Saving The Queen’s Corgis

• Anna Merlo , Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2014

I sat on the footpath, at the park, where I always go. A stray ginger cat had wandered to sit on the ground in front of me. "Hello, Vicky."
That's right, it spoke. Cat's don't talk. The cat spoke in a clear voice. "Vicky, I am from the Secret-Animal-Alliance," said the cat, standing up on it's back paws, walking towards me. I screamed. "Human! I know this may be a shock, but the sooner you get used to the fact that I talk the sooner the Queen will stop wailing!" yelled the cat. The Queen? Did he say the Queen? He walked towards me, extending his right paw for me to shake. "No. No, no, no, animals don't walk like that, animals don't talk. This isn't real," The cat raised his eyebrows. Do cats even have eyebrows? I pinched my arm as hard as possible, but I didn't wake up. "Okay, maybe it is real." I said.
After the cat's explaining, I know this.
• There's a 'Secret-Animal-Alliance.'
• The cat's name is Higsby.
• They need me for a 'mission.'
• Apparently, there's this guy and he's stolen the Queen's Corgis, and he won't give then back unless he has the crown-jewels.
• The royalty of the animal kingdom, apparently, is the Queen's Corgis: 'Princess Fifi' and 'Prince Rex'.
We walked down the street, me whispering to Higsby inside my backpack, we passed a lot of concerned-looking-passers-by. "Where exactly are we going?" I asked. "Catch the next taxi to the airport - plane to London," Higsby whispered. "But I don't have any money." I said. "Oh, don't worry about that, m'dear...Turn right." Higsby muttered. I turned right into the bank and met a Rottweiler at the door. Higsby whispered something, and the Rottweiler threw a wallet at me containing plane tickets. "Thank-you Fluffy." Higsby said quickly and he ordered me out of the bank. I smirked. A Rottweiler named Fluffy? After a long taxi ride and an airplane ride, we were in London, jetlagged yet prosperous. After a bus-trip, we arrived at 'the place.'
"Okay, I'm ready." I said, not really sure what to expect. I stepped towards the door and kicked it open, on Higsby's orders. As I entered, I saw a man, facing away from me, stroking something. How dramatic. The man turned around on his cheap desk chair in a would-be dramatic manner if it weren't for the fact that one of the wheels snapped. I saw he was stroking two terrified-looking Corgis on his lap. "Give back the dogs, nobody gets hurt." I said firmly. The man cackled madly and shook his head. He extended his hand, palm-up, as if demanding something. Does this guy think I'm just going to hand over the crown-jewels? Then, a flurry of birds were flying at the madman, pecking at every inch of exposed skin. I ran into the flurry of wings, snatched the Corgis and ran for it.
Long story short...
I had high tea with the Queen.