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Poppy’s mumhad been coming down the stairs as they came in.
    “Billy fell in the river,” Poppy admitted.
    “He was chasing a rat – it wasn’t Poppy’s fault,” Izzy added quickly.
    “Are you all right?” Poppy’s mum shot down the stairs. “Did you fall in too? Are you hurt?”
    “Just wet. Billy splashed all over us,” Poppy explained.
    “That dog!” Poppy’s mum glared at him.
    “He got stuck in an old bike someone had thrown in,” Izzy told her, hoping to make her less cross with him.
    “Oh dear, it’s such a mess down there. You’ll have to stop walking him by the river, Poppy. Ugh, look at him, he’s covered in mud.”
    “Shall we put him in the bath?” Poppy suggested. “And please don’t say we can’t go down there, Mum, it’s his favourite walk.”
    “It could have been his last walk, if you couldn’t get him out,” her mum snapped. “Yes, you’d better bath him. And then you two can have showers. I’ll go and make you some hot chocolate. Do you like chocolate, Izzy?”
    “Please.” Izzy nodded. Even though it was June, she still felt cold and muddy and horrible. Hot chocolateand a shower sounded excellent.
    “OK. Once we get close to the bathroom, I’ll pull, you push,” Poppy instructed, running up the stairs and leaving Izzy staring after her. “Billy! Come on, boy!”
    Billy bounded up the stairs – his paw had had a miraculous recovery on the way home. He’d been able to bark himself silly at a fat black cat, and it seemed to have cheered him up no end.
    “Shut the door!” Poppy shrieked, as Izzy hurried after her. “He’s going to notice where he is in a minute, shut the door!”
    Izzy slammed the bathroom door shut just as Billy clocked the bath, and tried to exit his collar backwards. He stood in the corner of the bathroom staring reproachfully at Poppy and Izzy.
    “Your fault for going ratting in a river,” Poppy said sternly. “We have to get the mud off you, or Mum’ll have you living in the garden. It’s
Top Gear
tonight, Billy, you want to be allowed on the sofa.”
    “He likes
Top Gear
?” Izzy laughed.
    “Yup. His favourite programme. He even knows the music, he rushes in when he hears it’s on.”
    “How are we going to get him in the bath?” Izzy asked doubtfully, as Poppy began to run the water.“And what’s that you’re putting in the water?”
    Poppy was adding drips of something from a little bottle. “Lavender oil. To calm him down a bit. And it smells nice,” she added sensibly. “He stinks of river. You can’t put bubble bath in, it isn’t good for dogs’ skin. We could probably use Mum’s expensive organic stuff, but she’d recognise the smell on him, and then she’d kill me. And we get him in by picking him up and putting him in, of course.”
    Izzy looked at Billy, backed stubbornly into the corner of the bathroom. Then she looked at herself and Poppy. Billy was huge. And heavy. “Umm…”
    “He isn’t really that heavy,” Poppy assured her.
    “But will he let us pick him up?”
    “He’ll wriggle like mad, but we can do it. Then once he’s in, one of us just has to hold on to his collar, and he’ll stay still while we wash the mud off. OK. That should be enough. He doesn’t like too much water round his legs.” She giggled. “So who knows why he decided to jump into a river. Stupid dog.”
    Billy saw Poppy approaching, with a meaningful look in her eyes, and moaned. Izzy had never realised dogs could moan, but that was definitely what it was.
    “You’re filthy,” Poppy told him sternly. “We have to get the mud off. Right, Izzy, I’ve got the front,you’ve got the back – that’s the lighter end,” she added encouragingly.
    Izzy thought it was more important that it was the end without the teeth, but she didn’t say so. Even though Bull Terriers had a fierce reputation, Billy seemed quite friendly and gentle. But that was before they’d tried to heave him into a bath.
    The bathroom door opened