Mysterious Troubles

Lightening crackled. Thunder roared. Jumping at the sound of the noise, I raised my spotted head up from the cushioned window sill and peered outside.

It was dark, raining, and rather depressing, reminding me of the night when Perdita had given birth to her first litter of puppies.

Perdita herself seemed to be feeling the same way. She was stirring beside me, emerging from her troubled slumber. Disoriented, she blinked her eyes at me and yawned, "Pongo, dear, have you been awake this whole time?"

Sheepishly, I nodded. "Nearly the whole time, dear. I managed to get a few snores in before the storm hit."

She shook her head at me, not too surprised by my reply. She was wearing a smile on her face, however, when she nestled her muzzle across my paws moments later.

We didn't talk for the remaining of the night. Around one in the morning Perdita had eventually fallen asleep. Unfortunately, I remained awake for the rest of the early dawn, dwelling on the past year.

For me, it was still hard to believe that Cruella De Vil had been fully disposed of. The old witch had been badgering us for so long that her absence didn't seem quite too real. It made me wonder if the police had really caught her.

Feeling foolish for thinking such thoughts, I shook my head and told myself not to fret over past matters. I had complete faith in Scotland Yard. The famous Metropolitan Police service was sure to have Curella and her two henchmen, Horace and Jasper, in jail by now

Still…no matter how much I told myself this, I couldn't keep from worrying. Sure, my fears were understandably for the one-hundred-and-one Dalmatian puppies that my pet, Roger, had so graciously taken into his home, which now also belonged to his wife, Anita, who was Perdita's own pet, but something was telling me that my fears went much deeper.

The only problem was, no one appeared to notice how bothered I had become. Poor Perdita was so busy with the puppies that she hardly had the freedom to attend to her husband. Even Roger, who usually found some way to spend a considerate amount of time with me, had forgotten to take me out on my daily walk that morning after the storm. He was too busy writing his songs.

Also, Anita had become rather industrious of late. She was writing a novel, a book about which no one in the household knew anything about. Even Nanny, our housekeeper, was as clueless as I was.

Nanny! Now there was a person who was sure to confide with me. She was such a dear, sweet old lady. She had been working and living with Roger and Anita for a long time. She had even helped deliver my wife's puppies!

Alas! Nanny was also rather occupied that morning. She cooed to me a little, as she worked, but she was completely focused on dusting and cooking breakfast. Still… that was an important job! Even I knew that breakfast was the healthiest meal of the day, and luckily Nanny cooked the best breakfast in all of London!

Luck…speaking of luck…thinking of such a thing steered my mind onto a different track: Lucky, who was of my blood and not one of the puppies who had been rescued from Hell Hall, where Cruella and her henchman had once dwelled.

They were very few words that could describe Lucky. Perdita and I saw him as a blessing, a little miracle. Everyone did. Perhaps this was the reason why he is the spoiled one now…or it could be the explanation as to why the other puppies were teasing him.

Roly, Patch, Freckles…they all did it. Everyday they would push him around, steal his food. This dodgy behavior worried me. Before breakfast that morning, I decided to ask Lucky how he felt, thinking it would be best to do so before the Thunderbolt Adventure Hour came on later that day.

Who is Thunderbolt, you might ask? Well, he is envied by just about every dog in London, including myself. The puppies love him. Every evening before dinner they all gather around the TV to see how Thunderbolt, who was a pure-bred German Shepard, would vanquish his arch nemesis, Dirty Dawson.

Just recently, Thunderbolt has gained a sidekick, a little ginger Welsh corgi who went by the name of Lightening. Believing that both dogs would be a good subject to start a conversation with Lucky, I exited the kitchen, where I had just ventured into to see Nanny, and traversed into the living room, where half the puppies were just lazing about.

Not too surprisingly, I found Lucky curled across the top of the television set, away from all the other puppies. His ears were drooping and his eyes downcast. To my delight, he perked up a bit when he saw me coming toward him.

"Hey, Dad, what's up?" the little runt asked me as he leaped from the television set to stand before me. He was trying to display a strong visage but I knew him too well.

"What's troubling you, son?" I asked sincerely, draping one of my paws across his back. He pointed his nose at me.

"Nothing really, Dad. I just wish that Dinnertime would hurry up and get here!"

As he said this, I knew he was lying. I didn't comment on his fib, however. Instead, I cleared my throat and said, "Son, it's not even breakfast yet! What is it that you like about Thunderbolt anyway? Is he better than me, you think?"
Lucky giggled, which was something that I had been hoping for. "No, Dad. You're the best! I just like seeing Dirty Dawson get licked!"

Grinning foolishly, I chuckled, "Well, in that case…I'll leave you alone. Are you sure that the others aren't bothering you?"

Lucky was quick to shake his head. "Oh, no, Pop! They'll get over it. They always do! Next month they'll have a new victim," he informed me, his eyes dancing mischievously.

Curious, I inquired, "Who?" Lucky cocked his head teasingly.

"Patch," he muttered in a low voice, watching me frown. I was about to ask him why but, before I could, Nanny called the pups into the kitchen and, before I knew it, I was getting trampled!

Nevertheless, even under the tiny little paws that were stamping me, I somehow knew that Lucky would be right about his brothers and sisters. And he was.

After breakfast, a troubled Perdita crept up to me as I reclined on the living room sofa, listening to Roger as one of his tunes floated downstairs from the attic.

"He will be the end of mind," Anita twittered as she swayed into the living room after Perdita, who quickly slinked out of her pet's way. Anita usually worked on her book down in the basement but she occasionally came upstairs for a quick cup of tea.

Bemused, I watched as the flustered woman entered the kitchen and, removing my auburn eyes off her retreating back, focused my gaze on Perdita.

"She's nearly done with the book, I think. She keeps on talking about the last chapter, but…" Perdita trailed off, lowering her head.

"Perdy, darling, what's wrong?" I questioned her, knowing that something was deeply puzzling my wife.

Sighing, she leaped onto the couch after I made room for her and replied, "It's this dream I've been having…I had it last night but it's been worrying me for months now…ever since we defeated Cruella…"

Concerned, I stared at her. "Perdy, there's no need to worry. Cruella's surely in jail by now. What are you talking about?"

At my question, Perdita shot me a blank look. "That's just the problem, Pongo. I…I don't know what it is but…it's in my dream…every night… and it's in Hell Hall!"

Trying to keep myself composed, I nudged Perdita gently with my nose and told her, softly, "Perdy, I believe that you had the dream but…what would be in that dreary old place after all that's happened now?"

"I don't know…something strange…" she answered, and if I could've turned whiter than I already was, I would have. Strange…what could be stranger than Hell Hall itself? The old manor was so ancient and empty…

Unable to come up with an answer, I lapped my wife's cheek with a dry tongue and whispered, "Enough. Let's not worry anymore. In a few days we'll be away from this place. We'll be in the country, away from Cruella, all right?"
Perdita gave me a small smile. "I'm all right now, Pongo. Now that your here…"

She didn't get to finish the sentence, for within minutes she was asleep. Exhausted, it wasn't long before I was asleep with her.

Dinnertime came quicker than I thought it would. Upon the arrival of its end, all the puppies grouped up together in the living room, fighting each other for the perfect viewing spot as they settled down on top of whatever furniture they could find. Some of them were just happy to lie on the floor.

Patch, as usual, sat right at the foot of the TV, his nose pressed up against the screen as always. Shaking my head, I watched my son as his tail swept across the floor, wondering where Lucky was.

It didn't take me long to find him. My little miracle was, in fact, lying near Peridta and myself. He was curled up at our feet for protection, keeping a weary eye on his fellow brother and sisters, who were all sitting up in anticipation of the upcoming Thunderbolt episode.

"Doing all right, son?" I asked him as quietly as I could. Perdita looked at me out of the corner of one of her dazzling eyes.

"Sssh, Pongo, its starting!" she advised me in a teasing whisper, and Lucky laughed. He had been listening to us the whole time!

The room fell quiet then. As it did, the TV became a living thing. Instantly we were all surrounded by the sound of exploding gunshots as Dirty Dawson charged onto the screen, firing his rifle as he fled on his steed. Thunderbolt was chasing the outlaw down a ravine in the middle of a huge, gaping canyon.

Caught in the excitement of the enduring chase, none of us were anticipating the booming clap of lightening that flashed outside the house, beginning another storm which commenced during the first ten minutes of the show.

The puppies started to yip loudly at the flash of light, which was quickly followed by a round of thunder. Perdita and I winced. Our children were now barking and howling as the storm brewed outside. The lights were beginning to flicker.

"Sorry, children, it looks like we'll have to go to bed early tonight!" Perdita shouted over the noise, rising up on her long, limber legs. Yawning, I echoed her movements and stood up, feeling a bit shaky. It never failed to amaze me how storms could come and go so quickly. Hopefully, this one would behave in the same manner.

The puppies started to protest loudly but, at my and Perdita's urgings, they eventually stood up and began to file into a line. As I started to herd them upstairs, Perdita helped to count them. Unfortunately, at that moment, the lights abruptly went out. They didn't come back on.

"Oh, dear," I heard Perdita say in the darkness, and I stopped moving. I could hear Roger and Anita coming toward us.

"This is some wild weather that we've been having lately," Roger was saying, and I turned to face his voice. When he came into my view, I saw that he was holding a lantern. Anita was clinging to one of his long, dangling arms and Nanny was creeping close behind the couple.

Apparently, the humans had been caught off guard as well.

Not knowing what to think of this, I hung my tail in between my legs and finished getting the puppies into bed. Once they were tucked in, my wife and I curled up beside each other at the base of the living room sofa, forming a large, spotted ball. It was going to be another long night…

By sunup, the storm had abated. This was a great relief to everyone. Even Perdita didn't seem as worried about her recurring dream as she had been yesterday.

Our renewed joys, however, were quickly overshadowed by the swift past of time as Roger and Anita rushed to finish the packing that they had started weeks earlier. The couple had been working feverishly to store all their prized possessions before moving day, which was now only a couple of days away.

The puppies were all excited. I watched them for the biggest part of the day, admiring how fast they could run and leap about. It almost made me wish I was young again.

Unfortunately, I was soon plagued by more troubles, troubles that left me little time to dream. They concerned my son, Patch, who was now being teased by his brothers and sisters. Lucky had warned me of this.

Nonetheless, I was still appalled by the hostility that the children unleashed upon the lost pup, who got his name from the black spot which circled his left eye. More than once I considered intervening with the other puppies' torments but Perdita prevented me from doing so.

"He'll never learn to handle himself, Pongo," she said, shocking me. This didn't sound like my beloved Perdita!

Flabbergasted, I blinked at her and swallowed. At times like these, I wondered if I really knew my wife as good as I thought I did.

Laughing at my reaction, Perdita smiled and licked my muzzle. "Oh, Pongo, don't worry. A mother knows best," she said, surely, and I sighed wistfully.

"Did you have the dream again?"

Put off by my question, Perdita took a step back from me, shaking her head vigorously. "Oh, no, Pongo. I actually slept quite well last night, despite the storm. I think the dream was just that, a dream…"

"A very mysterious dream," I remarked, and said no more when Perdita nodded in consent. The rest of the day, thankfully, went be without anymore predicaments.

The next morning, the last of the moving arrangements were made. It was official. In two more days we would be leaving London behind. I could almost smell that country air already.

Regrettably, there was still another matter that I had to debate over, first, before I could really set my mind at ease. For, last night, Perdita had had her dream again. Over breakfast she told me that it had been more disturbingly vivid than ever.

I told her not to worry, that it was just a dream. She took my solution calmly enough but, when we went out on our daily walk with our pets that evening (they had both decided that it was time for a good break form all the housework), Perdita seemed deeply worried and I asked her what was so wrong.

"I think I know what that thing is, now, in Hell Hall," was what she finally admitted to me as we sat upon a lushly, green hill that overlooked London. I blinked at her in surprise.

"What is it?" I asked, feeling somewhat ignorant. Perdita sighed.

"My fear. Our fear, for the puppies," she murmured, rubbing her head against my side. Closing her eyes, she whispered, "It just keeps growing and growing…its telling me that Cruella's coming back…I just know it…"

For some reason, Perdita's theory greatly relieved me. The same worries that had been plaguing me for the past two months had been bothering Perdita as well. This made me feel greatly more at ease.

"Your not alone, Perdita. You're not alone," I assured her, and suddenly all of my troubles were forgotten.