What if Your pet was really a superhero?
Rachel Morrisroe’s Picture Books
for Younger Readers
HOW TO GROW MAGIC SERIES
How to Grow a Unicorn
How to Grow a Dragon
How to Grow a Mermaid (coming soon!)
The Drama Llama
The Truth About Yeticorn
The Robin Who Stole Christmas
The Crossodile (coming soon!)
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First published 2024
001
Text copyright © Rachel Morrisroe, 2024
Illustrations copyright © Jenny Taylor, 2024
The moral right of the author and illustrator has been asserted
The brands mentioned in this book are trademarks belonging to third parties
Text design by Sarah Malley
Printed in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, Elcograf S.p.A.
The authorized representative in the EEA is Penguin Random House Ireland, Morrison Chambers, 32 Nassau Street, Dublin D02 YH68
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978–0–241–63574–2
All correspondence to: Puffin Books
Penguin Random House Children’s One Embassy Gardens, 8 Viaduct Gardens, London SW11 7BW
For the real Rebecca and the Marvellous Mitchelsons. True Superfriends!
Love always, R.M. xx
SUPERSAUSAGE 1
I am cutting through the clouds faster than a hairoplane. The raindrops are plopping in my eyes and for a minute, I think I have lost him. Then I catch a whiff. I flap my hearer s as hard as I can and nosedive down to earth, my nostrils twitching with the scent. I’d know that pong anywhere. Squirrel.
There he is. MY ARCH ENEMY –NUTORIOUS . Squirrel of terror and supervillain supreme.
The puff of his tail whips in the mist as he swoops down to Mr Popper’s Peanut Butter Factory below.
‘You think you can catch me?’ Nutorious shrieks through the wind. ‘The greatest supervillain of all time can’t be stopped by a silly sausage like you! Soon all the peanut butter in the world will be mine, all mine! And NO ONE WILL EVER GET TO EAT IT AGAIN! ’
‘A world without peanut butter?’ I cry, ‘
I will stop you, Nutorious!’
The naughty squirrel takes a breath and I know what’s coming. Acorns start shooting out of his mouth and bonking people on the head. The factory workers start yelling and screaming, as he circles above the building. He swoops.
‘Acorn fire!’
‘Take cover!’
‘CAN SOMEDOGGY, ANYDOGGY, HELP US?’
‘Never fear!’ I call at the top of my lungs.
‘Supersausage to the rescue!’
Nutorious might be a fast flyer with that whizzy tail but I am faster. I flatten my long hearers against my furry head for a booster of extra speed and – SNAP! I have him safe in my jaws.
I soar above the factory to everyone handy-clapping and whoopdy-cheering.
‘HOORAY for Supersausage!’ shouts the crowd.
Mr Popper is hopping around excitedly like a whippet needing a wee. ‘Thank you, Supersausage! Oh, thank you! You saved the day!’
‘No pawblem,’ I say. ‘All in a doggy day’s work! And as for you –’ I woof at Nutorious, handing him over to the police – ‘you won’t be causing trouble any time soon!’
‘You really are the best pooch on the planet!’ says a constable, giving me a scratcher behind my hearers. ‘Now, come and join our ballet class.’
Oooookay, that’s weird. ‘B-ballet class?’ I bark. The constable swirls me around and suddenly I am wearing a sparkly tutu. What the woof is going on?
All of the people are swaying along as the police officers and I perform a lovely dance. Next, the peanuts from the factory join in. Actual scrumptious little peanuts, with tiny arms and legs, jostle out of the factory, all wearing matching tutus and tiaras. I am just thinking that I might be close enough to take a bite of one when Mr Popper opens his mouth.
I think he must be about to congratulate us on our magic-making performance when he starts to bark excitedly. ‘ Yap, yap, yappety yap . . .’
‘Hang on!’ I say as a police officer pirouettes past me with a peanut on his head. ‘Why is Mr Popper barking?’ It is very annoying and it sounds exactly like Terrance the noise-making chihuahua who lives in the kennel next door to me. Oh . . . WAIT A
Dottie
My poor little hearers are ringing as my eyes flutter open. Terrance, the most bark-tastic pooch on the planet, has just woken me up from my scrummy superhero dream! So annoying, particularly because only the best dreams are about catching squirrels with their swish-tastic tails.
I feel the familiar fizzing , from my tail to
the tips of my hearers and then – flap, flap, flap! I’m off the floor and flying high to peep through the bars of the kennel. ‘IT’S YOUR SHADOW, TERRANCE!’ I shout. ‘THERE IS NO BIG WOOFER COMING TO GET YOU.’
Oh yep, so while my dream might have been a bit wild, I actually can talk human, and when I concentrate and flap my hearers I can fly too. HA! I can just imagine you rubbing your peepers because you do not believe me, but it is true. Promise.
IS IT A BIRD? IS IT A PLANE? NO, IT’S A FLYING, TALKING SAUSAGE DOG!
I don’t know why I have these strange super skills. Even though I might dream about using them to save the world from pesky supervillain squirrels, in the real world I’ve learned fast they are best kept to myself. My first owner tried to sell me to some horrible scientists with PRODDY-prongs and
TWEAKY-tweezers when I showed off my powers to him. But I’m not daft like a Dalmatian. When I realized what was happening, I did my best puppying about.
I licked people’s feet.
I flashed my lovely tummy.
I begged for sandwiches.
I even did a pee on the floor, just for good measure.
To be extra safe, I didn’t make even a tiny peep, just in case human-speak slipped out. I kept my mouth closed and of course no one believed my owner. They thought he’d had one too many sugar plumps in his coffee. Well, would you believe someone if they told you that their pet puppy could sing in the shower or get tangled in trees?
So, that’s how I ended up in Doris Darling’s Home for Dogs. My owner left me here when he realized he couldn’t make
any money out of me. Sometimes I think about how totally pawesome it would be if my dream actually came true. Just imagine if I really was a great superhero helping to save the planet!
But I know it can never be. Humans want dogs to take on nice walks, sleep on their laps and make them laugh by chasing their taily-wagger. They DO NOT want a sky-soaring, yappety-chatting dachshund that can talk the hind off a legless donkey! And so, I need to keep my special skills TO P SECRE T, especially if I want to ever find my forever home.
Anyway, life here is not so bad. The people who look after me are professional tummy rubbers. They take me on nice long walkies and feed me lots of dribble-making treats. I just can’t have the ones with broccoli in, because they make my bottom turn into MOUNT VESUVIUS. Last week after I had eaten one, my
trumpets were so bad they had to shut the home for the entire morning. (The only good thing about it was Terrance actually shut up for once!)
I’ve been here a few months now. Getting adopted is HARD! At first I was really scared of people. I would shrink away when humans looking for a pet came near me. I thought I might like to stay here forever
instead. But each time another dog left with their new family, I felt a pang in my belly, so now I know I want a home of my own. A kitchen with a regular supply of doggy sausages. A snuggly bed. Somewhere, anywhere away from rackety-loud Terrance the chihuahua!
I guess I look a bit funny, though. My hearers are far too long – almost as long as my body, which means walking can be tricky! So, there is always a dog that’s cuter or funnier or fluffier than me . . . Plus, if someone gets a whiff of my bottom burps they usually run a mile. Maybe one day, if I practise my bestest and cutimost puppy-dog eyes and vow to never ever touch broccoli bites again . . . Hold on, the door is opening! I wish Terrance would give his yappety-yapping a break for a minute! The people coming to see us will need hearer protectors to get into our kennel block!
I keep my paws planted on the floor. Best puppy-dog eyes, CHECK!
Sitting nicely, CHECK!
Waggliest tail in gear, CHECK!
Hearers tucked in, CHECK!
A small boy with sandy-brown hair is peeping over my door. He has a lovely kind face and a big grin. ‘Oh, Dad!’ he cries. ‘It’s a sausage dog.’
My tail is whooshing back and forth so hard it almost knocks me over. I try to make it calm down but I have lost all control. IT IS GOING P O T T Y. My senses are telling me that THIS is the human I need to adopt me for my forever home. I can feel an excited flutterby tickling my tummy. For a minute, I am worried that I might not be able to control my tingly hearers and I’ll end up taking off and giving away my secret skills.
