Gaspode stared.
At that moment Dibbler's door opened. Victor emerged, coughing, at one end of a cigar.
'Great, great,' said Dibbler, following him out. 'Knew we could sort it out. Don't waste it, boy, don't waste it. They cost a dollar a box. Oh, I see you brought your little doggie.'
'Woof,' said Gaspode, irritably.
The other dog gave a short sharp bark and sat up with obedient alertness radiating from every hair.
'Ah,' said Dibbler, 'and I see we've got our wonder dog.'
Gaspode's apology for a tail twitched once or twice.
Then the truth dawned.
He glared at the larger dog, opened his mouth to speak, caught himself just in time, and managed to turn it into a 'Bark?'
'I got the idea the other night, when I saw your dog,' said Dibbler. 'I thought, people like animals. Me, I like dogs. Good image, the dog. Saving lives, Man's best friend, that kind of stuff.'
Victor looked at Gaspode's furious expression.
'Gaspode's quite bright,' he said.
'Oh, I expect you think he is,' said Dibbler. 'But you've just got to look at the two of them. On the one hand there's this bright, alert, handsome animal, and on the other there's this dust ball with a hangover. I mean, no contest, am I right?'
The wonder dog gave a brisk yap.
'What dis place? Good boy Laddie!'
Gaspode rolled his eyes.
'See what I mean?' said Dibbler. 'Give him the right name, a bit, a training, and a star is born.' He slapped Victor on the back again. 'Nice to see you, nice to see you, drop in again any time, only not too frequently, let's have lunch sometime, now get out, Soll!'
'Coming, Uncle.'
Victor was suddenly alone, apart from the dogs and the room full of people. He took the cigar out of his mouth, spat on the glowing end, and carefully hid it behind a potted plant.
'A star is whelped,' said a small, withering voice from below.
'What he say? Where dis place?'
'Don't look at me,' said Victor. 'Nothing to do with me.'
'Will you just look at it? I mean, are we talking Thicko City here or what?' sneered Gaspode.
'Good boy Laddie!'
'Come on,' said Victor. 'I'm supposed to be on set in five minutes.'
Gaspode trailed after him, muttering under his horrible breath. Victor caught the occasional 'old rug' and 'Man's best friend' and 'bloody wonder bloody dog'. Finally, he couldn't stand it any longer.
'You're just jealous,' he said.
'What, of an overgrown puppy with a single-figure IQ?' sneered Gaspode.
'And a glossy coat, cold nose and probably a pedigree as long as your ar - as my arm,' said Victor.
'Pedigree? Pedigree? What's a pedigree? It's just breedin'. I had a father too, you know. And two grandads. And four great grandads. And many of 'em were the same dog, even. So don't you tell me from no pedigree,' said Gaspode.