Bouncer

Bouncer
Jean Ure

Four stray dogs, all with a story to tell of their rescue and how they came to live at Munchy Flats Cottage, with their people Flossie and Joe.The Third Chums title in which Bouncer comes to live at Munchy Flats with Buster and Bella. Bouncer is a very lively little Jack Russell terrier. He’s a cheeky young whipper snapper and Buster doesn’t like it when he starts digging up his garden! Bouncer is just a nuisance to the other dogs and Buster decides he needs taking down a peg or two. However, he doesn’t need to because a farmer – with a gun – does it for him. Bouncer has the shock of his young life when the gun goes off but he is still too lively for his owner. Bouncer turns up again at Munchy Flats Cottage with a label round his neck ‘My name is Bouncer and I have been a naughty boy. But I am not a bad boy at heart. Please give me a second chance.’! So Bouncer joins Bella and Buster at Munchy Flats Cottage – where he is a good boy, at heart!

Contents

Cover (#uef485f84-4328-5db2-9074-03390c8557c9)

Title Page (#u974e916c-6439-525e-9729-b2a5df16f218)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ulink_69f0f8a8-1fcf-50fa-ae43-5a359b6bc3f5)

Chapter Two (#ulink_6667fbeb-f53e-5edf-bd0d-cf5f4b7c9d81)

Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)

Also by the Author (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

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We are the dogs of Munchy Flats. We live here, with our people.

And Whiskers and Panda, but they, of course, are cats. Cats are not the same as dogs! Cats stalk and slink and sit on top of cupboards. They go “Miaaaaaow!” and do a lot of sleeping.

Dogs bounce and bark. We jump! And play. And we go out for walks with our people. We tell the cats about it when we get back.

“We’ve been up to the park!”

But the cats just yawn and stretch and go on snoozing. They are not interested in hearing about our adventures. Cats are not like dogs! But we all get on together.

Sometimes we even share a basket, or a corner of the sofa. And then our people look at us and go, “Ah! How sweet!”

We like to make our people happy. We love them very much. If it wasn’t for them, none of us would be here.

I was the first to come. After me there was Bella. And after Bella there was Bouncer. This is his story.

***

We first met Bouncer when he was just a pup. It was a Sunday morning; I remember it well. Bella and I had been for a long walk across the Common. I was stretched out on the hearth rug. Bella was in the armchair by the window. She was fast asleep and snoring.

Bella snores a LOT. She tries to pretend that she doesn’t She says that she is a pedigree, and a lady, and that ladies do not snore. Well, have I got news for her! Woffle-grunt-sno-o-ort, woffle-grunt-sno-o-ort. She sounds like a donkey with its head in a hay bag.

But that morning I was tired, so I didn’t let it bother me. Very soon I was in the land of nod, dreaming of bones and biscuits and Big Boy Treats. Yum yum! They are my favourites!

I was rudely woken by the sound of Bella, barking. Bella has an amazingly LOUD bark for such a tiny little (ladylike) dog. She sounds more like a herd of elephants than a dog.

“What?” I cried. “What?”

I sprang to my feet, ready to do battle. Had a burglar broken in??? I would see him off! I would protect my People!

Bella was hurtling up and down by the French windows. I barrelled across to join her. All the hackles on my back were up. Bella said afterwards that I looked like a lavatory brush. What cheek!

But even worse cheek… out in the garden was a small white dog. A small white dog – in my garden!

I say white, but it also had splashes of brown. Brown ears, brown saddle, brown tail. Plus a rather long and pointy nose.

“Ugh!” said Bella. “It looks like a door knocker!”

Bella herself has a somewhat short, delicate nose. She is very proud of her nose. She is also rather proud of the fact that she is a pedigree. Rather too proud, in my opinion.

“Ugly all-sorts!” screamed Bella, through the window.

“Never mind what it is,” I said. It was what it was doing that annoyed me. It was digging – in my garden!

I opened my mouth and gave a great roar. I wasn’t having a cheeky young whipper-snapper digging up my garden! Even I wasn’t allowed to dig up the garden – and I am the boss dog.

I barked at it. “Stop that, this instant!”

The whipper-snapper lifted his head, and saw me. A big grin spread across his face. He turned, and stuck up his bottom – stuck up his bottom! At me! – and went back to his digging.

It was just as well that our people arrived, or I really think I would have bounded straight out through the French windows, even though they were closed. If I had reached him, I would have given him a good barking!

As it was, my people told me and Bella to stay where we were.

“We don’t want you to frighten him,” they said.

If you ask me, he deserved to be frightened. You could tell that he was a cocky little thing. He came bouncing indoors with the people, tail in the air, eyes all a-gleam. He had trouble written all over him!

“That dog,” I thought, “needs to be taken down a peg or two.”

He needed to be squashed. But my people wouldn’t let me!

“Buster, put your back down,” they said. “Bella, stop pulling faces!”

“Stupid all-sorts,” sniffed Bella.

But he wasn’t an all-sorts, he was a pedigree, just like her. A fox terrier, according to our people.

“A very handsome little chap!”