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the door.

ight now this dog seems to have attached itself to you. You keep on walking and the dog follows you faithfully. But you soon realise that he’s no ordinary dog. By the time you get home, the dog has pulled you out of the path of a speeding semi-trailer, killed an escaped tiger that jumped at you from a tree, steered you around an open man-hole that you didn’t notice, and saved a couple of babies from a burning house. Yes, this is some dog!
    You take him inside and give him afternoon tea. You’re feeling guilty about not returning him, but you can’t bear to give him up, so you decide you’ll keep him overnight. You turn the TV on and stretch out in the best armchair with the dog on your lap.
    An hour later your mum comes home. ‘What sort of a day did you have at your new school, dear?’ she asks as she goes past the living room.
    â€˜Words can’t describe it,’ you answer.
    â€˜That’s nice dear,’ she says.
    You go to sleep for a few minutes in the armchair. You’re woken by a bright light shining in the window and a voice booming through a loudspeaker.
    â€˜This is the police,’ says the voice. ‘We know you have Rex the Wonder Dog in there. Come on out with your hands up.’ Horrified you rush to the window. Sure enough the house is surrounded by police cars, TV cameras and a small crowd of neighbours.
    With Rex at your heels you walk slowly out. A microphone is pushed into your face and a voice asks, ‘Why did you kidnap the world’s most valuable dog?’
    You can’t think of an answer, but as the police car takes you away to begin your prison sentence—twelve years hard labour—you think, ‘Well, at least I won’t have to go back to that terrible school.’

ith a huge swing of the arm you smash the glass in the alarm with the book. Sirens sound, lights flash, bells ring. But a moment later your arm is grabbed from behind. You turn to see who it is. It’s a meek and mild looking lady with glasses, and she’s holding your arm in an iron lock.
    â€˜How dare you,’ she hisses. ‘Using a library book in such a way. Don’t you have any respect?’
    â€˜But it’s an emergency,’ you stammer. ‘The school’s burning down.’
    â€˜Don’t you back-answer me,’ she snarls. ‘You come with me right now.’
    She marches you straight to the library and sits you at a desk. Through the window you see the fire brigade arriving and putting out the fire.
    But that’s not much comfort to you. The librarian’s just put piles of books all around you. She tells you that you’ll spend every spare minute from now on covering books, until you’ve finished all these piles.
    â€˜But, but how many are there?’ you ask desperately.
    â€˜Eight thousand,’ she says, as she walks away.

ou’ve got to do something!’ you stammer. ‘The whole place is about to burn down!’
    â€˜Can’t help that,’ the cleaner grumbles.
    â€˜What do you mean you can’t help that?’ You’re practically screaming at him.
    â€˜I’m on my lunch hour,’ he says.
    â€˜You’re on your lunch hour! You’re on your lunch hour!’ You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You try to keep control of yourself. ‘Um, may I enquire, when does your lunch hour finish?’ you ask politely.
    He looks at his watch. ‘Six minutes,’ he says.
    â€˜And,’ you say, still being super-polite, ‘do you think it may be possible that some time this afternoon, among your many duties, you could find time to put out the fire which is currently burning the bloody school down!’
    â€˜Right,’ he says. ‘That’s it. Out you go. I’m not having any swearing in this office.’
    â€˜Office?’ you say, but before you can say any more he bundles you out of the room back into the