d slipped past Sam into the kitchen then the game was up. Sam rushed down the hall. He checked the lounge and the downstairs toilet. No dog. The front door was closed so he couldn’t have got out. Turning round, he caught sight of something. Oscar sat at the top of the stairs, waiting patiently. He cocked his head on one side as if to say, ‘Really, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?’

All that evening Sam stayed in his room on the pretence that he was getting on with his homework. Actually he spent the time introducing Oscar to his collection of doggy toys. Later, Sam crept downstairs and managed to sneak a bowl of water from the kitchen. Naturally he knew that they couldn’t go on like this forever. Eventually Oscar would be discovered or Sam would have to tell his parents, but he didn’t want to think about that. For the moment he had a dog of his own and he wanted to make it last as long as possible.

Later, when he heard his mum coming upstairs, he hid Oscar under the bed. Turning off the main light he dived back under the covers just as his mum’s head appeared round the door.

‘Night, night, love, sleep tight!’ she said, softly.

‘Night,’ mumbled Sam, praying that the dog wouldn’t make a sound.

The door clicked shut. Sam crept out from under this duvet and opened his cupboard. He found an old beanbag for Oscar to sleep on – at least that was the idea. Some hours later when the house was dark and his parents were in bed, he heard the soft patter of feet. A second later, Oscar leapt up onto the bed and licked his nose.

‘Hello!’ Sam laughed.

Eventually they settled down to sleep with Oscar making himself comfortable on top of the duvet. Sam rolled onto his side and closed his eyes.

‘Good night, Oscar,’ he murmured drowsily.

‘Night.’

Sam’s eyes flew open. He switched on his bedside lamp and sat up, looking around wildly. There was no one else in the room, only the dog dozing peacefully on the duvet.

‘Ridiculous, I must have been dreaming,’ Sam told himself. ‘Dogs definitely cannot talk.’

CHAPTER 2

HIDE AND SNEAK

The next day was Monday, a school day, which posed an awkward problem – what to do with Oscar? Sam considered taking him to school but he was pretty sure dogs weren’t allowed. Even if he dressed Oscar in a shirt and school tie he didn’t think Miss Bramble would be fooled. He’d have to hide him at home somewhere his parents weren’t likely to look. But where? A dog under the duvet would look pretty obvious and anyway Oscar wouldn’t stay there for long.

Sam looked around, trying to think. Of course – the clothes cupboard! Sam’s bedroom had a large built-in cupboard with shelves piled high with clothes, books, comics and toys. If he cleared some space on the floor there was plenty of room for a not-too-large dog. He dragged the beanbag into the cupboard.

‘In you go, boy,’ he said, pointing. Oscar looked at the cupboard then back at him. He didn’t budge.

‘Come on, Oscar, it’s not for long, just while I’m at school,’ pleaded Sam. ‘Once Mum and Dad know, you won’t have to hide.’

In the end, Sam had to pick Oscar up and carry him into the cupboard. He left him with a supply of dog biscuits, a bowl of water and the rubber bone to play with in case he got bored. It wasn’t ideal, he told himself, but it was only for today. As long as Dad didn’t go nosing in his room then Oscar would be safe – and it would give him time to break the news that they were getting a dog.

All that day at school, Sam’s thoughts kept returning to Oscar. He worried that he might be scared of the dark. What if he started barking or whining and his dad went up to investigate? (His mum worked part time as a physio at the hospital so she wasn’t at home on Mondays). Sam was dying to tell someone, so eventually he let his best friend, Louie, in on the secret half way through maths.

‘A DOG?’ cried Louie.

‘Shh! Keep your voice down!’ whispered Sam. ‘It’s a secret!’ He glanced up. Miss Bramble was busy helping someone with their work.

‘But where did you get him?’ asked Louie.

Sam briefly explained how Oscar had arrived on the bus.

‘That’s fantastic!’ enthused Louie. ‘We could take him for walks – we could go to the beach!’

‘If he stays,’ said Sam. ‘My parents don’t even know about him yet. I had to hide him in my cupboard.’

Louie’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You’ve left him in a cupboard?’

‘It’s quite a big one and he’s got biscuits,’ explained Sam. ‘But if my parents find him they’ll go mad.’

‘You’re the one that’s mad,’ said Louie.

But they didn’t get any further because Miss Bramble told them off for talking instead of getting on with their work.

As soon as the bell went, Sam grabbed his bag and ran all the way home. He’d been plagued by worries all day. What if Dad had discovered Oscar and thrown him out? They hadn’t even had the chance to get to know each other!

Arriving home, Sam dumped his bag and ran upstairs. He found his Dad hoovering the landing.

‘Ah, Sam, perfect timing,’ he said, switching the machine off. ‘I was just about to do your room.’

His room? Sam looked aghast.

‘You can’t!’ he said. ‘I mean, my pyjamas are all over the floor. I haven’t tidied up!’

‘Well you can tidy it now,’ said Dad. ‘But get a move on, I haven’t got all day.’

Sam dashed into his bedroom and closed the door. He was surprised to see the cupboard door was wide open. Somehow Oscar had managed to get out because he was curled on the bed with a book open. (It was a picture book about pirates and for a moment Sam imagined he was reading it). In the cupboard were a scattering of biscuit crumbs and a damp patch on the carpet that might have been water but probably wasn’t. Oscar yawned, rolled onto his side and stretched out lazily.

Sam had to think fast. He could put Oscar back in the cupboard but what if his Dad tried to tidy something away when he was hoovering the room? The only other solution was to smuggle Oscar out of the house. But how could he get past his dad on the landing? Suddenly he saw a possible way out – the laundry basket! Sam reckoned it was probably just big enough to hold Oscar if he made himself small.

A few moments later Sam emerged from his room, dragging the laundry basket with an effort. Oscar was a lot heavier than he’d expected and he was hidden under a pile of dirty T-shirts, socks and pants.

‘Finally!’ said Dad. ‘What’s that?’

‘My dirty washing,’ said Sam. ‘I thought I’d take it down to the washing machine for er . . . washing.’

‘Right,’ said Dad, sounding puzzled. Generally Sam regarded washing and ironing as something that happened as if by magic.

Sam staggered forward and Dad stepped aside to let him past. He could feel his dad’s eyes on him as he reached the stairs. The laundry basket was so heavy he was sweating and could hardly get it off the floor. He wished Oscar had been a pug dog or something smaller.

‘What on earth have you got in there?’ asked Dad.

‘Just my clothes and stuff,’ said Sam, breathing hard. If he could just make it downstairs then they’d be safe. He heaved the basket after him, setting it down on the next step with a thump. A loud grunt came from inside.

‘What was that?’ asked Dad.

‘What?’

‘That noise!’

‘It was me,’ said Sam. He coughed loudly but Dad wasn’t buying it.

‘Let me see the basket,’ he demanded.

Sam turned round slowly in time to see his dad’s eyes grow wide with astonishment. Looking down, Sam saw a pair of blue pants rising up out of the basket. Underneath was a whiskery face and a wet black nose. Oscar sneezed and the pants fell off.

Unluckily at that very moment the front door slammed and Mum came in.

‘A DOG!’ she screamed.

‘Oh yes, so it is,’ said Sam, sounding surprised.

‘But where . . . how on earth did it get here?’ asked Mum.

‘On the bus I think,’ replied Sam, truthfully.

Mum looked up at Dad. ‘Did you know about this?’

‘ME?’ protested Dad. ‘It’s nothing to do with me!’

Mum folded her arms. ‘Right, get down here, Sam and bring the dog,’ she said. ‘We need to have a serious talk.’

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