You're a Bad Man, Mr. Gum!. Andy Stanton
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‘That dog ought to be given a meddling medal, he’s such a meddler,’ muttered Mr Gum. ‘I hope that’s the last of him.’
But it wasn’t the last of Jake, it was the beginning. Jake’s big doggy brain could not stop thinking about that amazing garden and the very next day he returned with much the same result as before. And the day after that. And the day after that. But not the day after that, because it was a Wednesday and everyone knows that dogs have the day off on Wednesdays.
But on Thursday you should have seen him! He was back with a vengeance. Every day (apart from Wednesdays) it was the same story. That massive whopper of a dog would come bouncing over the fence and start romping around like an uncontrollable doctor, sometimes leaving his ‘little gifts’ as was only natural. Mr Gum would run out into the garden shaking a fist on the end of a stick to frighten him off but he could never catch him. Jake would just bark like a cheeky schoolboy doing an impression of a dog barking. Then he’d bounce over the spiky fence and disappear off to who knows where.
Three weeks later Mr Gum was covered in frying-pan-shaped bruises and he had missed ten episodes of ‘Bag of Sticks’. It was time for action. Nasty action.
It’s time for action,’ said Mr Gum to nobody in particular. ‘Nasty action.’
Nobody in particular shrugged his shoulders and wandered off to eat his dinner. Mr Gum went to the shed and got out his thinking cap. He put it on his knee (it was a kneecap) and started thinking about how to get rid of that dog.
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