Claude’s Christmas Adventure: The must-read Christmas dog book of 2018!

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About the Publisher

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The box on the table was filled with interesting smells. And, I guessed, interesting food that was causing the interesting smells.

I snuffled around the base of the kitchen table, wiggling my rear against the tiled floor, my tiny tail moving with it. Magnificent though I am, in dog terms, I’m just not all that tall, and try as I might I couldn’t even see the box from close up, let alone reach it. I eyed the kitchen chairs. A more energetic dog might attempt to jump up, I supposed, but my legs weren’t long enough to make it, and I didn’t fancy the indignity of falling flat on my snout on the kitchen floor if I tried.

I did fancy the interesting smells, though. They smelt delicious.

I’d just sat back on my haunches to consider my options, when a foot collided with my side. I scampered back with a whine.

‘Oh!’ Daisy, one of my people, cried out as she stumbled, dropping the stack of presents she was carrying so they scattered across the table. And the floor. And one of the chairs. There was red and gold shiny paper everywhere. Glitter rained down from above, sparkly and shiny (but not good to eat. I’d checked).

‘Claude! What are you doing there? Honestly, how do you always seem to know exactly the wrong place to sit? Oliver!’ Daisy sounded cross. Daisy didn’t often sound cross, so I made a point of listening carefully. Usually, Daisy sounded fun, and full of laughter, and like she might give me treats at any moment just for managing not to drool on her new shoes (that happened last week). But not today.

Today, I didn’t think Daisy was in the mood to give me any treats at all. And definitely not any of the food that was making the interesting smells in the box.

This was not good.

Oliver, Daisy’s husband, appeared in the doorway. He didn’t look in much of a better mood than Daisy. ‘What?’

‘Put Claude in his crate in the car, will you? He’s being such a nuisance.’ Personally, I’d argue that the person who came into the kitchen, kicked me by accident and threw presents and glitter everywhere was much more of a nuisance. I gave a sharp bark to show my disagreement, but Daisy just glared at me. ‘At least if he’s in his crate he’s ready to go, and it’s one less thing for me to trip over in this bloody house.’

I do not like my crate. Well, it’s okay for a while, I suppose. But it’s not nearly as comfortable as my basket.

I turned big eyes and ears on Oliver, and hoped he was feeling sympathetic.

‘Already? Shouldn’t we wait until we’re ready to go?’ Good man, Oliver.

‘We are ready,’ Daisy snapped. Oliver gave the presents littering the kitchen a pointed look. ‘Or we would be, if I wasn’t the only one doing the packing.’

‘I’ll put Claude in the car,’ Oliver said quickly, self-defence obviously winning out over sympathy. I couldn’t really blame him. And actually, with Daisy in this mood, maybe I’d be safer out there anyway.

I’d be glad when all this Christmas chaos was over and Daisy could go back to being the lovely human I knew she was. A lovely human with doggy treats, preferably. As much fun as Christmas was – with all the presents and interesting smells and lights on the tree – I didn’t like how grumpy it made Daisy.

‘Good. Then come back for the Christmas hamper.’ Daisy waved a hand at the box of interesting smells. ‘And don’t forget the twins’ special present! I’ll get the rest of the gifts in the car, then we can round up the kids and get them loaded up too.’

‘If there’s still room for them,’ Oliver muttered, under his breath.

I hoped he was joking. My ears had perked up a little at the mention of the kids. As much as I loved Daisy and Oliver, their children were far more fun. Especially Jay who, now he was six, had stopped trying to ride me and could play some really good games. The twins were too little to do anything much yet, but I was looking forward to watching them grow up. I hoped they’d be as much fun as Jay. Bella was older, but liked to take me for a walk sometimes – usually when she wanted to get away from her parents. She talked to me occasionally, too, curled up on the sofa when her family weren’t looking. I think she liked having someone who could only bark back.

But still, I have to admit, Jay is my favourite person ever.

‘Come on, Claude old boy.’ Oliver hauled me into his arms and headed outside. As we passed the lounge, I saw the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, and heard the faint sounds of the twins’ favourite toy making the same noises over and over again. That was probably Jay playing with it, not them. At five months old, the twins weren’t all that interested in their toys, but Jay thought they were marvellous. I’d tried chewing on one or two of them, but Oliver or Daisy always took them away.

That was okay. They didn’t taste all that good anyway.

Outside, it turned out, was a lot chillier than the kitchen. The front door clattered shut behind us, the circle of leaves and berries that Daisy had hung on it thudding against the wood. The car stood on the driveway, doors wide open and the boot door up high too. It was a bigger car than most on our street, I’d realised a while ago. I supposed because we had so many more people than most of the houses on Maple Drive.

My crate sat in the boot, behind the seats where Jay and Bella sat, which in turn were behind the row with the baby seats, which were behind Oliver and Daisy’s chairs. My red blanket covered the floor of the crate, and there was a chew toy or two to keep me entertained. I wondered how far we were going today.

It was Christmas, and that usually meant a few days at Granny and Grandad’s house by the seaside. I liked it there – the sand was funny-feeling under my paws, and chasing the waves was always fun, even if I’d never caught them yet. But this year things felt different. Less fun, for a start. I’d been listening, while Daisy had been getting things ready for our trip, but some of the words she’d used hadn’t made much sense. Ferry. France. Chateau. They were new words to me.

I had heard them talking about Granny and Grandad too, though, so that was good. It wouldn’t be Christmas without them. They always had doggy treats for me, and their dog, Petal, was good at sharing her toys. And her people.

I didn’t really like to share my people at all, but Jay loved me more than any other dog anyway, so that was all right.

I settled down in my crate as Oliver swung the door closed, and prepared to wait for the rest of the family to join me. Preferably with snacks.

It didn’t take long.

‘Claude!’ Jay whispered my name, louder than most people would shout. I jumped up at the sound of his voice. ‘I’m sorry you’re stuck in your crate. I’ve brought you something to keep you company on the drive.’ He fumbled with the door of the crate, then pushed his stuffed toy inside. I huffed my gratitude. It wasn’t just any stuffed toy – it was the special French Bulldog toy that Granny and Grandad had bought him because they said it looked just like me.

I couldn’t see it, myself. My black and white colouring was far more elegant.

‘Jay!’ Daisy yelled from inside the house, her voice sharp and impatient, and the little boy’s eyes widened.

‘See you later, Claude!’ He slammed the crate door shut again, running off before he could realise the latch hadn’t caught properly.

Interesting.

Still, there was nowhere I really needed to go, so I settled back down with the cuddly toy for company, and watched as the family came and went, loading boxes and bags into the car, and the bigger container on the roof. Oliver staggered out with a huge gift wrapped box, bigger than my crate, and jammed it into the boot beside me. The wrapping paper had pictures of red and white striped candy canes, and golden people shaped things with sweets for buttons that looked delicious. ‘Not for eating,’ Oliver reminded me, as he headed back to the house for the next box. ‘If you eat the wrapping paper off the twins’ first Christmas present, there’ll be hell to pay.’

As if I’d be so stupid. Besides, I’d tried it last month at Jay’s birthday. Wrapping paper tasted only marginally better than glitter.

Every time the door opened, there was a blast of screaming from the twins. Suddenly, I was rather glad to be waiting in the car, even if no one had brought me a mid-morning snack yet.

Oliver balanced the box of interesting smells beside my crate for a moment, then placed it on the back seat instead. ‘Just in case,’ he said, looking at me meaningfully.

I huffed and turned around in my crate, facing away from him. No need to be insulting.

But then I spotted someone else outside the car. Someone definitely not family.

Perdita. The ridiculously fluffy, unnecessarily haughty, cat from across the road at number 12.

And she was sniffing.

‘What’s that interesting smell?’ she meowed, padding closer. ‘Oh, sorry, you wouldn’t know, of course. You’re stuck in that crate.’

Like she never had to travel in a crate to go to the vet or whatever. Cats. They always think they’re better than everyone else.

‘I know that whatever it is, it’s not yours,’ I growled back.