Buster. Jean Ure

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Copyright

      Collins

       An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,

      77–85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith,

      London W6 8JB

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      First published in Great Britain by Collins in 2001

      Text copyright © Jean Ure 2001

      Illustrations by Maggie Ling 2001

      Jean Ure and illustrator assert the moral right to be identified as author and illustrator of the work.

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

      HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.

      Source ISBN: 9780006755098

      Ebook Edition © SEPTEMBER 2014 ISBN: 9780008116750

      Version: 2014-09-23

       Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Keep Reading

       Also by the Author

       About the Publisher

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

      I am Buster, and I am the boss dog. I was here first. I tell the others what to do and make sure that they do it. I keep them in order!

      There are two cats as well as us dogs. They are called Whiskers and Panda. They do not do what I tell them. They get into places where we cannot go, such as underneath the sofa or inside the cupboards. They sit on things we cannot reach, such as the top of the fridge or the television set. They take no notice when I bark at them.

      Cats are not like dogs!

      All of us have a story to tell, about how we came to be here. This is my story.

      I was brought here when I was just a tiny pup. My people have a picture of me, which I think they must be quite proud of, as they have hung it on the wall. I can hardly believe that I once looked like that! All wriggly and giggly, with a head that was too big for my body. It is quite embarrassing. The others sometimes tease me.

      “Oh, look!” they go. “Look at Buster as a puppy!”

      Huh! I am sure they were just as wriggly and giggly when they were young.

      I cannot remember much about those early days, but I know that I was happy. I had everything a pup could want. A warm home, people who loved me, good things to eat, and lots of fun! My people played games with me – tugging games, chasing games, games with a ball or a rubber ring. When I was old enough they took me for walks; I also had the garden to run in. I could go wherever I liked, except through the door at the side of the house.

      I knew I mustn’t go through the door, for my people had told me so, many times. But I was young and foolish, and I did so want to know what was on the other side.

      Well. One day a man came, with a ladder and buckets to make the windows clean so that the cats could look out of them. (Cats like to look out of windows.) After the man had gone, I ran into the garden – and guess what? He had forgotten to shut the door behind him! You can imagine what happened. I was through it in a flash.

      I found myself in another garden. A smaller one, this time, with a path that led to a gate. I rushed down it at once, with my nose to the ground, sniffing all the lovely new smells. While I was sniffing, a car drove slowly past. I didn’t take much notice of it. I knew about cars, for my people had brought me home in one.

      I went on sniffing. I sniffed fox, I sniffed badger.

      I cocked my leg to mark the spot – this was my territory – and as I did so a voice spoke to me over the gate.

      “Hallo, boy!”

      I looked up, and wagged. A man was standing there, holding out his hand. I thought he might have something for me, so I went eagerly wobbling up to him on my rubbery puppy legs. I know now that you should never go to a stranger, but I didn’t know it them. I was too young. I thought everyone was my friend.

      Before I realized what was happening, I found myself being grabbed by the scruff of my neck and swung up over the gate. I should СКАЧАТЬ