The Dog that Dumped on my Doona Read Online Free Page A

my head again.
    â€˜You are not communicating with your defence.’
    Bang. There went another one.
    â€˜Close in on the striker. That way, he has less room to get the ball past you.’
    Yet another ball rocketed into the net.
    â€˜You’re going to ground too early.’
    By the twelfth goal, I’d had enough.
    â€˜Oi,’ I said. ‘Give it a break, willya? You are not helping me here.’
    â€˜You want help?’ he said. ‘I’ll give you help, tosh.’
    And he did. In the next attack the lumbering giant was through again and heading straight for me. It was like being in the path of a very large meteor. The guy was a human eclipse. And it was obvious he was going to take me out. Probably for good. I could see it in his eyes, so I closed mine and waited for the pain. But when the scream came, it wasn’t mine.
    I felt the ball bump gently against my ankles. When I opened my eyes I saw the big kid rolling around in agony. Not surprising, since he had a small, dirty-white dog attached to the front of his shorts. I winced. After that it was mayhem, with players, officials and fans (actually, my dad and a couple of other losers) trying to separate Blacky from the guy’s groin. Blacky, in the meantime, was trying to separate the guy from his groin.
    They had to abandon the game and call it a draw because the ref turned out to be the kid’s dad and he had to take him to hospital. The other team wasn’t pleased, especially as they were 12-0 up and it wasn’t even halftime.
    But officially, I had kept a clean sheet. First time and, I dare say, the last.
    Blacky trotted up to me as I got my towel from the back of the goal.
    â€˜That’s the way to tackle,’ he said.
    â€˜You’re suggesting I bite attackers in the you-know-where?’
    He tilted his head to one side.
    â€˜Well,’ he said. ‘It certainly slows them down.’
    One advantage of the game finishing early was that I could start on my mission earlier than expected. Dad had shopping to do in the town centre, so he left me outside the pet shop while he braved the crowds in the supermarket. He’d be at least an hour, so I rang Dylan who lived fairly close. He said he’d get there in ten.
    There was a bunch of people milling in the street, stopping passers-by and giving them leaflets. I picked one up when some guy just dropped it on the road after glancing at it. It was about the mineral mines in the Queensland bush. It asked people to write to the Premier, expressing their opposition. I folded the leaflet and put it in my pocket.
    I examined the contents of the pet shop’s windows while I waited for Dylan. I was waiting for Blacky as well. I’d been forced to leave him at the football ground. It was unlikely Dad would be thrilled to have the crotch-gnawing dog in the car with him.
    It was the biggest pet shop in my town. It must have been one of the biggest in the state. I watched the kittens in their glass cabinets. Most were asleep in the sun’s warmth – as soon as the soccer game had stopped, the clouds had cleared and the sun had broken through – but a few were climbing over each other and playing. There were dogs in the window too. And fish and snakes and other reptiles. It was like looking into Noah’s Ark. So it seemed no time at all before I felt Dylan tug at my arm.
    â€˜Yo, Marc,’ he said. ‘The Dyl reporting for duty. What’s happening?’
    â€˜This is a reconnoitre,’ I replied.
    â€˜Excellent,’ he said.
    â€˜You don’t know what it means, do you?’ I said.
    â€˜Nope.’
    â€˜We are checking things out, scoping the lie of the land, having a stake-out. Research, mate. Planning. Infiltrating enemy terrain.’
    â€˜Oh.’
    Dylan sounded disappointed. He doesn’t like looking at things. He’s into action. Preferably involving lots of noise and plenty of stuff breaking. I couldn’t