Selby Speaks by Duncan Ball Page B

thought. “If that looney thinks he can do this to me, I’ll lunch on his leg!”
    Selby jumped to his feet and bared his teeth, lunging towards Thornton’s hairy legs so quickly that the startled man slopped carrot milkshake all over his face.
    “Help!” Thornton screamed. “Selby’s gone mad! He’s trying to bite me!”
    In a flash, Dr and Mrs Trifle dashed into the kitchen only to find Selby lying on the floor, looking around with big, innocent eyes.
    “He did! He tried to bite me!” Thornton screamed.
    “Rubbish,” Mrs Trifle said, looking at where the carrot juice had washed the blue spots off Thornton’s nose. “Selby’s never bitten anyone in his life. It’s completely un-Selbylike. But look!” she said, handing Thornton the mirror. “Your spots are gone.”
    That evening, after the confused Thornton had roared off back to the city, the Trifles satdown once again to their favourite fancy food from The Spicy Onion.
    “I’m sure Thornton’s right about eating healthy foods,” Mrs Trifle said as she looked down at a plate full of barbecued oysters in mango sauce. “But there are times when it’s fun to eat things just because they taste good. Don’t you agree?”
    “Yes, I do,” said Dr Trifle as he plunged his fork into a pickled baby bamboo shoot, making sure there was a bit of bacon rind on top.
    “And so do I!” thought Selby who felt like screaming it out loud.
    Fortunately he couldn’t talk because his mouth was stuffed with peanut prawns.

Up the Creek Without a Dog Paddle
    It was the day of the annual Flat-Out Four-Footed Dog Race across Kookaburra Flats and all the dogs in town, including Selby, had been taken to Mount Gumboot for the start of the race.
    “Race, schmace,” Selby thought as he looked around him at the other dogs. “Not the sort of thing a thinking, feeling dog like myself would ever really
want
to do. I mean, all that sweat and tired muscles — and for what? Last year Constable Long’s dog, Streak, won a year’s supply of Dry-Mouth Dog Biscuits and thepoor beggar hasn’t finished them yet. Even if I
could
win the race, I wouldn’t want to. Just the thought of another one of those wretched biscuits is enough to make me gag. Of course, as the mayor’s dog,” he added thoughtfully, “I have a certain social responsibility. I know she’d be hurt if I didn’t go in the race, but at least she won’t mind if I come last.”
    “On your marks,” Mrs Trifle said, raising the starting pistol and giving Selby a pat on the head with the other hand. “Get set!”
    “Last year,” Selby thought, “I think I may have embarrassed her just a little by starting off at a stroll when all the other dogs got away like greyhounds. This year I’ll run flat-out with the rest of them till we round that rock and then I’ll break into a leisurely walk as soon as I’m out of sight and all the owners are driving back to the finish line in Bogusville.”
    Selby looked around and saw Streak on one side and Hamish the sheepdog on the other, both straining at their owner’s leads.
    “Go!” Mrs Trifle yelled, firing the pistol. And Selby and the rest of the dogs tore away in a cloud of dust.
    Selby was only slightly behind the pack when they rounded the rock and he ducked back into its shadow for a rest.
    “So long, mates,” Selby said, leaning back on one elbow and watching as Hamish suddenly left the pack and came running back.
    “What’s this?” Selby thought. “The dog’s lost his sense of direction.”
    Hamish barked excitedly at Selby and then began snapping at his heels.
    “Hey!” Selby yelled, knowing that Hamish couldn’t understand but not caring. “Stop that! What do you think I am, a stray sheep?”
    Hamish gave him one good bite on the leg and then another.
    “The dog’s gone mad,” Selby thought as he got up and started running after the other dogs. “He thinks I’m a blinkin’ sheep! Ouch!” he screamed. “You’re crazy! You’ve chased too many