Letter to the Editor from Bluey. Subject: a rather unfortunate incident.
I had asked for leave after my return from Shenzhen, China, but events over the weekend have compelled me to send this letter to you as soon as I could.
As part of my leave, I had opted to stay with my old friend, Captain Johann Andersson, who was currently residing at a villa he owned in Plymouth, England. One of the Captain’s favourite haunts is Plymouth Market, and so I followed him to this street market on Friday evening. While not as crowded as some of the markets I had seen in China, it had its own unique style and flair that I did find interesting.
There were all kind of stalls, but I noticed that a number of stalls were vacant. Whereas the markets in China were always full and even had illegal sellers, this market a lot more restraint, and was perhaps a bit more expensive. I happened upon a stall that was serving the finest spaghetti, but the price caught me off-guard. And given that I was reliant on the Captain’s pay at that moment, I had to put off the thought of acquiring that delectable dish.
A thing that I had noticed is that England does not have that many fluffies. According to the Captain, the government had kept a tight control on how many fluffies were raised in the farms, as well as limiting ownership of fluffies to those with a license. Ferals were allowed, but their numbers were constantly kept in check, with an emphasis placed on communities owning and looking after fluffies. I did see a few fluffies in the market, but, and while trying to make contact with them, a few things would happen. Either the fluffy would ignore me, or the fluffy’s owner would say, “Come along laddie, don’t speak to that mongrel.”
Mongrel, I ask you.
There was one particular stall that the Captain enjoyed visiting the most out of the others at this market, and it was a stall that specialized in very old things. I had visited the buildings that the humans call a “museum”, but the artifacts in this stall are not as old. Yet, and according to the captain, they had significant value, even if they just looked rather pretty.
“It’s a beauty, isn’t she?”
The shopkeeper was talking about the model of a ship that the Captain was holding in his hands. I’m not expert in how old a ship gets, but if I had to make a guess, the toy ship was, well, very old.
“How much for this model?”
“20 pounds.”
‘A bit pricey…. How about 17?”
“Are you daft? Haggling isn’t allowed here.”
While the Captain was having his fun with the shopkeeper, I noticed that there were three other people in the shop with us. They consisted of a mother human with a young human girl, no older then about ten. In their company was a fluffy mare.
“Fwuffy wike dis hat, mummah!”
She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She had a light cyan coat, with amethyst eyes and a suiting mane of light purple. She seemed enthusiastic about the various toy planes and helicopters in the shop. But there was something that caught her interest, as she tugger at the little human’s skirt.
“Mummah! Mummah! Wook at da nice hattie!”
It was a rather unusual hat. According to the captain, the human who flew the planes in the old days used to wear a hat like this, which had two circles of glass protecting the eyes. The little girl took the helmet, and tried to put it on. For some odd reason, this was a very small hat, most likely made for a doll or similar. The human girl bends then, and places the hat on the fluffy.
“It fits!”
Feeling a little for herself, the young girl proceeds to carry the mare up, and show her to her mother.
“Mum, look! Wynd’s look really cute with these goggles!”
“Yes dear, she does. Looks like our dear Wynd can finally be a pilot!”
Upon hearing that, Wynd squealed in delight as she exclaimed, “Fwuffy can fwy pwanesies!” She then mimicked the sound of plane as she went, Nyeaaaoh!”
While this was going on, I had noticed a man with a light beard wearing a black jacket and jeans watching the mare. For a moment, I thought he was eyeing me, but then he had his eye trained on this other pretty fluffy girl. I sensed that something wasn’t right, but I knew that it would be out of place for me to just randomly suspect any person.
“Okay, how about 19?”
“Oh would you sod off, Johann. You know we don’t do that-“
“Excuse me,” said the woman as she held Wynd up, asking, “how much do these goggles cost?”
Upon checking his inventory, the shopkeeper replied with “Ten pounds.” Wanting to reach into her purse, the woman placed Wyn on the ground and beside her daughter, as she proceeded to pay the shopkeeper.
Now, what happened next was rather sudden. Even I was not sure of the sequence of the events, but I will try to reconstruct them as they happened.
The man who had been eyeing Wynd started to bend down, and moved quickly. As he ahd rather long arms, he managed to grab the mare with one quick movement. Then, he jumped up, using both hands to smuggle the mare underneath his jacket, as he ran off.
“WYND!!!”
The scream of the young girl echoed out throughout the market. Without any hesitation, both the Captain and I sprang forth, as we ran after the assailant. We would learn later that both the mother and her daughter would contact the police within the market, but the Captain and I felt that we could catch up to this cad.
The man rushed out off the market and onto the main road as we gave chase. Along the way, he passed by some fruit crates. In an attempt to stall us, he upset some of the creates, leaving the oranges, platforms and apples to hinder the Captain. However, as I was smaller and a bit more nimble, I dodged the se obstacles and continued the run.
The assailant was rushing towards a van that was open, with two other men inside them. They were both wearing coats and trousers, unlike the more casually dressed man. The man leapt into the van, and with a sudden motion, the door was slammed in front of my face. The van then sped off, as I yelled out at them.
“Munstahs! Wowstest nu guud dummehs!!”
As I shouted at them, I noticed the number plate on the back of the van.
About a minute later, the Captain had reached me, along with two other policemen. I told them about how a van was waiting for the kidnapper.
“Well, that sucks. Seems like no one was around here to see the license plate.”
However, and as I pointed out to him, “Fwuffy am knu metaw munstah numbuh.”
The police scoffed, “Oh really, what was it?”
The Captain laughed, as he took out a secret weapon from his own jacket – a foldable mat consisting of 36 squares that had all the letters of the alphabet as well as the numbers. Placing the mat on the floor, I quickly went to work, as if I was at my special type writer, and pointed out the numbers and letters as I saw them.
The police, noticing my ability to remember the sequence of numbers and letters, were a little dumfounded.
“How do we know he’s not making it up?”
With a blunt look on his face, the Captain said, “Trust me.”
~
A few hours later, we found out that a van bearing the license plate that I had mentioned was found in a forested area, not too far from Plymouth. The van had the signs of fluffy droppings, a sign that that the assailant was onboard along with the mare, most likely scared of her current situation. As I remembered that there were three other men in the van, a dispatch was sent out to keep an eye out for these kidnappers.
That would have been the end of the story, had it not been for something that happened literally yesterday.
~
I was still thinking about that mare. I tend not to pay too much attention to members of the fairer sex, as most mares do not catch my attention. But there was something about her that seemed rather innocent and charming. The humans often call this “love at first sight”, and I wonder this was the case. I never felt this kind of attraction before with just about any girl.
Anyway, and as I was initially going to finish typing out my report, the Captain came into my room, and saw me hard at work, typing away at my giant keyboard with my four hooves.
“You’ve been hard at work, Bluey. How about some sketti?”
The Italian restaurant that the Captain had in mind was the Piccolo Trattoria, which had been operating for over two decades in Pymouth. It was the Captain’s goto when he was in the mood for Italian and, best of all, it offered special fluffy pony seats.
Our enthusiasm was however cut short as, along the way to the restaurant by an unshaven man with the black jacket and jeans. The very same man.
Feeling anger, I yelled out, “Munstah! Wowstest nu guud gangsta!”
But something about the man seemed different from the last time we met. He seemed worried, like as though he was in the worst trouble. He looked left and right, as he turned to the Captain.
“Look. I know you want explanations.”
Restraining himself, and unsure he was a trap, the Captain says in a low voice, “What do you want?”
To the left and right of us, there were some passersby. It was not that late at night, but this aprt of the town was not that well-populated.
The man tilts his head to a nearby alleyway, as he explains, “It’s not safe here.”
The Captain and I followed. Although one couldn’t tell from his outfit, I knew that the Captain carried a pistol. Noting his background in the military, as well as his line of work, it seemed natural for him to be prepared for situations like this.
Once we were in the alleyway, the Captain faced the kidnapper, as he tried to cover his face with his coat.
“Alright, you got your safe place. What do you want?”
Before the man could open his mouth, I noticed a large vehicle roll up behind him. It looked very similar to the one we saw on Friday.
RATATA!!
The roar of rapid gunfire could be heard, as five quick shots hit the man in the back. Both the Captain and I quickly ducked down as the kidnapper fell, the blood slowly oozing from him. Fearing for our lives, the Captain quickly grabbed me, and proceeded to jump inside the dumpster.
For a whole minute, we had to tolerate the rotting smell of refuse as we peeked out to see if the van could come by. Thankfully, it didn’t.
A crowd starting to form around the injured man as the life was draining out of him. A few policemen turned up, and the Captain got up to inform then of what happened.
As I walked up towards the man who seemed responsible for the whole mess, I could see him, his arms reaching to me.
“Please sir, take it easy,” said a paramedic, as he placed a special breathing mask on him.
The man however, wanted to say something to me. He slowly coughed out, “They, they’ll get you too….”
Dumfounded, I asked, “Who? Who wiww git fwuffy?”
Sensing that he was out of breath, the man pointed towards the dogs that were howling nearby.
“Bawkie munstahs? Wut mista am tawking bout bawkie munstahs?”
My question was unanswered, as the paramedic pushed me away, and wheeled the kidnapper onto the ambulance.
~
According to the Captain, the man had been shot was apparently connected to at least 5 other fluffy kidnappings within the year. I was rather surprised that I got myself involved in another big case, but lamented that it had to happen so soon after my last assignment.
I am close to finishing this report, and will send it to the Captain for further editing. However, he’s a bit busy at the moment as he watching a game of footie. The doorbell just rung, I’ll answer IT while he’s busy.
