December 2

Jigger's Journal, Part 2

With the truck bearing down on me with super speed I did the only thing I could think of. I ducked back into the box. If I couldn't see the truck then the truck couldn't see me. Even as I did it I knew there had to be a flaw in the plan, but I couldn't think of anything else to do, and better to do something than nothing.

So I crouched in a corner of the box with my hands over my head, and I moaned softly. Being a spy I couldn't allow myself to cry, but a good moan was definitely called for. The problem was no matter how loud I moaned the sound of the truck kept getting louder and louder. Which meant that it didn't matter if it couldn't see me, it was still going to crush me.

I risked a look out of the box, and it wasn't good. The truck was nearer me now. So near I could see the pimples on the driver's face. I could see that he was shouting into a phone, which you should never do while you are driving. Even I know to put the banana away when I am in a vehicle. I roared: “Put the phone away. You'll hit me!”

But he didn't hear me. He just kept driving that truck, which was now so close I could see the little hairs growing out of his nostrils. Disgusting.

There was nothing for it. I was doomed. So I did the first thing that popped into my head. I jumped as high as I could, and a little to the left. The truck was too high to jump over, but I could jump out of the way. So I popped out of the box and into the air, and just in time too. As I shot through the air the truck flew by, and I grabbed onto the wing mirror so that I wouldn't fall to the ground. Which was a silly idea, as I wanted to fall to the ground. I needed to get into the castle. And if I was clinging on to a wing mirror of a truck being driven by a lunatic, then I wasn't going to get in. In fact, with every mile he drove I was getting further and further from my destination. And I couldn't let go, because we were travelling so fast. So I clung on for dear life.

The only good thing about that nightmare drive was that my silly hat with the three bells flew off. It landed in the middle of the road and a big black crow swooped down and picked it up. He flew after the truck, but I yelled at him that he could keep the hat, and he flew off, satisfied. Let him look silly for a change.

Of course it was still raining, and with my hat gone I was getting even wetter. Soon I would be wetter than the inside of a swimming pool. This was not a good morning.

On top of it all my arms were getting tired. I don't know if you have ever clung to the wing mirror of a moving truck, but after ten minutes you wish you were any place else, even in the tummy of a hungry polar bear. Believe me, I have been there, and it beats hanging off a wing mirror in the pouring rain on a bumpy road in Ireland.

Eventually we came to a city and the truck had to slow down. Then we came to a traffic light, and the truck had to stop entirely. So I let go the mirror and fell to the ground. Then I discovered there is one place worse than hanging off a wing mirror, and that place was in a big muddy puddle under the wing mirror.

The puddle was so deep I almost had to swim to get out, but I made it to the far shore and climbed the kerb onto the footpath. Now I definitely was wetter than the inside of a swimming pool. And dirtier. I took out my banana to call base and let them know how I was getting on. I pressed the button and a squirt of water came out and hit me in the ear.

“You need to shake yourself,” said a rough voice.

“I need a towel,” I replied.

“No – a shake is quicker, and anyway you don't have a towel.”

I turned to see who was talking to me. I was a little surprised to see a small brown dog. Nothing particularly surprising about dogs in general, but this dog was wearing a red check shirt and had sun glasses on, even though it was mid-winter. And he was standing up on his two back legs like a trained monkey.

“I'm Leroy,” he said.

“The name is Jiggers. James Jiggers,” I answered. “But you can call me Jiggers.”

“Do you have a change of clothes?” he asked.

I ran through the contents of my suitcase in my head. Unless I could wear a cucumber sandwich the answer was no.

“You better come home with me,” he said. “By the way, good work on catching the truck. I have been chasing cars and trucks for years and never caught one. You'll have to tell me how you did it.”

We walked down the road a bit and turned into the driveway of a house with a very pretty garden. They had a bright Christmas tree up in the front room, and I could see plenty of decorations. A house like this was sure to have mince pies. But it would also have people, and in general I try to avoid people. It's part of my job, not to be seen. Being a spy and all.

I could see the people, two adults and a child, sitting in the room playing some sort of a game. The little girl looked nice. The adults looked like adults do, big and menacing.

Leroy looked at me.

“We have to pretend for a few minutes,” he said. “I will be like a normal dog and you will be a teddy bear. I can bring you up to Kate's room and dry you off. Kate is cool, but in front of her parents I try to look like they expect a dog to look.”

With that he got down on all fours and began to scratch at the door, barking furiously all the time. A shadow appeared behind the frosted glass panel of the door, and I heard a click. It swung open. One of the adults – the mother – was behind it. Leroy grabbed me by the ankle and ran into the house, still on all fours with his tail wagging furiously. I fell to the ground and he dragged me up the stairs behind him like I was a rag doll.

The indignity of it all.