The Witch’s Dog Leaves Home
by
Stephanie J Dagg
Published by Stephanie Dagg at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Stephanie J Dagg
Discover other books by me, Stephanie Dagg, at Smashwords.com and visit my website at http://www.booksarecool.com
This is the second book in The Witch’s Dog trilogy. 1. The Witch’s Dog 2. De-Witched! 3. Witching Again!
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Cackling Carol was a witch. She lived in a dank, gloomy cavern somewhere or other. She had lived there for hundreds of years, unnoticed by generations of local people, until the day she was spotted by Mrs Violet Dodds, Lady Mayor of the nearby town.
Cackling Carol was in the woods picking poisonous toadstools for her breakfast. She had a bad cold so she wasn’t as alert as usual. Normally she would have heard Mrs Dodds approaching.
Mrs Dodds was in the woods because she was a tubby lady — and getting tubbier. So she had resolved to walk in the woods every morning before going home to a light breakfast of porridge, eggs, bacon, beans and toast and marmalade.
Today was the first day of Mrs Dodds’ fitness campaign. She had walked about a half a mile and she was breathless and tired. As she looked around for something dry and not too dirty to sit on, she spotted a hunched figure in the distance. It was Cackling Carol.
Mrs Dodds crept closer. She was horrified to see how dirty, tatty and haggard Cackling Carol looked. Now, Cackling Carol was actually quite smart and good-looking as witches go, but to our eyes she was pretty ugly and scruffy.
“Poor woman!” sighed Mrs Dodds. “I must help her!” Mrs Dodds liked to do good deeds. She had been a very enthusiastic Girl Guide years ago and she was now a very enthusiastic Lady Mayor.
Cackling Carol got up stiffly and tottered back towards the cavern, picking a few poisonous berries on her way and munching them. She never noticed Mrs Dodds waddling and panting along behind her at a discreet distance. That’s how Mrs Dodds found out where Cackling Carol lived. And when she saw that this poor old lady lived in squalor in a cave — well, she wobbled home as quickly as she could and phoned the local welfare office.
That afternoon, as Cackling Carol was mixing up a stew of worms and mouldy sticks for tea, she had visitors. Big Roddy, her dog, the famous wizard-catching witch’s dog, suddenly sat up and growled. (Carol didn’t like cats and so, a few years ago, she had got Big Roddy from a dog’s home — but that’s another story!) Cackling Carol looked up from her cauldron and saw some men in grey suits and a woman with a clipboard. They were all smiling at her.
Cackling Carol was so surprised that it didn’t even occur to her to turn them into frogs or beetles or some other sort of creepy-crawly.
“Hello, dear”, simpered the woman. “We’ve come to look after you. We’ll find you a nice warm flat to live in. You can’t stay in this damp old cave, it’s not good for you!”
Cackling Carol’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe what was going on. This was her home, and had been since 1697 or thereabouts. She liked it.
She opened her mouth to protest but, because of her bad cold, only croaks and wheezes came out. Before she knew it, two of the men in grey suits were holding her firmly but gently by her arms and leading her away.
“But all my things!” she managed to squeak at last.
“Don’t worry, my love. We’ll bring them along for you later. I’ll just make a list of what there is.” The woman glanced around her. A look of horror and dismay crossed her face as she saw the filthy cauldron full of black, bubbling stew, the battered old broom and Cackling Carol’s other tatty possessions, mainly mildewed books and cracked bottles full of ghastly looking liquids.
“My dog!” wheezed Cackling Carol.
Big Roddy had hidden behind Broom.
“Oh! Have you got a dog? I’m afraid you’re not allowed to have pets in the lovely sheltered housing we’ve got lined up for you. We’ll find another home for it, dear.” smiled the woman. “Here boy! Nice doggy!” she called.
Big Roddy poked his head out. Now he was a clever dog and he knew that he did not want these people getting their hands on him. So, with a despairing look at Cackling Carol, he shot off into the woods.
“Oh dear!” said the woman happily. “Looks like he’s gone for good. Never mind, dear, we’ll get you a sweet little goldfish instead. You’re allowed to have goldfish in the flats.”
With that they frog-marched Cackling Carol down to the waiting car. While their backs were turned, Broom flew off after Big Roddy.