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like you, but do you realise what smoking can do to your health?’

    â€˜But . . .’ I say
    â€˜It rots your lungs. It stunts your growth. It ruins your circulation. You’ll get gangrene and your toes will drop off. Is that what you want?’
    â€˜Are you getting all this, Sooty?’ I say.
    â€˜I’m talking to you!’ says Mum. ‘You two would be a lot better off playing outside in the fresh air than huddled under the house smoking. Why don’t you go to the playground? The exercise would do you good.’
    The playground? How old does she think we are?
    â€˜But, Mum,’ I say, ‘playgrounds are for kids.’
    â€˜Don’t be silly,’ says Mum. ‘Playgrounds are for everybody.’
    â€˜Why don’t you go down there then?’ I say.

    â€˜Well,’ says Mum, ‘because at my age swings and seesaws and whizzy-dizzys make me feel ill, but if I was your age I’d be down there in a flash.’
    I look at Danny.
    Danny looks at me.
    â€˜That’s it!’ I say. ‘Great idea, Mum! Can we take Sooty?’
    â€˜Sure,’ says Mum, a little surprised by my sudden change of mind. ‘But no more smoking!’
    â€˜Okay,’ I say. ‘Did you hear that, Sooty? No more smoking!’
    Mum rolls her eyes.
    We grab Sooty and drag him down the driveway, across the street and down to the playground.
    â€˜This ought to do the trick,’ I say to Danny. ‘Chocolate, smoking and swinging — a lethal combination. Even for a dog with a cast-iron gut like Sooty.’
    Sooty digs his claws into the footpath the whole way. Sometimes I swear he can understand English. I have to drag him by the collar while Danny pushes him along from behind.
    Finally we make it to the playground.
    â€˜Gee,’ says Danny. ‘This place has changed.’

    He’s right. The playground is not what it used to be. They’ve removed all the old metal stuff we used to play on and replaced it with a load of brightly coloured plastic junk. It’s strictly for babies. There are still swings but they’re not the big ones — just the ones that look like rubber underpants with little safety chains across the front. Still, they’ll be perfect for Sooty.
    He’s not too keen on the idea, though. He’s straining to get away.
    â€˜Don’t worry, Sooty,’ I say. ‘We’re not mad at you. We’re just going to have a bit of fun.’
    I try to pick him up, but he’s twisting and turning and I can’t get a proper grip.
    â€˜Give me a hand, Danny,’ I say.
    But Danny is not beside me. I look up. He’s climbing across the top of a yellow dome.
    â€˜Hey!’ he calls. ‘Your mum was right. This is pretty good! We should come here more often.’
    â€˜Danny!’ I yell. ‘Get over here right now! Don’t you realise what’s at stake?’
    â€˜Just one more go?’ he says.
    â€˜Danny!’

    Danny jumps off the dome and comes running over.
    I put my hands around Sooty’s chest and hold him just above the swing. As I lower him into the rubber seat, Danny pulls Sooty’s hind legs through the legholes. I pull the chain across and lock it into position.
    I run around behind the swing, pull it back and push it as hard as I can.
    Sooty goes swinging up into the air. He barks crazily. The swing comes whooshing back and I push it even harder. He barks even louder.
    â€˜Hey!’ says a voice behind us. ‘Take that dog out of there!’
    I turn around.
    It’s my neighbour, Mr Broadbent. He doesn’t like me very much, I think it’s got something to do with the time I accidentally set his fence on fire.
    â€˜Let him go!’ he says.
    â€˜But Sooty likes it,’ I say. ‘He just loves the swing.’
    â€˜Then why is he barking like that?’ says Mr Broadbent.
    â€˜He’s barking for joy,’ I say, giving the swing another